“Now, before you get bored with my ramblings, let’s move on to the good stuff. How does any of this involve you? I’m sure you’re asking that question right now. Why is this bastard making us stand in a field in the middle of the night to listen to this lecture? That’s what you’re thinking, isn’t it? You don’t think there’s anything in this world that I could tell you that would justify your being here. You think I’m just some kind of thug who abducted you and your families on a whim. That’s what you’re thinking, isn’t it?”
Webster paused to let the tension build. He wanted to see the confusion and misery in his captives’ eyes as it continued to grow.
“Then each of you is about to receive the shock of your lives, because you were selected for a specific purpose!”
Harris Jackson moved forward, taking over the lecture. “During Master Webster’s research, he was able to compile some extensive genealogy, an actual list of black family trees. Why is this significant? Because it was nearly impossible to do. Unlike white people, whose history is well documented in public records, the history of the black man is often shrouded in obscurity. Slaves rarely had last names, marriages weren’t officially recognized, kids were often sold or given away as gifts. Shit, these were just a few of the drawbacks that Master Webster had to overcome in order to complete his work.”
Octavian Holmes grinned. “And that’s what brings us to you. Why are you here? It’s the question you’ve been wondering for a very long time. Trust me, I know. I’ve seen it in your eyes. ‘Why me?’ you constantly wonder. ‘Why us?’ you plead! ‘There has to be a mistake,’ you assure us! ‘We’ve done nothing wrong!’ ”
Holmes grimaced, his eyes narrowing to slits. “No! There have been no mistakes! Each and every one of you is guilty of crimes against the black race! Crimes that you are in the process of being punished for!”
The captives glanced at each other, panicked. The sound of Holmes’s voice told them that he truly believed what he said. Holmes actually believed that they were guilty of something terrible.
“Group One,” Holmes shouted as he pointed toward them, “step forward!” Members of the Metz and Ross families glanced at each other, then reluctantly inched ahead. “Jake Ross, age seventy-one, make yourself known.”
The old man emerged from the center of the pack.
“You are the father of Alicia and Jimmy Ross, are you not?”
Jake Ross nodded his balding head. “Yes, Master Holmes, I am.”
“After marrying Paul Metz, Alicia gave birth to Kelly and Donny Metz. Is that correct?”
“Yes, sir,” Jake agreed. “They’re my grandkids.”
“And your son, Jimmy? He married Mary DaMico, and she eventually gave life to Susan, Tommy, and Scooter. Right?”
Jake was mystified by the line of questioning, but he still answered. “Yes, sir.”
“Now tell me, what was your grandfather’s last name on your father’s side?”
“It was Ross, same as mine. The Ross name has lasted for several generations now.”
Holmes winced when he heard the pride in Jake’s voice. The tone actually made him want to vomit. “According to our research, the Ross family first surfaced in America shortly before the 1800s. They settled in Massachusetts, but slowly migrated south as this country expanded in that direction. Eventually, your great-great-grandfather purchased a large chunk of land in Georgia, where he grew peanuts to the ripe age of eighty-one.”
Jake wasn’t sure what Holmes was getting at, but he could tell that it was something big. “Yes, sir. That sounds about right.”
Holmes nodded contentedly. The Plantation had located the right family.
“Group Two,” Harris Jackson shouted, “step forward!” The Potter family took an immediate stride toward Jackson. “Richard Potter, as the oldest member of your family, I would like to speak to you!”
Richard groaned softly, then stepped ahead. “That’s me, sir.”
“If I am correct, you are fifty-eight and have three kids, Andy, Darcy, and Jennifer. Andy married Sarah Goldberg, and they have a three-year-old daughter named Courtney.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Your one daughter married Mike Cussler, and your other daughter, Jennifer, is single.”
“Yes, sir. That’s correct.”
“Do either of your daughters have kids?”
“No, sir. Not yet.”
Jackson was fairly certain that they were childless, but if they’d had any kids out of wedlock, he wanted to know about them, too. “Where did your maternal grandparents come from?”
“Mississippi, sir. I lived there myself until my parents died.”
“Yes, I know.” Jackson moved closer to the man, hoping to scare him with his proximity. “What did they do for a living?”
“They were farming people, sir. Cotton, mostly.”
“And what was the name of their farm? Do you recall?”
“Yes, sir. I was forced to sell it after my folks died. It was called Tanneyhill Acres. Named after my mother’s side of the family.”
Jackson glanced at Holmes and nodded. Both of them were pleased with what they had learned. So far, Webster had made no mistakes in his research.
“I guess that leaves me,” Webster muttered. “Group Three, step ahead and join the others.”
Ariane Walker moved forward and was quickly followed by her sister, Tonya, and her injured brother-in-law, Robert Edwards.
“Since each of you is fairly young, you might not be able to help me with the questions that I would like answered. Therefore, I will give you a brief rundown on your family’s history. If you disagree with anything I say, please let me know.”
The three nodded, not knowing whose family he was referring to.
