Trafficked Series

by Taylor Ann Stone

  I watched the sea of people remove their masks. They took off their hoods and as they did; I realized that I knew a lot of them. Many of them were famous people I had seen several times on TV. There were politicians and a senator from Virginia. I saw the governor of California who waved at me with a sadistic mocking. I stood up, trying to see everybody’s face. There were several news anchors who had called me a white supremacist on TV. When I looked to the side of the audience, I saw my favorite singer who I had just been singing her song the other day. There was a talk show host who was the most popular celebrity in the world smiling at me. A famous rapper was standing next to her.

  I could not believe these famous, well-known people were part of this sadistic cult. I felt defeated. If these people who we thought were the best of society were actually the worst, then what hope did we have of stopping this? Fear and panic gripped me. I lost control.

  “Where am I?” I screamed?

  The entire crowd laughed at me, unsympathetic to my situation. “Where’s my mother?” I screamed.

  The crowd continued laughing. Hullman spoke up. “Ladies and gentlemen, give us a round of applause for this year’s sacrifice.” The entire crowd burst into applause, cheering as if they were at a sporting event. It was as if their favorite player was about to conquer the winning shot. Hullman began chanting in Latin as the crowd burst out in whispers. It was eerie and evil, and I did not know how to escape it or if I could.

  I jerked as an enormous ball of fire lit up on stage behind me with a satanic symbol of a goat's head which caught on fire. The audience began chanting with Hullman. Their voices grew louder. Hullman let out a tremendous scream and the entire room followed him screaming from the top of their lungs. And almost as quickly, the room went silent again.

  I clasped my hands to my chest, not understanding what was happening. I looked around the room as the people in the audience were on their knees. I turned around and in the corner of the room, I saw Janice standing there. She looked back at me and my eyes widened as she looked exactly like one of the audience members dressed in a black robe. Janice nodded and pointed her eyes toward the closet door. Then locked eyes with me again. I didn’t understand what she was doing, but it seemed as if she was signalling me somehow.

  The audience rose to their feet. “Please be seated, ladies and gentlemen.” Hullman said. He sauntered to the back of the stage in the shadows and brought out a girl in a red robe that was dressed like me. I was confused, but the girl’s face looked even more confused. I watched her Hullman brought her to the center of the stage next to me. There was a moment of pause. I wasn’t sure what was happening.

  Hullman reached from inside of his robe, pulled out a sharp, long dagger that gleamed in the stage lights and without warning, stabbed the girl in her throat. Blood muddled her screams that squirted from her neck. He let her go, and she stumbled and fell to the ground, blood pouring out involuntarily from her throat. Another figure walked up to Hullman with a wineglass in his hand.

  Hullman took it from the man and bent down next to the girl. He dug the knife deeper in her neck and then placed the wineglass under her neck and collected the pouring blood. As the girl slowly drifted into unconsciousness, the thick, red substance filled the cup. When the wine glass was full, he held it in the air. The crowd cheered as the girl laid there lifeless. I saw her vacant eyes. There was no spirit left in it. I scooted back, crawling away from this atrocity. Hullman drank the blood from the glass. Part of the stage opened up to reveal a fire pit below. Hullman grabbed the girl’s lifeless body and threw it into the fire pit.

  CHAPTER 33

  B lood thickly coated the stage floor. The more I scrambled to get away from the violent scene, the more I slipped. The vile rose in my throat and I wanted to vomit all over the stage. I was still trying to process what had just happened. How did all of this happen? And how could somebody as prominent as Hullman be allowed to do this in front of hundreds of people without consequence? I couldn’t believe what I had just witnessed. I couldn’t believe how big this underground operation actually was.

