The cable lead at Abigail’s throat snapped taut, jerking the young woman forward. Desperately, she fought the pull of the leash, linking her by her collar to the rest of the girls in the line, but it was useless. Glumly, the other captives trudged forward, heads bowed miserably, bringing them step by step closer to the chamber and what their captors had planned for them. In the shadows of the dark, metal corridors, they lurked: men in baggy jumpsuits, their faces hidden behind blank masks. They patrolled up and down the line, cattle prods in their hands to keep the line in order and moving forward, pistols holstered at their sides. 

“Mmmppphhh!” Abigail moaned, teeth clenched around the rubber plug which projected into her mouth from the panel gag strapped tight around her head. Behind her back, her hands struggled against the plastic zip-cuffs trapping them together. Apart from the restraints and the metal collar around her neck, the young woman was completely naked. The abductors had stripped her along with all of the other girls from her dorm. 

Slow as their progress was, all of a sudden Abigail found herself in the chamber. Ahead, she watched helpless as a conveyor belt brought in a pod of metal and glass. The girl at the front of the line, Abigail’s roommate Heather, was dragged forward towards the open pod. The zipties on her hands were cut and the struggling captive forced in. Her arms and legs were spread, secured in cuffs fixed to a frame inside the cramped space. 

A heavy electronic hood was lowered over the top of her head, hiding her expression of terror. Below, plugs were inserted, drawing muffled squeals of outrage. Then they were done. The pod closed with a hiss, the conveyor belt activated, carrying the pod and its innocent occupant away and bringing in a fresh, empty one.

Abigail watched, in awful anticipation as, one by one, the girls in front of her were dragged forward and sealed in pods. Then it was her turn.She waited, tensley, as she was untethered from the line. This time would be different. When she felt the tech slip a pair of cutters around the plastic cuffs, she got ready. When she felt the pressure around her wrists suddenly release, the young woman sprang into action. 

Her hand went to the belt of one of the techs, finding the pistol holstered there. Abigail had never fired a gun before, but its weight felt oddly natural in her hand as she pulled it from the holster, pressed the barrel to the man’s side and pulled the trigger. His scream mixed with the bark of the pistol as he fell to the ground, dead. Turning, she shot the other man who’d barely had a chance to react to the sudden rebellion by his supposedly helpless captive. 

Abigail was free, but not for long. Alarms rang throughout the facility. The tramp of heavy, booted feet rang on the meal grating, warning her that more of the abductors were coming. She turned and ran, sparing a glance at the line of girls still locked in the coffle line. There was nothing she could do for them right now, Abigail reminded herself, but if she could escape, she could go and get help. 

Through the doors, Abigail ran into more guards. They raised handguns and fired, their bullets sparking off the floor and walls around the young woman. She fired back, dropping the men. She ran past into the next room, the next set of guards. Then another and another…

Further and further she ran, taking doors at ransom. She had no idea where she was going, but she knew she couldn’t stop. To do so would mean death…or worse. She could only hope that the next door, the next corner, would show her the exit and real freedom…

***  

“Hey Bob, something’s up with this one…” 

Bob walked down the row of Slave Conditioning Pods. Through their glass fronts, he could see the occupants, each naked girl shackled to the pod’s internal frame, the cerebro-induction hoods pulled low over their heads. The figures twitched sporadically as the pods slowly worked on patterning their brainwaves, remolding the girls into perfect, obedient slave girls.

He reached the pod the other tech indicated. Sure enough, its occupant, the paperwork on the front gave her former identity as ‘#2936 Abigail Harris, 22, Former University Student.’ In contrast to the other subjects, she was active, squirming in her restraints, low, muffled grunts escaping the panel gag over her mouth. 

He checked the monitor on the sides of the pod, reporting the current, early stages of the slave conditioning process, the machine’s settings and the vital signs of the girl inside. After a few seconds of thought, he nodded. 

“I see the problem…” He said, giving the machine a pat. “The setting’s aren’t quite right. The girl’s slipped into REM and whatever she’d dreaming’s interfering with the programming. She must be having an awful nightmare…” He added, noting her frantic squirming inside the pod. “I’ll up the stimulation the pod’s giving. That should keep her distracted.” 

Bob punched in a command on the pods controls. Inside, the buzzing intensified, accompanied by a quiet, low moan from Abigail. The young woman slumped back down, head lolling as the machine went to work once more, turning her from a former free woman to obedient slave. 

“That seems to have done the trick.” He said, looking at the new readings. “She ought to be done in another couple hours…” He made a note of the girl’s number. “Nice looking gal too…I’ll make sure to give her a test once she’s ready to go…”