Page 25 of Magic in the Woods
The door slid open, revealing two sweaty men with rounded bellies. The witches had gripped me throughout the ride like something that’d keep them afloat. However, when the door opened, I felt them pushing me forward, like an offering to our captors.
“We’re here. Come out of the truck like good little girls, and we won’t have to touch you again.” The man’s voice was coarse yet had a certain sliminess about it that told me he’d probably be happy to touch them again.
The witches next to me clenched my arms, holding me in front of them, trembling.
“I’ll give you until the count of three to get over here, or I’m going to have to send my associate in to pull you out one by one.”
The man standing next to him curled his fingers toward his palm before extending them, a smirk on his lips.
“One.”
The witch behind me gasped, pushing me forward again, toward the men.
“Two.”
A witch somewhere in the mass of bodies behind me cried out.
The fear of the witches behind me was contagious. I could feel it seep into my skin.
The hands around my arms tightened, the fingernails digging into my skin. These witches feared the unknown, what lay ahead of them. I already knew where I was going. I’d gotten on the truck willing to come here, to enter the Academy. There was no use in delaying the inevitable. I stood slowly, the girl behind me loosening the grip she had on my arm.
“There we go. Nice and easy.” The man reached out his hands, flicking his fingers toward his palms, motioning me to keep walking toward him. The steps I took were short and tentative. I wanted to avoid him all together. I could get down from the truck myself. I didn’t need his greasy hands on my body. The wood floor beneath my feet bowed, and I bent my knees to regain my balance. Behind me, the girls were rising to their feet, following my lead.
“Oh, what good girls you are. Aren’t they, Steve?” The man nudged his associate, who looked disappointed he didn’t get to pull the girls out of the truck with his hands.
My shoes reached the edge of the truck. The man’s breath warmed my ankles as he looked up at me.
“You’re filthy, aren’t you?” His hands wrapped around each of my calves, holding me in place. “I’m going to help you off the truck, and then I want you to stand along the side of the truck with Steve.”
I got one look at his bloodshot eyes and tried to keep my gaze anywhere but on his face.
“You got that, girl?” His grasp tightened around my legs. I looked down at him with my eyes closed, and nodded before looking away. “Come here, then.”
He let go and motioned for me to lean over the edge of the truck and into his hands that grabbed me under the arms, lifting me down to the ground. As soon as my shoes touched the dirt, he pushed me toward Steve, who stood along the side of the truck. I tripped over my feet to the truck and lined up against it as he’d asked. I didn’t want to give them any excuse to touch me again.
One by one, witches were lifted down and pushed toward Steve. We stood there waiting, our backs against the dirty truck. I looked down at the growing line of girls as they came aroundto join the line. They stood there shivering, even though it was a warm day.
The man came around from the back of the truck, pointing and counting us. “Nobody moves,” he said. A tremble fluttered through the group. He disappeared around the back of the truck, the sliding door slamming closed.
We were somewhere in the middle of the woods. The trees towered over the truck, the top branches waving in the breeze that now blew along the canopy. Even though it was daytime, the light was dim enough beneath the trees that the crickets were confused, still chirping as though it was night. There were no signs, and the closest thing I could see to a road marker was a tree where a buck had rubbed his antlers and removed its bark. Down toward the ground where we stood, the air was stagnant, and I could smell the sweat coming off the girl next to me.
Stomping over to where I stood, nearest the truck cab, the man who seemed to be in charge wrapped his hand around my upper arm, squeezing it, pulling me close. “Steve, take up the back. You”—he shook me by my arm—“will lead the way.”
I yanked my arm back toward me, out of his grasp.
“Oh, she’s a wild one.” I heard low chuckles from Steve at the back of the line. “I gotta keep an even closer eye on you.”
A gasp left my lips as he grabbed me again, this time pulling my back against his chest, pushing me forward with his body.
We traveled in a line, some girls crying as we walked. The man breathed hot air against my neck. I increased my pace, trying to put some distance between our bodies. He matched me, guiding me toward a small tan house with a single door and a small square window. I almost didn’t see the house, as it was covered with green leafy vines. It wasn’t made of gingerbread and candy, but its size and sloping roof made it look like the witch’s house from the storyHansel and Gretel.
Fitting.
He knocked four times on the door. After a moment, the handle turned and a woman with gray curls piled on top of her head stuck her hooked nose out the door.
“I’ve got eleven here for you, ma’am.”
The door opened a little wider as she looked down the line of girls. Her face was blemished, spotted with raised flesh-colored bumps and marked with red sores that looked painful. “Very well. Send them in one by one.”
