THORPE’S LAST RUN – PART III
4 05 2017He was still having trouble figuring out why so many of the others were giving him the evil eye. As near as he could figure, he was at the bar right next to the spaceport, and the sheer numbers of people, as well as the spaceport police ought to have provided safety. He must have been drugged as he waited for Cole. Though he could not know for certain, he believed he was in the same solar system. There was the slight hint of thin air, so it was possible that they were being kept on a planet with no atmosphere, or worse an asteroid. Until he could find out more, there was really no way of knowing. Perhaps he could get a clue from the type of ore they were mining as Cole had provided him with some details about the stellar region.
When they had reached what seemed to be a platform on a level surface, Thorpe looked ahead to see what type of equipment that they were being issued. Maybe he could use something to remove the chains. It was his hope that his experience as a mason would give him an idea that the others had not considered as a means of escape.
As it turned out, apparently the new arrivals were only given items to clean with, a few push brooms and dust pans. Thorpe would have to put his hopes of using the mining tools to escape on hold.
He was soon pushed into a large cavern with the rest of the unfortunates. He had noticed while chained to his group the range of styles in their clothing, from his functional and well-made travel attire, to actual other worldly formal wear. *** Now he noticed as they moved into the chamber that many of the other captives were still in the clothes they must have been abducted in, as they wore thread bare and dirty clothes, and all reeked of sweat and grime.
On the upper levels, perhaps the recycled air had been close enough to the source that the smells of slavery was not so noticeable, here in the midst of the mine, the stench was strong, acrid and pungent with fear, anger and desperation.
He also noticed that many of the others were once again glaring, and one or two even seemed to point in his direction, at him? His paranoia was quite active, being held as a slave, yet he believed that they were pointing at him. His thoughts were confirmed when one of the men ran towards him and swung a shovel at his head. Point of pride, he did duck the first swing.
As Thorpe awoke this time, with his head clanging more than the sounds of the mine, He was still in a bright room, yet the sounds of the mine were somewhat quieter. He was being guarded by two of the men who had been staring at him.
“What the hell are you doing?” one of them demanded.
“Who wants to know?” Thorpe replied.
