A Forbidden Harvest

Chapter One

The musty aroma permeated my senses. It was an aroma so thick I could feel it on my face. My eyes were crusty and resistant to opening as I attempted to orient myself to my surroundings. The dull pain in my head gave way to a torrent of nausea and a deep throbbing throughout my head as I stared into the darkness. I couldn’t remember how I came to be here and the ensuing sense of dread as that realization sunk in made me shiver. There was one thing I knew for sure - I was underground. I could taste the earthiness of the place, but I was sure that I wasn’t sitting on dirt. It felt more like concrete or cinder blocks with rough edges jutting out all over the place as I attempted to scoot forward on my backside. My hands were behind my back and were bound with something sharp enough to cut into my skin. My best guess was a zip tie. Probably the garden variety you could get at any hardware store.

I didn’t make much sound as I scooted across the floor, but it was clearly enough to startle someone, or some thing. I perceived a sharp intake of breath as I inched across the floor of my makeshift prison. It came from in front of me, probably no more than six feet away and it nearly stopped my heart. I was clearly not alone.

“You’re awake.” came the voice from the darkness. I paused only momentarily before I replied “Barely”. I considered the speaker’s voice. It was clearly a man, definitely young. Probably about my age I thought. I couldn’t imagine what could have brought us together in this dark and musty place.

“They brought you in last night. The only reason I know it was night is because there was moonlight when they opened the trap door to throw you in.” the stranger professed. I struggled to remember what I was doing before finding myself here, but the memories eluded me. “Who are they and why are we here? I asked, my tone slightly deflated. His reply didn’t give me much hope. “I don’t know to be honest. I woke up here alone what I can only determine to be a few days ago. Time passes very strangely when you are immersed in darkness. There’s a bucket in the corner where I’ve been doing my business and we have a small pallet of water bottles in the opposite corner”.

The thought of using a bucket for a toilet didn’t bother me. I’ve been an avid camper for years, and a hole is a hole. I caught a whiff of what the stranger was referring to. I could even determine which corner he was referring to simply from the smell. Odd that I didn’t catch the smell upon waking but I suspect it was masked by the mustiness of the place and my disorientation.

“My hands are tied” I exclaimed, mostly in frustration at both my circumstances and my inability to remember how I got here. I could remember my name, my social security number, what I had for breakfast in the morning, but I couldn’t remember how I got here. The last thing I remember was going to the ATM to get money for a haircut later in the day. I couldn’t remember a single thing after that. It was as if my memory was a book and someone had torn several pages from it.

“Well that’s inconvenient” the stranger expressed. “My hands are free. I’ll see if I can help” he said. I could hear him stand up by the shuffle of his feet and the knees cracking. I considered how long he must have been sitting given the orchestra of bodily noises coming from him. He was clearly in discomfort and I appreciated him all the more given his offer to help me. He was moving very carefully, shuffling one foot in front of the other until his foot found my knee. I felt his hand carefully explore my knee, walking all the way to my back. I realized at that moment that I had maneuvered on my side, my legs tucked up near my chest, almost as if I was flirting with the idea of trying to get my arms around my legs.

“I think my hands are bound by a zip tie.” I stated flatly. His hands eventually traced their way back to my hands, gently tugging on the binding. “Yup, you were right. It feels like a zip tie. I have nothing to cut it with, so this is going to hurt like hell” he cautioned. I could just make out the sound of his shirt scraping across his skin as he took it off. It was so quiet in our makeshift prison, that the sound of the fabric twisting it in his hands was nearly deafening. I could feel him carefully guide one end of his rolled up shirt through the tiny loop the zip tie made and gave it a final tug pulling one end all the way through.

He began to slowly twist the shirt, over and over until the pressure became almost too much on my wrists. It was at the moment I felt as if the zip tie was going to carve through my skin that the audible, and very appreciated “snap” echoed through the small chamber. I vigorously rubbed my wrists trying to push blood back into my hands. The expected tingling began moving past my wrist and up my arms as blood flowed freely in my arms again. Relief…

I sat up, knowing my cell mate was close at hand and rather meekly expressed my thanks. I could almost sense him nodding, not saying a word as he slowly began to shuffle back to his perch on the other side of the cell. I stood up, stretching my legs while still vigorously rubbing my wrists and arms. “Again, thank you. I realize I don’t know your name. I’m Thomas. Thomas Perkins”. I intentionally spoke my last name and emphasized it. If I was to die here, and he was to escape, I would make sure he could tell my story. It was more than a few seconds when he responded following a long, drawn out sigh. “Gerald Sargent, at your service” he grunted. My cell mate’s first name was surprising. Usually a fellow with that particular name would go by something else, like Jerry. He made no mention of any preferred nick names so I dutifully repeated his rather formal name in my head a few times. That’s the trick I’ve always used to ensure I remember a name, otherwise it’s in one ear and out the other. “I wish we had met under different circumstances Gerald” I declared. Another grunt resembling an affirmative on his end let me know he was still listening.

