Author's note~ Hope you enjoy.
The man knew the move was coming, but made no attempt to dodge as Minho tackled him with one quick lunge, dunking them both with a humongous splash as the others cheered and jeered.
They spent a blissful couple of hours playing in the water, indulging in the rare opportunity to frolic and laugh and just...be teenagers. The sun had already started to dip low towards the horizon by the time the last few stragglers abandoned the creek and dried off, wandering towards the newly created event space with eager anticipation and empty, growling stomachs.
The smells emanating from the large cooking fire were almost maddening; mouths watered as Frypan turned multiple spits of fat juicy birds, their skins shining with a thick layer of brownish sauce. When it was determined that everyone was present and accounted for, the cook began filling rough platters with the roasted birds, carrying them to a long low table that was already loaded with mounds of fresh bread and bowls of creamy potato salad. A reverent hush fell as the boys waited, antsy, staring at the glorious buffet before them as though they were looking upon the face of some exquisite deity. Frypan stepped off to the side, waving towards the spread he'd laid out and bowing a little.
"Let the feast begin!" He called out before, wisely, getting the hell out of the way.
It was more than a little chaotic as the boys rushed the table in a veritable stampede, jostling each other in their near desperation to reach the succulent offerings. Despite their ravenous hunger, there was plenty of food to go around. Once everyone had managed to fill a plate another hush fell; that of a hungry hoard busily devouring their hard earned feast. The crackling of the fire was soon joined by sounds of pleasure, grunts and groans escaping between bites as the boys ate to their heart's content.
"My God Frypan!" Ben exclaimed, the words a little garbled by his full mouth. "This is the best shucking chicken you've ever made!"
Others shouted their agreement, gushing praise over the chicken, the salad, even the soft flaky bread. Frypan just nodded, a satisfied smile on his face as he glanced over to where Adrian stood with Alby, obviously going over last minute details with the leader as they enjoyed their meals at a more leisurely pace. After everyone had had their fill they started to mill around, unsure as to what would happen next, eventually gathering in a loose semicircle around a large wooden figure most had barely glanced at in their earlier desperation for sustenance.
Studying it, puzzled chuckles started to spread as it became apparent that the twenty five foot tall wooden structure had been fashioned into a crude likeness of a person. One arm was braced on a rough hip, while the other was outstretched and pointing, as if in accusation or an attempt to intimidate. Even in the poor lighting the wood glistened a little, as though it had been doused with something, and the figure started looking more and more menacing the longer one stared at it.
Alby walked to the middle of the semicircle of boys, facing them, standing right in front of the figure. The low light from the embers of the cooking fire threw ghoulish red light across his face in the steadily growing darkness.
"A year and a half ago the first of us were sent up into this strange, primitive, hostile place. We were given food and tools, clothing and bedding. And we were trapped, exiled here in this small patch of green surrounded by impassable stone walls; walls that held back an even darker, more merciless horror than any we could ever have imagined."
Everyone stood, utterly transfixed as they listened to their leader's calm, reasonable iteration of their history.
"In the beginning, things were dark for us. Fear ran freely through us. Boys fought against one another, anarchy running wild. Lives were lost."
Alby looked down, taking a moment for all of those who were gone. The rest of the gladers joined him, taking the time to bow their heads and show respect for all those who had come and gone from this hideous place. It didn't matter if a glader knew the lost ones or not; every death here was unforgivable. Alby continued.
"Once we finally stopped fighting each other, started working together to build and harvest, to start looking for a way out, life here got so much more bearable. So much better for us. United under a good leader, one of the lost, we learned to share to work, to stand together. It was then that we became GLADERS!"
The boys shouted in approval, and Alby's wide, fierce grin shone white as the moon against the pressing dark of night.
"Now, we get better every day. Stronger, every day. Our runners explore and map more and more of the maze, every day. And one day, they'll be the ones that lead us out of here, to FREEDOM!"
The boys roared now, and there was a round of shoving and back slapping.
"And until then, until that day? We'll only keep getting better, keep getting stronger!"
Adrian appeared, seemingly out of nowhere, and handed the boy a brightly burning torch. The leader stood; fearless, defiant, powerful as he lifted the flames high above his head, all but shouting now.
