It was undoubtedly difficult for one man to do the job of two. Stanley’s arms had to be precise and stalwart to operate the drill and his legs had to be even stronger to support him amidst the falling dirt. But Stanley had accustomed himself to the task by keeping one foot far apart on a ledge and using the other to kick the dirt down. Not all of the dirt cleared, but most of it did which was enough room for him to step over. This way, Stanley’s progress was efficient.
He had reached his twentieth ledge when the dirt below him parted and slid down. That was when a light shone through and Victor appeared.
"Stanley, you had all of us worried," Victor said. Stanley lowered his drill. "What are you doing here?"
"Must I explain?" Stanley said.
"Why? Why are you digging alone?"
"I visited the archives. I saw pictures of the world above, these pictures I could have never imagined. An overwhelming haste took me over."
"How long have you been here?"
"Long enough."
"You should stop." Victor placed a hand on Stanley’s drill.
"Why should I?" Stanley yanked his drill away.
"The council is holding a vote. We cannot continue without you."
"Is it a vote to end the dig?"
"Yes."
"Is it because of yesterday's incidents? Have you wooed some of the members to your side?"
"I didn't woo them. They've come to their right senses."
"Then there is no point in me being there. We both know that the vote will be overruled immediately."
"I know I can never convince you, but I must ask. Are these weapons not proof enough? Do they not seem wrong? Why are they designed as such if not to harm?"
"They are tools," said Stanley. "They are only tools, not weapons."
Victor grabbed a metal stick that had three points and held it before Stanley. "How could this possibly be a tool? Explain that to me."
"That? Well that was used to eat."
Victor rapidly blinked. "Listen," he said. "Come down and meet with the others. You can explain this to everyone."
"Until I am fully exhausted here, I will never go down."
"What has happened to you?" Victor said.
The tunnel shook and rumbled as dirt cracked and seeped down the tunnel.
Victor tightly clutched the ledges and cowered. Stanley looked up and said, "It calls for us." He raised his drill and continued.
"Do not be deceived," said Victor. "It's a threat!" He reached out and forced Stanley's drill down. "We must warn the others of this."
Stanley coiled his drill away. "Do you not wonder what that sound may be coming from? What if this rumble may be the cause of other people?" He brought the drill before him and continued.
"You are going to doom us," Victor said. "When will it have been enough? When the blood of our wives and children are spilled because of you? I will not allow it!" Victor lunged forward and switched the drill off.
"No!" said Stanley. He shot his fist toward Victor and knocked him back. "Get away from me! If you cannot see this to the end, then I will do it myself." Stanley turned and focused on drilling again.
"You will not drill out of here," said Victor. He turned and slid down the tunnel.
Stanley continued drilling, this time more empowered. His arm muscles pulsed and his legs stood boldly upon the ledges. Every ledge up, he seemed to push the drill farther into the earth, thus speeding his progress. This burst lasted for a good ten ledges until his arms shook. They weakened and almost dropped under the weight of the drill. He set it aside and fell to his chest and gasped. He lay there for a while, but even his legs trembled. He quickly rolled over, brought the drill to his chest then slid down.
He crashed down with a forceful thud on his feet that incited a shock through his legs, up his spine, and to his head. He clutched his head and massaged it, hoping to numb the pain. He clawed at the feet of the tunnel, but he felt only air. He looked down and saw that his bag was gone.
"Where," he started, half gasping. Voices rang from the town, then settled then rose again. Stanley balanced himself and ran to them.
The morning crowd had gathered around Victor, who stood on a bench, holding the three metal sticks and plastic tube in one hand raised above. Stanley’s torn open bag hung from his other.
"What are you doing?" Stanley said.
"Exposing your schemes," said Victor. He turned to the crowd. "These are the weapons that this man has been hiding. My word is not the only one you can trust, but also Bucker’s!"
"It is true," Buckner said, pointing at Stanley. "That man was carrying them around last night."
The crowd erupted in unintelligible demands.
"Why were you keeping these weapons?" most of the crowd said.
"They’re not weapons," said Stanley. "They are tools. Like the drills we’ve been using for so long! They are tools! I’ve spent last night at the archives, looking through our history, far back. I discovered that these were tools, once used to eat food and administer medicine."
