Rebels

Ch. 1

His shoes threw up dirt within each step he took. He turned the corner and skidded to a halt, gathering in the scene. People crowded the small street, buying food from local booths set up on the sidewalks. It was noonday; the time where everyone was bustling around, wide awake.

He peered over his shoulder, finding the two officers had rounded the corner and had picked him out easily from the crowd. He began to run as fast as he could once again, this time having to dodge the people around him. A woman with a basket on her head suddenly veered in his path. He jumped to the left, bumping her on accident. He could hear the basket hit the ground and the woman shouting angrily at him, but he kept on going. He didn't know where exactly he was running to, but he knew that if he kept on going, eventually he would be able to outrun the officers.

The bag he held with him bounced within each step, bumping each time into his leg. He could feel the weight of the money inside, and that thought gave him the energy to keep going. His chest burned as he jumped over a few barrels containing wine. He had practiced the jump before multiple times, so that this time he would be able to easily make the height required to jump over them. Within the small town, barrels of wine were frequently around, because of the wine brewery just down the street.

He could hear the shouts of the soldiers behind him, so he ignored the burning sensation within him, and continued to push himself further. He risked a glance behind his shoulder and saw the two men, pushing people aside to get to him.

Suddenly his leg slammed into something hard, causing him to lose balance. He fell forward, two empty barrels falling with him. The man who was looking over the barrels shouted at him, angry that the barrels were now full of dust with the possibility of a few cracks now in the wood.

The bag that was once with the man had now poured all of the money out, and some of it flew with the wind. In a desperate attempt the man tried to grab some of it, but it was too late. He could feel eyes burning into the back of his skull, and he turned his head. The two soldiers were standing before him, looking down in disgust.

The soldier standing to the right raised his gun, slamming the bottom of the gun into his head, knocking the man unconscious with the last thing he felt being pain.

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When he awoke, he found that his bag was gone, along with its contents. He frowned, already missing the money he had attempted to steal. He looked around, gathering in his surroundings. Multiple others were around him, all male. He realized his hands were bound in chains, along with his feet. A single soldier stood by the door, overseeing them all, all the while holding his precious gun in his hand.

Just then, another soldier stepped into the room, coming from somewhere outside. The man realized that it was the same soldier who had knocked him unconscious.

The soldier shouted for everyone to get up. The man didn't see as to why he should protest and followed orders. He knew where he was going. He had wound up there before, and he had despised it.

The soldier who had hit him lead everyone outside. They all walked in a single file, with guards all around them so they could be sure the prisoners wouldn't escape. As they were lead outside the stuffy, wooden room, they were greeted by pellets of rain. Immediately the prisoners were on a boardwalk, the sea all around them. A large ship greeted them at the end, where the prisoners were being taken.

Once the man walked up the platform to the main deck of the ship, a large, buff man grabbed his right wrist. He scanned it, making sure the man's wrist was branded with the correct sign. It was the outline of the scar forming an X. The large man dropped his wrist and pushed him forward, causing the man to trip on the chains around his ankles. He knew where to go. He walked down the aisle, passing dozens of men who had already been on the ship. They sat side by side on the numerous wooden benches, holding the stick of the large paddle that helped maneuver the ship.

The man went towards the back of the ship, sitting down next to a fellow who had slashes running through his back. The man grabbed the end of the paddle, getting ready to begin the hard labor that was to come. As he was waiting for the rest of the prisoners to get checked in, the fellow with slashes in his back turned towards him. "Let me guess... You stole something?"

The man sighed. "I tried to."

"Judging by the mark on your hand I can say you've been here before?"

"Judging by the marks on your back, I can say you've been a bad boy?"

The fellow next to him slumped over the paddle, looking defeated. "I was caught behind enemy lines a year ago. They tried interrogating me, but look where that got me." The man sighed. "Well, we've got about two weeks on this ship before we reach land." He held out his hand. "I'm Arin. Originally your foe, but now a friend."

The man took his hand, understanding that he'd have to deal with this guy for the next two weeks. "Jack. Jack Foster."

The fellow looked away, taking a deep breath. "Welcome to the club."

Jack sighed, feeling a migraine coming on. He had been caught before, but he had only been on a ship once, and that was years ago. Usually, the officers would take him to a prison and brand him, and then keep him there for a life sentence. Jack had connections, though, and he was usually able to escape. He did not want to leave his city, and the thought made shivers run up his spine. He had hopes that one day he wouldn't be caught, and that good fortunes would come his way. As soon as he was off this ship, he planned on escaping once again. First, though, he wanted to have a word with the soldier who had knocked him unconscious. Once he does so, he plans on scouring the next city they would arrive at. Then he would know the best places to hide.