[GlacierDragon]

Although I risk kidnap by Moosh and tonnes of PMs from Oddey, I would still like to say that I'm going to abandon this thing. My honest opinion is that it's a bit rubbish, the only interesting bit being when Shrown meets Skillya. So I give you chapter 10, the last chapter I'll be writing .

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Chapter 10

I’ve been crawling for an hour, and I’m getting really tired. A while ago, after a load of twists and turns, the vent began to gently slope upwards until it levelled off again. So I guess I’m higher up than before, and possibly above ground. The breeze is still here to guide me, but now it’s slightly stronger. Fresh air will be greatly welcomed after all this time in a humid metal structure.

It sounds like the sirens have been turned off. I overheard a couple of Sligs talking earlier. First they spoke about me, but then they started on about some others escaping. They didn’t mention names, only that some of the prisoners have gone missing. I suppose through all the chaos a couple of Sligs managed to escape from the train or something. Whatever’s happened, it’s not my problem.

My mind begins to wonder to before all this rubbish. Why oh why did I ever spare that slave’s life? It was probably killed anyway, so it’s not like I made a difference. Too late to do anything now, I suppose.

What’s this? Do I see light up ahead? I think I do! Energy surges into my tired muscles as I think of freedom and my tiredness is quickly swallowed. I pick up my pace, and rush towards the light source. It gets brighter and brighter, and I find myself blinded after all this time in the dark. I stop and wait for my eyes to adjust before scurrying onwards.

Finally I reach the point where the air vent opens up to the outside. I peer out between the bars of the grille. The sun’s setting by the looks of things. I’m about a meter above ground-level, which means all I have to do is get the grille off. I hurriedly push against the bars, but they don’t budge. I push harder, without any luck. Violently I slam my fists against the bars, but all I achieve is getting my knuckles bruised.

A stop and think, panting. Uncontrollable panic and fear flood my mind. I can’t go back, not now, not when I’m so close! Something clatters behind me and I swivel my head round, peering into darkness, my heart thumping against my ribs, dangerously loud. I tell myself it was just a Rat and turn back to the grille. I back up slightly, and suddenly ram into the bars, placing all my weight against them. I do this twice more, and on the third time I feel my shoulder crunch under the force of the impact. I fall over, pain shooting down my arm and up my neck. I lie on my side and clutch my shoulder. I haven’t broken my arm, I haven’t broken my arm, I haven’t broken my arm…

Seconds tick by and the pain doesn’t subside. Minutes go past. Outside, the sun is rapidly sinking. It reaches the horizon and ducks below it. The land darkens, the light fading. Finally the pain gradually dies away, leaving my arm throbbing in unison with my heart beat. I look at it and see dark blood spreading out below the surface of my skin.

I turn on my front and try to push myself up. My bad-arm won’t take my weight, so I shift it all onto my good-arm. What am I going to do?

I force myself to study the grille. It’s connected to the wall on the outside. I lower myself to the ground so I’m lying on my front and stick my good-arm between the bars, feeling for where it’s bolted. I find one bolt, and somehow manage to unscrew it. It silently falls to the ground. One down.

In the next ten minutes I manage to unscrew all the bolts. After the last one is released, I once again push against the bars. This time the grille comes off without any trouble whatsoever.

I really wish I had tried that first.

Now comes the hard bit. I have to get out of the vent and climb to the ground using one arm. Or I can just hurl myself to the floor and try to land on my good-side.

I decide to go with the latter. After all, I’m desperate.

Well, it works, and I don’t get hurt too much. But then it hits me. I’m a Slig on the run with no legs and a broken arm. I can barely crawl and I’m in the middle of nowhere, miles from civilisation. I’ve no one to help me out, nowhere to hide, and absolutely no idea where the safest place to run is. Oh, and let’s not forget about the dozens of Sligs who are probably looking for me this very instant.

I sigh. What was I thinking? This whole thing’s been a waste of time.

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And yeh, you're probably going to hate me for leaving it at a cliff-hanger.