An Abduction In Amnesty

Three girls go missing on their prom night in 1925. What happened? This is their story, as told by one of the girls, Allegra DiAmicci. Post-mortem, of course.

I.  IN THE CLEARING

A vendor truck pulls up outta nowhere.

You know, the kind that they deliver bread and pastries in. There's three guys in the front seat, two young guys; one around eighteen or so, and the other between twenty and twenty-five, and this older guy, probably about forty-five or fifty. He was their father. All-in-all, they weren't bad looking. Well, at least, the father and the youngest one wasn't. The other one was kinda scary looking. He wore glasses, was kinda quiet and smart looking. You know, the serial killer type. He had longish, light blondish-brown hair and dark blue eyes. I didn't like him just to look at him. In the present time, he'd be a Dahmer type. But the girls and I soon came not to like any of them. 

So, as I was saying, this serial killer type guy was older than his brother. The younger one was his exact opposite. He was handsome, and had kinda curly brown hair and brown eyes. But he was a nutcase. Any little thing would set him off. The father was the most interesting. He had the good looks of his youngest son. His hair was cut short, but not a buzz cut. He also had the same color eyes. The father was cool and calm, but he had a look like he was hiding something. All three of them had something behind their faces that couldn't be trusted, but-- the father especially. And the thing that really turned you off about him was his “holier than thou” attitude. He was pious as hell-- like a Puritan or something.

Now, instead of me telling you about this next part, I'm going to let you experience it first hand, just how we experienced it. But, I have to tell you before we start that some of this is not pretty. It wasn't fun, either. Anyway, fair warning.... 

Out of the dark shadows of the unlit street, an old vendor truck, like a bread truck or a truck to deliver newspapers, pulled up to that part of the clearing where the girls happily caroused with each other. Allegra turned around as the truck came to a silent stop on Cemetery Way. She could see at least two occupants in the front seat. At this point, the girls were a good fifty feet away. The occupant of the truck on the passenger side rolled down his window. He, along with the driver, seemed to stare at the girls without the intent of saying anything.

"Who's that?” Vanessa asked. She was still in high spirits.

“I don't know,” Allegra said.  There was suspicion in her voice. It seemed that the occupants of the truck were trying to will the girls over to them without actually voicing that intent. Allegra did not have a good feeling. Something did not seem right. “You guys wait here,” she said. “I'll go see what they want.”

“Be careful,” Vanessa said. She didn't know why she had said it. 

Allegra nodded and slowly walked over to the truck. As she got closer, there was still no audible greeting, or even a hand gesture of greeting from the occupants. 

“Can I help you?” Allegra asked.  She stopped about five feet from the passenger door.

“We're just watching, that's all,” said the man in the passenger's seat. He was around forty five to fifty, with short brown hair and deep-set brown eyes that went right through whatever it was that they were focused on. And, at the present time, those eyes were intently focused on Allegra. “Don't mind us.” A half smile, more like an amused grin.

“Yeah, we like to watch,” said someone sitting between the older man and the driver. He was hidden from view before, but now his head moved out of the shadows cast by the profile of the older man. This man was the youngest, no more than twenty, if that. He resembled the older man in the face, but sported a head of curly brown hair. Allegra figured that this was the son, the older man, the father. They resembled each other closely. And not only in terms of physical appearance. Like the older man, the youngest had a look that Allegra did not like. It was somewhere between mischievous and deviant. Like something was being hid by their faces. Like they couldn't be trusted. Allegra instinctively decided not to. 

“You like to watch.”

“Yeah, we--” 

“Watch what?” 

“You know.” 

“I do?” At this point, Allegra heard a distinctive slapping sound, like someone being hit. She didn't see anyone actually hit anyone, but she did see the youngest man's head disappear as it went back into the shadows once again. 

The older man smiled. 

“What are you doing out there? And why are you dressed like that?”

“Why?” 

“Why what?” 

“Why do you want to know?” 

At this point, Allegra was joined by the other two girls. Their presence provided Allegra with morale support. 

The trio in the truck had continued to remain silent and stared with strange faces that grinned. Allegra motioned to the other girls. “C'mon, let's go.” 

“But what about--” 

“Let's go, I said.” 

“Wait a second.” It was the older man. 

“What?” Allegra said. 

“We're not done talking yet.” It sounded more like a threat than a statement. 

“Well, I am.” 

“I wanted to know if you're saved, that's all.” 

“What?” 

“Are you saved?” 

Allegra drew a blank. She looked at Vanessa, who just shrugged. 

“Do you know Jesus Christ?” 

“Of course.” 

“As your personal Lord and Savior?” 

“What? What are you talking about?” 

“You're not Christian?” 

Allegra laughed along with Vanessa and Rosa. 

“What's so funny?” 

“Mister, this is Amnesty. Don't you know what that means?” 

“No. What?” 

“We're witches.” 

“What?” 

“Witches.” 

The older man looked like he had been shot. 

“Did you say--” 

“She said 'witches,'” the youngest one said. He emerged from the shadows once again. “I heard her.” He turned to the driver. “Did you?” 

The driver, who to Allegra looked to be the scariest of the three, was unlike the other two in terms of appearance. He was most likely in his early twenties, with somewhat longish, light brownish-blond hair (not the usual short, clean-cut look of the period), ice-blue eyes and round, steel-framed glasses. He never spoke unless spoken to, and even then, his words were the barest minimum required to convey meaning. If Allegra had lived in the nineties instead of the twenties, she would have identified this man with a stereotypical serial killer look, like that of Jeffrey Dahmer. 

“That's what I heard.” 

“Yes, that's what I said.” 

The older man now seemed to focus his attention on Rosa, an exotic looking, dark skinned girl of Cuban descent. 

“Who's that?” 

“None of your business.” 

Once again, Allegra attempted to get her friends to walk away with her. 

“Why are you hanging around someone like her for?” 

Allegra couldn't believe her ears. “Ex-cuse me?” She walked with determination towards the truck. “What?” 

The older man was calm. He just grinned. 

“You heard what I said. And I think you know what I mean." 

Allegra fumed. "She's not black. She's Cuban.” 

The three men shared a laugh. 

“Come on, Allegra,” Rosa said. “They're not worth it.” 

“Yeah,” Vanessa said, “let's go.” 

