Zava woke up slowly, feeling gingerly at what she discovered to be a painful lump in the side of her head, under her hair, along with twigs and a good amount of sand. It seems I fainted and fell on my head. As she rubbed her eyes, still sleepy, her arms seemed to weigh a ton... It seemed to be early dawn, and there was a lot of fog, curiously low on the ground, swirling around her and some low, weirdly shaped bushes around her in very thin wisps, like no mist she had ever encountered. She was laying down on the ground, on very soft sand. Holding her arms around her, and with surprising difficulty, she sat up, shivering... So cold... I feel so weak... Where is Mark? The blue crop top and the black skintight running shorts were not of much help against the early chill...
"Mark? Where are you?"
As she said this, suddenly, she caught movement with the corner of her eye, to her left. The fog was clearing a little, under the golden rays of the rising sun. Then she spotted it. It was a most curious contraption, squatting about ten feet from her. About two foot high, it was a kind of gray, metallic, squarish box and seemed to be standing on two legs. It had a small domed turret on top of it, and three lights on its front, arranged in a triangle, one red up and two, one red, one blue, down. It emitted a curious whirring sound and she discovered, disquietingly, that it's 'face' followed the movements of her head.
She then heard another whirring sound behind her. Swiveling her head, she noted, alarmed, that there were another two of the strange devices around her, one behind and another to her right. She was in the center of a triangle formed by the three devices. With mounting alarm, she noticed that, as the first, the other two also followed the movements of her face, the squarish part swiveling rapidly above the two three-toed legs to keep up with her. As she moved her body to take in all the devices, the one behind her gave two side steps to maintain the distance with her and the other machines. Whatever these things are, I DON'T want to be near them
Moving cautiously so the things were not startled into whatever action they were capable of, and again feeling curiously sluggish and limb-heavy, she tried to stand to make a run for it and discovered two other more alarming things. One, that she could not stand. The other, that she could not stand because her ankles were held by a sort of stone manacles. A one inch wide ring of the material surrounded each ankle, and a 6 inches or so rod of the same material joined each ankle-manacle. She was barefoot, her shoes and socks nowhere to be seen.
As she tried to move, the manacles seemed to increase in weight and she found she could not lift or move her feet from the spot. Grunting with a supreme effort, bracing with her hands on the ground, she managed to scoot her feet under her, dragging them on the sand, leaving deep furrows on the ground.
It was no illusion... the manacles really seemed to get heavier the more she struggled with them. She touched them with her hands. There were no seams or welding or lock that she could feel. They were very solid and smooth and apparently seamlessly carved of one single piece of the strange, warm material. Even more strangely, the inside of the manacles was lined with a thick, soft fabric, presumably to keep them from chafing her skin. Whoever had restrained her seemed to have a certain amount of concern for her well-being, but she felt very helpless and scared. Who could possibly have done it? And WHY? This is NOT good...
Now her feet were in a position where she thought she could stand, with some effort. She felt as if her bones were filled with lead, though. But as she struggled to get her footing, the three machines, with more whirring and unnervingly precise and synchronized movements, gave a rapid step forward and, with a startling 'çlick', their turrets sprouted what seemed to be some type of rotary gun barrel with three muzzles.
Zava, wide eyed, noted that the turrets were aiming at her chest, keeping pace with her movements as she rotated her body to look warily at them. Looking down, she noticed there was a very thin, red beam connecting the machine's top 'eye' in front of her with the center of her chest, between her breasts. The thin red light was visible in the now thinning fog. No doubt there were other two similar beams, undoubtedly some kind of warning or gun sight, tracing from each machine. No matter how she moved, the beam kept, as if glued, on the same spot. This has to be a dream!
Moving one hand gingerly, she pinched the skin between her left thumb and index finger, almost drawing blood with her fingernail. The resulting pain demonstrated that this was NO dream... What in seven hells is going on?? Paying attention, she now heard, behind her, what seemed to be a muted noise, like a multitude of people talking, but far away... But the worst thing was that there had been no response from Mark... where was he? She could NOT bear the thought of him being lost... outdoors, even a cat or a weasel could carry him away...
The bizarreness of the situation was starting to unman her. Whoever had restrained would surely have nefarious intentions... I am a prisoner... what is HE going to do with me? It had to be a man or men, who is keeping me tied... Rape or a violent death at the hands of a deranged man, the worst fears of every woman, started to creep on her. In fetters as she was, she was at the complete mercy of her captor...
"Mark?? Answer me, please!" She shouted, desperation rising inside her.
The only answer she got was a chorus of curiously muted screams behind her...