different story, unfinished rough draft
We got a call to visit some historical buildings at the edge of the state park across the county. I'm not sure who called or what reason they gave but we loaded into the car and drove for 45 minutes. I also wasn't sure why I was in a strange house with my ex while everything also felt normal. I don't remember the drive. I forgot it as it happened. I recall standing in the foyer then standing in front of the mill house and slave quarters. I saw the car in the gravel lot. There was no one else there and we decided to explore the buildings.
Inside the small building looked similar to the outside, very brown. Very dull. I think it had four rooms but I only saw two. The first room was completely empty. The side room had some brown furniture. A chifforobe stood close to the door. I knew there was something inside it I needed to find but I wasn't sure what. I opened a couple of the drawers. A Doberman ran from behind it, snarling, and left through the window. I walked around the chifforobe twice and there was no room to go behind it. I pulled it away from the wall. The back side sprouted a bench seat and coat hooks.
Several other dogs ran through the building. Two Rottweilers left through the front door, running with their noses to the ground. A pack of Dobermans swarmed around my ex in the third room. They disappeared and I heard them outside barking.
I went outside. There was a group of young men and the car was gone. I recognized one of the guys, I went to college with him. He looked surprised. We walked into a different building and the rest went to where my ex was. I knew the group came to kill. I felt less sure about life than ever. I did care whether I lived after all. I hugged the man from my university. He held me close. We hadn't seen each other in years but we had always talked while waiting on classes. We loosely stayed in touch online. He married and moved to a different state.
I don't think we spoke, but we communicated. I didn't care if they killed my ex. I didn't want to die yet. He knew it and they weren't there for me, I was an inconvenience. I made him understand I wouldn't tell, I would even do it myself.
There was commotion outside. We rushed to check on it. There were three law enforcement agents. They wanted everyone to come outside. More people than I remember seeing came from the houses. It seemed like they were hiding. The agents said they were drug enforcement officers, the "American Illicits Task Force." I found the name strange. The oldest agent did most of the talking. He was a slender grey haired man. He wore glasses to read from his clip board. A middle aged black woman worked with a young blond girl to separate everyone. More blacked out cars arrived and agents filed into the houses.
I was directed into the house I explored. Four other people accompanied me including the man I knew from school, as well as the first three agents. They lined us against the wall and drew five Xs on the unfinished floor in a circle. The blond girl told us to lay on the ground. She brandished a taser in case we resisted the proper position, noses to the floor, arms to the side with palms upward. A black teenager was to my right, he was visibly upset. The guy from my college was to my left, he was calm. The other two people, a couple in their mid 30s, kept trying to talk. The black woman knelt down and whispered to them, in one of those angry yelling whispers, to stop communicating. She made him switch places with me.
The agents questioned us about why were were at the site. No one gave a good enough answer. I didn't know why I was there and that was the worst response at all. The couple was hiking, the teen was working on a school project, and the guy from my university said he was there to kill my ex. The agents didn't seem to care. They accused the couple of cooking methamphetamine and the teen of selling it. I thought it was unusual for a black teen to sell meth. They accused me and my acquaintance of nothing. It seemed the second time in one day I was in the wrong place and at the wrong time.
A fourth agent brought dogs into the building. He was young and brunette. He looked serious yet shifty. The dogs sniffed us all and he quickly moved them through the third and fourth rooms. I heard other dogs barking outside the house and then barking from the back room. The agent returned without his dogs who still whined and growled in the back. The older man stood in one corner of the room and the black woman sat in an old chair next to an antique desk in the opposite corner. The blond stood in the middle of the circle. The dog handler stepped over the woman next to me and spoke discreetly to the blond. She bent down and grabbed the woman by the arm, pulling her to her feet. I moved my hand to avoid their feet as she escorted the woman outside.
The man jumped to his feet and followed. We heard a gunshot, a groan, and a thump. The woman squealed. I lifted my head to peer through the open door and saw the man's tattered boots. I couldn't understand the blond but she chastised the woman and I heard scuffling. There were more people outside. The teen seemed uneasy. He began to cry. There was crying from outside too, it sounded like a girl child. An agent bellowed for quiet and it was.
The man removed the teen to the back room. I heard them talking but couldn't make out the words. The man seemed to comfort the young man. I heard another thud. I made eye contact with my acquaintance and he pretended to sigh. The black woman told us to stand against the front wall, she said we could leave soon. The man came and took my friend to the empty room. They quickly returned. I stood quietly at the wall while the two agents spoke in the doorway to the third room. My acquaintance gave me a reassuring look.
The blond returned. She had a syringe. She stood in front of me and outstretched her arm then stabbed it with the needle just below the elbow. Before I had time to react, she grabbed my arm and stabbed me in the same place with the same syringe. There wasn't anything in the syringe either time but I automatically lost my composure. I shoved the blond and marched to the other two agents. They had been involved in their own conversation and unaware of her actions. I demanded an explanation. The woman told me to calm down and threatened to shoot me but I persisted. The man tried to calm me, assuring me I was innocent. I didn't understand. I demanded an explanation. None was given but I was directed outside with a taser, my acquaintance in tow.