Allegra stared the men down, who laughed at and mocked Rosa. Only when Vanessa walked over and took her hand did she reluctantly start to walk away.

Maniacal laughter.

Allegra was nudged by Vanessa to keep moving, which she did, but stopped at the next cruel remark made by the trio. To Vanessa and Rosa's consternation, Allegra started towards the truck once again. Her hot-tempered Italian demeanor, hardly ever displayed, got the best of the young girl. And although all three men disgusted Allegra, the youngest one disgusted her the most. She could not believe that someone around the same age as the other girls and her, with his good looks, could be so much different, from a moral-ethical standpoint. The other two men's actions did not come as a surprise to Allegra. The twenty-something one looked negative. His actions fit. The older one, although handsome, had obviously been a bigot for a long time. And although Allegra knew that the influence of these two men had rubbed off onto the youngest in a very negative way, she was bothered by the fact that under different circumstances, she would have been attracted to the youngest one, totally oblivious to his real nature lying underneath. Also, Allegra realized that even though she would have been attracted to him, this youngest one would have hated her, based on her beliefs and viewpoints, which differed from his own. This was the first time that Allegra had experienced this potential for hatred in a fellow human being. 

It was difficult to accept. 

“Come out of that truck and say that to my face.”  

The older man grinned at the other two. “You heard the witch.” 

A demonic grin overcame the faces of the two young men a split second before they burst out of the truck, guns drawn. The two were on Allegra and the other two girls in a matter of seconds. The Dahmer look-alike had a rifle pointed at Allegra's head from across the truck hood, while the youngest man, armed with a shotgun, sprinted over to Vanessa and Rosa and motioned them towards where Allegra was. The older man got out of the truck, a revolver stuck underneath the waistband of his pants. 

“Nice work, boys,” he said. “Alright, get them over here. Let's get them in the back of the truck.” 

“We're not going anywhere with you,” Allegra said. 

The older man pulled out his gun, walked over to Allegra, grabbed her by the hair, yanked her head back and rubbed the muzzle of his gun up and down slowly-- almost sensuously-- underneath her chin. 

“You might want to reconsider that,” he said, “for the sake of your witch friends. Especially your dark friend over there. One wrong move, and she's the first to die. And then the other.” 

The gun clicked as the muzzle was moved from underneath Allegra's chin to her temple. 

“And then you.” 

“Excrementi!” Allegra said. 

“Speak English, witch. Get them into the truck.” 

“Right.” 

“Where are you taking us?” Vanessa asked. 

The older man grinned. “To your trial, of course.” 

II. IN THE BASEMENT 

Yeah, OK. I'll admit it. I was scared. I hoped that our guys would show up soon, but they never did. We were made to climb in the back of the truck, which was completely empty. It had a musty smell, but you couldn't tell what the truck was used for. It probably wasn't used for anything anymore. 

These guys were rough with all of us, but especially with Rosa. They practically threw her into the truck, where she landed on her stomach in pain. Vanessa went to help her and I went for the youngest (I have no idea why-- he was a head taller than me and probably at least fifty pounds heavier-- and I never hurt anyone before, so I don't know what I would have done). I was stopped by three guns aimed at me. 

“Don't test us, witch.” The older one said. He meant it, too. So, I went back to the back of the truck with the other girls, as the guys shut the back of the truck up. I heard the lock slam into place. We were in total darkness, caged in like animals at a zoo. I laid a hand on Rosa's shoulder. She sobbed, in obvious pain. Vanessa cradled her head in her bosom. 

“Are you all right, honey?” I asked. 

Rosa just nodded and sobbed. “Why are they doing this?” She asked. “What did we do? Did we do something wrong?” 

“Nothing,” I said. “We didn't do anything wrong. Remember that.” I looked at Vanessa, who held Rosa and looked at me with a blank expression. 

“What's going to happen to us, Allegra?” Rosa asked. 

“We'll be alright, honey,” I said. “Don't you worry. The guys will come for us. Or, our parents will get worried and call the sheriff's department. They'll find us and get these guys. You watch.” 

But, I didn't believe it. I couldn't see how anyone would know where we were. Not the guys, not our parents. They were just words. Words to make everyone, including myself, feel better. At least, that's the way I saw it. And I know that Vanessa and I were on the same wavelength. What did Vanessa and I see? An equation, that's what. Witches plus trial equals-- get it? Yeah, I figured you would. 

Where would this trial be held? Where were they taking us? I needed time to think. At the time, I hoped that we would be on the road for a while, so that I could figure something out. Of course, this wouldn't have been the best thing. The farther these idiots took us from Amnesty, the less chance of anyone helping us. As it turned out, it didn't really matter, anyway. 

Where they took us was damn close to Amnesty. The truck stopped after about five or ten minutes. I waited until my eyes got used to the darkness, then tried to make out the time on my watch. I think it was something like twelve-fifteen. We could hear the click of the trailer door unlock, then the door opened. I saw the light of the moon and woods not that far away. 

“Alright, everybody out,” the older man said. “And don't try anything.” 

The girls and I were still huddled up in the back of the truck. When the three of us neared the end of the trailer, the youngest one looked eagerly at Rosa. He planned to throw her out of the truck like she was thrown in. 

“Don't touch her," I said. “I'm warning you.” 

“Mind your business. ” 

“I'm making it my business.” 

The youngest one trained his gun on me. “Maybe you should find another line of business, then.” 

“Don't touch her.” 

More hellish, maniacal laughter. 

The older one impatiently pushed aside the youngest one and sent him flying. He hit the ground with a thud. 

“You shut up. I've had enough of your mouth tonight.” He turned to me, gun drawn. “And that goes for you, too. You got ten seconds to get her off the truck or I'll kill her right here. And I don't want to hear anything from that smart mouth of yours, or you'll join her. Understand?” 

I nodded. 

The older man grabbed the youngest one and dragged him back ten feet to let Vanessa jump down off of the truck. Between Vanessa on the ground and me behind Rosa on the truck, we got her safely down. As soon as I jumped down, the older one was there to shove me forward. 

“Get going,” he said. His revolver was trained on Vanessa, Rosa and me. 

