A Machine Called Earth

Hector woke. He was back in the cave, still strapped to the chair. ‘It must have been a dream.’ He thought. ‘But dreams are not quite as, intense at that was. Perhaps the meeting with Ichabod was more than a dream. I know that he can communicate telepathically, so maybe he was able to contact me through my subconscious.’

But just the thought of such things fill Hector with unease. As the day went by, and as Hector drifted in and out of sleep and consciousness, he had lost all perspective of time. He could not tell what day it was, or time. Or whether the sun was in the sky, or the moon. Thoughts of his past encounter with Ichabod and their conversation filled his mind. As did the memories of Moab and his torture. The arcing and aching. The flashing and shaking of Hector’s helpless body, as he was electrocuted. The words he spoke as he whispered in Hector’s ear, “Does it burn like fire?” His echoing laughter as he cut out Hector’s evil eye.

Hector could not help but shed a tear. His heart was heavy. His hopes were shattered.

His body was broken. Pain and fear, far beyond the imaginable, had grabbed and devoured him, without hesitation, and without remorse or regret. ‘I was eaten and spat out, left to rot in the deepest and darkest hole in the earth, were no man would remember my name, or find my soon to be dead body. As generation come and go, none will remember me, none will remember freedom, and all that they will know, is the dark hand of the evil. Consuming all in his way. They will be slaves of their sins, and they will not know of good, they will not know of love, they will long for such things, but it will be unknown to them. And the bright lights of Violet Town will blind them.’

All seemed lost, all seemed over. And this was the purpose of his torture. To break him. And oh how it broke him. Hector was but the shattered remains of the man he once was. The strength, the determination, the perseverance, the will to live. They were gone. Or fleeting at best. ‘I had finally learnt of the Keeper. And perhaps if I wasn’t as foolish in my haste, I would have waited, and searched for the Keeper before entering the room, and facing the men within.’ Hector thought.

Blood was still oozing from the hole that once sat Hector’s left eye, but it had slowed from the erratic pouring that occurred initially. Much of it had dripped down his side, over his right shoulder, along his now bloodstained vest. However the thick leather of the vest prevented the blood from soaking through onto his white shirt. Why am I telling you this? Did I want to ease the thought of what an epic laundry mission it would be to remove such a stain? If such a thought arose. No. I am telling you this, because through the violent convulsions that went on through the electrocution of Hector’s torture, the strap that had his right hand bound to the chair, had loosened. It had actually loosened quite a lot, enough to pull his arm out to freedom.

The only problem, and quite a significant one at that, was that Hector’s right arm was the one that was broken. He had managed to brave through the pain, as he pulled it out from the straps. But escape was not an option. Hector had lost much of his strength, and he could barely make a fist with that arm. But that was not his plan. He then unbuttoned his vest, which was a feat in itself, and began to slip his hand through the vest, removing it from his right shoulder.

His thoughts were not of escape. They were to create a message. Hector had a blank canvas, which being his white shirt, and an abundance of material. That being his blood, which he had lost quite a lot of. Hector cringed in pain as he made a half fist and dipped his index finger into the blood. He began finger painting onto his shirt, with the message. ‘Find the keeper.’

Who was going to read this message? How long until someone found this message?

Would anyone care enough to follow the instruction of this message? Hector knew not. But as he wrote those words across his chest, and as those letters found their place, curving down his shirt, he knew that this was what he must do.

It was a strange thing to do. Writing your last message to the world. This would be the only thing Hector would be remembered for. He was not a soldier, he had no dog-tag with his name. He was far away from his home, his family. Any who may stumble across this message would know of him not. “FIND THE KEEPER” They will be the only words, which one would know him by. But Hector didn’t mind.

When the words were written, as legibly as one can, under the present circumstances. He looked at his message one last time, softly lit by the fading light of the lamp that was left behind, by Moab. It was done. He didn’t have the strength to do much more, and this last feat, had expended the last of his energy. So Hector closed his eyes.

Much time had gone by, but Hector was startled when he heard something. It was a sound coming from the other side of the door. Someone was at the lock. Someone was fiddling with the lock, but he did not hear the sound of a keychain, nor the tapping footsteps of Moab’s mechanical leg. ‘Who was there? And what did they want?’ Hector thought.

Hector was in a small room, sitting at one end of a table, where the now faded and flickering lamp sat. The walls looked as though they were cut from stone. Much like a cave. The surface was not smooth, and the light that reached the wall from the lamp, highlighted and shadowed the many marks on the wall. Hector sat opposite the door, but he knew not of what was beyond. Perhaps there was a labyrinth of twisting and turning tunnels, or past the door could be the control room.

For all Hector knew there could be anything or anyone at the other side of the door. He assumed that he was still deep underground, but he could not be certain. And that was when the door opened.