  “Bring out the others.” Hullman commanded. This time the girls were all naked with chains on their hands and linked to each other. They stood in the middle of the stage, trembling. I had crawled to the edge of the glass wall and could do nothing but shake, knowing what was about to happen and not being able to stop it. Hullman used the same knife to cut a second girl’s throat. The other girls screamed as it forced them to look on, unable to do anything. Blood squirted everywhere. I looked at the audience and realized that a line had formed. Each audience member held a wine glass, taking turns trying to catch the blood with their glass. The other girls who were chained to the girl who had been cut, were screaming but were held down by additional people in the audience who had come up into the stage.

  Some of the audience members brought their own sacrificial knives. Hullman recited a chant in Latin. when he was finished. The same six people stabbed the remaining six girls in the neck. Their screams were horrifying. I couldn’t get them out of my head. All the girls collapsed to the ground. Like vampires, the audience members collected the blood of these girls in their wine glasses. When they had gotten their fill, they raised their glasses to the audience and drank it. The audience cheered in reaction.

  I collapsed to the ground, crying at the realization of knowing that I was next. Nobody had any compassion for these women or myself. I knew I would suffer the same fate as these girls.

  “Burn them my good patrons.” Hullman gave the command and the same audience members who had cut their throats, threw them into the fire pit. They all chanted as they watched the girls burn. I broke out into a hysterical crying jag, unable to stop. The people in the room formed a line to leave. The room emptied. I looked back up and I was alone. I got up and more ran toward where I saw the others leave, but there was a man with a gun in front of the door. I could see him through the glass.

  The closet door opened, and Janice came out. “Marlene, help me get this out.” Janice said as she grunted.

  I walked toward her. “What is it?”

  “It’s a portable news camera.” She said.

  “How’d you get that in here?” I asked.

  “My uncle runs Channel Seven news. I stole the camera this morning.” She pulled the camera out of the closet as I helped her.

  “I used my parents’ White House pass to get down here.” Janice flipped on the camera.

  “You betrayed me!” I yelled.

  “I’m on your side, Marlene. They followed us to the house, and I didn’t have a choice. They were going to find out that I was part of the resistance if I hadn’t turned you in.” She explained. “They would have shot into the house regardless, Marlene. You have to believe me.”

  I didn’t believe her. I didn’t know what to believe anymore. Another scream came from the stage as another group of girls were murdered. I didn’t have a choice. I had to trust her for now. I helped Janice take the camera and tripod out and place it in front of the window, aiming it toward the stage. They seemed to have forgotten about me amid their blood hungry thirst for sacrificial victims. They didn’t see me helping Janice.

  Janice ran to the door entrance to barricade it. I helped her by putting a sofa on the front door. The gunman heard everything happening inside the room, but did nothing.

  “Don’t worry, Marlene. He’s on our side.” Janice said, panting hard.

  We continued to barricade the door with furniture. I heard another scream from the stage as a third set of girls were being murdered. I didn’t think I would ever get the sound of these terrified, screaming girls out of my head. I was horrified that my mother and I would be next.

  CHAPTER 34

  Janice’s watch started beeping. “C’mon Marlene!”

  “I’m coming,” I replied.

  Janice stood by the news camera and clicked the record button. The camera’s red light lit up. Janice’s phone rang, and she picked it up.

&nbs
p; “We’re Live!” I heard a girl yell from the other end of Janice’s phone. Janice zoomed the camera in as the fourth set of nude girls entered the stage. The next six people in black robes who were waiting in line took off their hoods. Janice scanned over to Hullman’s face. He grabbed the same blood-soaked knife he’d used to kill the first girl and stabbed another the girl, this time on her breast. She let out a scream of pain as Hullman continued to plunge the knife into her repeatedly. Once the girl stopped squirming and fell to the floor, he bent over her and drank from the hole he created in the top of her breast. The crowd chanted in Latin.

  “We have two million viewers from home, Janice!” The girl on the phone yelled.

  “Good.” Janice replied.

  My eyes widened as hope filled my spirits again. Maybe revealing all of this to the world would save us. Maybe this was what it would take to take this whole cult down. A huge boom sound shook the ground from above. The audience stopped the killings and looked up.

