His Resting Place

Chapter 7

Nightfall had met him staring off into the track. His belly grumbling in dissatisfaction. His eyes drooped occassionally shutting and reopening. He was exhausted. His throat was parched. He threw the pieces of rusted track on the dry floor. The surrounding area was dark except for a small light attached to the abandoned track. It flickered on and off not shedding much light to the area.

Marco struggled to find his cane that he swore was right next to him. He tried to get up but his legs did not permit him. In the end he decided to crawl on his hands and knees. He was bruised up rubbing his legs from the insect bites and occassionally rubbing his tear stained eyes. Marco crawled towards the flickering light.

He entered the tunnel dizzly crawling to the side walls. He grunted as he used the tunnel walls to raise himself up. Painfully making it to a standing position he used his pants to dust off his hand one at a time. He then held on the walls for dear life. He felt dizzy. He felt hungry. Waves of anger then struck him followed by guilt and ending in sadness.

Tears stung his eyes and cascaded down his cheeks falling to the rusty floor. In the distance another light could be seen flickering as well. Flashes of oncoming trains flooding his brains condemming him. Visions of roaring flames punished him. The laughter of a little boy's voice pained him. Through all the noise he singled out a main voice - his grandson's.

"Grandpa," the boy's voice called.
"Rick," Marco found himself replying silently.
"Grandpa why didn't you save us?" the boy continued to ask innocently.
Marco raised his head staring into the emptiness.
"Rick," he said audibly.
"Grandpa save us," the boy pleaded.
"I can't," Marco cried stretching one hand into the dark grasping air.
"Grandpa!" the boy screeched and Marco then heard dead silence.
"I'm so sorry," Marco said into the empty dark space. He slammed his fist on the dirty walls repeatedly brusing himself even more.

He was at his breaking point. His mind was playing games with him. He loudly sobbed. Gathering the remaining strength he had he slowly dragged further into the tunnel. It was the first time he stayed away from his home so long. He momentarily wondered if Jane was looking for him. He wouldn't be shocked if she wasn't. His kind treatment to her ended when his wife took her last breath.

Even though Jane had lost her husband as well on that day Marco never cared about her grief. He became a self centered tyrant. He was surprised she stayed working for him for so long. Marco dragged along bumping into old steel and scrapping his arms against the wall. He dragged on with determination, with a sole purpose in mind - to escape.

After what felt like hours and maybe it was Marco stopped. Marco stopped walking. He stopped crying. His hands dropped from the wall sending his body off balance and he fell to the ground. This time he stopped trying. He could no longer outrun his pain. He pushed himself against the wall and just sat there. He was numb. His world had stopped. His had life stopped.