Hector saw the figure of a person. But it took some time before his hazy eye had focused to where he could see more clearly, as to who was there. And when his eye had finally focused, he saw the person. It was Hope!

“Hope!” He said in a raspy voice, still injured, physically and mentally. “What are you doing here?”

“I’m here to rescue you, silly.” She said with a gentle smile.

Bursting out from behind her was none other than young Jessy. His smiling face quickly turned to one of fear and shock, as he no doubt witnessed Hector’s beaten and bloody body. For his face was covered with blood, and he was missing one eye. A shocking scene for a young boy to see.

Hope began untying him, freeing him from his restraints. Freedom had come. But was it too late? Hector was relieved to see Hope and Jessy again, but he was still very much broken. For thoughts of failure was still consuming him.

“You need to leave.” He said. “It’s too late for me.”

Hope just ignored Hector’s words, and continued untying him. Within moments, Hector was free. But he did not raise from his chair. He was weak, far too weak to stand.

“Come on, get up.” Hope said.

She then began to grow worried. She looked at Hector, weary and shaken, and begun to think that maybe she was too late.

Welling up tears, she said. “Please, Hector.... get up.”

“I can’t.” Hector shouted. “Look, I was a fool to believe, that there was a hero within me. I have failed.”

“Don’t say that. We need you, I need you.” Hope said, grabbing his hand.

With downcast eyes, he just sat there, silent. But at that moment, Hope twisted her head sideways, to read Hector’s message. She squinted as she read, the barely readable words, ‘Find the Keeper.’ She then reached into the breast-pocket in the inside of her jacket, as if she had just remembered something. (She was still wearing the jacket Hector had given her). Where she pulled out an envelope. It was an unopened envelope, which had a crimson wax seal. Hope broke open the seal of the envelope, and pulled out the letter that was within. After scanning through what was written, she bent over towards Hector, and whispered into his ear. The words she spoke, were strange, and confusing. But not because Hector couldn’t understand the words themselves, they were but simple words. It was what happened because of the words.

The words that she had spoken, into his ear, were powerful words. For they did great things. In hearing those words, Hector’s heart had lifted. His mental and even physical scars, seemed to just lift away from him. He was filled with newfound courage and determination. He could now see what his goal was. His purpose. Like a clear, crystal arrow, pointing to where he had to go. And he knew that he had to do it, and that he could do it. But not in the way of, he could, maybe, do it. But in the way, that it was impossible for him, not, to do it.

Like I said, these were but simple words. Anyone could have said them, and they would not have meant or done anything. But the power came from who said them, and who they were from, and who was to hear them. They were for a reason, predetermined for this event. Hector was meant to hear them, within his current predicament, within his despair, and within his hopelessness. And those words were... “You are full in Him.”

What did they mean? Hector knew not. All he knew, was what these words did to him. He felt as though he was given new life. His eyes were no longer hazy, his mind, no longer blurry. The failure, the hopelessness, the despair, that burdened him so, were gone. Hector was within the grasp of death, but now, new life had formed within.

Hector looked up, and stared at Hope. He gave her a look, one that perfectly described the way he felt. It was an expression, and emotion, that could not be described well with words. It was an expression of complete gratefulness, gentleness, confusion and love. She knew what Hector meant, and replied with a comforting smile. ‘She knew something. Something that I did not know. How did she find me, and who gave her that note?’ Questions that Hector will come to know in time.

With ease, and with great excitement, Hector stood up from his chair. It was time to leave this prison. His feet had not held his weight for some time, and gaining balance was difficult at first. But within moments, they had remembered their job.

As Hector looked through the open door, the door which had been locked for so long. He looked down the long, dark tunnel, which twisted away into the black. They were within the earth. How far down, impossible to determine. The air that resided within this cave was as you would expect. Cold and damp. Fresh, but somehow stale. Freedom was here.

Hector turned to Hope and said. “Thank you.”

“Thank me later, were not out of here yet. Besides, it was Jessy’s idea to come and find you.” Hope replied.

Looking down the intimidatingly dark tunnel that they had traversed to find Hector, filled him with gratitude. He stood there gazing into the darkness, lost in thought. That was until Hope said. “Come on, follow me. I know the way.” And at that moment, she took his hand and led Hector through the cave that she had braved. Her hand was warm and comforting. And Hector felt a tingle down his spine, as he was holding her soft, delicate hand.

The cave twisted and turned as they snaked their way through. As they got closer and closer to the exit, the sound of rain could be heard. And as they reached the last bend, there was light. The tunnel had led outside. Looking across the field, and to the mountains in the distance. Tracing back his steps in his mind, Hector noted that he wasn't deep under the ground. He was held but meters under the earth. ‘They must have moved me up, when I was unconscious.’ For Hector knew he was most definitely deep under the earth when he first entered the control room, after the Manta ray attack. Rain was pouring heavily, but Hector was glad to be out of that cave.

They decided to wait out the storm.