“Ariane, you’re the closest, so you will be the spokesperson. Two years ago your sister married Robert Edwards from Richmond, Virginia, and she is currently carrying their first child. Your parents, each of them an only child, died in a car crash. Each of your grandparents died at an early age, before you were even born. You have no cousins, aunts, or uncles. It’s just the three of you and the fetus on the way. Is that correct?”
Ariane agreed with everything. “Yes, sir.”
“Excellent,” he mumbled. “Your father’s parents were raised in a coastal town in North Carolina, but your father’s grandparents had roots that extended much deeper south. In fact, they stretched all the way to Louisiana.”
Ariane shrugged. “If you say so. I’ve never had the chance to research my family. As you’ve pointed out, most of my family is already dead.”
Webster smiled. “And they’re lucky they are. Because if they weren’t, they’d be standing here right next to you!”
The statement made Ariane wince. She knew her presence had something to do with her family’s background, but what? Her parents were both law-abiding citizens. Her sister was never in trouble, so it couldn’t have anything to do with her. And as far as she could tell, her brother-in-law was one of the sweetest guys in the world. So what the hell could it be?
“I can tell by your face, Ariane, that you are deeply confused. Your face is flushed. Your eyes are darting. Anger is boiling inside.”
In a moment of reckless courage, Ariane decided to voice her feelings. “Yes, sir, I’m angry. As far as I can tell, my family’s done nothing wrong, yet we’re here, suffering in this field for no apparent reason. So, if you would be so kind, I was wondering if you could tell me why! Why are we here? What possible explanation could you give me that would explain why we’re here?”
Ariane could tell from Webster’s eyes that she had spoken too harshly. In order to soften the request, she continued.
“That is, if you’d like to tell me, Master Webster, sir.”
Webster glared at the girl for a tense moment, then eventually grinned. “As fate would have it, we were just getting ready to tell the entire group that very thing. And for that, you are quite lucky. Otherwise, I would’ve been forced to punish you se
verely.”
Ariane nodded, relieved.
“Master Holmes?” Webster continued. “Would you care to tell old man Ross and the rest of his family why they are here?”
For a brief moment, Holmes thought back to his own childhood, one that was filled with racial threats against his family. This was finally his chance to pay the white man back for crimes against his ancestors, to get even for generations of pain and abuse. “With pleasure.”
Holmes turned toward the seventy-one-year-old slave and grinned. “During our research, we stumbled across a fact that I found quite interesting. We located the name of the man who was responsible for much of the pain in my family’s history. My ancestors, after they were forced to come to America in the belly of a wooden ship, were sold to a peanut farmer in rural Georgia. There, they worked, day after day, under some of the most horrible conditions imaginable. And what does any of that have to do with you? Their owner’s name was Daniel Ross, and he was your great-great-grandfather!”
Jake’s head spun as he took in the news. Even though he knew his family had a farm in the South, the thought that they had once owned slaves never crossed his mind. It should’ve, since it was a typical practice of the time, but it never did.
“And Group Two!” Jackson growled. “We’ve already discussed your heritage, but I left something out. Before your family owned and operated a warm and cuddly farm, they ran one of the strictest cotton plantations in the entire South. The Tanneyhill Plantation was known for its harsh guards and inhumane treatment of slaves. In fact, some modern-day black historians refer to it as the Auschwitz of Mississippi.”
Richard Potter took a deep gulp as he waited for Jackson to finish.
“For the record, many of my kin were murdered on that plantation. Their innocent blood dripped from the hands of your relatives, and I will never forgive or forget.”
Richard and the rest of his family lowered their eyes in shame. Even though they were never part of the horrendous events of the Tanneyhill Plantation, they still felt guilt for the actions of their ancestors. They had no reason to, because it was a different time, a time when they weren’t even alive, but the feelings surfaced nonetheless.
“And that brings us to you, Ariane!” Webster glanced at Tonya and Robert, then looked around the land of the Plantation. “Remember how I told you that your ancestors stretched way down to Louisiana? Well, guess what? Your family, formerly named Delacroix, used to own this piece of land that we’re currently standing on.”
The color drained from Ariane’s face. She had no idea if the information was accurate or not, but she knew that Webster believed it.
“That’s right! The family that you claimed was so innocent used to own this plantation and all of the people that worked on it. A group of workers that included my ancestors!”
Breathing heavily, Webster moved closer to Ariane and whispered, “That’s why you’re here. To make up for their sins by giving us your lives.”
CHAPTER 35
AFTER
leaving the announcement ceremony, Hakeem Ndjai checked on Payne and Jones. The guards assured him that neither man had put up a fight while they were being transported, and both of them had been switched from rope restraints to handcuffs, as ordered. The news pleased Ndjai. Because of the prisoners’ background, Ndjai realized that these two men would pose a special problem if they ever escaped from custody, a situation he’d rather not deal with.
Payne had been locked in the smallest cabin on the Plantation, one that was usually reserved for solitary confinement of the island’s troublemakers. It possessed a low-beamed ceiling, a rock-covered floor, eight square feet of living space, and the lingering odor of urine and vomit. All things considered, it was like the hazing room of a typical fraternity house.
