D.n.D

Chapter 2

I couldn't even move when I came to. I was dizzy and my hands felt numb. I slowly regained consciousness, and sensed my body in motion, except for the fact that I wasn't moving on my own. I wiggled my appendages, and they were there. My eyes had some crust in them, but that was no big deal.
I reached up to wipe my eye, but a thick coiling of rope stopped my hand short. I instantly felt the chafing upon noticing the restraints. Wiggling didn't do anything but make me even more uncomfortable. I screamed on top of my lungs and my voice occupied an empty space. I wanted to call out for SkinnyBoy, but I still didn't know his name, so I screamed, "WHO'S IN HERE? HELLOOOOO BUS DRIVER? BOY? WHERE ARE WE???" It felt like I was in a moving van. A light bulb hung overhead, but there were no windows.
All that could be confirmed was that I was moving. And that I was starving and dehydrated. Whenever they opened the door, I wouldn't be able to fight, or even run. I wouldn't get far, so there was no point in trying and waking up in a box that wasn't moving.
I let my torso join my legs on the floor, and waited. Where am I?

Maybe an hour later. I stopped moving. The box jerked to a stop and I rolled to the front of the box. I heard movement.There was banging and car doors. Struggle. A long honk. What are they gonna do to me?
A thump and a grunt.
It was hard to know if I recognized the grunt, it being so muffled and faraway sounding, yet it felt as though it was the end for me; heavy footsteps ensued.
It turned out that I didn't recognize the grunt after all.

A man I'd never seen before came and rolled up the metal door that clanked and rattled when it opened. I hadn't realized that it was so big.
Without introduction, the man grabbed me by my rope and tugged me out of the box and onto dry dirt. I inhaled the dust and began coughing and hacking.
The man was unmoved. He had a cowboy hat and looked a little like Clint Eastwood. A short beard spread across and under his chin and met his sideburns. He was on the thin side and had this serious look.    
Once I caught my balance, he said, "Come on," and then started walking in front of me. After getting out, I realized that I had actually been in an enormous eighteen wheeler. It wasn't so tight of a space, after all.
Once we got to the side of the truck, I noticed SkinnyBoy belly down on the ground, gagging and heaving on the arid dirt, just as I did, but worse. A pile of what he threw up lay next to and on him. The coughing was violent and desperate.
I didn't say a word. Probably because they would have put me right there next to him so we could bathe in his vomit together.

I still felt bad for not helping him though.

The man pushed me in front of him and made me walk through SkinnyBoy's pile. I knew that the wet vomit and the dry dirt would make cakey puke on my sneaker. Sigh.
I wish I wouldn't have looked back, the sight of him just helplessly lying on the ground made my stomach turn.
Seeing the building made it even worse. It was wide and only had one floor. It seemed to stretch out for a mile. The gray on the outside walls were rusting and a fence encased the whole thing.
I didn't notice the clack of the man's boots until we came to a stop at the gate where he put in his fingerprint. How do they have a high tech gate with the building looking the way it does?
The door swung open as soon as we approached it. A man with a dumb face stood there holding the door and smiling. He seemed much more friendly than the guy that got me out of the truck, but I couldn't tell if it innocence or him just being creepy, so I made sure that my eyes never met his.
The man that got me out of the truck, or m.t.g.m.o.o.t. for short, continued to yank me by my arm roughly. once we got through the first door and let us to another door that was much less heavy.
That room was stark white and sterile looking. Symmetrical squares covered the entire room from the floor to the ceiling and I even almost felt bad about tracking muddy vomit everywhere.
Several doors later, the m.t.g.m.o.o.t. and I came upon a dark room with protruding rows of barred rooms. He opened up the one in the middle and said to get in. Inside there was a small tattered cot on the floor and a hospital blue sheet on top of it. The pillow had no pillowcase and the room had no window. None of them did; every four cells was a light hanging overhead which resembled the one in the truck.
The man shut the barred entrance and locked it with finality. "Hope you enjoy your cell." He smirked before leaving me alone in my cell.
I'm in what looks like jail when I'm supposed to be in an elite summer program. I felt like I was in a dramatic movie about getting kidnapped, and I anticipated the credits.