Chapter Two

The Story of Aubrey Evans

As sweat rained down my face, I couldn’t see, but I could hear. My hands were tied so tight in front of me that I could feel the ropes breaking into my flesh. My feet were now untied, but with the pillowcase still over my head, there was nothing but darkness. Many sounds of whimpering could be heard all around me. I could tell I was on some sort of bus because of the high seat and roaring engine that made the vehicle rock. I didn’t know where I was or where I was going. I wasn’t sure how many people were here with me, but I sensed there were plenty. And one stop after another led to more cries, louder whispers and harsh words that made tears seep from my eyes and fall over my nose and trembling lips.

“Cries are permitted,” shouted a man. “But any loud outbursts from you niggers or you nigger lovers on here, I’ll be forced to take action. Just sit quiet and behave. We have a long ride ahead of us, so do not ask any questions because they won’t get answered.”

“Wha . . . What if I have to use the bathroom,” a woman shouted. “Please, I can’t hold it much longer!”

“Ben,” said the elderly woman who stood in my bedroom. I recognized her voice. “Take that hussy to the bathroom, and if anyone else wants to go with her, they can.”

All I heard were hard footsteps and smelled a smoky cigar stench as Ben walked past me. The sound of tussling followed, along with more yelling.

“Get down on the floor,” Ben barked. “I told you not to ask any questions, didn’t I?”

“I . . . I just wanted to know if I could go to the bathroom,” the woman cried out in a shaky voice. “That’s all! Please don’t hurt meeeeee!”

A loud blast rang out, causing my whole body to shudder. My head snapped to the side, and many cries became louder as the woman’s pleading voice could be heard no more.

“Anybody else needs to go to the potty,” the elderly woman said, laughing. “Please do let us know. My Benny will be happy to take care of that for you.”

There was more chuckling, mixed with cries.

“Hush or else y’alls gon’ get it!” Ben said. “I’m sick of hearing it, besides what y’alls crying for? You don’t even know where ya go’in. I can tell you this. It’ll be much better than a lot of those hellholes you niggers been livin’ in.”

“More like paradise,” the woman said.

She and Ben’s voices were becoming very familiar to me. As for everything else, no, I couldn’t believe this was happening. I kept hoping and praying I would wake up from a bad dream, but as time ticked away, and more people crammed in on the bus, reality started to kick in. I sat there with piss running down my legs, in fear of what would happen to me, if I asked to use the potty. My shoulders were pressed against the person next to me whose body felt like stone. I didn’t know if it was a man or woman—the person hadn’t said one word. Hadn’t cried, had barely moved. I’d thought about whispering something to the person, but it could have been a set up. We were ordered not to speak. Ordered to make minimal moves. Ordered to cry softly, and opening our mouths would get us killed.

“You know what, Maryann,” Ben said. “It’s gettin’ too quiet on this bus. I reckon that we do something fun and let these niggers sing. Y’all do know how to sing, right?”

“As long as it ain’t none of that rap shit,” Maryann said. “Or none of that rhythm and blues crap either. I’d like to hear some of those cotton-picking songs. Some of those songs I heard while visiting those churches where the pastors take all y’alls money.”

They laughed and another man spoke up.

“Y’all heard her! Sing something! Something real sweet to pass the time away on our little road trip.”

There was a crisp silence. No more cries could be heard. I guess everyone else was just as in disbelief as I was.

“See, Bobby Lee,” Maryann said. “You done screwed around and made these niggers mad. They won’t even sing for you. Won’t do nothing for you and that’s a shame. A doggone shame, especially after all of the taxpaying dollars we’ve given to them. No more of that shit. No more freebees and no more handouts for none of y’all. Y’alls gon’ have to work and work hard. The Promised Land is where y’all will finally find the true happiness y’all deserve. Until we drive over the mountain top and get there, sing!”

Silence fell over the bus again. No one was in the mood to sing, but without anyone saying it, we knew there would be dire consequences if no one spoke up. Something washed over me, sending a wave of chills throughout my entire body. I remembered leading the children’s choir at church, one that I attended many years ago. Thinking about that moment made me open my mouth that was so dry, my lips stuck together.

“This little light of mine,” I sung softly. “I’m gonna let it shine. This little light of mine, I’m gonna let it shine. This little light of mine, I’m gonna let it shine, let it shine, let it shine, let it shine.”

Several others started to sing with me. Our voices were soft, but the claps I heard from a short distance were loud.

“Beautiful,” Maryann shouted, and I assumed, clapped. “Just beautiful! I love that little ol’ song. Bobby Lee you should’ve brought your guitar to play along wit’em.”

