“Die?” For a moment Zax failed to understand the question.
Was he not dead already? In a way that was his assumption. He was ready to also make it his answer when a cold sensation from his dantian changed his mind before he could get a grasp on it.
“I won’t die here”. It came out as a casual matter of a fact, against their disheartening circumstance.
Numerous projectors shed light at the bottom of the crevasse. The sky was only a distant, finger thick c***k. The earth was laced by tracks that extended out of tunnels in the crevasse’s walls to dumping grounds for waste. Working them were thousands upon thousands of bushed prisoners, all sort of Beings, who had taken as close to a humanoid a form as they could transform to – that was only one of the Seventh Post’s two hundred and sixty se