  “It’s them,” Janice whispered with a grin on her face and turned the camera on herself. “Good evening, America and the rest of the world. What you are seeing is Satanic Worship of the global elite coming to you live under the White House!” Janice said, looking at the camera.

  I felt so much relief that the truth was finally being revealed. No more would anyone doubt that what I had been through was true. No more would anyone give me strange looks or call me weird. They validated me beyond all questioning, and Janice made all of this happen.

  Suddenly, shots rang out in the room. Panic set in and the audience members screamed and tried running from the room. The people of the revolution charged in, shooting the black-robed audience members. Others with Q Anon, confederate flags, along with other far right flags. The security surrounding Hullman pulled out their guns and shot back, but were gunned down. They filled the air with the smell of blood and gunpowder. I kept my head down until the shooting stopped. When I finally looked up, I saw Janice laying next to me smiling.

  “We’re safe here, Marlene,” said Janice.

  “What about my mom?” I asked.

  “We will find her.” Janice helped me up to my feet and then grabbed her camera. It was still recording a live stream. She panned around the room watching the rebels handcuffing surviving members of the audience. They tried to get them out of the room but had trouble navigating around the dead bodies that covered the floor.

  CHAPTER 35

  T he twenty girls who were sacrificed laid burning in the pit in front of the stage. The flames rising. The stench was unbearable, and I tried my best not to vomit. I covered my mouth with my hand, trying not to breathe as much as possible. A giant sigh of relief overcame me and I took a second to give a silent prayer of thanks that I survived. What was going to happen to us now? Where would we go from here?

  “Marlene! Marlene! Help!” I heard my mother screaming my name as I heard someone coming down the stairs. My stomach dropped. I ran toward the stairs and the sound of my mother’s voice, removing the furniture Janice and I had used to barricade the door.

  “Wait! Let me help you.” Janice ran up beside me and helped me move the furniture.

  Once the furniture was moved, I opened the door to see that the gunman who was guarding the door was shot dead. Hullman stood there with his arm around my mother’s neck and a knife to her throat. “You! You did this!” Hullman yelled between his teeth, enraged. He stayed at the doorframe of the room and began chanting in Latin.

  “Mom noo!” I ran toward them as fast as I could.

  Hullman grabbed the knife and stabbed my mom in the thigh. My mother screamed in pain as the blood dripped down her leg. She wriggled around as Hullman returned the sharp blade to her neck. I stood there in horror, unable to move any closer for fear that he would kill her. And that’s when it happened. A gunshot rang out from behind me as a single bullet entered Hullman’s forehead. He fell to the ground as my mother fell, clutching her wound. I ran over to her and pressed my hand on it to stop the bleeding.

  I looked over and saw Janice standing on the stairs, her arms outstretched with a gun in her hand. “Are you both okay?”

  I looked up at her in awe and with a newfound respect. “Yes, I think my mother will be fine. Thank you, Janice.”

  I heard more rebels run up the stairs with Q Anon shirts and Trump attire to help my mother. “We will take care of your mother, don’t worry.” The man named Mike took off his Q Anon shirt and tied it around my mom’s leg to stop the bleeding.

  Mike picked up my mother, stepped over Hullman’s dead body, and ran down the stairs as I followed close behind. “I’m here, mom. I’m right behind you.” I turned around and stared back at Janice. “Thank you, Janice.”

  Janice nodded as she picked up the news camera. “Go be with your mom. I got it from here.”

  I smiled and ran down the stairs after Mike and my mom. There was huge infighting and chaos in the audience below. Hundreds of men with guns wearing Trump and Q Anon shirts were still fighting those who were still in their black robes.