So, we were led across an unpaved parking lot towards a large, three story building made of what looked like yellow brick. The older one walked up front and alone with his revolver, while the youngest one walked to the side of Rosa, Vanessa and me with the shotgun. The younger one was immediately behind us, rifle cocked and ready. The place looked familiar. But I couldn't figure it out. I couldn't get my bearings. I'll tell you what I saw: there was the unpaved parking lot that we were in, with woods just beyond it. There was the building we were led to. On the left side of the building was another large, yellow brick building with three or four floors and a lot of windows. A single light was on in one of the upper floors that faced the parking lot. The blind was down, but I thought I saw a girl that peered out from behind the side of the blind. She looked to be no more than about five or six. When she saw me look, she quickly pulled her head back. Whoever she was, hers was the only light that I could see anywhere. 

I could see another building just as large immediately to the right of that one, but could not see the front of it from where we were. To the right of the building these jerks led us to, I could see something about a-hundred-and-fifty-to-two-hundred feet away that looked like a gas station. There were gas pumps out front of a small, garage-shaped building. It was empty. In front of the garage or whatever it was was a continuation of the parking area we were in. I could see a very large Queen Anne Victorian house off in the distance, beyond the garage a good two-hundred feet, at least four-or-five-hundred feet from where I was now. The house, like everything else, was dark. From where I was, that was about all I could see. 

I'm sure that the place was bigger than what I've described. Actually, I know it was, for I later realized where we were at. There were a few cars in the parking lot. They were all Studebakers and Ducenbergs-- expensive cars. 

I looked at the building that we entered. It was three stories high, with a basement. You could tell the basement by the windows at the bottom of the building, and a covered entrance to it that was spaced about five or ten feet to the left of the building's main entrance steps. We entered the building from the back, up these main steps. It looked almost like a school. I thought I could see what looked like desks in one of the rooms on the first floor. To the right of the back entrance, that part of the building seemed different. Like a different configuration or something. I could see a large bell or clock tower on the other side of this part of the building, in the front. And although I could tell that the part on the right side of the entrance was for a different function from the part that looked like a school on the left, I still couldn't tell what that function was. Not yet. There was something else that I  looked at-- how easy or difficult it would be to escape. And, if we did, in what direction to go. Of course, I didn't know what was on the other side of this building. But I could see pretty far to my right, towards the garage and house; towards my left, where the big buildings with lots of windows were, and behind me, where the woods were. I made up my mind that if we got the chance, that the best thing to do would be to head for the woods. They were the closest, and once there, we could use the tree cover to hide with. I figured that to head towards the garage and the house would be bad news. If someone saw us from the house, we would be cut off. To run towards the buildings would be the same. The best thing to do would be to get out of the area as quick as possible. So, the woods would be the best thing. 

Did I know it was the Amnesty Woods? It might sound funny but, no. Not yet, anyway. There is also another wooded area on the other side of Amnesty, which is called the West Woods. Of course, before Amnesty was founded, it was a part of the Amnesty Woods, too. This part is actually near the high school. It's not anyways near as large as the Amnesty Woods, only about forty acres. It's dense, but the trees are not as old. Many of the homes in Amnesty (especially in the Catholic Quarter, where I lived) were built with the wood from the West Woods. The homes of the Goodes, Smythes and Osbournes-- the witch queens-- were built with wood from the Amnesty Woods, but the part after the clearing, where their homes are now. The woods on the other side of the clearing (between the clearing and the Amnesty River-- where we were put after our deaths) were not touched. Why? Because even then, that part of the woods was considered sacred. It was always believed that there were benevolent spirits and what non-pagan groups would call “mythological” creatures that lived there. You know, like fairies and wood nymphs. 

Is any of it true? Yes. Actually, it is. The girls and I have met and befriended many of these spirits and creatures. Are they benevolent? Yes, they are. But, anyway. Getting back to the main story. I thought that we could have been somewhere near the West Woods, like on the other side, or something. But, anyway, I also thought that if we could make it through the woods to whatever was on the other side-- hopefully a town-- that we might be OK. 

We were led through two huge wooden doors to five large, wide steps that led up to a hallway. At the top of the steps I saw two large, wooden doors at the other end of the hallway, about fifty feet away. They were open, and there was some kind of foyer or something in there, because there was another set of doors that I figured led outside to the front of the building. Down the hallway and to the left was another hallway that went I didn't know where (not yet, anyway), but I could see a room at the beginning of that hallway which looked like an office or something. To our right were two sets of double doors about twenty feet apart. The doors closest to us were open, and I got to glance inside. This was a huge room that ran the entire length of the building. It was filled with seats, like an auditorium. On the far wall I saw stained glass windows with Christian figures on them. I also saw a podium in the front of the room with a cross on it. It was definitely a chapel. Then it hit me. I looked at the older man with a cockeyed grin. 

“This is Zeeland, isn't it?” 

“Very good.” 

“I should have known. Terrific.” 

“How do you know about us? You're heathen.” 

“I know enough to know that you're a bunch of nuts that we were told to stay away from.” 

The three had a good laugh. 

“Is that so?” 

“Definitely.” 

“Well, obviously, you didn't listen.” 

“I don't see that we had a choice.” 

“You only have one choice.” 

“Really? What?” 

“To repent of your wickedness and accept Christ.” 

“Here we go again with that.” 

This statement got me a hard slap across the face. 

“Don't you blaspheme, witch.” 

Another blow came but, unfortunately, it wasn't aimed at me. The older man nodded to the youngest one who, without warning, grabbed his shotgun by the muzzle and swung it like a baseball bat directly into Rosa's already injured stomach. The poor girl gasped, doubled over in pain and fell on her side. 

“Rosa!” Vanessa cried out.  She went over to her. The older man looked at me with hatred, his gun aimed at my head. 

“Every time you or your friend blasphemes or makes smart remarks to the boys or myself, she will pay for it. Do you understand?” 

I nodded. 

“I said, do you--” 

“Yes. Yes, I understand.” 

A smile. “That's better.” 

Vanessa looked at me in distress. “She's really hurt. She needs a doctor.” 

The older one just grinned. “That's too bad, now, isn't it.” 

“But she's--” 

“I don't care.” A nod to me. “You and your friend get her up off the floor and down those steps. Now.” 

The steps that he was talking about were down a small hallway off to the left of the steps we had just came up. There were a few doors, all closed. I went quickly over to Vanessa to help her get Rosa to her feet and down the steps. Vanessa glanced at me, teary-eyed, confused. I couldn't do much more than return the same look. I tried to see how bad Rosa was hurt. She definitely was not in good shape. She could barely stand up, and it was all that we could do to keep her conscious. If she could rest and we could get her help soon, she might be all right. But one more blow to the stomach and-- I didn't want to think about it. 

