Categories > Cartoons > Biker Mice from Mars > Red Planet - Part One: Invasion
Chapter Eleven: Breaking the Bonds
The transport wagons, huge rolling mechanical monsters resembling a cross between a tank and a paddy-wagon, rumbled across the rough off-road terrain towards their next destination. The Mice huddled inside them, sat in fear and despairing silence that no one broke.
Throttle, Modo, and Vinnie sat huddled together between dozens of other young men like themselves, all silent and fearful. The air inside the wagon was stifling and full of the smell of body odor and the stale stench of Plutarkians. It was only the chill in the air that kept them comfortable enough in such close quarters.
With Throttle and Vincent on either side of him, his arms slung around the pair, Modo sat with his back against the rattling metal door that was latched shut with several chains. Through a small space between the door the grey furred mouse watched the country side go by in quick succession. Snow was falling outside now, soft and silent upon the ground. Modo sighed as he wondered if he would ever see his family again. "We have to get out of here." he said, his voice only a little above a whisper.
Vinnie's ears twitched at this and he looked up at his large friend. "How? We're moving a steady forty-miles an hour, there are armed guards watching...supposin' we survive the jump and don't get shot, what do you suppose we do with these?" he asked bitterly, lifted his right ankle and shaking it to hear the clink of the shackles that bound he, Throttle, and Modo together.
Without saying a word, Throttle pulled from the inside of his boot the knife his father had given him. He flashed it discreetly at his friends and then leaned forward and began working the tip of it into the lock of the chain.
Each of the captive Martians were chained in groups of three, and so the locks were set. If Throttle could separate each joint from each other, they would have at least a little freedom of movement.
Meanwhile, Modo's tail slithered through the thin crack of the door and began working on the latch of the door. An open door and loosened chains...that only left the guns to worry about.
They were going to get free. They were going to escape this one-way trip to what probably lead to a slaughter house. They would not be slaves again, even if it killed them, they were getting off this god-damn train...
The transport wagons, huge rolling mechanical monsters resembling a cross between a tank and a paddy-wagon, rumbled across the rough off-road terrain towards their next destination. The Mice huddled inside them, sat in fear and despairing silence that no one broke.
Throttle, Modo, and Vinnie sat huddled together between dozens of other young men like themselves, all silent and fearful. The air inside the wagon was stifling and full of the smell of body odor and the stale stench of Plutarkians. It was only the chill in the air that kept them comfortable enough in such close quarters.
With Throttle and Vincent on either side of him, his arms slung around the pair, Modo sat with his back against the rattling metal door that was latched shut with several chains. Through a small space between the door the grey furred mouse watched the country side go by in quick succession. Snow was falling outside now, soft and silent upon the ground. Modo sighed as he wondered if he would ever see his family again. "We have to get out of here." he said, his voice only a little above a whisper.
Vinnie's ears twitched at this and he looked up at his large friend. "How? We're moving a steady forty-miles an hour, there are armed guards watching...supposin' we survive the jump and don't get shot, what do you suppose we do with these?" he asked bitterly, lifted his right ankle and shaking it to hear the clink of the shackles that bound he, Throttle, and Modo together.
Without saying a word, Throttle pulled from the inside of his boot the knife his father had given him. He flashed it discreetly at his friends and then leaned forward and began working the tip of it into the lock of the chain.
Each of the captive Martians were chained in groups of three, and so the locks were set. If Throttle could separate each joint from each other, they would have at least a little freedom of movement.
Meanwhile, Modo's tail slithered through the thin crack of the door and began working on the latch of the door. An open door and loosened chains...that only left the guns to worry about.
They were going to get free. They were going to escape this one-way trip to what probably lead to a slaughter house. They would not be slaves again, even if it killed them, they were getting off this god-damn train...
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