STRANDED

THREE

Trees hit the jeep's windows. Amy sped as fast as she could to get to Collin. As she came along a hillside, she saw something in the distance. A giant compound lay in the valley below. Città di il Morto. The compound had giant funnels of smoke coming from various bonfires of bodies. There were more professional-looking buildings, a great deal of a difference from the wood and straw shacks she was used to seeing. In the very back of the compound, facing the beach, was a big lodge-like building that the auctioneer must have been living in. As she looked closer, she could see slaves at work. He didn't auction off all of the slaves. He kept the ones he liked the most. Amy loaded her handgun and sped off, ready to save her brother.

As Amy pulled up, she saw giant metal gates guarding the entrance. A man was out on patrol. Pathetic, she thought. Only one guard at the entrance? This'll be easy. Amt drew her machete. Coming up to the man, who was none the wiser, she raised her blade. Before she was able to stab him, though, she felt a sudden pain in the back of her head and fell to the ground. She had been hit with the butt of an assault rifle.

Everything was blurry. All she could make out was the man she was about to take out turn in shock. He and the one that hit her in the back of the head conversed, asking each other what they should do. They agreed to "take her to him." Before Amy could fight back, she was knocked to the ground, stunned. She felt them grab her ankles and drag her away. After that, she blacked out from the head trauma.

Amy awoke to see a blurred figure in front of her. She was tied to a pole, unable to move. As her vision cleared, she saw the auctioneer standing, leaned in close to her face, hands behind his back in a polite way. He smiled, insanity in his only seeing eye.

"Ah, and who is this?" the man said as if talking to a dog.

Amy glared at him, trying no fear.

"Well," he began, "that's no way to look at me after what you were doing back at the auction. C'mon, show me those tears again..."

Amy continued to glare.

"Maybe I'll have to force them out of you," he stood upright and reached into his pocket. He pulled out a small switchblade. "I hear the small ones hurt the most. I've never really tried. You tell me."

He drove the knife into her arm until there was no blade. Amy let out a scream of pain. The man yanked the knife out of her arm, Amy letting out more shrieks.

"Close enough," he smiled, slipping away the bloody knife. "Now, introductions. I am James DiCentro, and you are?" He waited for a few beats. "Okay, not a talker. Maybe the knife again?" He quickly reached into his pocket.

"Amy!" she said without hesitation. "It's Amy."

James nodded, taking his hand out of his pocket. "Sì. Well, Amy, I will have you know that I don't quite appreciate what you did yesterday. Major setback, major setback, indeed. Hell, I'd've killed your brother for that if he wasn't so young and flexible. His mind, of course, we already tried physical." James gave a sinister laugh. "Now, you know why I haven't killed you yet, right?"

Amy glared at him still, not as strong this time, though.

"It's because," James began to run his fingers through her hair, "we wouldn't want to lose a pretty girl such as you, no?" He let out a short chuckle. "I promise you," he grabbed her shoulder and slowly spun her around the bar, walking around with her, "I am going to fare la danza. Like a puppet!"

Amy began to observe the area more as he spun her around. James and his men kept sex slaves. Amy revolted at the thought of her becoming one. She had to get out. With Collin.