“Traffird!”
Sol sat up so fast he nearly smacked his head on the ceiling. He wasn’t used to being woken up by someone else; he barely slept to begin with. Sol rubbed a hand across his face and looked down from his place at the top bunk of the bed. One of the usual guards was there, waiting at the door. In seven years he still hadn’t learned any of their names. They all seemed the same, same uniform, same emotionless expression. Besides commands, they didn’t say much. Sol crawled down from the bed. The bottom bunk was empty, as it had always been. He trudged over to the guard, holding out his wrists for the guard to handcuff him. The guard did, clamping the cuffs on just below his two other accessories. One was a thick, braided bracelet. Deidry had given it to him, a long time ago. It was faded and fraying at this point, but it was one of the only things Sol still had from before. The other was slightly newer, a shiny metal rectangle on a chain. It didn’t have a clasp, no way to take it off. Sol had tried countless times, each to no avail. It was engraved with his name, his full one: Solus Traffird. The words below his name marked him as a prisoner of the Drudging Institution for Adolescent Reform. They liked to say they were helping the poor children sent here. That they were fixing them up so they could be sent back into society as good, normal citizens. He was seventeen, and his birthday wasn’t far away. Some people at the Institution were let go, but that seemed like a distant fantasy by now. There was no tomorrow in this place.
The guard led Sol out of cell, down the depressing grey brick hallways Sol had grown used to, passing rooms occupied by ever-rotating people whose names Sol never learned. They passed through several door before finally sunlight burst through and they stepped outside. Sol squinted, eyes slowly adjusting just before they shoved him into the dark work bus and tossed a piece of bread at him for breakfast. This had started a few months ago. Some government official had decided the convicts needed to be productive members of society. So every morning they’re packed into a bus and shipped off to the factory, and returned at night.
Sol stood at his work station, assembling the first few piece of the product before passing it to the next person. Over and over. His hands had callouses by now, but the first few days they’d bled from the hours of handling tiny metal pieces and screwdrivers. It was a mindless task, excruciatingly tedious and boring. The machines were loud, the factory was always stuffy and hot, and the work hours were dreadfully long. But just a few more minutes, and Sol was going to out of there. He had listened for the train whistle in the distance and timed it for a week, trying to figure out when the train arrived at the station. He knew that if he ran in a few minutes, he would have ten minutes to find clothes to disguise himself and hop on the train.
Sol looked over at the guard stationed in the corner to watch him and the others sent to work in the factory, then looked over at the person working in the row in front of his. Their back was turned, but Sol still recognized them. It was Gerald, a large, obnoxious, and short-tempered brat. Exactly what Sol needed. He grabbed a screw and chucked it at Gerald. It smacked the back of his neck, and Gerald immediately turned around.
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“Who threw that?” He snarled. “Who? Was it you Traffird?” He stepped towards Sol, fists ready. A few others nearby turned to look, trying to see what idiot had messed with Gerald this time.
Sol shook his head and pointed at the boy next to him.
Gerald reached over the table without hesitation and grabbed the boy by his shirt collar, yelling and cursing at him. Sol backed away.
“Hey! Back to work!” The guard shouted. Gerald ignored them and started punching, and within seconds the two boys were fully fighting. The guard ran over and began trying to diffuse the situation.
Sol slowly edged towards the exit, biting back a grin. It had actually worked. He’d actually done something to get out of this place. When he was sure the guard wasn’t looking, he bolted, shoving the door open and running into the crowded street. It would probably take a moment for the guard to realize he’d left.
As he ran, Sol scanned the alleys for anything to help him disguise himself. While he doubted anyone would recognize him from the newspapers that had gone out years ago, he didn’t want to take any chances in case missing posters were put up. Sol noticed a clothing line hanging from one window to another. He climbed on top of the garbage bins below it and grabbed a coat. It was oversized, but at least it would hide most of his factory uniform, and the sleeves were long enough to hide the bracelet he couldn’t get off. He tucked it under the one Deidry had given him, tightening it enough to hide it just in case. The grey button down shirts and black pants of factory uniforms weren’t uncommon in Drudging, but it would be odd for a factory worker to not be at work at this hour. He looked at the rest of the clothes hoping to find something to hide his face, but only found a beat up workers cap. At least it would hide his hair. His dark brown, almost black hair wasn’t very recognizable, but it was messier and longer than most people kept theirs. His last haircut had been done by himself many months ago, where he’d cut it all off in hopes of not having to worry about caring for it. Now it was an overgrown mess that got in his eyes. He shoved on the coat, stuck most of his hair under the hat and ran toward the train station, weaving his way through the bustling street.
After almost getting run over by an automobile and nearly knocking over a newspaper stand, Sol finally made it to the fence that kept people off the railroad track. He started to climb over it, hoping nobody would notice. His foot got caught at the top, and for a moment he wondered if his entire plan was going to be ruined by his lack of gracefulness. He shook it free, tumbling into a heap before scrambling to his feet. The train was about to leave. He scanned the side of the train, the rusted doors and painted symbols he didn’t know the meanings of. He knew couldn’t get in any of the main passenger cars because he didn’t have a ticket or money, so he found a cargo car and climbed in. He shut the door, cringing at the shriek of metal, and attempted to hide himself among the crates of goods being shipped. Hopefully they didn’t check there between stops for stowaways. The train started to move, leaving the station and taking Sol farther from Drudging. Finally, he might be able to track down the people who killed Deidry.