Jones, on the other hand, was given the Taj Mahal of slave cabins, a room usually used by the guards. A narrow mattress filled the left-hand corner of the room, nestled between a sink and a small lamp that had been mounted to the thick wooden wall. A white porcelain toilet sat next to the basin, giving Jones a luxury that no other captive was afforded. To make up for it, though, they’d strapped an explosive to his leg, the same device used on the other slaves.
“Hakeem?” called a voice from behind.
Ndjai turned and was surprised to see Levon Greene approaching. He wasn’t used to seeing him on the Plantation. “Yes, Master Greene? Is there a problem?”
Greene shook his head. “I need to have a word with David Jones. Can you let me see him?”
The African nodded, inserting the key into the cabin’s lock. “I will be outside. Just call if you need me.”
“Don’t count on it,” he said dismissively. “This boy’s all mine.”
Greene pushed the door open with confidence and scanned the room for the captive, who was resting comfortably in the corner of the room, his hands bound behind him.
Sitting up on the makeshift bed, Jones spoke. “Levon, is that you?”
Greene nodded. “Are the guards treating you all right?”
“I’m still waiting for room service, but other than that, I can’t complain. How about yourself?” Jones paused for a second. So much had happened during the last couple of hours, he wasn’t sure if Greene’s presence was good or bad. “Oh, yeah! That’s right! You’re one of them, you bastard!”
He ignored the insult. “I came to get you out of here.”
Jones’s eyes widened in the dim light. “Excuse me?”
“You heard me. I came to get you out. Let me see your hands.”
This wasn’t something that Jones was expecting. When Payne had first warned him about Greene, he was skeptical. He couldn’t believe that the Buffalo Soldier was playing for the enemy. But after thinking things over, it started to make sense. The broken guns, Sam’s death, Greene’s escape. Everything fit into place. Greene had been pulling their strings from the very beginning, treating them like wealthy tourists in a game of three-card monte. And now this. One minute he’s Benedict Arnold, the next he’s a hero. “Are you serious?”
“You heard me. Turn around and let me see your hands. Be quick about it!”
Despite his skepticism, Jones leapt off the mattress and turned his back to Greene. “What’s going on? What are you doing?”
“This!”
With a quick burst, Greene forearmed Jones in the back of the head, sending him face-first into the corner of the cabin. Before Jones could gather his senses, Greene pounced on top of him, pummeling him with a series of vicious blows to his ribs and kidneys. Punch after punch, elbow after elbow, landed solidly on Jones’s back, causing him to gasp in agony.
“You have to be the most gullible brother I’ve ever met! Did you actually think I was gonna set you free?” Greene punched Jones again, landing another blow to the back of his head. “What good would it do if I let you go? As far as I can tell, you’ve already chosen a life of captivity. David Jones, house nigger for Jonathon Payne!”
Greene chuckled as he stood. “Of all the people in this world, I hate your kind the most. You’ve been given so many advantages that other brothers would kill for, yet you squander them by working for a white man. You take his charity. You call him boss. You kiss his ass!”
He cleared his throat and spit a giant wad of saliva on the barely conscious Jones. “You make me sick. Absolutely sick!”
The large man turned and walked back toward the door. When he opened it, he was surprised to see Ndjai standing nearby.
“Is everything all right?” Greene asked.
The African glanced past his boss and looked at Jones, who appeared to be a few blows short of a coma. “Did he cause you any problems?”
Greene glanced at his hands for a moment, then smiled. “My knuckles are sore, but other than that, things went fairly well.”
Ndjai nodded his head in understanding. “Is there anything else I can do for you?”
“Yes. I understand that you currently have my good friend Nathan in the Devil’s Box.”
His eyes lit up with pride. “Yes, sir! Would you like to see him now?”
Greene shook his head. “How’s he doing? I don’t want him to die, you know.”
“Yes, sir, I am quite aware of that. We monitor his health frequently, and he is very much alive. He is a little bit swollen from a run-in with some fire ants, but other than that, he is fine.”
“Can he talk?”
“Not very well. He is too dehydrated to speak.”
Greene pondered things, then grinned. “Pump him full of fluids over the next few hours. I want to talk to him later today, and it won’t be fun if I can’t understand him. All of the others had a chance to speak to their guests, and I want the same opportunity with mine.”
“Yes, sir.”
“One more thing. Why don’t you move Payne to the Devil’s Box while you’re taking care of Nathan? It’s supposed to be such a lovely day. I would hate to keep him away from the summer heat. He is a guest, you know.”
Ndjai smiled at the possibility.
Let the torture begin.
CHAPTER 36
PAYNE
had always loved the sun. Whether he was golfing, swimming, or reading, he always tried to catch as many rays as possible. He couldn’t explain why, but there was something about the sunshine that made him feel good about himself, something that made him feel healthy.
Those views quickly changed as he baked in the Devil’s Box.
“What the hell was I thinking?” he moaned. “Winter is so much better than this.”
With his uncovered forearm, Payne tried to wipe the large beads of sweat that had formed on his cheeks and forehead. Unfortunately, since his hands were shackled to a metal loop in the floor, it was impossible, requiring the flexibility of a triple-jointed circus freak.
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