Photo credit; vanitas-art.deviantart.com

Lola struggled to get on her feet. The Rifleman now had his gun pointed at her back. He was prodding and pushing her along a dusty, endless path. The birds continued to circle and call. She could feel herself bleeding. The crusty dirt on her clothes and skin. Her nose and mouth choked with the dregs of the earth. Her blonde locks withered to straw. Her shoes fragmented by beaks. Her gait off-kilter- making it appear as if she were drunk. The Rifleman wordless. Although Lola had difficulty seeing due to the heat and glare, she detected a certain grunt in his appearance and character. A putrid odor emanated  from his body. Prod. Push. Shove. They reached a small shed situated on the side of the path. He reached around her, shoved it open and threw her inside.

Lola was glad of the cool relief but was aware the worst was yet to come. She knew that this location was probably a holding center for the remnants of the Restoration Party. She had heard of these places from other scouts-those who successfully avoided capture. Lola knew that all male scouts were quickly executed and that the female scouts “disappeared”. It was rumored the Restorers siphoned off women to different locations to be used as domestics or breeders. The party was decimated during the Revolution and those few left were determined to rule once again.

She had just gotten used to the darkness when she found herself yanked up by both her arms and tied to a chair. Two burly bearded men stood on the left and right side of her. She couldn’t see them clearly but their musky odor stifled her breathing. From behind, she felt another presence reach overhead to turn on a light. Typical. A single bulb shone on her face. A faceless hand lifted her chin.  At her feet, two more hands removed her shoes.  Snip. Rip. Yank. Her clothes began to disappear. First her pants. Difficult to do while leashed, but these hands were expert. Rip. Pop. Tear. The faceless hand destroyed her shirt and brassiere.

And then-just as quickly as they appeared-they were gone. Leaving Lola covered in nothing but her wounds and the stench of men in heat.

Note to readers: this post is a loose continuation of two previous FWF Time Place Scenario posts “Underground Hope” and “The Scout”.