Continuing to pass the rows upon rows of carriages and men walking in and out of the rows carrying heavy leather bags filled with tools. I flinched and gasped at the sound of every hammer. It was ridiculous!
The smell of oil and burning coal filled my senses. It was awful. How could people work like this every day?
Taking a deep breath, I focused on the feeling of the cold metal of my dulled blade and the look at the rough stone beneath my leather booted feet and I started walking again.
Luckily, I knew where Harrison's great station was, in the middle of the chamber. Meaning I had to pass tens of hammering men and women and tens upon tens of damaged carriages.
As I kept walking, I realised why I hadn't come to see Harrison on his lunch break or even met him here after his shift. I despised this place. The noise, the noise, the noise it was too much.
My dulled blade span as fast as it could. With each hammering of the metal and carriages, I could feel my body getting more and more shaky and hunched. I wanted to go.
A grand hiss of steam on the far side of the chamber made me jump.
Memories of the torture sessions filled my mind.
Images of the red hot pokers appeared.
More hammering continued.
More noise.
More shouting.
My senses couldn't take it.
I fell to the floor, crawled up in a ball and cried loudly.
I closed my eyes. Feeling the tears streaming down my face. As much as I loved my autism for the benefits it has, I hated the sensitivity to noise. Why couldn’t the engineers stop? Please.
I just wanted them to stop.
As I continued to shake and cry my eyes out, I heard a set of footsteps come up to me and shout: "Boss, your man's here! "
Why did he have to shout?
The set of footsteps quickly left, and another wandered up to me. I heard the figure knelt down next to me.
“Daniel?” I heard Harrison’s voice asked.
Raising my head, tears continued to stream down my face, and I fell in Harrison’s arms. He gently rubbed my back.
“What’s wrong?”
“The noise,” I forced out through crying teeth.
Covering my ears with his rough yet loving hands, he screamed: “Everyone take twenty. That’s an order,”
No one complained and quickly everyone left.
“Daniel, you’re safe,” he said as my crying started to stop. “Why are you even down here? You never visit me at work,”
Of course, it dawned on me then that Harrison was at work and the warm skin that warmed my sobering face was his chest.
Forcing myself to come together, I looked at his soft blue eyes and answered his question.
“Ares, he is a traitor and he found these on his desk,” I replied as I took out the parchment depicting the carriages out from my leather trench coat.
Harrison opened it and unwrapped his arm around me to read it.