Fantom chapter 5, part 1

5. When hope is gone.

   Ruth opened her eyes, her head throbbing.  She was lying on a dirty rug on the hard wooden floor of a small upstairs room.  It was dark, only a dim light filtering in through a small, high window.  She guessed that it was either evening or early morning.  Her left ankle was agony as soon as she tried to move it and she almost lost consciousness again.  She tried to sit up but as soon as she moved she felt sick and the pain became unbearable, so she lay still.

   She closed her eyes and tried to remember what had happened.  She had destroyed the fantom- but she had fallen from the castle walls.  And- well, judging by her surrounding she was still in the hands of the enemy.  Maybe the others had escaped, but they had not got help quickly enough to save her.

   The darkness that had come over her was receding, although she rather wished it wasn’t.  On the other side of the door she heard footsteps and Patrick’s voice, seemingly continuing an ongoing conversation with the adjudicator.  

   “...but you said you wouldn’t hurt her!”

   “The deal was that we wouldn’t kill her.  And we won’t, unless she does something stupid again.  Of course, if you’d rather we killed you instead...”
   “But you promised...”

   “Shut up and stop whining.  Go and see if that fool of a girl is still alive.”

   There was the sound of a door slamming.  Ruth tried to make sense of what she had heard but her head was still woozy and she found it hard to concentrate.  The door opened and Patrick peered in, gingerly looking to see if she was awake.  When he saw that she was he hesitated, but then came towards her and sat down next to her.

   “I’m so sorry,” he whispered.

    Ruth said nothing.  Her head was starting to clear and she remembered his part in events.
   “Is there anything I can do?” he asked hesitantly.  
   “You could find a doctor and some way out of this place,” Ruth said shortly.  
   “I wish I could,” he said earnestly.  Ruth realised that he was as much of a prisoner here- wherever 'here’ was- as she was.  He was obviously out of place here, not trusted by the guards, unable to leave without the adjudicator's permission.  
  “Did the others get away?” she asked.
  “I think so.  She didn’t catch them before we left the castle and I think she’s speeding up her plan rather than try to find them.” 

   She tried to sit up.  Patrick tried to help her, but she felt sick immediately and lay down again.

   “I'm sorry,” he said again.  “Does it hurt a lot?”

   “Quite a lot,” she said, trying to smile.  “My own fault, I knew I’d get hurt.  It seemed worth it, to destroy that monster.”

  “It was very brave,” he said.  “I don’t know how you did it.  I thought you’d...you were dead.”

  “I expected to be,” she said quietly.  “Maybe that would have been better.”

   He took her hands in his.  “I’m sorry,” he said in a low voice, pleading.  “I didn’t think anything like this would happen, I didn't mean it to be like this.  She promised you’d all be safe.”

   Ruth looked at him.  She could believe that he hadn't wanted anyone to be hurt- but he could have done something to stop it, to help her and her friends, and he hadn't.  But he had been scared, she had seen that, scared for his own skin.  And he still was.  She knew how that felt.  

   I didn't betray my friends when they refused to help the adjudicator, she thought.  I helped them escape and destroyed that Fantom.  

   But could you do it again, her second thoughts whispered.  Now you know what the consequences are?  

   “I’m sorry,” Patrick repeated.  “Please forgive me, if you can.”  

   Ruth stared at him.  Forgive him?  After all he had done- after betraying her and threatening her with a gun?  Could she really forgive him for that?  How could he even ask?  Her first response was surprise and anger, but as she looked at him she remembered his story.  This was the real Patrick, not one of her stories.  He was human, fallible, as was she.  Who was she to judge?  And he evidently was genuinely sorry.

   Maybe she would be able to forgive him one day- but not yet.  She could not forget what he had done.  

   But before she could speak the stomp of heels outside the door heralded the adjudicator.  Patrick stood up hurriedly as she entered.  Ruth sat up and shrank back, afraid.  The woman scowled at her.  “So you are still alive then.  Useful but rather a shame- it would have been more fun if you had been the victim of your own little triumph.  A pyrrhic victory would be so much more poetic.  Almost operatic.”  She gave a cold laugh.  “Escaping death is more than you deserve.  And if you don’t do what I want you’ll wish you hadn’t.”  

   “What do you want me to do?” Ruth asked, and wished it wasn’t so evident from her voice that she was  terrified.  The adjudicator smirked.  “Nothing too difficult,” she said.  “I want you to sing.  Between the two of you,” she looked across at Patrick, “you can create me a new fantom to replace the one you destroyed.”
    “No!” Ruth said, almost without thinking.   If she had stopped to think, she would not have had the courage to say no, looking up at the menacing mound of wet minerals behind the adjudicator.  
    “No?” the adjudicator repeated.  “Oh, I think you will.”  She motioned with her baton, and the fantom lumbered towards Ruth.

The story continues...