Myra saw the hand signal from the producer, signaling the show was about to go live again. The pretty, dark haired hostess quickly composed herself, straightening her navy blue pantsuit and looking out at the studio audience, made up mostly of young women in their 20s and 30s. They clapped as the show’s intro theme played again, one of the cameras sweeping over the crowd of female faces before spinning around to the stage and the beaming hostess. 

“Welcome back, ladies and gentlemen, to Morning’s with Myra.” The young woman said cheerfully, sitting back in her interview chair. “As I mentioned before the break, we’re going to be interviewing the author of a new book coming out this December. It’s entitled Escape: the True Story of One Woman’s Journey Out of Bondage. As she said this, she held up a book to the camera. The cover showed a young, blonde woman gazing wistfully into the distance over outlines of broken chains. “And it’s just a breathtaking story of inspiration and hope, so do be sure to pick up your copy when they hit the shelves in a couple weeks. But for now, please welcome the author of this book, Miss Alice Smith!” 

As the audience dutifully clapped, a short, slender woman with long, blonde curls, dressed in a cardigan and long skirt, walked on stage. She waved at the crowd, smiling, before taking her seat beside the hostess. 

“Thank you for joining us, Alice.” Myra welcomed her. 

“Thanks for having me on, Myra.” Her guest replied, beaming. “I was a big fan of the show, even before…well…” 

“So, tell us a bit about that. This book is, I understand, autobiographical, isn’t it?” 

Alice nodded. “Yes. This is the account of what happened to me, starting nearly six years ago.” 

“Can you tell us a little about it? I mean, not so much that they won’t go out and buy the book, of course.” Myra said, smiling as chuckles rippled through the audience.

The other woman nodded, doing her best to keep a straight face, though one looking closely could tell the subject was a rather painful one. “It started back when I was in college. I was sharing a house with three other students. One Friday, we were out, at a party or something as I recall. When we got home, late that night, there were men in the house waiting for us. They had guns and wore masks. We were ordered to lie down on the floor of the living room and then they tied our hands and feet and gagged us with some tape. 

“At first, I thought we’d just stumbled into a robbery in progress and that once they’d ensured we couldn’t interfere, they would take our valuables and leave. Instead, once they had us tied up and helpless, the men picked up my roommates, one by one and carried them out of the room. Then they took me and brought me out to a waiting van where the others were. 

Myra nodded, cutting in for a quick ‘What happened then?”

“Well…they drove away, with the four of us still tied up and helpless in the back of the van. We were all so terrified, thinking we would be murdered, but it was worse than that. When the van finally stopped and we were taken out, we were in a building somewhere. The men took us out, brought us to this room where there were other women and girls, a dozen at least. Like us, they had their hands tied and were gagged, with cloth or tape or whatever, and looked terrified. More girls were brought in by masked men, until the room was full.” 

“At that point, they addressed us. All of us had been abducted by their group: the Slavers Syndicate. From that point on, we were the property of the group and warned there was no escaping them. A few girls tried to protest this, tried to fight back, but the men punished them terribly, as an example to the rest of us.” 

“Did you believe them?” Myra asked. 

Alice shrugged. “At that moment, probably, yes. They seemed so strong and well organized. We were kept in strict bondage almost all the time, locked in big cages when not doing anything else. There didn’t seem any chance at all of escape, or of rescue. For the first few months, they worked to break us down, mentally and emotionally. THey wanted us to be obedient, mindless slaves working for the Syndicate. I wanted to resist, I really did, but after a while I couldn’t take it anymore, so I started going along with what I was ordered to do, to avoid being punished.” 

“Once they decided I was broken and ready to service, the Syndicate started sending me out to place, with other girls that had been broken and trained to obey. The Syndicate had operations all over the world staffed by girls they had kidnapped, like me: casinos, resorts, clubs, brothels…” 

“I’m gonna have to interrupt there, Alice…” Myra cut in, hurriedly, glancing at the woman in the back of the studio, slashing a hand back and forth insistently. “According to my producers, some of the…details are a little too spicy for morning broadcast.” She turned to the camera. “But of course, you can read the whole thing in Alice’s book Escape: The True Story of One Woman’s Journey Out of Bondage, in stores this December.” She held the book up to the camera once again. Turning back to her guest, she coughed and resumed, “So…um…how did you manage to escape from the Syndicate?” 

Alice took a moment to recover, then got back into her narration. “Well, we slaves were shuffled around between their operations pretty frequently, depending on what needed fresh girls at the moment and to make it harder for us to plan any escape. After a couple years of this, the Syndicate decided I was a good and reliable worker for them, so I was given new duties. Some of their VIP clients were allowed to ‘rent’ girls from the Syndicate for their personal use, for periods of six months or a year. I was shuffled around between a number of masters until I was rented out to one living here in the States, along with three other girls.” 

