Chapter
The Cave
He awoke cold and hungry. He wasn't sure how long he'd been down here for. Time was a strange animal down here in this place where it was eternally dark save for the dim lamp kept always on but low. At first his eyes starved for it. Craved it and it drove him near to madness trying to familiarize himself with his surroundings by it. Now after all this time his mind had come to accept that this was all he was going to get down here and this dim light had proven to be more than enough as his eyes adjusted.
The walls were clear to him now and he had determined that they're not much to look at anyways. Grey granite rock on all sides and up top. This was a room at the far end of a branch of a mine that had long ago dried up and been abandoned. There was a flimsy wooden door which was made of old planks. Easy to get through even with the chains that barred it. If the chains wouldn't pull out of the wall than the planks themselves would splinter with enough force if only he could reach it.
As for him, he'd been hopelessly tethered by one foot to the back wall via chain and coupling allowing him about a ten foot radius from the connection point to move around and roam. The room averaged about twenty feet. The air down here, thick but breathable.
Food and water came at regular intervals. Sometimes the dishes piling up before being taken away. The company was poor. He would go for long stretches without seeing a face. The Haitian and the Frenchman were both ones who would stop in to check on their guest. The woman, which he had a lot of questions for, had not come to visit him one time. Besides them at times he would catch voices outside the door. Glimpses of conversation. Men, gruff, serious. Just how many men new he was down here he couldn't know for sure. For they never breached that door to give him sight of their faces. He wondered if these men had any connection to the miners that Clay had set off before his departure. Joe could guess the answer was yes. Otherwise, how would these strangers, foreigners to Virginia City know of the existence of this mine? Not that it would be impossible to come about it by different means. It's entirely possible it went up for sale and they owned the land or they stumbled across it on their way out here. But circumstances being what they were, the coincidence of Joe finding himself forcibly trapped in none other than an old abandoned mine were not one to ignore. It would at least explain who these others were that might be involved.
The only other wild card, that could not be ignored, was the one face, other than that of the Haitian and Frenchman, who would make frequent visits. This one would be the one who brought in the food and water at regular intervals.
He wasn't a man at all, but still a boy, though not a small one by any means. Past the age of puberty but not by much. Could have been 14 maybe, judging on his look of innocence. Based off his height and build, he could pass for much older. He was dark skin. Much darker than the Haitian. Joe didn't know what involvement this boy would have with these men. He may have been no more then a servant forced to participate in the crimes of his owners based on the conditions of his servitude. He carried himself as if following orders was natural to him. If there was a blood relation in there somewhere, the Haitian would be the more likely candidate based loosely off of skin color, as the Haitian was much lighter, but moreso off of height and build as the kid was not small in stature.
Whether or not he had an accent was impossible to know. The kid never spoke. He'd exchange plates and bowls without word, even when Joe would try to pull something out of him. He would leave the room just as silently as when he came in.
Other times as of now, he'd stand at the wall by the door, where the lantern sat on the desk doing none other than staring at Joe.
Conversations to break the tension would prove fruitless and one sided. When trying to pull information from the boy, Where am I? or How did you get involved? Would draw nothing from him. Not even a demand for silence, to tell Joe his talking was unwanted. As for the voices outside the door, if ever those voices came from the mouth of this kid Joe couldn't be sure. When he was on this side of the door there would be nothing but silence from him.
The food wasn't bad for captive food. Somebody was making the effort to warm what should be warmed though it would be in the process of cooling by the time it reached his side.
Beans came at a regular interval. Sometimes there'd be broth. Once there was biscuits and gravy. Bread of some sort usually accompanied these dishes and always water.
Relieving himself was a humiliating experience which he had to get over real fast. The details of which are not necessary here, but what will be said was he was never trusted to be without his tether and most certainly he was never allowed outside of that room.