I spent the next few minutes pacing out the room. It was about the size of my backyard shed roughly one hundred square feet. The floor was terribly uneven, as if it had been hurriedly constructed and without much care. I made a point to feel along the walls as well, also an uneven surface, however less so. Perhaps the floor had settled while whatever mortar was used dried and solidified. Perhaps we were entombed in some extremely moist soil. All of the variables quickly made my head hurt and I abandoned that particular line of thought. I steeled myself and began to explore my options. I could not feel the roof above my head even jumping to try to reach it at full strength. We were encased in four walls, a floor, and a ceiling. There weren’t any handles, hinges, or anything mentionable along the walls from what I could tell, my fingers continuing to probe for abnormalities in the otherwise concrete and mortar walls.

Having thoroughly explored my prison, I carefully made my way back to my side and slowly walked down the wall until I was again in a seated position. After a few moments of silence, I dared to consider more practical concerns. “So…” I paused, choosing to break whatever ice had formed since our last, incredibly brief communication. “How does this work? Do we get fed? What are we here for? Does someone clean the bucket?”. I realized how asinine all of the questions sounded the moment I heard myself speak them aloud, but in the absence of anything better to ask, I pretty much just went with it.

Another long pause before Gerald answered. “Yes, once a day although it’s just a bag of bread. No clue what they want. As for the bucket, not yet. It’s getting pretty ripe.” I took that information in stride and thought about my next series of questions. “Have you seen our captor or captors yet? I noticed you said they.” I asked. His answer was quick to come as if he had anticipated the question. “No. The only thing I have seen is an outline, almost like a shadow. When the trap door above us opened and you came tumbling in, I caught the outline of a figure highlighted by the light of the stars in the sky. It’s a new moon or I might have been able to see more. I’ve had a couple visits at this point, and I thought the outline was different the second night, but who can say for sure.” Gerald took a deep breath before continuing. “Once per day, always in the dark the trap door opens and someone drops a bag of bread down. It usually contains a couple of slices. Last night it contained four. I figured something was going to change and along you came as you did, rather unceremoniously tossed in. It’s lucky you didn’t die from the fall - I can only suspect you hit your head pretty hard. It sounded like a watermelon getting tossed off a balcony.” The way that he made that statement made me chuckle a little. That definitely solves the mystery of my headache.

“How long was I out?” I asked, anxiously awaiting his response. “About three hours would be my guess. You were breathing pretty erratically. At one point you stopped breathing and I thought you might had succumbed to some injury, but you picked up the rhythm again after a few seconds. Lucky for me, it seems I have some company. Not so lucky for you.” he quipped. I cracked a smile, impossibly so given my circumstances. Given our circumstances I reminded myself. Gerald continued, “I’ve searched every square inch of this box and the only thing I found was a pipe hole along my wall. I’m not sure what it’s for, but it’s about flush with the ceiling. I stuck my finger inside - it’s clearly PVC.” I pondered the pipe for a moment. Did it bring air? Is it a water pipe? Perhaps it was defunct irrigation, hastily severed during the construction of this tomb. At this point, I was struggling to care. All I wanted was to get out, and get back to life. I ran through a number of scenarios in my head. In one, I overpowered our captors with Gerald’s help. I’m not exactly a little man, weighing in at 200 pounds on a 6’2” frame. In another, we found a way to open the trap door and beat a hasty retreat once in the open. I’m pretty fast as well, capable of pushing my rather long legs past their limits.

Gerald coughed suddenly, breaking me from my day dreams of escape. “So now that there are two of us, what do you say you hoist me up to see if we can get through this trap door?” Gerald suggested. I’m surprised that wasn’t one of my scenarios I had dutifully run through. “Let’s give it a shot” I exclaim. Again, I heard Gerald’s knees crack as he stood and carefully made his way towards me. I held a hand facing outward to stop him as he got close. I carefully moved my hands down to his legs, finally finding a foot and bent low to help give him the extra few feet he would need to come in contact with the trap door. His foot in my hands, I steadily raised him up, his chest briefly brushing past my face. I could tell that he had been marinating in his own juices for a while as his odor was indeed powerful, yet not altogether unpleasant. The smell gave me pause and I almost ensured both of us fell over as he stopped moving upwards. “Hold steady Thomas” he pleaded. I did my best to hold his leg in place, balancing him precariously. I could tell he had made contact with the trap door as it rattled on its hinges. He gave a tremendous push upward which I had to compensate for but was only able to move the trap door a half an inch before it could give way no more. “Locked…” he muttered. I slowly lowered him to the ground, his hand coming to rest on my shoulder. I could feel his breath on my face as his breathing began to slow as he recovered from the exertion. It was clear that he was already started to succumb to the effects of being malnourished throughout his experience here. I fully suspect that I too will be in his condition in a few days, weak from a poor diet and tired simply due to inactivity.