"And one day, ONE DAY! We'll show them just how strong we've become! How strong they've made us become! And that day, when we run, we run right to them! And I say now, the shuck-faced cowards that trapped us here should fear that day!"
He whirled around to face the wooden effigy, brandishing the burning brand, the gathered boys behind him all but howling now.
"Because the minute we break out of this hell you stuck us in, we're coming for you! For every life gone, for every hour locked in here, for every moment of fear and suffering, we'll take payment from your sorry hides! We're coming for you!"
With that last dark promise, Alby thrust the torch into the dry grass and kindling set around the base of the wooden figure. Within seconds and with a deeply thrilling whoosh!the entire effigy was engulfed in angrily dancing flames. The gladers cheered, screaming insults and threats at the surrogate for their frustrated, unrequited anger. Alby turned back to face them, fervent triumph pouring from his smug grin.
As the volume started to subside, Adrian once again stepped up beside Alby, clapping the boy warmly on the shoulder. Alby moved off to the side and was quickly swallowed by the crowd as Adrian stepped into the limelight. He waited, silent, as two sloppers rolled a couple of large supply barrels up behind the man, setting them upright and moving to stand behind them expectantly. A curious murmur rippled through the watchers as to the purpose of the fresh raw cow hide that had been laid over the open tops of the barrels and stretched tight with rope lacing. A third slopper followed right behind the first two, awkwardly carrying a large metal pail with a number of redundant wires crossing the open top. He also held a large glass jar, half full of tiny pebbles. He dropped the pail in front of one of the barrels before going to stand between the two other boys, forming a line behind Adrian but in front of the brilliant flames. With the fire so close and at their backs the three boys became striking black silhouettes against the light, and a little shiver ran through the gathering at the eerie spectacle before them.
Now that the other were in place Adrian, far enough from the fire to be painted with a watery flickering light, started pacing along the outer line of boys, talking in an ominous sing-song voice that filled the suddenly quiet air.
"Let me tell you a story. A story the likes of which you've never heard before. A tale of of broken promises, of sorrow, of theft. A fable of growing up, of loss. A story," Adrian's voice dropped the sing-song ring, becoming deeper and almost sinister. "of Revenge!" He waved a hand to the shadowy figures behind him and, right on cue, they began tapping their hands on the freshly made drums, laying out a simple one to three beat, the striking rhythm momentarily startling the watchers. The third shadow lifted the jar and shook it with a quick double flick of the wrist, the tinkling chkka-chhhh sounds blending with the beat to create an edgy primal melody, completely alien to the transfixed gladers.
Then Adrian opened his mouth and started to sing. His clear, smooth tenor wove through the spellbound crowd like a sweet, cloying smoke.
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
Newt and Minho stood side by side devouring chicken and salad with gusto as the rest of the boys did the same. Running for more than half a day followed by tussling and general shenanigans in the river had given them monstrous appetites. About half way through his plate, when the leading edge of desperate hunger had dulled a little, Newt started looking around, peering through the thick knot of bodies.
Newt had been as quick to strip and join the water games as the other runners had, plunging in unabashedly and diving into the fray. Until the day he'd ended up in a tickle war with Adrian, Newt had never realized just how...fun goofing around in the water could be. He'd cheered right along with the rest of the boys as Minho had tackled the man into the stream, and the ensuing free-for-all water battle that had followed was utter bedlam. By the time things started winding down, Newt had completely lost sight of the man, and hadn't seen him since. Minho caught Newt craning his neck as they ate, and didn't fail to comment.
"If you're looking for Gramps, he's over by the fire with Alby." Minho said through a mouth full of bread. "Best be careful with him, man. I've heard that guys can start to get really cranky as they get older."
"He's not that old." Newt grumbled a little, instinctively defending his newest friend. "Maybe a couple of years older than us; I dunno for sure, I never asked."
"Well," Minho replied, fake concern dripping in his voice, "When you do ask, make sure you speak LOUDLY and CLEARLY. I've also heard that, after a certain age, the hearing's the first thing to go."
