The Aftermath

56

Angie woke at 5:00am, just like she did every morning since she had arrived at Aunt Drew's ranch. She put on her levis, socks, shoes and a t-shirt. Then she grabbed her denim jacket and crept out of her room. The guard was in the living-room asleep, she hoped. She went down the hallway, avoiding that area of the house and into the kitchen through the pantry, and then carefully out the back door.

She had to hush Clipper instantly. She might sneak past the guard but she would never get past Clipper. She grabbed his muzzle and shushed him and then scratched his ears and back and then his belly. Happy, Clipper followed her to the stable, wearing a doggy smile with his tongue lolling out, just like he always did, to feed and water Bart.

She would stay in the house like she promised, but it wasn't fair to Bart for him to go hungry just because G.I. Joe was being a jerk. Like anything was going to happen up here! No one even knew where they were!

Getting to the barn, she opened the wooden door. The morning was chilled with dew, and sunlight haloed the mountain peaks in the East. It was beautiful up here. She loved the ranch and the animals and even the chill. The smell of morning was so different up here than it was down in the city. The stars were so clear, and there were so many of them.

She walked into barn and reached for the light switch. She could hear Bart in his stall, nodding his head and shaking his mane. She lifted an eyebrow at this, and then the taser hit her. Her body danced about on its own, completely against her will. She tried to scream but nothing came out. Her throat was tight, like the rest of her body. And then she was down on the floor of the barn.

Clipper licked her face, and then she was in darkness.

#

Angie woke on the cold floor of a warehouse. She was laying on concrete and the chill of the floor had seeped into her bones. Her arms were behind her, and she found they were handcuffed when she tried to move them. Panic jumped through her and she tried to get up but her legs were bound with rope. She looked around wildly and saw a man sitting on a chair watching her.

"Help me?"

"Help you? That's interesting. I'm the one that put you there."

"Please. I'm sorry. I just wanted to feed Bart."

"And you were told not to I guess."

"Please, I'm sorry, let me go!" She struggled against the bounds and chains, and started to cry.

"Should have listened to your mom. It was much easier than I thought it would be. I saw the guard, and could tell that he was very good. So I was hoping that someone would come out to feed the horse and the dog. And then there you were. I didn't even have to wait a full hour in that barn."

"No, please."

"I'm afraid that this is it Angie. This is the last hour of your life."

"No, no, no, no, no."

"Yes, I'm afraid so. I have a good drug so you won't feel most of it. Some of it will hurt anyway, but that part won't last long. You'll die at that point."

"Daddy, help me." She whimpered.

"Your daddy put you here. He's the one that killed my daughter, in the same way that I'm going to kill you."

"No, no, he is innocent. He's not guilty."

"No, and you know he's isn't. He was here, right here, and my daughter was where you are now. She was begging for her life too. But your daddy didn't care, or listen. He didn't give her anything for the pain. He cut her open. And she screamed and begged and cried for her daddy too. Just like you are doing and just like your will do."

"Please, I didn't do anything."

"Neither did my daughter. It has nothing to do with you Angie. Do you remember the court room, and the pictures they showed?"

"No, I wasn't allowed to go that day."

"I bet you argued and said that you could handle it, didn't you."

She sobbed.

"I know you did. It's what children do. They think they know things that they don't. They think it all happens to someone else, somewhere else. I'll bet you thought that this morning too. You said, all that stuff is happening down in the city, not up here in the mountains. No one can find us up here."

Angie continued to sob.

"So, you wanted to see the pictures of my daughter, and how she was cut open. You wanted to so much that you argued and said it wasn't fair."

Angie cried, "I don't want to see!"

"But I think you should Angie. I think that a girl your age knows what is right for her. I think you should see what happened to my daughter. Do you remember her name?"

"No, no, I don't want to see!"

"I think you need to Angie." The man said and then took a folder off the table next to him. It was a black leather folder. "Do you remember the third girl's name Angie?"

She thought about it, trying to remember, "Beth." She blurted, "Beth Stewart!"

He looked perplexed for a moment, "Why would you remember that?"

"Because I prayed for them, all of them. I wrote their names in my journal."

"Why did you do that Angie? Because your dad killed them?"

"No! Because they were girls like me, all of them. They shouldn't have died. None of them!"

"They even looked like you, didn't they."

Angie bawled, "Yes, all of them did. So it could have been me! So I felt so sorry for them, so I prayed and wrote their names and lit candles at church."

"Well Angie, this is what your dad did to my little girl." The man said and he showed her a large picture.

Angie looked. The image was all wrong. It confused her. It didn't look like a girl, even a dead one. She looked closer trying to understand the shapes and then she saw it, and it seared her eyes. "No! No! He didn't do that! No!" Angie closed her eyes and shook her head but the image was in there, stuck. Seared.

"He did Angie. He did that to my little girl. And now, Angie, are you listening? Listen good Angie. Now I'm going to do that to you."