Chapter 28
Pitkins woke up suddenly.
Aghhh, my head hurts so bad, he thought to himself. Where am I? How did I get here? Then, just as suddenly as he had woken up, it came to him: the attacker, the slash, the strange wound, the bird, the cave, a terrible drink, and then . . . sleep. He reached back to feel the wound. To his amazement it was almost totally healed.
“Where in Uchinweld am I?!!” he screamed, not caring if his kidnapper heard him.
He could see nothing.
He was in utter darkness. How am I going to get out of here? What about Donive? I hope she’s okay!! He felt angry as he realized just how helpless he was. He couldn’t even see. Holding his hand out in front of him to keep himself from hitting his head on anything, he began walking forward slowly. About a minute later, his hand touched a wall. He felt it, and then began walking to his right. After he had done this for about fifteen minutes, he realized that he was just walking around in a big circle. It seemed that there were no openings in the walls of this pit, but, hoping that perhaps he might find a small hole somewhere towards the bottom of it, he got on his hands and knees and started circling around the pit again, this time searching lower. Suddenly, he heard a noise. Not knowing exactly what to expect, he instinctively moved away from the noise and assumed a fighting stance. He heard a few very faint footsteps and then . . . silence.
Just when he was starting to think that he had imagined the whole thing, he heard a very faint sound of something falling into the pit.
It was about twenty feet in front of him.
He moved back again quickly, keeping his fighting stance. But then, a few seconds later, he heard the footsteps moving away; he heard what sounded like a door close; and then . . . silence.
He hesitated. Not quite sure what to do. This pitch darkness was somewhat terrifying, even for a hardened warrior.
Let me see my enemy, and I’ll take on anyone and anything, but this darkness is unbearable!! he thought to himself angrily. For all he knew this person might have just dropped a sack full of highly venomous snakes inside his pit.
Maybe venomous spiders. Maybe tarantulas. Maybe . . . okay, time to stop thinking like that!
Although it was already so quiet he could have heard a needle drop on a soft blanket, he focused his ears harder than he ever had in his life. After all, he knew that his auditory abilities were going to have to become very acute if he was going to survive in this hellhole because his visual abilities were now completely useless. Out of the equation. After about ten minutes of the most agonizing waiting he had ever endured in his life, he decided to investigate what it was that had been dropped into his new home.
Here goes nothing. One . . . two . . . thareee! He leaped in the direction of where he had heard the object dropped, and he reached out his hand and tried to grab it. His hand hit something,
(SNAKE??!)
and he felt a strange sensation on his hand. “Aghhh!!” he screamed, recoiling in terror. He had felt something wet and slimy . . . surely it was a large, venomous snake! Then, he began to laugh. A loud, hearty laugh. The “venemous snake” was a bit of water he had spilled on himself. Apparently the jar of water that had been lowered into his hellhole.
Although laughing at himself had calmed him down a bit, he still wanted to proceed with some caution. Reaching his hand out again, he touched the object: it was definitely a large jar of water.
“I’m so thirsty!” he said out loud, and he arched his head back to begin guzzling the water. Then, suddenly, panic hit him like a kick from a mule. What if its poison?! The thought sent waves of terror through him like volts of electricity hurtling through the body of a man struck by lightning. He smelled the water cautiously. It smelled normal. In fact, it had a very fresh smell, as if it had just been taken from a cold stream.
(you’re doomed either way; which is better death by thirst, or quick-acting poison?)
(I’m NOT doomed, but . . . .)
After thinking it over for a few minutes, he finally decided that if he was going to be able to escape from this place at all, it was certainly going to take some time. And if he didn’t hydrate himself, he was going to die of thirst before he could ever even come close to figuring out how to escape. Finally, he decided that, although there was some risk to drinking the water, the risk in not doing so seemed far greater.
Here goes nothing . . . . He took a long, deep drink of the water. It was wonderful!
Where did this come from? A freshwater spring?
He started to guzzle the water but then quickly stopped himself. He knew it was dangerous to drink water too quickly. Furthermore, he needed to conserve it. He had no idea when, if ever, the mysterious kidnapper might return again to bring him more water.
He felt a sack next to the water, and he quickly figured out that it contained bread. He decided to forego all the doubting and second-guessing this time and tore into it immediately, stopping only when he realized that he was in danger of eating all of what might be his last meal for a long time . . . if not his last meal ever. With a renewed determination to find a way out of the pit, he circled it again.
And then again. A third time. A fourth time. On his knees. Standing up. Jumping.
“UCHINWELDDDDDDD!!!!” he suddenly shouted out in fury. He began punching the sides of his prison, furious at himself for having allowed himself to become captured and imprisoned like an animal.
This went on for weeks. Then months. There was always water and bread for him to eat. It didn’t come everyday, but sometimes it came twice a day. He realized that for some strange reason, his kidnapper wanted him alive
(or wants to be the one who decides when and how you DIE!)
He wanted to yank on the rope that his kidnapper must certainly be using to lower the food and water into the pit so silently and crush his vertebra in about seven or eight places. For starters. But the person somehow always knew when he was sleeping and chose that time to bring the food. He knew that somehow, in addition to being able to move very stealthily, the person must have had some way of seeing in the dark.
(and Kasani knows what other talents . . . .)
He simply could not think of any other way in which his kidnapper could consistently slip past his detection. He tried sometimes to stay awake and pretend to be asleep so that he could wait for his captor to come and feed him. His plan was to yank on the rope and send the jailer tumbling down into the pit, hoping against hope he would still be alive when he landed so that he would still be capable of feeling pain when he grabbed his head and . . . . But it was no use. Somehow his captor knew when he was just pretending to sleep.
This disturbed him. He had looked death straight in the eye many times in his life and not blinked, but this darkness and utter isolation were beginning to test the limits of his mental and physical strength. To try and avoid becoming completely weak and emaciated
(which would be fatal if you ever do get lucky enough to catch Mr. Jailer off guard)
he did lots of exercise. This helped him quite a bit mentally, as well as physically. He did thousands of repetitions of each exercise everyday, and he found that anything that got his mind somewhat off of the darkness was helpful.