None of us could understand why these guys hated us so, why they were so cruel. We were always well liked in Amnesty, and not just by boys. Even if we did like to party a lot and have a good time. None of us could ever hurt someone, even if they hurt us. It wasn't us. But, let's face it. We weren't in Amnesty, anymore. 

“The door on your left. Open it.” 

I did as I was told. I was greeted by a musty, sweet rotten smell and darkness. 

“Flick the light switch, on the wall.” 

I reached around the corner of the door frame and felt a light switch knob. I flipped it up, and a light came on to reveal a set of wooden steps that led down into what appeared to be the basement. I saw a concrete floor painted gray with some small, narrow square windows about six feet above ground level. Near the bottom step to the right was a metal office desk. There were boxes and old furniture stacked up in various places to the left of the stairs. 

“Down the steps.” 

I didn't put it past these idiots to try and push us, or Rosa especially, down the steps. If we were badly hurt, Rosa in her condition would definitely be killed. So, I wanted to put as many bodies between Rosa and them as I possibly could. I slid in front of Vanessa with Rosa. I would have to basically get her down the steps myself, because two people could barely fit on one step, let alone three. It wasn't easy, but I ignored their remarks and threats and just concentrated on Rosa. Somehow, we made it down. 

“Get over there against the wall.” 

We did. 

The older man waved his revolver at me. 

“Let go of her. Sit her up against the wall. Then, I want the two of you to turn around and face the wall.” 

Vanessa looked at me nervously as I gently helped Rosa to lean against the wall and slide down into a sitting position. I just nodded a “yes” to do as we were told. “Don't worry, honey,” I said softly to Rosa. “I'm here. We're here. Just try to rest, OK?” 

Rosa, exhausted and in much pain, barely nodded her head “yes” as she looked at me with helpless eyes. 

It was at this point that I was roughly nudged in the ribs by the muzzle of the older man's revolver. “Shut up, get away from her and face the wall. Now.” 

I definitely did what I was told, because I knew what they would do to Rosa if I didn't. I also made sure not to talk back, although I wanted to. 

The older man nodded to the scary looking one. “Get some rope, over there in that box.” 

The serial killer look-alike walked over to a box that sat on an old, upturned table on the messy side of the basement. He pulled out a clothesline rope, about fifty feet long. 

It was about at this time that I saw Vanessa do something interesting out of the corner of my eye. As we faced the wall and the older man addressed the younger, the youngest one's attention was diverted for a brief instant. In one motion, Vanessa reached up to her breast region, grabbed the chain that her pentacle talisman was affixed to, yanked it so that it broke and quickly tossed the pentacle and chain in the corner, behind some boxes. The entire action might have taken two or three seconds. She glanced at me shyly, as I proudly grinned at her. 

“This?” 

“Yeah.” 

The older man reached into his pocket and pulled out a pocket knife, which he tossed to the younger one. “Cut it up into four pieces, about three feet long.” He then turned to the youngest, who now had his shotgun trained on us and stared at us with a crazy-eyed grin. 

“As he gets the pieces cut, tie up their hands behind their backs. And don't do anything else than that, got me?” 

“Yeah, dad. I gotcha.” 

“Good.” 

A nod to Rosa. “What about her?” 

“Forget about her for now. She's not going anywhere.” 

High-pitched laughter. “That's for sure.” 

One by one, the two of us had our hands securely tied behind our backs. When we were tied up, the father instructed his son to turn us around and make us sit against the wall. When this was accomplished, the father addressed us. 

“All right, listen up. We're leaving you here for a while. There's no way out of here, so don't even try. There's no one in this building, so no one will hear you scream. The cellar door will be locked. Once again, there is no way out. We will be back in about twenty minutes, and then we'll begin.” 

“Begin what?” 

“Your trial.” A smile. “That's where we're going now.” 

“Where?” 

“To get the judge.” 

“What's that hole in the wall over there?” I asked. There was an ominous, totally pitch black jagged hole in the cinder block wall of the cellar behind the stairs. It was approximately ten feet past the right side of the steel desk. The hole was definitely large enough for a person to fit through. There was something totally negative about the hole and whatever was on the other side of it. I didn't like it at all. And from the looks on my girls' faces once they had spotted it, they didn't like it, either. It was scary. It looked like the entrance to hell. My inquiry resulted in an amused exchange of glances from our three captors. This was followed up by trademark maniacal laughter. 

“Hope that you and your friends don't find out,” the older man said. 

At the urging of his youngest son, the father contemplated turning off the lights in the basement and letting us sit in total darkness for twenty or so minutes. For some reason, probably to lord it over him, he decided not to comply with his son's wishes. I was secretly grateful for this. If by some chance we could get loose from our ropes, it would have been impossible to navigate our way to the steps and up without getting hurt. Of course, there was no way that Rosa in her condition was going to make it, not to mention any way that Vanessa and I could get her up the steps in total darkness. So, as soon as the three of them were out of the basement, I spoke to Vanessa. 

“Can you loosen your ropes?” 

“No.” They were too tight. 

“Well, try again,” I said. I gave my bindings another go. After a few minutes of this, I had to submit to the fact that we were not going to get loose. And with our hands tied behind our backs, sitting against the wall like we were, it was almost impossible to stand up. 

“What are we going to do, Allegra?” Vanessa asked. 

I knew that it was my responsibility to keep everyone's spirits up. This wasn't easy, since I had almost no spirit left myself. But for the sake of my girls, I knew that I was the one that had to be strong. 

“Well, one thing that we are not going to do is give up,” I said. “And we're definitely not going to sound like we are, that's for damn sure. Rosa needs help. These guys aren't going to get it for her, so we're going to have to get her out of here, somehow.” I glanced over at Vanessa, who wasn't buying it. Any of it. We both knew that we most likely weren't going to make it out of Zeeland alive. Vanessa looked away from me and stared at nothing. 

“Listen to me. This judge or whoever is coming. I'll bet that this person has more sense than those three idiots. Maybe we can talk to him or her and they'll let us go. We're gonna try it, anyway.” 

Vanessa just looked at whatever it was she looked at. But Rosa seemed to listen to me with some hope. I had to get Vanessa to help me somehow. 

