A natural track was bored into the stone from the transportation of minecarts in the main path. Closer to the entrance strong timber supported the structure, but the branching tunnels faced more haphazard construction. The glowing lanterns also quickly grew further and further apart. The lanterns were placed in a way where it barely shed enough light to see. While there were dozens of branches in the mine, multiple of them were caved in. In almost every tunnel were the grunts of workers, the clash of iron and stone, and the eerie silence that remained when all else left.
Thomas was quickly put to work, there wasn't much explanation needed for what he needed to do. While he had a pickaxe, his mentor quickly changed it for a shovel. The mentor gave him the simple job of transporting broken stones from the other miners. He was designated a certain tunnel to transport for. A group of three miners including his mentor ahead of him were quickly demolishing the stone ahead of him. He would place the stone in a minecart and roll it up to the top of the mine. He would then have to push the contents out of the minecart into a large sturdy cart that sat outside the mines.
Shoveling the rocks was the easiest part. 'Calling any part of this easy feels like calling parts of prison as comfortable' The cart had no set tracks so he could easily roll it into their path. No matter how fast he was shoveling though the stone appeared faster. The men ahead of him were experienced.
The worst part was getting the minecart out of the mines. If he had to guess, the slope of the entrance was a brutal 20 degrees and 300 feet—just enough to break the soul. The cart itself had to weigh a hundred pounds, and the rocks only made it worse. He grunted, slipping a few inches with every strained push, legs burning with every step. There were grooves cut into the stone to help the wheels track, but they didn't help the crushing weight or the sweat soaking burning in his eyes. It took him roughly 20 minutes to get up to the entrance.
Above ground, there was a cart that was being loaded by dumping the minecarts inside. Every time he did the guard wrote a small x in the dirt in a certain section. Instead of calling him guard all the time he named him Sleepy, there were dark bags under his eyes that made him appear 10 years older. If Thomas wasn't wrong he was counting how much work his team had accomplished.
Halfway through the day he was dying. Hell, an hour in and he was dying. He felt his muscles burn under the strain, his lungs now housed only the taste of iron, and his eyes stung from dust and sweat. Pushing the cart uphill required all the strength he could muster, sweat stinging his eyes as he couldn't wipe it. Worst of all, the rest of the crew was producing way more stone than he could push! He could tell that was not okay with them. The glances they shot back toward him were laced with frustration and a tiny hint of compassion. Mostly frustration though.
'Easy my fucking ass. I mean easy theoretically, but even my thoughts are getting hazy at this rate.'
Thomas was doing his best to keep up, he needed a steady income more than anything right now. If this didn't work out for him he would need something else, and he didn't know if something else existed for a borderline mute man. Eventually, though a deep metallic sound rang through the hallways of the mines. It was similar to a gong but sounded more like someone hit a panel of steel. He didn't know what it meant, but the other three men quickly snapped into action. Throwing down their pickaxes they started walking out of the mine, dragging him along.
Outside the sun was a bit past noon, and the smell of food wafted over from nearby. He already saw many of the teams gathering around nearby, each with a bowl in hand. 'Thank god they serve us lunch, my stomach is one pissed-off little organ.' He followed his crew to get some food. The portion sizes were, adequate. Enough to satiate a man for a few hours. It was made of some form of vegetables, what was a fuck ton of salt, and a few bits of meat.
He smashed his bowl in a minute. Holding back hiccups he took the time to look around a bit. He saw many teams still pouring out of the mines and coming to the pot of stew. The ones now coming out were stronger than the rest, their portions noticeably larger, and they were an unnatural grey color too. It was a color similar to the slaves he spent the night with. Which he now saw again, coming out of the mine. They were pushing carts out behind the stronger crews. 'So that's how they knew of this work. I wonder why they were in the stall yesterday.'
He didn't dwell on his thoughts long, as more people were coming to the spot where everyone was eating. It was children, running towards different men and women. Their happiness quickly transformed the eating area. Everyone seemed to have a bit more energy, it was always good to see why you were working so hard. Occasionally it was an adult bringing someone food, most likely their partners. Everyone here knew the rule to bring extra food during lunchtime, he did too now. All in all, it was a peaceful lunch. Thomas stood up once the crews from inside stopped coming out, 'No rest for the weak. I can't lose this opportunity.' Thomas walked back into the mines before everyone finished their meals, hoping to catch up while the rest of his crew ate.
Just walking down the slope was getting difficult for him, his legs were buckling under his own weight at this rate. He didn't stop no matter what. Truth be told. Thomas was terrified of this new world. There was a time in his life when he did starve. Truly starve. He remembered the taste of the clay pucks he ate. He was scared of death like every other person, but there were things scarier than death to him.
