Terrible Tuesdays: An CENSORED guide

Chapter 2: A Quiet Cryptid

The transport van was sealed off from any light from entering, which was a plus. Funny thing, after being boiled alive suddenly on Mr. Kepler's Luxury Apartments' doorstep, the sun became a very terrifying thing to me. So I was thankful for the black garbage bags over the windows.

I, however, was not so thankful for the metal box that restrained both of my legs. For starters, it chaffed the boils on my ankles, it also weighed a ton, more like 30 pounds but come on, no one wants 30 pounds of weight on their ankles alone, it is an effective method of keeping me from running off, I guess, but I feel a lot better in this bus than out there with the sun, plus using the bathroom was about ten times harder now. I probably should have started with this one; it was a sign of my impending doom. I had superpowers, which meant I'd probably be experimented on or, worse, scouted for a licensing deal. Though I can't imagine I would sell many toys, at least not looking like Smegal the burn victim.

The bus bouncing picked up; the ground was becoming more unsteady, occasionally we went across a pothole large enough to force me to catch my lunch from spilling out my chapped lips. When the road became still enough for a long enough moment, I took a drink from the plastic water bottle I took from the Southern Ocean Medical Center. This was all I got to pack, and I honestly don't think they expected me to take it, but I was thirsty and had no idea how long the trip would be. So far, it's been at least a day. I only know this because the bus made a stop for gas, and I got a Big Mac from McDonald's for dinner, which was the only meal of the day. The water I had used to refill the bottle I had. Just in case, I wanted to cap it.

We stopped two other times. The only time I saw the driver was when he pulled off from a highway; at least, that's what I assumed we were on because of how fast we were going and the sounds of semis rushing by my window. The driver had pulled off for an emergency bathroom break. He rushed to the back of the bus where the onboard bathroom was. From the moment he came back from the caged-off front, eyes were on me.

The guard, who had accompanied the driver, had tunnel vision on my position. She was dressed from head-to-toe in riot gear, like something from a video game. Her hand was on her gun as if daring me to move. I, of course, with my 30 pounds of extra weight, didn't move an inch. I did, however, look at my driver.

He was an older man; it made me wonder how he held his bladder so well. His hair was speckled gray and black. His mustache screamed; bus driver. As if someone took the most stereotypical elements of the movie bus driver. From the gruff voice and pot-belly to the slight hunch and coffee-stained teeth.

His eyes were directly forward until the moment he passed me. The movie-bus driver had a look of determination that, for a split second as he passed me, turned to disgust. I don't particularly blame him. For the two days I had been in the hospital, I did actually see myself. That paired with the fact that I now had cuffs on my feet, an armed guard, and an entire decked out commercial bus to transport me...I looked like a monster.

We drove for a long time. I tried to sleep; at first, I was too nervous. No one exactly told me what was going on. When my parents came to the hospital, they didn't tell them anything either. I don't think exactly asked, but they really did seem just as confused as I had been. Even Paris seemed confused. From that point, I've been on this bus, and the anxiety settled to waves, which did give time for the exhaustion to settle in. I slept for a short time every few hours.

I don't know how long I was asleep before I was woken up for the final time on the trip. The bus had stopped, the doors were open. The air smelled salty. I knew the smell of the sea; we must have driven down the coast. But it was also warm. Too warm for being the middle of November.

The armed guard stood up and walked over to me. She looked down at me in silence for a moment, as if I were supposed to know what she wanted.

"Up," she ordered.

"Wher-"

"Now," she cut off.

I didn't feel like I had any room to argue. I stood, I rocked a bit to make sure I didn't fall back down on my butt. After the third time using the restroom, I figured out how to stand first time. Apparently, I was not moving fast enough as she grabbed my arm and pulled me up.

I gasped as she did so, not from surprise; I could have predicted something like this would come from a person who clearly didn't want to be here. But, the gasp came from the pain of her hands on my cooked skin.

Neither of us said a word as I was escorted off the bus. It wasn't until I was staring at the sunlight. The burning death was like walking into an oven. My feet refused to move. Actually, all of me did. I wasn't going to feel that again; I refused. As odd as it sounded, the sun was a lot scarier than the American SWAT soldier.

"Come on, and I don't have all day, kid. Move!" she commanded, which made me jump.

"Are you crazy?" Ever regret something as soon as it comes out of your mouth? If my common sense wasn't enough, her scowl through her helmet was enough to indicate my mistake.

Just as soon as I realized this mistake, she grabbed the collar of my white t-shirt.

"No, no, no, no, no!" I yelled as I was thrown off the bus.

I screamed as I hit the ground. I tried to cover myself, but to my surprise, when I landed, it didn't burn. I looked up from the ground; there was a shadow covering me from the sun. I looked up to see a still cloud on an otherwise spotless day. My chest was still heaving; I couldn't tear my eyes from it. It didn't move. I could feel the wind, and I could see seagulls flying overhead.

I turned to look around the area. The grass was a perfect shade of green with a spring air to the scene even though it was November. Looking around the area, I noticed the large prison fence with barbed wire lining the large area. Looking down the fence line, I could see another tall fence surrounding the current one with watchtowers placed at the corners.