“Vanessa, when these people come back, I want you to talk to Rosa in Spanish, all right?” 

“What do you want me to say?” 

“Anything.” I turned to Rosa, who rested. She was still coherent. “Rosa, honey, do you think you could answer Vanessa back in Spanish?” 

A slow nod. 

“Good. We have to get this judge person to see that Rosa is not black, but Cuban. This is the only way I can think--” 

“It's not gonna work.” It was Vanessa. 

“How do you know that?” 

“I just do.” 

“Would you please try, Vanessa? At least, for Rosa's sake, try.” 

Vanessa turned from her nothingness to look at Rosa. Then she looked at me. 

“All right. I'll try.” 

“Thank you.” 

“You're welcome.” 

“Vanessa?” 

“Yeah?” 

“You're not mad at me, are you?” 

Vanessa turned and looked at me with tears in her eyes. She leaned over and put her head on my shoulder. “Don't even think that, Allegra,” she said. 

All-in-all, the three guys were gone at least a half an hour. When I looked at my watch when they left to get the judge, it was about a quarter to one. Their arrival was made known to us by the slam of a door and voices. One of the voices was definitely that of an older female. This actually gave me hope. Women are more sympathetic than men are in most cases. I don't know how many times I was able to talk myself out of trouble at school with a woman teacher, but not with a man. Oh, there are some male teachers or authority figures that you can play up to. You know, pour on the cute, innocent but naive teenage girl bit. But it doesn't always work. When the girls and I would get caught for doing the same thing wrong more than once, it would get harder to be convincing, no matter how much the guy teacher liked us. Plus, being of the opposite sex and in a position of responsibility, guy teachers were more on their guard and defensive when they dealt with teenage girls. But with women, there's a female thing going on there, some kind of bond. Or else, they are just intimidated by teenage girls. When my girls and I were all decked out (which was most of the time) we could be intimidating. Nice, but intimidating. Now, when you have an older woman, that's even better. Older women in their sixties or seventies or older always like young girls, no matter what. I could always get farther with my grandmother about something that I wanted than I ever could with my mother. So, the fact that this judge lady sounded to be at least sixty was a plus. 

“They're coming back,” Vanessa said. 

“All right,” I said. 

“Everyone knows how we're going to handle this, right?" 

A nod from Rosa. 

“Vanessa?” 

“I'm ready.” 

Remember that plus I was talking about? Well, it became a minus as soon as the basement door opened and these people started down the stairs. The girls and I couldn't believe our eyes. But we should have known. I should have put two and two together. What am I talking about? Well, try this on for starters. All four of these people-- the three guys as well as this judge lady-- were dressed in white robes and hoods. Yes, you got it. They were Ku Klux Klan. The girls looked at me with fear in their eyes. 

“Just stick to the plan, all right?” 

“But they're--” 

“KKK. Pretty plain as day, don't ya think? Now, stick to the plan.” 

Vanessa just nodded a “yes” and remained silent as the four made their way down to the basement floor. When they were all down, one hooded figure stepped forward and stared at us. The person's eyes were a steely gray and very scary. 

“These are the girls, I presume?” It was the voice of an older female. 

“Yes,” the father nodded. “That's them.” 

After what seemed like a few minutes-- but it probably was only a few seconds-- the woman finally spoke. Maybe because she could sense that I was the head of the group, she addressed me. But, I'm sure that I was spoken of in a negative sense, however, by the father to this woman. 

“Why are you dressed like that?” 

“Like what?” 

“Have you no shame?” 

“It was our prom night. And concerning our dresses, no, we don't have any shame. We like our bodies, and we like to show them off.” 

“Even before your God?” 

“What, you don't think God's ever seen the female body before?” 

“I thought you didn't believe in God.” 

“We don't believe in the God of the Bible. We believe in the God of the universe. We are pagan. We believe in the male and female aspects of God, the Horned God and Goddess of all nature.” 

“Horned god and goddess? God is one in three. There is no goddess. That's blasphemy.” 

“To you, maybe. But not to us. It's our belief.” 

“It's your heresy.” 

“Suit yourself. We're not gonna tell you how to believe or live your life. And you should respect our beliefs and ways, too.” 

“Not when they conflict with the teachings of our savior, Jesus Christ.” 

“Your savior, not ours. We think that Jesus was a good person, but we don't worship him. And we don't need to be saved.” 

“He was the Son of God.” 

“To you, not to us.” 

“More blasphemy.” 

At this point, the woman turned away from me and looked at Rosa. She turned to the father. “This is the curséd?” 

“Yes.” 

“She's not African,” Vanessa said. “She's Cuban. She's Spanish, just like me.” 

The woman walked over to Vanessa. “Yes, I can believe that you are of Spanish descent. But not her. She is too dark-skinned. She has to be black.” 

“She's not,” Vanessa said. “I can prove it.” 

“How?” 

At this point, Vanessa addressed Rosa in Spanish. Rosa weakly replied. The woman allowed this exchange to go on for at least thirty seconds, and then raised a hand. 

“Enough. I've heard enough.” 

“You see? She's not black, she's Spanish.” 

The woman shook her head. “No, I don't see.” 

“What? But ma'am, she--” 

“Yes, you spoke to her in your native tongue, and she responded. That doesn't prove anything. How long have you known her?” 

“Since kindergarten.” 

“Yes. So, there would be ample time for you to teach her some Spanish and for her to learn it, now wouldn't there?” 

“I thought that according to your ignorant scientific beliefs, blacks couldn't learn languages. Don't you believe them to be not much higher than monkeys?” I couldn't resist. 

“I'm not the one on trial here,” the woman answered. “You are. I don't have to answer to you.” 

“Why, because you're afraid you might see the stupidity in your beliefs?” 

“Silence.” 

“No, I won't be silent.” 

“I said--” 

“Take your hood off.” This got me another slap in the face. This time, by the woman. So, I spit in hers. The father would have either killed me or beat me to a pulp right on the spot, but he was stopped dead in his tracks by another raised hand. 

“No, don't touch her. Not yet.” Her eyes glared at me through the holes in the hood. “You want it off? I'll take it off, then.” 

