The Shoot

Gravel crunched under her tires as Maren Borner pulled her sedan into the ranch's main lot. She killed the engine and sat for a moment, taking in the property. White fences stretched across rolling green hills. A red barn dominated the center of the compound, flanked by long, low buildings that looked like modern additions. The whole place screamed authenticity. That was what they'd promised in the email. Authentic farm lifestyle.

Maren grabbed her camera bag from the passenger seat and stepped out. The air smelled like hay and something else, chemical and sweet. She filed that away for later. Could be fertilizer. Could be nothing.

A woman approached from the barn, moving with the efficient stride of someone who knew exactly where she needed to be. A lab coat hung over practical clothes, her light brown hair pulled back in a neat ponytail.

"You must be Maren. I'm Ivy." Her smile was wide and professional. "We're so glad you could make it out here."

"Thanks for the opportunity." Maren hoisted her bag higher on her shoulder. "The location is gorgeous. Perfect for the lifestyle spread."

"We think so." Ivy gestured toward the barn. "The foreman is waiting. He'll show you around the facilities."

Maren followed her inside. The interior was nothing like she expected. Instead of hay bales and stalls, she found clean concrete floors and white walls. Equipment hummed somewhere in the back. A man stood near a steel table, his weathered hands resting on its surface.

"Foreman Durst," Ivy said. "This is the photographer."

Durst nodded. He had the kind of face that gave nothing away. "You'll want to start outside. The light is good this time of day."

"I'd like to see the whole property first," Maren said. "Get a sense of the layout."

"We'll start outside." His voice was flat, final.

Maren's instincts prickled. She'd worked with difficult clients before. Sometimes you had to play along to get the shots you needed. "Fine. Let's start outside."

The next two hours were strange. Durst stayed close the entire time, watching her work. Ivy appeared periodically with water or to adjust something Maren couldn't see. The shots came out well, and the property was beautiful, but something was off.

Every time Maren tried to move toward one of the long buildings, Durst steered her back toward the barn or the fields. When she asked about the livestock, Ivy laughed and said they kept the animals in the back pastures. When Maren pressed to see them, Durst claimed it was too far.

"I think I have enough for the preliminary edits," Maren said finally. "I'll send you a proof sheet by the end of the week."

"We'd like you to stay," Ivy said. Her smile hadn't wavered. "We have more to show you."

"I have other clients." Maren started packing her equipment. "I can schedule a second shoot if you need more content."

"That won't be necessary." Durst stepped between her and the exit. "You're not leaving."

Maren's hand went to her phone. "What?"

"You were selected for a trial," Ivy said, her tone as cheerful as ever. "The Holly Herd Research Initiative. Your application was approved."

"I didn't apply for anything." Maren backed away, her heart hammering. "I'm a photographer. I was hired for a shoot."

"The shoot was the screening." Durst moved toward her. "We needed to observe you under controlled conditions."

Maren ran for the door. She made it three steps before hands grabbed her arms. Two men she hadn't seen before, both built like Durst. They pinned her arms behind her back while Durst took her camera bag and phone.

"Don't damage the equipment," Maren snarled. "That's worth more than your ranch."

"We'll return it when the trial is complete," Ivy said. She was holding a syringe now, the needle glinting under the barn lights. "This will help with the transition."

"Get that away from me." Maren struggled, but the men held her fast. "You can't do this. I have people who know I'm here. I have a schedule."

"All accounted for," Durst said. He was calm, methodical. "Your phone will send a cancellation notice in the morning. Your clients will be refunded."

Ivy stepped closer, the syringe ready. "The initial dose is mild. You'll feel some swelling, some sensitivity. The full effects take about twenty-four hours to manifest."

"I will scream," Maren said.

"The nearest neighbor is six miles away." Durst's tone carried no inflection. "No one will hear you."

Ivy pressed the needle into Maren's arm. The liquid burned going in, a hot rush that spread through her veins like wildfire. Maren thrashed, but the men held her steady until the syringe was empty.

"There." Ivy stepped back, satisfied. "That wasn't so bad, was it?"

Maren's vision swam. The barn seemed to tilt around her. She felt her body responding to the drug, a strange warmth pooling in her chest, her nipples tightening against her shirt.

"What did you do to me?" Her voice came out rough, desperate.

"We're enhancing you," Ivy said. "You'll be producing within days. The ranch has very high standards for yield."

"I don't want to be enhanced." Maren's legs gave out. The men caught her, dragged her deeper into the barn. "I want to go home."

"Everyone says that at first." Ivy's voice floated from somewhere above her. "You'll adjust. They always do."

They stopped in front of a row of stalls. Each one had a number painted on the door. Maren's blurred vision caught the numbers as they passed. Twelve. Thirteen. Fourteen. Fifteen. Sixteen.

They stopped at Seventeen.

Durst opened the door. The stall was small, maybe eight feet by eight. A cot sat against one wall. A metal chair with restraints dominated the center of the room. A drainage grate was set into the concrete floor.

"Welcome to your new home," Durst said.

They stripped her. Maren fought, but her limbs were heavy, unresponsive. The drug was working through her system, making everything feel distant and sharp at the same time. They took her clothes, her shoes, her jewelry. Everything.

Ivy produced a hospital gown. "We'll have proper attire for you tomorrow. For now, this will do."

They left her on the cot. The door closed with a heavy click. A lock engaged.

Maren lay there, staring at the ceiling, feeling the drug burn through her veins. Her chest ached. Her nipples were hard and sensitive, rubbing against the thin fabric of the gown. She could feel changes starting, her body shifting in ways she didn't understand.

She was still coherent. Still furious. Still Maren.

But she was in Stall 17.

And the gates were locked behind her.