I wake up with my head in a fog. I've never felt like this before, but I can only assume it's some kind of drug clogging my body and senses.
My eyes are closed. I can't seem to control my movements enough to open them. There isn't anything on top of me but my limbs feel heavy, weighted down, so I can't push myself into a seated position.
I'm lying on my stomach, face down on a rough, carpeted floor and I can feel the coarse rug against my skin, letting me know that the only clothing on my body is a pair of bikini style underwear.
Within moments, my head gradually begins to clear. Not enough for me to move, but I'm beginning to feel something familiar about this position. Like I've been here before, but I'm not really sure.
It's like a déjà vu type of recognition but I can't think of where I've seen, or felt, like this before. It's as if my own memories have been bogged down and taken from me with the drugs that refuse to let me move my body.
Not just a few memories, but all of them. I can't recall any part of my life before this moment. Not my name, how I got here, or why I'm almost completely naked and lying face down on the floor.
Still, the feeling of familiarity doesn't go away, so I can only assume I've been here before.
Several minutes pass while I wait for the drugs to pass through my system. I can't move yet, but I am able to make great effort in opening my eyes.
With the carpet against the right side of my face, I can see a few others lying on the floor with me. Each one is in the same position that I am, facing the left wall.
There are males and females alike, not any particular size, race, or gender. A myriad of differences between each specimen – no pattern indicating why each of us are drugged and lying on the scratchy carpet unable to move.
Whoever laid us down wasn't very gentle, either. My breasts are lumped in an extremely uncomfortable position for someone who is unable to move her body, and the guy to my left doesn't look much better off.
I'm about to try and reach out to the guy next to me when I hear footsteps coming from somewhere behind me. Well, near my feet.
I can't turn my head enough to see how many people there are or what they look like, but, by the footsteps, it sounds like four different individuals have joined us. They stop several feet away from me.
A woman who sounds in her early twenties speaks to all of us lying on the ground. Her voice rings low and clear, demanding attention.
"Adherents," she announces, making her presence known.
Her speech cuts through all the fog, making it easier to listen to her and a little bit easier to move my fingers.
"Assimilation assignments," she commands. "Leo."
She calls out the first name, and the guy to my left twitches. His response is automatic, almost as if he doesn't have control over his own actions.
"Yes, ma'am," his monotone voice echoes around the room.
It gives me a better sense of how small the room actually is. The way his baritone bounces off the walls lets me know that we are in a tiny trailer home, but I can't tell how many people are present.
"Brandon's Battlefield," the woman announces, authoritatively.
"Thank you, ma'am," the man next to me answers.
I can't figure out why he's so willing to go along with this.
Why is she giving us orders like we're some kind of soldiers? Where the hell are we? What kind of assignments are we being given?
