THE PRISONER IN THE MIDDLE

Tobi Abraham © 2017

The darkness had lingered for too long and Servius’ feet had now turned to jelly. It was doomsday, he was certain. Moments ago, the noonday sky had suddenly turned an eerie black, and the swelling wind whipped the flames of the lamps until they hurled sinister shadows about.

Servius realised he couldn’t keep his knuckles from squeezing his spear. So, he stuck it in the ground and leant into it. He glanced about. The three prisoners were still hanging on their crosses. The men on either sides had groaned, sung, cursed and cried over the course of the last watch. But the man in the middle—the one with the inscription above his head—had not as much as whimpered since the sudden blackness. A quirky feeling roiled up in Servius’ insides—this man must have something to do with the thick-bosomed evil that swept away the daylight.

His commander stood to the side, eyes darting back and forth. His apprehension was clear in his short raspy breathes. As for Lawrence, Servius was certain he had peed his pant.

Suddenly, a shrill cry rent the air, sending a chill down Servius’s neck. Were he not leaning into his spear, he would have fallen.

“Hear him, he calls on Elijah,” Lawrence chuckled nervously, breaking the ensuing silence.

“Silence!” The commander snapped. “Get the man something to drink.”

Lawrence fell out warily and made for the supplies. The prisoner took a sip from the offered sponge and cried once again. This time, the wind whipped a savage response and the ground quivered like a convulsing toddler.

“Lawrence, what have you done?” The commander cried.

“Vinegar! I only gave him vinegar!”

When the storm quietened, Servius looked about in shame and strange relief as he felt warm fluid trickling down his legs.

The commander and Lawrence lay quivering on the ground. But he had managed to remain upright. Was it the spear? No, he had been clinging to the prisoner’s cross. How?

“Is everyone okay?” the commander called out.

Servius straightened quickly as Lawrence and the commander relit a lamp and approached the cross.

Lawrence held the lamp to the prisoner’s face. “He’s dead.”

“Dead?”

The commander poked the prisoner’s side with a spear. “Did you hear him praying forgiveness for us?”

Servius glared at the commander, then his heart skipped.

What had they done?