Finally, a chance to exorcise some of his personal demons.
Over the roar of the blaze, he continued his commands. “Bring the prisoners into formation!”
A small battalion of men, dressed in long black cloaks and armed with semiautomatic handguns, burst into the cramped huts and dragged the blindfolded captives toward the light of the flames. One by one, the confused prisoners were placed into a prearranged pattern-three lines of six people-and ordered to stand at attention while facing the cross. When the leader of the guards was finally happy with the setup, he let his superior know. “We’re ready, sir.”
“Good,” Holmes replied as he settled into his black saddle. “Drop your hoods!”
In unison, the entire team of guards covered their faces with the thick black hoods that hung loosely from the back of their cloaks. When they were done, they looked like Klans men in black robes. Their eyes were all that remained uncovered, and they burned like glowing embers in the Louisiana night.
“It’s time to show them our power!”
With sharp blades in hand, the guards charged toward the prisoners and swiftly cut small holes in the white cotton bags that had been draped over the heads of the captives.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” Holmes barked as he trotted his stallion to the front of his guests. “Welcome to the Plantation.”
He paused dramatically for several seconds before continuing his monologue. “I’m sure each of you would like to see your new surroundings, but there is something blocking your sight. It is called duct tape, and it will be quite painful when you pull it off. . . . Don’t worry. Your eyebrows will eventually grow back.” Holmes laughed quietly. “I realize that your hands are currently bound, but I’m quite confident you’ll be able to remove the tape without our assistance.”
Slowly and painfully, the prisoners removed the adhesive strips from their faces, tearing flesh and hair as they did. Then, once their eyes had adjusted to the light from the intense fire, they glanced from side to side, trying to observe as much as they could. The sudden realization that each person was a part of a large group gave some captives comfort and others anxiety.
“Impressive!” Holmes shouted in mock admiration. “I’m quite pleased with the guts of this group. Normally my prisoners are weeping and praying to me for mercy, but not you guys. No, you are too strong for that.” He clapped sarcastically, slamming the palms of his black leather gloves together. “Now that you’ve dazzled me with your inner strength, it’s time for me to show you how weak you really are. While you are guests on my plantation, there are strict rules that you must follow. Failure to follow any of them will result in severe and immediate punishment. Do I make myself clear?”
The prisoners remained quiet, too scared to speak.
“My God! I must be going deaf! Why? Because I didn’t hear a goddamned word from any of you.” He rode his horse between the lines of prisoners. “Let’s try this again, but this time I want you to scream, Yes, Master Holmes!” He glared at the captives. “Are you ready? Failure to follow my rules will result in severe and immediate punishment. Do I make myself clear?”
Fewer than half of them answered. An act of disobedience that pissed off Holmes.
“Yesterday you had the right to do what you wanted, say what you wanted, think what you wanted. But all of that is gone now. Your freedom has faded into the air, like smoke from this burning cross.” The prisoners glanced at the clouds of ash that slowly rose into the darkness. “You are no longer members of a free society. You are now possessions. You got that? And as my possessions, you are now governed by the rules that I’m about to share with you. Failure to comply with anything will result in swift and decisive action on my part. Do you understand?”
“Yes, Master Holmes,” mumbled most of the crowd.
Holmes shook his head in disgust, disappointed that he would have to damage some of his property so early in the proceedings. “Bring out the block,” he ordered.
Two guards ran to the side of the field and lifted a four-foot wooden cube onto a small cart. Then, as the prisoners stared in confusion, the guards dragged the large chunk of wood to the front of the crowd.
“Thank you,” Holmes said as he climbed off his horse. “Before you hustle off, I’d like you to do me a favor.”
“Yes, sir!” the guards said in unison.
“Do you see the tall man at the end of the front row?” Holmes pointed at Paul Metz, a father of two from Missouri. “Please bring him to me.”
“Me?” Paul shrieked as he was pulled from the line and dragged to the front of the group. His family, who’d been standing next to him, trembled with fear. “What did I do?”
“So you can talk! See, I wasn’t sure if you had the ability to speak until now. Why? Because a moment ago I asked the group to answer a question, and no sound came from your lips.”
“I answered, I swear.”
Holmes slammed his gloved hand onto the wooden block, and the sound echoed above the roar of the fire. “Are you calling me a liar?”
“No,” Paul sobbed. “But I swear, I answered you. I yelled my response.”
“Oh, you yelled your response, did you? I was staring right at you, focusing solely on you, and I saw nothing! No sound, no head movement, not a goddamned thing!”
“I screamed, I swear.”
Holmes shrugged his shoulders at the claim. He had no desire to argue with a prisoner. It would set a very bad precedent. “Put your hands on the block,” he said calmly.
“What?”
Holmes responded to the question by slapping Paul in the face. “Don’t make me tell you again. Put your hands on the fucking block.”
He closed his eyes and eased his bound hands onto the wood. He quivered as he did.
“Now, choose a finger.”
Paul opened his eyes and stared into the hooded face of his captor. “Please, not that,” he begged softly.
In a second flash of rage, Holmes threw a savage punch into Metz’s stomach, knocking the breath from him. On impact, Paul collapsed to the ground in front of the wooden block.
“Choose a finger or lose them all.”
From his knees, Paul reluctantly placed his hands on the chopping board, then extended the pinkie of his left hand. As he wiggled it, announcing his choice, he sobbed at the impending horror. “This one, Master Holmes.”
Holmes smiled under his hood, enjoying his moment of omnipotence. This was the type of respect he would demand from all of his prisoners. And if they failed to comply, he would make sure that they had a very unpleasant stay.