We continued to sing, repeating the song over and over again. I wondered if my kids were on this bus. Wondered what they were thinking. I just couldn’t wrap my head around them being dead. It had surely crossed my mind, simply because Demonte and Drake wouldn’t be able to handle anything like this. Sasha would be crying her heart out right about now. What about my grandbaby? Thoughts of them flooded my mind, and if they were on this bus, I knew they weren’t singing. Not because they didn’t know the words to this song, but because they would never sit quiet and obey anyone. Then again, that could have only applied to me.

The people who had captured us silenced us with cheers. They applauded the singing, and I could hear Maryann’s voice coming closer.

“The brave one over there,” she said. “She’s the one who started it. Stand her up, now!”

I crouched in my seat, praying that I hadn’t done the wrong thing by being the first one to sing. I was snatched up from my seat and brought to my feet.

“Move your stinking leg,” Ben said to someone else. I felt the man next to me move. I now knew it was a man, because I’d heard him sing along with me.

The pillowcase was removed from my head; I could finally breathe. I sucked in several deep breaths and tried to focus my eyes because my vision was blurred. As things became clearer, I had a chance to witness my surroundings. I gasped at the sight of, at least, a hundred people, crammed into the bus with white pillowcases over their heads. Ropes secured everyone’s hands. Some people’s heads hung low, others appeared to be held high and alert. There were small children, along with several men. I could tell by their broad shoulders. The eyes, however, that had my attention were Ben’s. They were cold blue eyes that were sunken into his white, pale, wrinkled face. A long scar was above his bushy brow, and the menacing look in his eyes warned me that he was nobody to play with. Hatred was written all over him, and with no smile on his face he lifted a rifle, placing it at the center of my chin.

“What you lookin’ at?” he spilled through rotten teeth. His stringy blond hair was dirty, as was the camouflage clothing he wore. I didn’t know how to respond or if I wanted to respond at all. But when Maryann appeared in my view, my eyes shifted to her. She was almost exactly as I had pictured her in my mind. Short, fat and with red hair in a tidy bun. Had chubby cheeks and her white pearly teeth were on display as she smiled at me.

“Move that gun, boy,” she said to Ben. He inched back but held the gun steady. “You have such a beautiful voice. Where’d you learn to sing like that?”

She asked me a question, so I spoke up. Spoke up because, if my kids were somewhere on this bus, they would hear my voice and know I was okay.

“It was a gift from God,” I said loud enough for everyone to hear. “I used to sing in the choir at New Northside Baptist Church.”

I’d told my kids about me singing in the choir plenty of times before. It was another signal to let them know the person speaking was me.

“Well, God than done you a real good favor. I want you to sing some more, and do what you can to get these niggers on this bus to participate. I would hate for us to have to kill anybody else around here. Lord knows it’s not my intentions.”

Her words caused me to shift my eyes in another direction, where I finally saw the woman who mentioned she needed to use the bathroom. She was lying on the floor, next to the driver with a bullet hole in her chest. While slumped in a pool of blood, and with the pillowcase removed, her still eyes were wide open. I also saw four other white men sitting up front talking. Rifles were nearby—they were heavily armed.

“It’s messy, ain’t it?” Maryann said, causing me to fix my eyes on her again. “But please understand that we had to take our country back and finally get some control over it. You niggers were getting out of control, and not standing for our flag was the last straw. We stood to lose everything, and I’s not gone apologize for what we had to do. Do you think I should?”

I knew that saying the wrong thing would get my head blown off. Saying anything could bring the same result, but I had to respond.

“No. No apology needed.”

She smiled and touched the gun Ben was holding close to me. As she lowered it with her hand, he lowered it as well.

“Put that down and get her some water so she can sing. I’s sure her mouth is awfully dry, because her lips are cracking.” Ben stomped away with heavy black boots on. Maryann continued to eye me, as if she was searching for something. “What’s yo name, gal?” she asked.

“Aubrey Evans.”

“Aubrey, that’s a sweet name, but I like Asia better. When we get to our destination, I think you’s gone make me a good ol’ house nigger. How does that sound?”

I swallowed the oversized lump in my throat and swallowed. I didn’t want to answer her, but she evil-eyed me, waiting for me to say something.

“Sounds fine,” I said, looking behind her. Ben had a bottled water in his hand. He unscrewed the cap, and when I cracked my mouth open, he sprinkled water all over my face, instead of in my mouth.

Maryann playfully slapped his chest, shoving him back. “Quit all that horse playing around,” she said, giggling. “Give that gal some water and move out the way so I can go sit. My feet are killing me.”

As Ben sprinkled water on me again, I tilted my head back and licked out my tongue to catch as much of the water as I could. Most of it went on my face, and after he covered it again with a pillowcase, I was pushed back on my seat where I sung more songs that prompted others to sing along with me. My mind was all over the place. I knew for a fact that everyone sitting on the bus with me were probably wondering how in the hell we’d gotten ourselves in a predicament like this. I couldn’t even imagine what was coming next.