Looking forward, I spotted a….a school? It felt more like a prison but looked like a college campus; It was huge! It nearly looked like a castle. Well, more like a Victorian estate with some modern touch-ups. The roof was a dark blue and appeared to be freshly done. The walls were a tan like coloring, with several white pillars lining the area. The building was three stories with half rectangular shape with windows filling the walls with a fancy display.

I noticed several people sitting on the large lawn. Some were on stone benches, while others were sitting on the lush grass. They were all between the ages of thirteen and nineteen and wore basically the same thing.

The boys were in khaki pants, dark blue tie with a white, long sleeve dress shirt. Some wore a yellow sweater vest with a V-neckline or a navy jacket. The girls were wearing either khaki pants or a knee-length, high-waisted khaki skirt with knee-high navy socks. They wore the same tops as the boys without the tie and instead wore a navy bow tie.

I felt eyes on me; I guess that's my fault. I did scream coming off this bus. Oh, and I look like an ad for an anti-drug campaign. My head went down as I stared at my feet.

Good job.

I followed the concrete pathway till we reached the center of the courtyard. The concrete branched out into different directions giving me the indication that more buildings were behind the one where we were currently standing.

The oddest thing about all of this was...okay, there was a lot wrong with this, but to start, that cloud was following me, just me! The sky was otherwise bare, but this one cloud kept me shaded from my certain death. I was constantly looking back at it to the point that I barely got to even look around.

I stopped looking around when I was led inside. Upon entering the sweet relief of insides, I began to breathe again. The shaking of my chest almost distracted me from the tightness of my neck and the burning in my cheeks.

"Gah...ha.."I gasped. I leaned on my knees, doing my best to catch even the sliver of a normal breath.

Click, click, click.

"Hello, Mr. I[CENSORED]. My name is Ms. J, and from this day on, you will be in my care," a sweet voice called.

I was expecting something of a grandma about to offer a plate of fresh-baked cookies when I looked up, but that wasn't even close to the woman I saw. She was slender and tall, with silky hair and dewy pale skin. Her sterling grey eyes flickered back and forth between me and a file she held in her slender hands. Her gradient lips pursed into a plastic smile that held a false sense of acceptance and security, but I can see through it. She was disgusted just like the bus driver, even being in the same room as I was causing her to tap her perfectly painted nails tapped against her hip as if counting the moments till I was out of her sight.

It took me a moment to remember to respond, then another practicing the message in my head before I spoke. "Nice to meet you, ma'am." I offered my hand to shake, but she didn't return the favor. I took back my hand awkwardly as she spoke.

"Please remove the weights," she instructed. Her eyes locked on the papers in her hand.

The guard did so without hesitation. The relief of the weight being lifted was as literal as I wish it were figurative. I rolled my ankles a few times as I balanced myself.

"T-thank you," I said.

"You're too quiet. Speak up, deary," she scolded.

I bit my lip. "Thank you, Ma'am." I tried to say it louder this time, but she didn't seem to react beyond writing something in her file.

As if on a dime, she turned away from me. The click of her heels followed down the tiled hallway. Nothing was exactly said that indicated that I should follow her, but I did. We walked through the twisting building. It really looked like a college. There weren't many other kids, but we did occasionally pass one or two. I felt their eyes on me the entire time; I'm sure it was hard to look away.

"There's the cafeteria," she stated and pointed her pen over to the left. "Breakfast is served at 7:30 A.M., lunch from 12:00 to 1, and dinner at 6 then again at 9 for those with night based training."

We kept walking. I looked through the open doors into the cafeteria. I got a split look at the mostly empty cafeteria tables. It looked like the dining area could hold a few hundred people, but there were probably only around thirty there.

"Where am I?" The question finally came out. But it seemed to fall on deaf ears. I mumbled a bit to myself before trying again. "Excuse me." A little louder…."Miss. Where am I?"

The clicking halted, she turned to face me directly. Her expression made me think I was asking all the wrong questions, but I can't think of what would be more important than this.

"Mr. I[CENSORED], I have a hectic schedule today. We have several new arrives. If you continue to hinder this tour, then you will be given detention, is that clear?"

"That kind of raises more...alright," I relented. I wouldn't call this a tour. She only pointed out the cafeteria.

"Good," Ms. J stated. She turned and continued her "tour."

For the life of me, I can't understand why it is so hard for adults to tell the truth. Why do they have to be so mysterious? Is it so hard to say, Hey, you're in blah, blah, blah? Sometimes I think people are just confusing on purpose, like how people couldn't care less about your existence until you're suddenly in the hospital. It feels selfish to me.

We walked around for maybe another ten minutes. Ms. J gave me some half-hearted instructions about where I was and where I would need to get to. It felt like an orientation.

I picked up some-kind-of-school from the uniforms, age group, and the "threat" of detention. But what I didn't understand was why was I here? Why school? I looked like I needed to be in a burn unit or a cave somewhere. Do they have cave/burn units? Maybe in the Netherlands, which would be a long trip. Maybe I can go west a bit, and I heard the midwest loves cryptids. I'd probably fit right in.

"What are you doing?" Ms. J scolded.

"Umm, thinking about my future?" I answered sheepishly.

"You don't have to worry about that; your future has been decided." Ms. J shook the file in her hand as if to say my entire future was within the beige fold. "Here we are. This is training room C. Your questions will be answered here. Go take a seat and don't cause trouble," she instructed.

Great, thanks. Ominous phrases like that always put me at ease. It's like a lullaby. Comforting.