• Published 26th Sep 2012
  • 2,800 Views, 31 Comments

The Conversion Bureau: Prisoners of War - Codexwriter476

As a prisoner of war, you have two choices: Escape or Convert. Which would you chose?

  • ...


The sun rose next, barely visible through the thin grey layer of clouds as the warning bell rung. Guards were rushing to their posts, ready to quell any attempts of escape and to “escort” interns from their warm bunks to their assigned groups. Huts were tossed into groups designated by each hourly transport, many of them showed minimal resistances. As this occurred, a city bus passed harmlessly through the Celestial Gates and approached the assembly area.

“The eight o’clock group to Albany, please report to the grounds. Eight o’clock group to Albany to the grounds.” The speakers blared to life.

Mikey looked through the window of Hut Five, where he and the rest of the group were forced into. He watched as several elders, a couple of kids and two HLF members were marched out towards the grounds. The members assisted the elders and attempted to comfort the scared children as the guards watched on. The wagon was as actually a city bus operated by human members of the PER.

“Fucking traitors.” He muttered with disgust. The doors opened and the group was lead in. He didn’t care to look on as they helped the elders onto the bus, and the HLF members glared angrily at them as they boarded. When the last human boarded, the doors were closed and the bus started off.

The same thing happened again with the nine o’clock group, heading for Albany. As ten crept close, the speakers blared to life once again.

“The ten o’clock group to Albany, please report to the grounds. Ten o’clock group to Albany to the grounds.” The six interns looked to their door as it opened. The guards looked on.

“Let’s go.” The guard said. Amongst the six member escapees were three more HLF members, ten adults and four young children. Mikey lead the group out to the grounds. He felt every eye fall upon them; interns and guards alike as the bus slowed to a stop. He looked back to his friends and nodded. They nodded back in return. The doors opened and they calmly stepped inside. It was quite warm compared to the cold outside, the seats were given a fresh look and for every third window was a propaganda poster in favor for ponification. It made his stomach turn violently as he sat near an emergency exit, with Jackson seated next to him. Pester and Kelly sat behind them and Patterson and Grant ahead of them.

“Everyone remembers the plan?” Mikey’s mind flashed back to the night before. The six of them were huddled around a single lamp and at a crude drawing of the bus.

“We seat ourselves by the exit here and wait until we’re a hundred yards past the gates. Once that happens, we’ll pull the cord and break out the exit. From there, we make our way west to Buffalo and back to American lines.” Pester’s voice echoed, his scrawny finger pointing to the exact seats.

“What if they catch on before we get to the exit point?”

“They won’t.”

Mikey returned to reality as the doors hissed closed and the drive toggled. The bus lurched a bit before it slowly made the turn towards the gates.

“Stop him!” A guard shouted. Everyone’s attention turned to Murdoch, forcing his way through the guards and towards the bus. His build could easily take the blunt of their attacks, but his speed was tough to match as he ran alongside the bus starting to speed up.

“Murdoch! What the hell are you doing!?” Murdoch didn’t here them as the gates approached rapidly. His heart raced, his breaths short but efficient and his eyes fixed front. The bus was speeding faster and faster, trying to outpace the runner as the front rim reached the gates. He was now a foot behind the bus as he reached the gates. The lights turned red and the bolts struck…nothing but the ground.

Murdoch had barely passed through, receiving only a small shock.

“To hell with this.” Jackson said. He scurried over Mikey and pulled the emergency exit handle. The door swung open and broke off from a nearby tree. Murdoch was slowly gaining speed once again as Jackson stood at the threshold.

“You crazy son of a bitch! What the hell were you thinking?!” Jackson said. Before he could get an answer, he was shoved off by Mikey, followed by Kelly Patterson and Grant. Pester stood at the frame when he felt hands hold him back.

“Pester! Jump buddy jump!” Grant shouted. Pester tried to fight off the hands holding him back, but he was soon shoved off by another group helping him. He stumbled onto the ground and crashed into a tree as a voice cried out.

“Get going!” The bus didn’t stop and continued on. No doubt it will inform the Bureaus what had happened and will send out countless patrols to search for them.

The group rushed over to Pester, to only see blood seep from his left knee. A piece of bone had punched out through the skin, along with several cuts and bruises to the arms and chest area. His head was battered and left a black right eye.

“Crap.” He barely groaned as Murdoch and Grant helped him up.

“We got to get moving.” Mikey said, heading west.

“What about Pester? We need to get him medical aid.” Kelly said. Her medical supplies were still back at the camp, including pain relief pills and fracture braces.

“We’ll patch him up in Malta.” Mikey replied. Kelly fumed at his response. She took old of some large sticks and tore her jacket up to make an improvised leg brace. She wrapped it around Pester’s leg and tied it tight. “That should keep it in place and hopefully stop the bleeding.”

“Thanks Kelly.” Pester replied softly and fell into unconsciousness. Jackson started to feel sorry for the guy, even after all the shit he put him through in the past few days. The procession of the now seven escapees started off after Mikey who had already had a head start.


Malta was abandoned by all residences by the time the sun was setting and the group’s arrival. The streets were littered and a small fire crackled through the air, the lights were completely out. Mikey headed for the local gun shop along with Patterson as the others walked over to the nearby medical center to help Pester. Kelly’s jacket was now a deep burgundy from his blood and he constantly faded in and out of consciousness.

“Lay him on the counter there. Grant, see if you can find any medical kits.” Kelly instructed. Murdoch and Jackson rested Pester on the counter and Grant rushed past to the back, along with Kelly. When she was gone, Jackson punched Murdoch’s shoulder.

“What was with the change of heart?” Jackson asked. He simply shrugged. Just as the two medics returned, Mikey and Patterson walked in. Weapons of all sizes and three backpacks filled with ammo cluttered onto the ground before them.

“Take what you can carry. We keep moving.” Mikey said and headed for the door once more, a hunting rifle slung over his shoulder and a pistol holstered in his pocket.

“We just got here and I still have a broken leg, you fucker!” Pester gathered enough strength to shout at Mikey. He stopped as he hand rested on the push bar and turned around.

“Anyone who wants to keep with the plan, grab a pack and move out. With or without you, I’m still going to fight.” He then pushed the door open and walked out. A few minutes pasted until Patterson and Grant took a pack each and quickly followed behind.

“We’ll see you guys in Buffalo.” Grant looked back to the remaining members, a small smile of hope on his face and exited the center. Murdoch, Jackson, Kelly and Pester stood there silently.

“The bastard just ran off on us.” Pester said.

“That’s just what die-hard HLF members sometime do if anyone tries to slow them down, At least what I know.” Jackson replied, knowing this sort of experience first hand. He still regretted it. Murdoch nudged his shoulder, snapping him back to reality.

“Help Kelly hold him down.” He turned to Pester. “This is gonna hurt you than it will me, so grab something.” Immediately, he took hold of Kelly’s arm and squeezed.

“Sorry.” He said before a loud crack and high pitched scream filled the center.