And, much to my surprise, take it off she did. I took one look at her and thought to tell her to put it back on. Was she ugly? No, not really. Oh, don't get me wrong. She was no beauty queen. But, she was the scariest woman that I had ever seen, that's for sure. I guess it's what I saw in her face that scared me. Ignorance. Rigidness. And although her “Christian” background wouldn't allow her to admit it, hatred. That was there, too. Towards anyone that didn't believe the way she believed. 

This woman was somewhere around sixty-five years old, I would say. She had a roundish face, the cold gray eyes that I mentioned, and gray hair that was tied up in a bun upon her head. She was a big woman, not fat, just big framed. She was tall, about five-foot-nine or ten. And very aggressive. So, who was she? 

“Is that better?” 

“At least you're not hiding behind a mask,” I said. 

“Do you know who I am?” 

“I don't know your name, no. But I would guess that you run this place.” 

“That's correct. I run this place, and I founded this place.” 

“I wouldn't be too proud of those facts, if I were you.” 

“But you're not me, are you. Definitely not. For if you were, then you wouldn't be on trial.” 

“And who appointed you our judge?” 

“Why, God Almighty, of course.” 

“Oh, really?” 

“Yes, really. I am His spokesperson, His representative. I was ordained to carry out His will. That's why I founded Zeeland. To do His will. To please Him.” 

“And you think that it's God's will for you to treat teenage girls like you've treated us?” 

“Yes. If they are in need of discipline. If they have fallen away from His grace and have chosen to live in sin. Then, yes.” 

“You're really crazy, lady. You and these morons that do your bidding. You and they are nothing but a bunch of ignorant bigots. And, if you think that God is pleased with you, He's not.” 

“A pagan heathen telling Born Again Christians about God? More blasphemy.” She turned to the three guys. “I've heard enough. It's the moment of truth.” She turned back to me. 

“As God's representative and your judge, I find you and your friends guilty of many crimes against His Word. Forsaking God's ways, dabbling willingly in witchcraft and paganism, forsaking Christianity, flaunting yourselves before God, blasphemy and, last but certainly not least, befriending that which is curséd.” 

At this last statement, Vanessa looked at Rosa and helplessly shook her head. She knew that this woman's ignorance would not allow her to see the truth. Vanessa resumed her stare at nothing. Any hope that she had was gone. I knew exactly how she felt. My hope was gone, too. 

The “judge” continued. “Now, concerning the curséd, she is already condemned. There is no hope of salvation for her, being of the seed of Ham and Cain and, therefore, doubly cursed. So, I sentence her to death, to be executed immediately following the conclusion of this trial." 

“You're sick." I said. 

“Silence, witch,” the old hag said. “You will not interrupt the proceedings of this court.” To reinforce these words, the father was there to hold his gun to my head. “Now, concerning you and this one,” she said and glanced at Vanessa, “you will be given a choice for pardon. If you decide to accept this choice, you will live. To refuse is to bring the sentence of death upon yourselves and to join the curséd in hell.” 

“Let me guess,” I said. “You want us to accept your beliefs and be like you are.” 

“I want you to accept Christ as your personal Lord and Savior and turn from your sin and choose life, that ye may live.” 

“And I told you before, no go.” 

“That is your decision, to stay a witch?” 

“Yes.” 

“Duly noted. But, since this is not a matter to be taken lightly and another life is at stake, I will ask your friend for a decision." She addressed Vanessa. "Let me clarify the terms of this offer. Upon making a choice for Christ, you will live out your days here at Zeeland. Of course, considering the circumstances, you will never be permitted to leave. You will accept our ways and beliefs. Most importantly, you will live. What is your decision?" 

Vanessa, who continued her stare into nothingness, never looked the old woman in the eye. 

“I refuse your offer.” 

“Very well, then. You have made your decision and, in the eyes of this court and before your God, have sealed your present and eternal fates. I sentence you to die. Execution will begin immediately. She pointed to Vanessa and Rosa. “In keeping with the justice carried out against your kind in the past, you both will hang simultaneously from separate tree branches until dead.” I was the last. “Now, we come to you. You, being the leader, will be executed last. Your death, therefore, will be different.” She turned to the three guys. “I will let the method of this one's death up to you. But it will be carried out immediately following the execution of the curséd and the other one. Do not delay.” She glanced at her watch. "A quarter to two. We all have a big day in the Lord tomorrow morning, it being Sunday. So, I suggest that what you do, you do quickly.” 

“What about the bodies? What do you want us to do with them?” 

“You will collect the bodies and store them in the Ice House until further notice. I will have to take care of things on my end before the bodies can be disposed of.” 

In case you're wondering, 'take care of things on my end' referred to getting in touch with the county sheriff (who was sold out to this woman, along with his deputies), concerning covering the whole thing up. 

The nut lady turned to us one last time. “Either one of you can change your decisions and you will be pardoned, under the conditions that I have stated. Remember that.” 

“How could we forget?” I asked. 

She ignored me and walked over to a sink in the corner and began to wash her hands. “I wash my hands of this matter, before witnesses. 'Where two or more are gathered together in my name, that's where I will be.' It is now in the hands of Christ and Father God. Amen.” She reached into her KKK robes and pulled out a gavel. She walked over to the steel desk and brought the gavel down upon the desk's surface. “This court is adjourned.” The “judge” was already on her way up the steps when she turned to the father. “I will expect a report from you in the morning on this matter, just prior to church service, in my office.” 

“Yes, Mother Black.” 

“Very well. Until later, then.” 

And with that, the self-appointed “judge” was up the basement steps and gone. 

III. THE WITNESS TREES

After the judge (or “Mother Black”) left, things happened fast. Too fast. There was a part of each of us that wanted to believe that this was all a bad dream and that we would wake up soon. There also was still a belief that these people weren't really serious about killing us. That they were just trying to scare us. For a brief period, I actually thought that our guys played a practical joke on us, and that they would suddenly show up and laugh at our ignorance. Of course, if that really were the case, we would tell them where they could go. Because joke or no joke, we weren't laughing. But, as we very soon found out, it was no joke. It was very real. 

The three bigot murderers left us a few brief seconds of intimacy, as they disappeared through the black hole in the basement wall. 

Vanessa couldn't stop crying. She just kept her head on my shoulder. I was feeling several things: anger, sadness, responsibility for our soon-to-be deaths and the realization that we would never live past this day. That we would never even graduate from high school. I had to say something. 

“Listen to me, both of you. I'm really sorry about all of this." 

