Sieben
Another thing I wrote for class last year. It was published in my school's magazine...
I actually plan to expand on it at some point.
A sudden jolt woke me from unconsciousness. I became alert quickly, opening my eyes and realizing I was still where I was when I fell asleep. I relaxed some and looked out the window into the seemingly endless desert.
The bus rattled and I imagined we were no longer on pavement, but rather the bumpy sand. The prisoners in front of me sat in silence as waited to reach the institute. I was all the way in the back, by the window, and a guard sat next to me beyond my little cage. Each seat was blocked off by a metal fence, and half way through the seat is another fence dividing the prisoners sitting next to each other. But in the front, middle, and back, an armed and armored guard sat to make sure no one would start a ruckus in their little mobile cells...
My hands were shackled together in front of me, there being only two small chain loops to severely limit my dexterity. But it wasn't just cuffs that held my wrists. The entirety of hands were in a metal ball, almost like a mitten, rendering my hands completely useless. My feet were shackled as well, and the chain was shackled to the floor of the bus. My wings also had a somewhat heavy, metal restraint on them, keeping them in a folded and immovable state. A black nylon muzzle reinforced with steel alloys covered our maws to prevent us from speaking, but more importantly, burning anyone alive.
Thick metal bars covered the windows, making an escape impossible unless the steel were to somehow break...or melt. This bus had about ten rows of seats, allowing about 40 prisoners to sit in, or 34 if you don't count the guards' seats, as they were not caged in. But yet there were only seven of us...seven prisoners, six guards, and the driver. So much room for such a small amount of people. But it's a necessary precaution, especially for us.
Out of the other six prisoners, I only knew two. Friends of mine. The others I'm not sure, but I'd imagine they did something good enough to be here. I'm sure we'd get along fine because, like myself, they were dragons. I'd be surprised if my friends didn't know at least one of the other prisoners with us. We were all connected in one way or another.
I looked at the guard next to me. From head to toe he was covered in some advanced power suit that glowed a faint blue in some places. He held a rifle between his legs, the butt on the floor and the barrel pointed up as he leaned back. From his peripheral, he must have seen my head turn, because he looked at me, though I couldn't see his eyes or face because his helmet covered it. So I stared right into the glowing, blue, horizontal slit that I could only imagine his eyes were behind.
"What are you looking at?" he asked, his voice being transmitted through a radio on his suit.
I couldn't reply to him because my mouth was being held shut, but I grinned slightly in amusement from his attitude, though he couldn't see it. How big and bad he is behind all that armor and a gun in his hands, versus one who is chained down in every way possible. So as a response, I held my gaze. The faint blue hue was a nice touch to the armor...I almost envied it.
He picked up his rifle and bashed the butt of it against the side of the cage. "Stop staring at me!" he shouted.
I could see out of the corner of my eye a few guards and prisoners looking back at us, but I still didn't look away, not as long as I knew it bothered him. I blew a small flame out of my nose, but the end of it was bent so the fire would just go back across the length of my maw. Still, it was a threatening gesture.
A guard stood and walked to the back, then grabbed the arm of the guard sitting next to me and pulled him up. He pushed him towards the front of the bus, then sat down next to me, taking his place. The other guard sat where this new guard was before. So I stared at the new guard, but he didn't seem as bothered. He sat back, crossed his legs, and faced me.
"You know...that attitude you have is going to get you killed in the prison. You're not as big as you think you are pal."
I breathed out a deep pitched chuckle, loud enough for him to hear it. How ironic for him to say that, given the position I'm in. He sighed and looked away to the front of the bus. I'd imagine I'm not the first cocky prisoner he's seen, but I may be the first for other things. I'm not nervous nor scared, and I don't believe my companions in front of me were either. This is just a game to us, and I plan on having as much fun as I can...