  I followed Mike, who ran across the room and into the entrance tunnel past the enormous crowd of people surging into the stage. We struggled on the side of the tunnel, trying to go the opposite way. After six minutes of struggling, we made it to the end of the tunnel and pressed the up key on the elevator. We waited as hundreds of rebel men and a few women poured down the staircase beside the elevator. The elevator opened and about fifty men squeezed in the elevator poured out into the tunnel to the arena. It was empty as nobody was going up.

  We got in and pressed the button to go up. The doors closed. “Marlene, I feel tired.” My mom’s eyes grew heavy. I could hear my mom panting from the deep cuts in her thigh. I tried not to lose my focus. I wanted to get hysterical about my mother’s injury, or the horrific scenes I had witnessed tonight. I wanted to curl up in a ball and cry for a month. But I was just so grateful it was over. It was finally all over.

  “It’s alright, mom. We’re going to get you to a hospital.” I assured her.

  “We did it,” Marlene’s mother smiled.

  “Yes, we did.” Marlene smiled back.

  CHAPTER 36

  T he elevator reached the top, and the doors opened. Fifty more men were ready to enter as we were trying to get out. Mike held onto my mom and motioned for me to follow him out of the elevator and into the basement of the White House. I could hear screams and shots echoing through the basement. It was complete chaos. We ran out of the basement into the streets of DC. There were what appeared to be miles of Q Anon flags, confederate flags, and people screaming. News helicopters were flying overhead everywhere. Fire, smoke, and rioting spread all over the streets of DC..

  I rushed to Mike’s side. “What is all of this?”

  “We stormed the white house after it went live on the news.” Mike said.

  I looked into a bar and saw there were twenty people huddled in front of the screen. The television showed Janice’s face and then the satanic ritual of girls being killed and thrown into the pit. The camera turned and showed my face. My eyes widened as I realized I was once again the center of national news.

  I noticed several people stopping what they were doing to stare at me. I still wore the red robe I was given. I tried to look down so that nobody noticed me and put my hood on my head. We walked for six blocks with my mother being carried by Mike. I noticed people had their phones out, taking pictures of me. I wasn’t sure why there was so much interest, but I continued on trying to ignore them. We walked past looters and people screaming about pedophiles and Q Anon. I saw another television that was on in a small store. It showed the president of the United States in handcuffs wearing a black robe. It shocked me to see the president in handcuffs being walked out of the elevator I just went up.

  The three of us walked into a downstairs parking garage and got into Mike’s pickup truck. As we drove out, I saw small stores were being looted as we drove by. Part of me felt sorry for the small business
owners. They did nothing wrong, and now their livelihoods were being destroyed. I tried not to think about it and focus on our escape. Washington, DC, was in total chaos and anarchy. There were no police in sight. It looked like the people had overpowered them. As we drove away from the White House, I saw a fiery blaze in the rearview mirror and realized it had been set ablaze. Despite that, there were people running inside and looting it.

  “Mom, are you alright?” I asked, noticing that she was smiling.

  “I’m okay. I think the bleeding is under control.” She said.

  The bloody Q Anon shirt was wrapped around her thigh.

  CHAPTER 37

  We drove over the Potomac River and out into the DC suburbs. Mike drove for a while until he saw a hospital. He followed the signs for the emergency entrance and pulled up to it. He turned off the truck, got out and walked around to the other side where my mom was. He grabbed my mother and carried her inside. The entire hospital staff looked at me and then back to the television, noticing that my face kept showing up on their screen. I worried what people would do once they knew it was me on the screen. I brushed that thought from my mind for now. The only focus that concerned me should be on my mother and her recovery. I watched as the hospital staff put my mother into a bed and rolled her into a room. I sat in the emergency room waiting for an update.

  “Hey, I gotta go back to DC. Need anything?” Mike asked.

  I shook my head. “You have done more than enough for my mother and myself. There is no way I can repay you for your help and kindness.”

  “Are you kidding? After everything you’ve done for the cause, it was the least I could do.” He smiled, and I noticed for the first time the dimples in his cheeks.