Free Ruled By Fear by C. Cervi Page A

mounds and mounds of stinking, filthy sheets, blankets, and the ugly grey uniforms they all wore.  The other pot contained a lye mixture that was similar to what they used back home to make soap.  Only this concoction was much stronger, and left their eyes stinging.  On top of that, it burned fiercely when it came in contact with their skin.
         When Aaron recognized the mixture for what it was, he had insisted that he and Keith clean their wounds, in order to avoid infection.  Keith had balked until Aaron had threatened to dump a bucket of the mixture over his head.  The soap worked itself in deep and both brothers struggled to hide the tears that involuntarily sprang to their eyes.
         Tom had come as close to laughing as Aaron had seen yet when Keith yelped over Aaron’s tender ministering’s.  It seemed that Tom and his brother had become their permanent work partners, and Aaron was glad.
         “Every so often, they let us wash things,” Tom explained.  “This is the third time I’ve been scheduled to the hot house.”
         “Yeah, usually it’s the girls,” Philip said shyly.
         Aaron listened to Tom closely as he explained that they needed to get all the laundry washed before quitting time—the water and soap would both be gone the next day.  Aaron wondered, once again, how it was that Tom seemed so knowledgeable about this place.
         “How long have you both been here?” he asked, motioning toward Tom’s younger brother.
         Tom’s face took on a mournful expression as he watched his little brother work.
         “We were brought here last fall,” he said.  “Philip was almost eleven.”
         Aaron watched as Tom’s eyes suddenly turned hard and the man squared his shoulders.
         “Too long,” Tom said through gritted teeth.
         Aaron gazed after him as the man stormed across the room, roughly grabbing up a basket of washed clothes.  They had devised a system early in the day that would allow each team to get out of the steam filled room every so often.  It was Aaron’s turn to go outside and hang clothes on the line but, as much as he wanted to get out into the fresh air, he knew that Tom needed some time alone.
         “It’s my fault, you know?”  Aaron was startled when Philip came up beside him.  “I’m the one that convinced him we should take the short cut through the canyon.  I wanted to get home in time . . . in time for my birthday.”
         Before Aaron could respond, Tom called for his brother, and Philip raced out the door.
         “I know exactly how he feels,” Keith said walking across the room.  “We wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for me.”
         “Keith,” Aaron said, turning to his brother, “this isn’t your fault, any more than it’s--.”
         “Then whose fault is it, Aaron?” Keith demanded.  “Who is it I’m supposed to blame?  I sure haven’t seen anyone around, have you?”
         Aaron sensed that his younger brother had finally reached his boiling point and, rather than trying to calm him down, he decided, instead, to release the cork.
         “Go ahead, Keith,” he said calmly.  “Say what you need to say.”
         “All right, fine!  I will,” he answered.
         Despite his brave words he hesitated, moving his jaw in aggravation.  Finally, his body tensed, and he spoke the words he’d been holding back.
         “The only one I see keeping us here is you,” he accused, taking a step back and waiting.  When he received only silence he continued.  “Why are we still here, Aaron?  You said yourself the front gate isn’t even locked.  We can sneak out tonight.  We’ll take Emily and we can get some help and come back for the others and-”
         “And you’d most likely get yourselves and Emily killed,” Tom said, stepping back into the room.  He shifted his gaze between the two brothers, fixing them with a fierce