The Lost Generation Chapter 6
Firstly, it's about time I apologized for the tediously slow addition of chapters. Just... Life, y'know?
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6
Two burly men, dressed casually but with serious faces, came through the door, each carrying chains.
"For the safety of both yourself and other passengers, you are required to be securely restrained for travel," said one, in a monotone voice. "Please stand against the wall and place your hands behind your back."
The surrealness of the situation staggered Sam to the point of confusion and intimidation, so he slowly did as the man had said. Why was he being treated like a prisoner? What the Hell was going on?
Metal shackles were clicked round his wrists and ankles - each with a short chain between them, allowing him to hobble awkwardly along once each man grabbed an arm and led him away.
After a few long, bland corridors they reached a door and the second man produced what looked like a pillowcase, pulling it roughly over Sam's head, leaving him in total darkness. Before there was time to adapt to this, a harsh ripping sound preceded something being wound tightly round his head, specifically over his mouth. Sam could now no longer see what he was heading into, nor even protest. He was a little frightened.
Movement, and then the sound of... People? Activity? An engine, maybe? Hard to tell. He was hauled up a few steps, shoved along and pushed down onto a hard, cold seat. His left shoulder was cold against something hard. Glass, perhaps. The flimsy gown had not gathered beneath him, meaning his bare backside was also uncomfortable.
It did not feel long -- though, realistically, it could have been any amount of time, given how difficult it now was for Sam to track it and also how far removed he was from even trying to; lost instead in his own head in utter bewilderment -- until he felt the presence of a body next to him. A stiffness; their cold shoulder touching his. He wondered if it was perhaps a guard, or another person like him. Like him! Another person shackled and hooded? The stuff of Guantanamo and hysterical news stories? Had everyone in that first Intake room been humiliated like he had? Ended up in the same position?
He could barely comprehend that idea. His thoughts only fleetingly turned to Luke, before he furiously tried to banish them, feeling hot tears prick his eyes.
A roar, and the bench and the cold wall to his side rumbled. A squeak and a hiss; muted exchanges between men and suddenly they lurched forward, on the way to who-the-fuck-knew-where.