Lisa spoke into her recorder, stating notes to be added to the database later. "There was a kind of a journal wrapped in oilcloth on the girl. I'm trying to decipher it, but I'm getting an idea of what happened. They were settlers during the first and second colonies. Most settlers were afraid of Native Americans, and Native Americans found were often tortured and killed as well as used for slave labor. This small town called Providence would help Native Americans escape. They formed a kind of railroad to help get them back to their people even though many times they were caught again.
"The town opened its doors to a small group running from the main settlement and were caught helping them. The entire village was shot except for eight people who were considered ringleaders. They were tortured and thrown into the swamp. They were not blessed or given last rights which would free them. The girl's last entry was waiting for the settlers to come to fetch her to hang her. It's remarkable that this served so long. It's a piece of history we've never seen before.
"The last entry reads:
I know now that the wicked live not in the form of the savages but in the form of the men who hunt them. I have seen terrible things. Babies pulled from their mothers and fed to large scally beasts in the swamp. Savages tortured and cut open while alive and screaming. It is this screaming that haunts my dreams. We here at Providence have tried to help them and because we have tried to obey Gods will and save them we will be put to death without being given last rights. Hung like witches though the others are innocent of that accusation as well. Fitting that we should die on the 3rd day of the full moon. I will hide this journal on me and hope it is one day found so the atrocities committed will be exposed and punishment will be dealt. They come for me and one day God will wreak vengeance on those left behind. I curse them, I curse the night of the three full moons. One day we will awaken and we will lay to waste all in our path until the blessing releases us and the last full moon fades.
~
Two military staff, Mike and Steve, paced the edge of the shelter. They weren't expecting trouble, so their weapons were holstered. Right then, they were merely patrolling for safety reasons, not actually to keep people confined but just away from the swamp. The deaths had rattled them enough to make them tense as they watched people walk about. Some stayed in the confines of the tent, but it was hardly a prison. The military had stationed a few personnel at the wreckage of the trailer park to keep people from sneaking in to to salvage items left behind.
Mike and Steve patrolled the edge of the swamp. They couldn't stop folks from entering, but they strongly encouraged them to stay out of the swamp. Most were happy to do so. The exception was a brace of boys who had a clubhouse. After the fourth or fifth time of warning them, they gave up and instead made the rounds close enough to where they could see the light the boys used.
While they were making a pass close to the swamp, they noticed the lights in the distance.
Are those flashlights? Mike said, frowning. " What the hell are those kids thinking to be way out there?"
Steve frowned a moment, then shook his head. "That's bog lights. Nobody's out in the swap like that."
"Bog lights? What the hell are bog lights?"
"Well, I can't remember exactly, but its methane build-up mixed with oxygen makes a light."
"No shit," Mike said doubtfully.
"Yeah, call 'em bog lights, foo lights, Aleya, those are the brightest ones I've ever seen before."
Mike nodded; getting bored. He started to ask Steve if he could break for a drink when a hand came around, covering his nose and mouth. From the side, he saw Steve's face also covered. The hand was large and appeared dark in color. The hand covering his face felt like it was wet and covered in mud.