"Oh lay off, ya bloody shank." Newt shot back, beginning to feel the nip of irritation at Minho's persistent need to rag on the man.
They continued to snipe at each other as they finished their meal and dropped their empty plates at the cleared end of the feast table. Bickering back and forth, they automatically followed along behind the other boys as they moved to the center of the area and milled around aimlessly, waiting for whatever came next.
Newt was edging his way towards seriously angry with his old friend when Alby started his speech and, to Newt's massive relief, ended their little pissing match. Giving the leader his full attention, he listened as Alby took everyone through their history, their struggles, their losses. When he bowed his head and thought of all those who weren't standing there with them that night, he suddenly felt small and selfish for his annoyance at and petty argument with one of his best friends. Minho was, after all, just being Minho. How many boys had they buried, boys who should have been standing with them now, eating and laughing and arguing with friends? He may still be here, stuck in the glade, but at the very least he was alive. He felt like an ungrateful sod, letting something so small get to him. A hand fell on his shoulder, giving it a bolstering squeeze. Newt looked up and into the eyes of his best friend, eyes that appeared to reflect his own turmoil, his own little seed of guilt for surviving while others did not, and just a hint of apology. A hint was more than enough. Newt nodded in acknowledgement, then looked back at Alby as the dark boy began speaking once more.
He spoke out his approval with the rest, he shouted his agreement, his pride with the rest. And when Alby thrust the torch into the wooden effigy, lighting it up in a glorious wash of fire, he joined the rest again as he screamed his anger and defiance at the form that had come to represent the enemy they knew they would one day face. Exhilarated, adrenaline pumping through him, Newt screamed and shouted and jumped in place. When he caught a glimpse of Minho beside him, he grinned at the joy and fervor painted across the asian boy's face; surely it was a perfect match for his own. Heart pounding, body filled with excited energy, Newt had to force himself to calm down a bit, to stand still and silent as Adrian started speaking to the gathering. The eerie cadence of Adrian's story sent a little chill up his spine, and he unconsciously moved just a hair closer to Minho, saying nothing when their shoulders brushed a little as the other boy leaned in a little as well. The hard beat beat beat of the music startled him, putting his back up a little, making him edgy.
Then Adrian began to sing, and everything else faded into the background.
We are two mariners
Our ship's sole survivors
In this belly of a whale
It's ribs are ceiling beams
It's guts are carpeting
I guess we have some time to kill
The crowd listened breathlessly, Adrian's rich smooth voice bewitching them.
You may not remember me
I was a child of three
And you, a lad of eighteen
But, I remember you
And I will relate to you
How our histories interweave
At the time you were
A rake and a roustabout
Spending all your money
On the whores and hounds
Oooooh, oh
Adrian moved along the boys at the front, pointing at one or another as he sang the words. Newt struggled to see past the boys in front of him, and started to nudge his way forward, wanting a better view.
You had a charming air
All cheap and debonair
My widowed mother found so sweet
And so she took you in
Her sheets still warm with him
Now filled with filth and foul disease
As time wore on you proved
A debt-ridden drunken mess
Leaving my mother
A poor consumptive wretch
Oooooh, oh
And then you disappeared
Your gambling arrears
The only thing you left behind
And then the magistrate
Reclaimed our small estate
And my poor mother lost her mind
They were all reacting to the song now, swaying a little where they stood, hissing in anger at the callous nature of the man in the song. Newt squeezed closer and closer to the front, drawn by the music.
Then, one day in spring
My dear sweet mother died
But, before she did
I took her hand as she, dying, cried:
Oooooh, oh
Newts just managed to inch his way past the last person in his way, finally standing at the very front of the crowd, his vision unobstructed. Adrian turned and looked him right in the eyes, the drum beats softening and slowing as he abruptly changed pitch and sang in a high, sweet falsetto that brought rise of goosebumps and the burn of restrained tears to more than a few of those watching.
"Find him, find him
Tie him to a pole and break
His fingers to splinters
Drag him to a hole until he
Wakes up naked
Clawing at the ceiling
Of his grave"
Switching back to the lower tenor, his face a mask of grief and anger, the beat picked back up and Adrian threw his arms wide, continuing.