Walking was tolerable. Bracing himself while shoveling heavy fucking rocks, was tolerable. It hurt like hell, but he was able to fill the cart once again. What wasn't tolerable? What was hell? What scared him almost as much as starving, almost, was pushing the cart back up. What choice did he have though? 'I need to be useful here. I have to prove my worth. I refuse to stay this way.' He started up the hill once more. His legs once more cried in pain. His calves in particular were bordering destruction. He felt his tendons were screaming resistance, they weren't ready for this. His back was starting to protest as well. Shit, everything was.
He switches his position from pushing upwards to walking backward up the hill. It changed the focus of the strain, it didn't stop the pain though. The parts that felt like they were about to break were reduced to normal amounts of hellish pain.
He was barely half there after all that. One of his legs slipped 'Fuck.'
His other leg slipped too ' Fuck'.
The sandals he was wearing were not up for the task. There was a cord that bound his feet, and it tore right off the leather bottoms. And very quickly he was already stumbling down the slope, "OH FUCK!"
His feet added a tiny bit more traction than the sandals, but that traction was tearing off his skin. He heard a bit of yelling above him in response to his scream of pure unfiltered panic. They were distant though, at this rate he was going to slip and get crushed to death.
The solution? Go up instead of down. He simply stopped resisting the cart. His body was no longer up to the task of stopping it. The start of the day? He could have recovered just fine, probably. Now however his legs were not moving the way he wanted. He quickly pulled himself up the cart. As soon as he stopped resisting though? The cart started speeding up, fast. This thing was easily 400 pounds on wheels, with his weight in the combination? They started barreling down the grooves. Luckily he wasn't going to veer off into the walls. Unluckily, he was NOT slowing down. He made it to the roughly flat part for level one, hoping it would slow him down finally.
He didn't realize while he was walking, but it wasn't that flat. At his current speed, he realized it was all on a definitive slope. So he continued to speed up. Rocks were falling off the she sides from the speed, and started tossing rocks out too. He needed to slow down, there had to be an end eventually. 'I wonder what kind of mural I'll paint on the rocks?' His thoughts were odd for his circumstances, but he never stopped shoveling out stones with his hands.
He wasn't grabbing rocks and tossing them out. He was jamming his hands into the shards of rock and using both his arms as a form of shovel. Quickly the stone began receiving healthy doses of iron supplement. 'Thank god for adrenaline.' His arms were still hurting, but adrenaline was helping that. He kept shoveling them out, focusing everything he could on that one matter. He briefly glanced at the walls, and he was getting faster still.
'Holy shit it's not working!' He kept going at it for what seemed like forever. It only took about two minutes though. He finally reached what he assumed was the bottom of the mines. It abruptly flattened out, sending some rocks into him and nearly flinging him out. It was flat now, and he was finally coming to a stop thank god.
He was still barreling fast though, and he did get to see the end of the mine. It was a bit away from where he stopped, but it was close enough to damn near make him piss himself as it was coming up.
He finally breathed a sigh of relief, and with it came all the pain the adrenaline was masking. His arms were more blood than anything. Maybe he didn't need to be that aggressive with it, but he wasn't thinking. Now that he was. Waves of pain rolled over his arms to the tune of his heartbeat. 'Wait. How can I afford this?'
His hands and arms had cuts all over them. None were too deep, they didn't get anything major. A fingernail on his left hand pealed off during it too, not a pretty sight. None of it would kill him though. His feet also had a few gashes, he hopped into the minecart pretty quick preventing further injury.
A few minutes later a few men ran down into the lower level, expecting a crime scene to say the least. All the miners heard the new guy scream. His crew rushed in as soon as they heard it. Piles of rocks were tossed to the size of the mineshaft, some covered in blood. That blood only grew more as it went out. It wasn't a slasher amount of blood, but any blood was bad news. What awaited them at the bottom was stranger than the expected body. The new guy was walking around, leaving bloody footprints. He was pushing the minecart closer to them. He was also picking up stray rocks that seemed to have fallen out. When he finally noticed them he stopped for a second. A few drops of blood hit the ground, the sound reverberated clearly.
What were they supposed to do? He looked at them with a smile. He acted like nothing was wrong as he was actively bleeding out. He didn't seem to notice the wounds at all. It made the situation feel, inhuman.
Thomas waved to the crew, "Oh, hey guys! I think I missed my stop, haha!"
They didn't understand a word he said. They saw him flap his bloodied arm in the air with an almost genuine smile though. One thought filled their minds, "He's fucking crazy."