Alice paused, emotion rising to her face as she recalled that part of her story. “He was a brute of a man. All of the men…and women, I was rented out to were cruel enough, but he was the worst. Not a day ended without him punishing at least one of us for some infraction. Only the possibility that if he broke the Syndicate’s property he wouldn’t be allowed to rent any more girls from them held him back. I looked forward to the end of his six month lease, hoping the next person I was sold to would be better.” 

“Instead, we found out he had renewed his lease, this time for a full year. At the thought of spending that time in this man’s power, I found my resolve to escape returning, better to risk the Syndicate’s wrath then continue on as is.” 

“My opportunity came a few weeks later. I had been let out of the dungeon to clean the house, one of our regular chores. While I was doing this, my captor got an important business call and left the room to take it. Until then, he’d always been careful to keep an eye on us when we were out, but our long submission to his punishments must have led him to believe we were too cowed to even think of resisting, much less escape.” 

“Seizing this chance, I ran to the back door, as quickly as my shackles allowed and got out onto the grounds, even though it was late Autumn and I was naked, apart from my bonds. By the time he’d noticed and started to give chase, I had enough of a headstart. I made it to the road and was lucky enough to flag down a passing car. They drove me to a police station where I told my story. Later that day, they raided my captor’s house where they found the dungeon and the other girls. The man had fled, but was soon arrested and is currently awaiting trial for his crimes.”

“That is simply incredible.” Myra said in amazement. “Truly a tale of courage and resilience. How have you adjusted to freedom once more?” 

“It’s…it’s not been easy.” Alice admitted. “For over half a decade, I was trapped in that world, every moment controlled, dictated…the things I was forced to do just to survive. Now that I’m out…it still seems incredible that I actually escaped it.” 

As the two women continued the interview, nobody noticed the faint hiss coming from the air ducts just above. Any who did hear it took it for the studio’s air conditioning system kicking back in. 

“And that…that’s…” Myra started to give her usual outro, but suddenly found it difficult to keep her thoughts straight. That’s all…from…from…” 

Beside her, Alice’s head bobbed and swayed. Out in the audience, some of them realized something was amiss. A few rose, stumbling to the exits on legs that suddenly grew weak and unsteady. On reaching the doors, they found to their dismay that they wouldn’t open. This might have set off more of a panic among the women, but by that time, most of the audience were slumped over in their chairs, too weak to rise. Within another few minutes, the knockout gas had done its work. 

Outside, there was a rattle as the chains securing the studio doors shut were removed. One of them swung outward and a figure came in, stepping gingerly over the limp figures that had collapsed while trying to get out. The figure’s face, concealed behind a gas mask, swept over the studio and the unconscious audience and crew. 

“Move in, but keep your gas masks on. Could be some pockets of the knock out gas lingering here and there and if we have to haul any of your dumb asses back to the trucks I’ll be upset.” The figure said, voice muffled by the mask. 

Behind them came another dozen or so figures, likewise wearing gas masks and carrying heavy duffel bags. Inside, they spread out, going to the limp figures scattered about the room. “Any that meet requirements, grab ‘em.” The first figure told the others. “Don’t need to be picky. There’s plenty of room in the trucks, we can squeeze them all in if we have to.” The rest would be left behind. One of the after effects of the gas was short term memory loss. None would have any recollection of what had happened here or where the missing girls had gone. 

The rest of the intruders, acknowledging their instructions, got to work, picking out the youngest and prettiest of the women in the studio. When they found a girl who met their requirements, she was dragged over to the door. There, the intruders took heavy shears and cut away her clothes, leaving the unconscious figure totally nude. From their bags, shackles were produced and snapped shut around the girl’s wrists and ankles, a collar locked around her neck and a ballgag strapped tight in her mouth. Soon, the naked and bound figures began to pile up, ready to be loaded into the truck for their trip to the slave training facility. 

“Be sure to grab this one.” The lead kidnapper said, pointing to a camera girl who had collapsed over her device. “We can always use girls with those types of skills.” As one of his men jumped to obey, carrying the limp girl to be stripped and shackled, his boss continued forward to the front stage. After checking the hostess, who didn’t respond to his touch, deep under the effects of the knockout gas, he moved to her unfortunate guest. 

“It’s her, alright.” He said, grinning behind his gas mask. “Our little escapee.” He waved over a couple of his men, who grabbed Alice and Myra, carrying both women to the door to join the rest of the slaves. As they were taken away, the slave looked down at the limp figure of Alice. 

“I told you, slave. No one escapes from the Syndicate…”