“Don't blame yourself, Allegra.” 

“No. I'll take the blame. If you're mad, then be mad at me.” 

“We're not mad at you, Allegra. Don't think that.” 

“I want you guys to know how much you mean to me. I'll love you and our friendship forever. We will always be together. No matter what. Do you understand? We will always have each other.” They were just words at the time, but they proved to be true. The three of us have always been together. Even in death. And after. 

“We love you, too, Allegra.” 

“Shhh, they're coming back.” 

And so they were. The bigot murderers walked back into the basement. 

“You have a chance now to repent.” 

We remained silent. 

The father shrugged. 

“Suit yourselves. I'll take that as a 'no.'” He turned to the older one. “Go get the nooses.” 

I didn't know whether to laugh or to be disgusted. “Excuse me. The nooses? All ready to go? So, you do this sort of thing much?” 

The father looked at me with hatred in his eyes. “We do it when it is required. Like now.” 

“So, how many times has it been required? How many murders have you committed before your God?” 

“Shut up.” 

“No. Answer me. If you're going to kill us, then at least let us know.” 

The father, instead of backhanding me in the mouth (like I thought he would), just grinned. 

“You have already been judged, witch. I'm not wasting my time with your questions.” It was at this time that the older one came back from the messy side of the basement with three thick ropes ending in nooses. 

The father pointed to Vanessa and Rosa. “Those two. Get them and bring them outside to the Witness Trees.” 

The two sons wasted no time in pulling Vanessa and Rosa roughly to their feet and prodding them with their guns to move forward. The helpless look on their faces said everything. Before I could fathom it, my two closest friends were torn away from me, taken up the steps and out of my sight. “No!” Was all that I could keep saying, the hot tears streaming down my face. I was all alone. Really alone. And I knew that in a few minutes, I would also be taken up the basement steps to die. 

The “Witness Trees,” as they were called, were three large oak trees that were past the parking lot, at the exact place where the Zeeland property sloped down to the Amnesty River and Woods. From my position in the basement, they were approximately two to three-hundred feet away. I could hear my girls' protests as they were forced along by our captors. It was too much to take. 

I attempted to rise to my feet after I spied a wooden crate about five to ten feet away. After several failed attempts, I was finally able to get enough leverage (using my back against the cinder block wall and the height of my platform shoes) to stand up. A new determination-- an inner strength-- came over me to see what was going on, to somehow be with my girls in their final moments, even if it meant just watching them out the window. I managed to reach the wooden crate and kick it over against that part of the basement wall, immediately under the window six feet up. After losing my balance several times and falling backwards, I was finally able to step up on the crate and crane my neck to see out of the window. I could see the three men immediately behind Vanessa and Rosa, prodding them on with hard jabs from their guns. They just reached the end of the parking lot, only about fifty feet from the three Witness Trees and the beginning of the downward slope. The trip to the trees took longer than the three guys had planned, due to the fact that Rosa was so weak, and little more than a dead weight in Vanessa's arms. I could see that the father carried three fold-up chairs, while the older one also carried something, but I couldn't tell what it was. Once they had reached the trees, the father opened up the chairs and placed one in front of each tree. Then he tossed the nooses over huge, low-lying branches on each one. 

I watched the older one unload his unknown burden into the father's hands. What he carried was three small burlap sacks, the kind that would serve as a feed bag for horses. The father now proceeded to place these sacks over the heads of each girl. Vanessa and Rosa begged these b******s for mercy. All I could hear was the three of them telling them to shut up and calling them names. Once the sacks were over each girl's head, they were made to place a foot upon the chairs, while the nooses were affixed around their necks. Then, they were made to place both feet on the chairs. Vanessa was at the first tree on my left as I looked out the window. Rosa was at the center tree. The empty noose at the third tree, that would be mine. But the judge lady allowed my death to be decided by these idiots. So, I had to believe that there was something more in store for me than just hanging. I glanced over at the black hole in the wall. Most likely, I would be unfortunate enough to find out what was on the other side of the void. The father stood at Vanessa's tree, the son at Rosa's. The older one just kept guard, rifle cocked and ready. When the father gave the signal, the chairs-- the chairs were-- 

[Note: at this point in the narrative, Allegra begins to become overwhelmed with emotion.] 

I'm sorry. But it's just-- it's hard, you know? I'm sorry. I can't-- 

[A brief pause as Allegra regains her composure.] 

There, that's better. I'm OK., now. The chairs were removed and my girls were hung. They were barely three feet above the ground. And it wasn't quick. And it wasn't easy to watch. They suffered. They told me what it was like, and it's terrible. 

[A contemplative pause.] 

So, it wasn't much fun. But anyway, after a few minutes, it was all over. 

IV.  ON THE RUN

They were dead. My two best friends were both dead in less than an instant. And I was next.

Well, forget that. That's what I thought to myself, as I watched the three crazies take the bodies of my friends down from the trees. I'm not going to wait around here to be killed. I have to at least try to get out of here and back to Amnesty. I owe it to my friends to try to get them some justice. So, making the best out of the five or ten minutes I still had before the three guys came back for me, I kicked off my high heels and made my way over to the basement stairs and up the staircase. When I reached the top of the stairs, I breathed a sigh of relief when I noticed that the middle-aged man and the other two did not lock the basement door. It was open by about the space of six inches. So, I didn't waste any time in getting out of the cellar and back out into the hallway. I quickly surveyed the area to make sure that the three men were not around yet. They weren't. Now, I had a dilemma. What direction do I go in? And what do I do when (if) I get out? Of course, it would be in my best interest to get the ropes off of my wrists.

The answer to the first question was that I was not going to go out the door that led to the parking lot. They would see me as soon as I stepped onto the pavement. So, I had to leave the building in an opposite direction, unknown to them. I thought it was too risky to leave on the opposite side of the building, considering that I would be opening the door onto something not known. Somebody could be waiting for me on the other side of those double doors and it would be all over. So, I had to be careful.

There was one other option. It didn't involve going out the doors that led into the parking lot, and it didn't involve going out the doors in the front of the building. I found out about this option when, coming out of the basement, I walked down to the part of the hallway where I noticed a large office. The office was at the beginning of another hallway that led to another set of doors that were most likely located on the side of the building. This was risky, for I had no idea at what point I would exit, in relation to my captors. My idea was to go out the side doors as quickly as possible and get around to the side of the other building; you know, use it for cover. If I wasn't spotted, I would try to make it into the Amnesty Woods farther down from the scene of the hangings. At least, that was the plan.

