-Untitled- [for now]

Chapter 1

 

I woke up. And nothing seemed quite right.

        First of all, I wasn't in my bedroom where everything was familiar to me. Second, when both your arms and legs are tied up, I don't think that means anything good.

        "Hello?" A squeaky voice called out from the darkness. I lay still, ignoring the other person. I listened for anything that might give me the slightest idea where I was. After pondering for a few moments, I decided to respond to whoever else was here with me.

        "Yo. Who are you? Are you tied up too?"

        "Yeah. My name is Ana. Do you know if anyone else is here?"

        I snorted. "If anyone else is here, they would've spoken something by now. My name is Vera." For a few minutes, both of us didn't say anything. We waited in the tense silence for something to happen.

        "Hey Vera--"

        "Quiet!" I whisper-shouted. "I hear something." Muffled voices nearby argued.

        "James! Take all the girls from Hall D-4 and transfer them to Capture House B-3." A yelp followed the sound of a person stumbling down steps. "Hurry, James! I haven't' got all day!"

        "Frank, I thought we got off on Saturdays."

        "Ol' Frank doesn't care, James! This is a crisis situation, so we can't slack off! Go, James!"

        My heart stopped. I looked at Ana. Or, at least where I thought she was. "Ana, from what we heard, I think--"

        Before I could finish my statement, light filled the room. I squinted my eyes, trying to adjust to the sudden brightness. A door previously hidden opened. A tall, scrawny, and weak man stood at the doorway.

        For once, I saw what Ana looked like. She was a small girl, athletically fit with long, flowing, brown hair and warm brown eyes. Her glasses made her eyes looked small and scared.

        "Come on, girls. I'm taking you to a huge sleepover party." Ana and I glanced at each other warily as the man untied us and replaced the ropes with chains.The chains on our wrists left us unable to do anything with our hands. The chains on our ankles only allowed us to walk slowly.

        We followed the man outside where several trucks ferried terrified, and sometimes, even sobbing children to wherever these "Capture Houses" were. The man led us to a truck filled with girls equipped with the same chains we had.

        "I'm sure you two can squeeze in. Now remember," the man said, raising his voice, "keep quiet in this truck. You'll be able to relax and clear yourselves of confusion when we get to our destination."

        "Where is our destination?" A young girl, perhaps about age six or seven, blurted out. The man ignored the poor girl's question and began to start the engine of the truck.

        "Vera?"

        "Yes?"

        "Do you think we'll be okay?"

        Hesitating, I shruged. "I really don't know. I'm just as confused and scared as you are. We'll see."

 

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