Moving the trap door didn’t let any light in, so I concluded that something was covering the trap door. A tarp maybe? It didn’t matter. What was clear is that we were going to be let out of here if and when our captors decided it was time. Gerald’s hand lingered on my shoulder longer than I would suspect it should have and he broke the silence with a statement that caught me off guard. “I’m not going to lie Thomas. While it is terribly unfortunate that you find yourself in this situation with me, I am happy to have someone to speak to. It’s nice to have human contact again after being treated little better than an animal.” I rested my hand gently upon his for a brief moment and put my other hand up to where I thought his face would be. “He’s about the same height as I am” I thought to myself. “Look Gerald. We will get out of this, one way or the other. I refuse to have this be the end of my story.” I asserted. I felt a gentle squeeze on my hand, and then he turned and shuffled away, back to his side of the cage.

Sleep came slowly, but it came. Dreams of the great outdoors and wide open plains came flooding to me, my subconscious demanding to be anywhere but here. My dreams were abruptly shattered as the sound of a thunderous engine came rumbling our way. The sound of it, even muffled as it was by our confinement was enough to wake the dead, and abruptly came to a halt somewhere near our makeshift tomb. I could vaguely make out the sound of a vehicle door slamming above. Dread came over me as I realized I would be meeting our captors. A thought pierced my fear addled mind - I only heard one car door. There’s only one of them, or the other is staying in the car. This might be the opportunity we needed to escape. For what seemed like an eternity, Gerald and I sat and waited. It took me a moment to realize I had stopped breathing and I’m fairly certain Gerald had done the same. Finally, we heard something heavy being unceremoniously dragged across the trap door. Moments later we heard a metallic jiggling sound as if someone was fiddling with a lock. With a loud creaking sound and a torrent of fresh air we could see the trap door open, letting in enough light to allow us to see the silhouette of what was clearly a man gazing down upon us. He sat there momentarily, saying nothing. He simply surveyed our confinment as if he was watching fish lazily swim around a tank.

“What do you want with us?” I snarled. “Why are we here?” I demanded to know. Nothing. Absolutely nothing. No acknowledgement, no sign that he understood my question and without anything further, the trap door came thundering down, slamming back into place. In my rush to demand answers, I missed an opportunity to get a look at my prison mate Gerald. Back in darkness, we listened to our captor cover us back up and drive off. We could hear the roar of the engine for a solid two minutes before it finally became too quiet to hear. I felt a sudden fit of rage coming on, manifesting itself deep within the fibre of my being. I was a rat trapped in a cage with no wheel and with no hope of escape. I would likely end my days here I thought.

Without thinking of the consequences I cursed something unintelligible and hit the wall with my fist realizing only at the last minute how tremendously bad of an idea that was. It was obvious right away that I had done some serious damage to my hand as I pulled my first back, shaking with rage, pain, and fury. I felt Gerald’s hand on my shoulder again, this time without any fumbling as if he knew exactly where I was. He spun me around slowly and surprised me by putting his hand behind my head pulling me towards him. I don’t know why, but in that moment I began to sob uncontrollably. I could feel the warmth of his body next to mine, his hand on the back of my head, his other in the small of my back. I hugged him and held him tight - I realized in that moment that this experience was something only we two could share. His heartbeat was elevated - I know, I could feel it through my own chest, meticulously thumping away. His must was now overpowering, finding its way deep into my nostrils as I took in the air around me.

My breathing evened out, becoming more regular until finally I had my composure. I could tell by his scruff scraping across my face that he was only slightly shorter than I, and he had a thin, wire like frame. I’ve known this man for less than half a day, but I just spent the last few minutes crying into his arms as if we were old friends. Gerald seemed to sense my body relaxing as much as it could in this situation and released his hold on me. My mouth started moving before I considered my words. “I’m sorry for that. You’ve been here for days keeping it together and I show up and start the water works.” I apologized. “Don’t think that I haven’t done my fair share of crying Thomas.” replied Gerald in a voice most comforting. It’s clear to me that Gerald was not lacking in empathy or compassion. After a brief pause, Gerald continued. “I’ve had more time to work it out. To understand what we are facing and it’s pretty fucking grim Thomas. We need to take our own lives into our hands, and we can’t miss any opportunity to get the fuck out of here if one presents itself.” Gerald had given this some thought I mused. “We don’t have much, but for now, we have each other.” Gerald stated plainly. We both settled back to the ground taking an opportunity to snack on a few bites of bread and water.

Sleep came again, this time without any dreams I could remember thanks to the good old cry I had with Gerald. It was probably a good thing I didn’t dream as I doubted they would be anything other than nightmarish at this point. If tomorrow came, I was determined to make something of it in whatever way I could. I was glad for Gerald and I suspected he was glad for me. If we somehow got out of this, I made myself a pact that I would never forget the kindness Gerald shared with me…and I would find a way to make our captor pay.