Chapter.11 – Escape
When Mustang came too, he found himself in the back of a large truck. It was the first automobile he had seen since he started his journey, and it was one taking him to his death. Mustang sighed, dropping his head and focusing on the shaking floor. It was there he noticed his feet had been shackled together with chains that connected him to every other man on the truck. All their hands where tied up too. He'd blown it. All he had been doing, gone, in a flash. The landlord had sold them out, him and Finn. He glanced around, looking for Finn, but couldn't recognise his face amongst the others who were in the truck. They all bore the same facial expression of regret and disappointment. Each and every one of them in the truck was being taken away from their goal, and being brought to a much less glamorous ending. Death.
The truck stopped, and Mustang heard voices as the guards contemplated what to do with the people on the trucks. Mustang looked around, desperately seeking some angle in which he could escape his fate. A plan formulated in his head, but before he had a chance to think it all through, the back of the truck opened, and the military guards stood, grinning at the people in the truck. The prisoner closest to the door was taken by the arm, and hauled out of the truck. He was told to march along up the hill, and he guided everyone out of the truck, who all got out in sequence. Mustang slowly followed the man in front of him, but stopped when he came to the guard.
"Cigarette?" he asked. The guard looked at him oddly, taking out a packet of cigarettes and lighting one, giving it to Mustang. Mustang thanked the guard before being jerked along by the marching prisoners. He found himself being marched up the hill, where they all stood in a line. Mustang looked around, his cigarette still burning at the end of his mouth. He spotted the guards call an order, and they all raised their guns up, pointing them at the prisoners upon the hill. Quick as a flash, Mustang fell to the floor, dropping his cigarette and catching it in his hands. He quickly drew a transmutation circle on the floor, and before the guards had any idea of what was going on, he had made an explosion on the hill which blew his shackles off his hands. He turned and ran, heading towards a forest where he quickly found some cover. His heart was beating faster and faster, and when he looked down, he noticed his hands where injured and bloody from the explosion he had created. He swore as he realised the amount of pain he was actually in. He glanced back once, listening as various guards shouted and swore as the other prisoners began escaping. There were a series of gunshots, aimed in different directions. Roy clenched his teeth as he turned his back, running away from the chaos. He didn't have any idea where the truck had taken him, but he had a feeling that he was near Central. If he headed east, he might just be able to make it to Risemboul in a couple of days. He continued to run, constantly glancing back to check if anyone was chasing him. He found to his luck that nobody was chasing him, and in an hour he had managed to cover quite some distance between himself and the guards. He stopped walking, finding himself near a stream that was running through the woods. He bent down, washing his sore hands in the cool water. He then carefully lapped up the water in his cupped hands, drinking the water before washing his face. He took a deep breath of air in, looking around as he decided which way to go. He decided to follow the river, hoping that it might just lead him to Risemboul.