YOu look at the women, look at the two doors, then mutter to them. "You women are nuts, you know that? Completely, certifiably insane!" There is no reaction, they merely watch you, observing as thought completely detached and utterly lacking any personal interest in your decision.
"Right door is freedom, right? Cause I sure as hell am not going to live as a damned slave!" Kendra just smiles.
"If you choose the right door, then yes. That is the doorway that will lead you on the path of rebelling against the new status quo, if you're sure that's what you want to do." A few of the other girls giggled, seemingly knowingly. You move towards the door, opening it a crack.
"Yeah," you say "Let me the hell out of here!" You feel a chilly breeze hit your face as you exit to the outside. The door latches as you leave, preventing you from going back in. You suddenly feel cold, shivering as the wind hits your skin. You walk away from the room you were in, realizing that it is well hidden among the surrounding brush. It suddenly dawns on you that the cold means that you are probably in the southern hemisphere somewhere, since you were initially captured in Canada during the summertime.
You enter a forested area, with a single worn path leading between dense thickets of trees on either side. After a few moments of walking down the path, you feel something whizzing past your head. Jerking back, you are startled, but can see nothing as you look around. A minute later, another projectile whizzes past your leg, impaling itself against a tree. It is a projectile with a syringe in it. Startled, you begin to run, then see the glint of sunglasses in the distance as a high powered rifle is aimed at you again. You freeze just for an instant, then feel yourself swept from your feet as you are tackled, the projectile once again just missing you and hitting the ground. You notice a brownish liquid oozing from it. Suddenly, an arm clutches your wrist, pulling you down below the level of the road. Startled, you turn to see that a man has you by the arm, clutching it tightly.
"Stay down," he says. "They're trying to get you. That's what they like to do for sport, shoot tranquilizer darts at us and then take us down into that godforsaken hole. Come on, I saw them bring you in and figured you'd be coming out soon. I'll take you to our encampment. We can always use another hand to fend off these psycho bitches." You look at the man. He is tall and blonde, appears to be in excellent shape, and is dressed warmly in a garment made of animal skins, camouflaged to avoid detection by the predatory women. He smiles.
"Oh, my name is Brian. It's a pleasure." He tugs your arm. "Come on, you're just fresh meat out here!" |