The crowd laughed.
"When would a man ever need such a thing to eat?" said Victor. "Tell me. When would a man need such a thing to take their medicine?"
The crowd mumbled in agreement.
"Have any of you visited the archives?" said Stanley. "I’ve seen a list of the people who have. Out of them, I only recognized Mr. Albertson."
"That man is a liar," said an old man from the crowd. "His claims are false. Ever since I was a child, I have taken pills. My father and his father ate pills. Never did we require such tools."
Mr. Roberts stepped forward and raised his hands. "Refrain from making accusations. The council will hold a meeting and discuss this matter."
"Before we do that, I believe we should reveal the severity of Stanley’s actions, right here for all to see," Victor said.
Ailey walked up and presented a long box. Victor opened it and withdrew the long, red rusted stick with the point on top. The crowd scowled and some recoiled away.
"It all started with this," Victor said. "When Stanley was snooping around in those caves, all alone, against our regulations. He found this weapon. Only when I took notice and bombarded him with questions did he share his information. Otherwise, he would have kept it, along with these other weapons."
"Now listen, Stanley isn’t like that. He’s a good boy," Mr. Albertson said. "I’m sure he had good intentions."
"Shouldn’t you be cautioned the most out of all of us?" said Victor. "You’ve almost met death yesterday. You’ve had one of these weapons fall on you. Are you not worried, even a single bit?"
"What happened yesterday happened yesterday," said Mr. Albertson. "Today, I am fine; all of us are. But what about tomorrow? We began drilling to find a better life above, where we belong. Are we not restricting ourselves by remaining down here?"
Some council members stepped behind Mr. Albertson and voiced their agreement.
Others stepped behind Victor and voiced theirs.
It wasn’t long until their words brought them closer together. For they got louder and harder to hear, they yelled them into each other’s faces until they were required to make physical contact to emphasize their points. And it wasn’t long until the crowd joined in.
Amidst the chaos, Stanley slipped into the cave. He dashed across the dirt to the tunnel. He put only his helmet on, grabbed the drill, and started climbing.
Stanley was quick to step between the ledges. His legs jolted up as fast as his arms could provide the force. At one point his hurried steps broke a ledge, but he shot his arm up and dug his fingers deep into the dirt. Eventually, his head collided with the end. He turned on his helmet light. He reached behind and fumbled to withdraw his drill. He set it on his knee and grasped it, but something caught his eye. The light from his helmet shot onto something red, something thin: a vein of rubies.
Stanley’s mouth quivered.
"How far I’ve come." His expression darkened bitterly. "How far I’ve strayed."
&
nbsp; "Ah!" Victor cried as he thrust his stick. The pointed tip dug into Stanley’s leg. Victor pushed deeper and twisted it.
Stanley’s body jolted and he shrieked, "What are you doing?"
"Stopping you!" Victor dug the stick in even deeper.
Stanley kept his undamaged foot on the ledge, but it faltered. He took his damaged one and kicked Victor’s head, but in the process, tore a wider gash.
Victor recoiled from the pain and fell back before tumbling down the tunnel. The stick released from Stanley’s leg and fell as well.
His leg was torn open to the bone. Stanley felt weaker every second as more blood poured out.
Stanley brought the drill before him and started it. He pushed the drill farther up, as far as he could put it, but he could not climb, only drag his limp body with his frail arms.
Stanley grunted and shook as he kept his last, waning grasp on the drill. The rocks above him continued to crack and slide, but too much dirt had amassed at his feet and he could no longer drag himself up. He tossed the drill aside and fell on his chest. His eyes tightened and slowly closed, but a few rocks fell, and a thin beam of light shone directly on his face. He gasped and forced his hands above his head and clawed for the light, until the last of his blood emptied and streamed down the dirt, like veins of red rubies.
A white rabbit hopped along a lush, green meadow. It stopped and nibbled on the dandelions that swayed with the light breeze. Nearby, some dirt slid down and revealed a hole. The rabbit went over and sniffed the hole and dug his nose inside. His investigation was cut short when the ground rumbled. He poked his head up, looked around, and hopped back to the meadow as a rusty old steam engine passed by.
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