Page 35 of Backwoods
None of them bothered to look in Amiya’s direction. They seemed, in fact, to deliberately avoid glancing at her, as if merely looking her way would have brought corporal punishment.
But she didn’t see anyone supervising their work, no slave driver demanding they continue to labor under threat of a whip. They were almost zombielike in their demeanor.
“What’s the matter with you all?” Amiya shouted. She raised her chained hands and shook them, the chains rattling loudly enough for the noise to carry across the field. “Someone, please, help me!”
She might as well have been pleading with androids programmed to perform a single task and nothing else. Her pleadings brought no attention.
She could see that “W” branded on a few of them: at the back of their sweat-saturated necks, on their foreheads or cheeks. No doubt, all of them bore the mark on various regions of their bodies.
But a mere symbol could not have compelled the degree of terrified obedience that these people displayed. These people obviously had been broken, through systematic torture and brainwashing. What else could have forced someone in modern-day America to submit to slavery on a decaying southern plantation?
The road took them around the back of the estate. The wagon clattered to a stop underneath the boughs of a gigantic magnolia tree.
Amiya saw a frayed rope swinging from a thick tree branch overhead. Although she immediately realized what sort of punishment that noose probably had been used to deliver, her rational mind struggled to accept it.
Hangings going on out here? I can’t believe this.
But it was as real as the cold perspiration creeping down her spine. People were dying here. Both she and Nick could die here, and who was around to prevent it?
None of her friends or family knew exactly where she had gone. They knew only that she was spending time with her boyfriend, as usual—she and Nick practically lived together already. Nick’s mother would have known where they were, but how long before she became alarmed and notified the authorities? Nick wasn’t a teenager under the close observation of helicopter parents. He was a forty-year-old man, and his mother might not note his absence for days.
They might not last for days out here.
They say the Overseer arrives at night—what will he do to us when he comes?
Betty and the man ambled around to the rear of the wagon. Amiya glared at them.
“Don’t touch me,” she said.
“This one here, now she’s a little pistol, Jimmy,” Betty said. “I might need you to help me here.”
“She ain’t gon’ do nothing,” Jimmy said. He carried the rifle loosely. “She like a cute little dog. All bark and no bite.”
Oh yeah?Amiya thought.Try me.
“You gonna behave, gal?” Betty lowered the back of the wagon.
Amiya bunched her hands into fists and had drawn up her legs. “Where are you taking me?”
“Up there in the big house. You gon’ be under Miss Lula’s charge,” Betty said.
“Who is Miss Lula?”
“Miss Lula runs the house staff,” Betty said.
“That house? It’s falling apart. How can anyone be living here? The place looks like it needs to be demolished.”
Betty and Jimmy both snickered, as if they were in on a private joke.
“You’ll see for yourself at sundown,” Betty said. She reached for Amiya’s legs. “Come on now, gal.”
Amiya thrust her legs, kicking Betty’s outstretched arms. Betty grimaced with pain.
“Help me with her, Jimmy,” she said. “Don’t bruise her face. She’s pretty and you know how he likes ’em.”
With a grunt, Jimmy clambered onto the wagon.
“Get away from me!” Amiya screamed. She swung her legs toward Jimmy, trying to sweep his ankles and topple him over. He climbed up on a pile of wood, out of reach. She twisted around, swinging her hands, but he was nimble on his feet and got behind her. He hooked his hands in her armpits and lifted her.