It took me fifteen years
To swallow all my tears
Among the urchins in the street
Until a priory
Took pity and hired me
To keep their vestry nice and neat
But, never once in the employ
Of these holy men
Did I ever, once turn my mind
From the thought of revenge
Oooooh, oh
The boys shouted out a little, agreement and encouragement.
One night I overheard
The prior exchanging words
With a penitent whaler from the sea
The captain of his ship
Who matched you toe to tip
Was known for wanton cruelty
The following day
I shipped to sea
With a privateer
And in the whistle
Of the wind
I could almost hear
Oooooh, oh
Back to the slow, mournful beat, and the falsetto. A couple of boys spoke the words to themselves softly, speaking along with the man.
"Find him, find him
Tie him to a pole and break
His fingers to splinters
Drag him to a hole until he
Wakes up naked
Clawing at the ceiling
Of his grave
There is one thing I must say to you
As you sail across the sea
Always, your mother will watch over you
As you avenge this wicked deed"
Ten full beats of silence. In the glimmering light, as Adrian caught his breath, he saw the tell tale glimmer of tears in the eyes of his audience. He sucked in a great breath, and made one last switch back to tenor.
And then, that fateful night
We had you in our sight
After twenty months, it seemed
Your starboard flank abeam
I was getting my muskets clean
When came this rumbling from beneath
The ocean shook
The sky went black
And the captain quailed
And before us grew
The angry jaws
Of a giant whale
Gasps and cries, jerks of shock. Newt's eyes were huge, showing denial and fear, every bit of him locked into the song. Adrian stepped up to him, leaning down a little and singing right to him.
Don't know how I survived
The crew all was chewed alive
I must have slipped between his teeth
But, oh, what providence
What divine intelligence
That you should survive
As well as me
The crowd roared and Adrian turned, loping back to the drummers and snatching up the long forgotten metal pail. He held it under his arm, and all but cried the last words, malicious satisfaction dripping from every word.
It gives my eye great joy
To see your eyes fill with fear
To lean in close
And I will whisper
The last words you'll hear
Oooooh, oh
The drums went silent and, using his thumb nail, Adrian rhythmically plucked the wires strung across the pail, the high clear notes weaving into a wordless recounting of the mother's anguished lament. Slowly at first, then the drums joined back in and the music moved faster and faster, as though the fictional woman was angrily demanding the death of the one who'd betrayed her. The boys, unequivocally caught up in the song, howled and stomped their feet as the beat whipped into a feverish dirge. Then, with a last couple of thunderous beats, the music suddenly stopped. The stunned boys looked at each other, a little muddled for a moment after the intensity of the strange song. Applause started slowly, like the first drops of rain on a solid roof, growing little by little until, all of a sudden, the claps, shouts and commotion was deafening. Newt was so flabbergasted by the spectacle he'd witnessed,and the feelings that had whipped through him during it that he stood, still as a stone, staring in silent wonder as the man and the players took an exaggerated bow.
Adrian turned to the others, saluted them with two fingers, then rolled his wrist in a little 'have at 'er, boys' gesture. Needing no further prompting, the three new musicians went back to their makeshift instruments and began pounding out a new, cheerfully fast beat, one that sparked the urge to move in the listeners. With a happy laugh, Adrian whirled around, tossing the pail aside and breaking into a quick stepping dance. Needing no invitation, the boys at the front raced to join him, giving in to an almost primal need to dance in their exhilaration.
Alby executed an impressive display of rolls and flips, causing exclamations and bursts of laughter from the rest as they all moved to the cathartic beat. Adrian spun and twirled, ending up facing Newt where the blonde boy still stood, a statue in a whirling world of joy and freedom. Catching his eye, the man held out a hand and smiled, wiggling his fingers, inviting the boy to join. Shaken out of his stupor, a wide grin exploding over his face, Newt raced to join the dance.
Author's Note ~ The song I've had Adrian sing in this one is The Mariner's Revenge by The Decemberists ~ a personal favorite. And the song may be sung, but the party's no where near done for the boys yet; the night is young and so are they. See you next chapter!
~Ruby