But first, I decided to enter the large office. I wanted to see if I could find something sharp enough to cut through the ropes my hands were tied up with. If I could somehow get the ropes off, I would be able to move faster. And once out the door, speed was what I wanted, and a lot of it. But, when I tried both doors to the office, they were locked. No luck there. I had to find a pair of scissors or a knife. The next rooms after the office were classrooms with small wooden desks and a large desk in the front with a blackboard. I entered one and spotted a pencil holder on the teacher's desk with a pair of scissors. I was able to back up to it and knock it over so I could grab the scissors. After a few tries, I got them open and a pretty good grasp on the blade handle. After a few minutes, it seemed like forever-- much too long-- I finally got the ropes cut enough so that I could get them off. I was free. At least, my hands were.

Now came the fun part. I had to get out of the entrance and onto the other side of the building, across the way as quickly as possible, without the older guy and his two young sons seeing me. Or else, I would be dead for sure. I took a couple of deep breaths and went to the double doors. As quietly as possible, I pushed the one on the right open. When the opening was about six to eight inches wide, I stuck my head out and attempted to look down the parking lot. The three guys were in the process of putting my friends' bodies in the back of the bread truck used to bring us here. I checked my watch. It was two-thirty five.

This was it. I took a few more deep breaths and quietly pushed the door open enough to squeeze out. Once I was out, I made sure that the door shut without making a sound. The guys were still preoccupied with the corpses of Vanessa and Rosa. I got ready to run.

“What's your name?”

I couldn't believe it. Standing there before me, outside the door of the adjacent building, was a little girl!

“Honey, go back in. You shouldn't be out here.”

“What's your name?”

I put my finger to my lips.

“Shhh. Allegra, honey. It's Allegra. What's yours?”

“Evie.” She whispered.

“Evie. Evie, listen to me. Get back inside, all right?”

“What are they doing?” Evie said.  She pointed in the direction of the three men.

“They're bad men, Evie. But don't worry about them, all right? You just go--”

“She's out! The witch is out of the cellar!”

“What the--”

“C'mon, let's go!” The father motioned to his son. And to the older one, “you stay here,” he said. But I didn't hear this last command.

“Evie, go back inside now!” I yelled.

I took off as fast as I could around the side of the building; the father and the son hot on my heels, but still at least two-hundred feet behind. I got to the end of the building, my bare feet killing me on the hard pavement. I could see the Amnesty Woods not more than a hundred feet beyond the building. I made a break for it, hearing the heavy footsteps of my pursuers. What happened-- or what would happen-- to the little girl, Evie? I had no idea. But I didn't want to think about it.

The point I entered the Amnesty Woods was approximately five-hundred feet from the scene of the hangings. I was not aware, because I dared not turn around, that only two of the men were behind me. One was still at the hanging trees. This was the older one, the nineteen twenties Jeffrey Dahmer look alike. He had now went to a position of about one-hundred-and-fifty feet past the trees to where the bank of the Amnesty River was. He had dropped to one knee, his high-powered rifle raised to his shoulder, and waited to spot me through his scope when I came into view three-hundred feet or so to his right.

The ground began to slope off about one-hundred feet before the bank of the river at a thirty to forty-five degree angle, so I now had to move quickly, but be careful not to fall down the slope. If I did, it would all be over. Somehow, I accomplished this feat. I reached the bottom of the slope, ten feet before the river bank. I dared to look back. The father and his son were just reaching the top of the slope. Thinking fast, I began to run up along the river bank instead of attempting to cross where I was. I did this because I didn't really think that I could cross at this point, the water looked too deep. The Amnesty River is very old, but not a very big river. It's probably only fifty feet wide at its widest point down by the Amnesty Reservoir past Zeeland, and most of the time maybe only thirty feet wide, sometimes even less. The depth of the water varies. There are some parts that are at least three feet deep (or considerably deeper at the reservoir), and other parts that are so shallow and rocky on the bottom that you could practically walk across. Other parts are almost bone dry. The part that I was at now was the right width, but not the right depth. So, I ran up-river in hopes of finding something more shallow. Of course, I didn't know that the older one was waiting for me upstream, rifle cocked and ready. The other reason I began to run up along the bank was that I was hoping to get my pursuers to try to run crosswise on the slope instead of straight down, so that the chances of them losing their footing and falling would be greater. I waited until the two were on the slope and starting their descent straight down before I began to run. They took the bait hook, line and sinker. Seeing me run away from them up the bank, they began to run in my direction, forgetting that they were on an incline. As soon as they changed direction, both mens' feet slipped out from under them and gravity took over. The son tumbled head-over-heels down the slope and landed hard-- a mere ten feet from the river bank. His father, the heavier of the two, did not fare as well. His momentum hurled him straight into the river itself with a plop. I watched as the son just lay there, motionless, and the father flailed about in the river.

About two-hundred feet upstream, I found what I was looking for. Here, the Amnesty River became rocky, shallow and narrow. It was maybe six inches in depth and about fifteen or twenty feet wide. I started across, the fast moving water cool on my sore feet and, at the same time, the rounded rocks and pebbles of the river hard as hell. About midway across, I stopped and quickly looked upstream. The father was out of the river now but not standing.  He was on his side and attended to his son, who was still laid out on the bank. He glanced in my direction, but did not leave his son's side. Both were obviously injured.

I Sensed freedom and hurried across the other half of the river.  Once there, I climbed up the opposite bank. I took maybe a thirty second rest to catch my breath before getting to my feet. My goal now was just to run as fast as I could through the woods until I came to the other side, wherever that may be. Hopefully, it would be Amnesty or someplace familiar. I glanced at my watch. It was two forty-five.

I had gone barely twenty feet when I heard it, a deafening blast from some point behind me. Almost immediately, I felt very weak. I slid to my knees, suddenly not able to see out of my left eye. I tried to put my hand to my face, but could not lift my arm. Before the realization of this had sunk in, another loud blast rang out. Losing consciousness, I looked down with my remaining eye. I saw red drenching the front of my white prom dress. Then black.

Then nothing.

Author's Note

This short story is also a novella and the opening of the hybrid version of my novel Girls In White Dresses.