Your eyes open, finally. You don’t know how long you’ve been de-commissioned. Just lying there. Could have been hours, probably days. No way to be sure.
Where are you?
It feels safe, and that’s good enough for now. There is sunlight bouncing all over the place, a faint smell of manure, a dank humidity, and a rustling. Maybe a river or a canal? An animal in the grass? Still no way to be sure.
You finally make it up, your eyes open, with effort, but it opens. Thank God for that, you look up. Wooden beams stare back at you. You look down, and hales of bay greet you. Deductions are made. Your placement is in a barn.
You sigh.
You need to compute your surroundings. Fuck the pain, you need to move. You’re moving.
You’re stumbling out.
Your legs strain for a bit, the ache is still there, but you were expecting it this time, you’re prepared. Suddenly, you’re hungry. The four hungry horsemen of the apocalypse are riding straight out of your belly. Food. You need food. And water. You head to the canal. Or whatever it is that is making the splashing sounds.
The air is fresh, there is no denying that. A sharp galaxy of light hits your eyes as you step out. You’re blinded, but only for an instant. The light lets you see who you are. Lets you see your hands, you fingers, the polish scrapped off the nails, darkened, caked with dirt. Your stand on the grass bare-footed, thinking of the water.
A mirror. You dread what you’ll see but you brave it anyway. You need to see yourself.
What have they done to you, you wonder. Access the damage.
No escaping the dividends of time. Pragmatism is what has driven you since you can remember, a dry, honest, offensive pragmatism. You see no reason to let go if it now.
You know you’ll need a plan.
As you head towards the mirror, your parched tongue pointing the way, a new sound travels to you. Its mechanical. Your recognition of it is instant. Automatic. Intrusive. It’s a movement.
You look up. Only this time, the wooden beams have betrayed you, damn turncoats! They carry hosts. Something with tiny red eyes.
The contrast makes you squint. Your eyes adjust, slowly, but they do. But they are not the only ones adjusting.
What the fuck is going on? You know what’s going on, but you can’t accept it, not just yet. You’ve heard of stories like this before. But you never believed them.
You start to move out. Towards the water. The red eyes follow, they move, as a hive. The cameras, they know who you are. You’re caught in a visionary net. It all comes back to you. A flood of poisoned arrows heading straight into you’re your mind.
The smoke, the jackboots crushing glass, the splintered wood, the black bag.
Read Part -I : https://steemit.com/shortstory/@mephentis/a-totalitarian-abduction-part-i
Read Part-II : https://steemit.com/shortstory/@mephentis/a-totalitarian-abduction-part-ii
