Chapter 12: Visitors

The year was 1960. Roy Bligh was 42 years old, a big, bold Irishman with big, red hair, who was as poor as any Irishman had ever been. He’d hitched a ride to America on a tramp steamer, shoveling coal. Today, he found himself in an empty box car moving slowly through eastern Pennsylvania. With him were two other hobos he’d met, Leroy and Terrance, or T. Both were black, older than him, but not by much. Roy’s long, tangled, bright red hair was in stark contrast to Leroy and T’s black & grey Afros.

The train crept slowly along, frustrating the hell out of Roy. “Ya knew, the trains in Ireland go a lot faster than this!” he whined. “Shoot, we’ll be all day getting there at thees speed.”

Leroy laughed. “All day getting where?” T laughed too. “So, what do you do in such a hurry over there in I-r-land?”

Leroy and T sat on boxes near the door, as Roy leaned against the door edge. The train started moving by some homes, backyards facing the tracks. They watched the homes go slowly by. Suddenly, in one coming up, they saw a young girl laying face down on a towel in a bathing suit, getting a tan. She was alone. They all stared.

Roy turned to the other two. “What do we do in a hurry? I’ll show ya what we do in a hurry...” and with that he hopped off the train to the gravel and grass beside. Leroy and T watched, looked at each other, shrugged their shoulders and hopped off too. What was this Roy feller thinking? Well, they had nothing better to do.

Roy jumped off, got down low in the grass, really quick. He looked behind him. The other two had just jumped off too. He waved them over. They crept up next to him. Roy said as the train kept crawling by, “You say another train comes by soon?” Leroy nodded. “Yeah, every couple of hours. Like this one.” “Well then,” Roy laughed, “Let’s have some fun. We gonna grab us some sweet meat. You just help me get it across the tracks and into those woods over there.” As the train crawled by, masking their sound, they moved closer to the girl in the backyard.

Eighteen-year-old Stacy Lawson was finally catching some sun. She’d been so busy this summer, she’d barely had any time to get any sun at all. She was mostly white all over. Today though, she’d had nothing planned. When her mom and brother went shopping, she stretched out in the backyard with a towel and her new transistor radio. An old freight crawled by; they always did. She rubbed tanning oil all over; lay face down, getting sleepy with the tunes. She’d have to remember not to go too long before turning over. She started to doze off.

Suddenly, a pair of big hands grabbed her around her face, covering her mouth. She instantly jerked awake, eyes wide, scrambling. A big, scary-looking man with wild hair held her and began pulling her towards the fence by the railroad tracks. She struggled to get free, but then two other men, negros, grabbed her one arm and her feet. Together, the three lifted her and ran towards the train tracks. She was dragged along the ground mostly, twisting, trying to scream. The man holding her face was strong; he held her mouth firmly closed. The train went by; the last car passing. The three men pulled her across the tracks, into the woods on the other side.

Stacy was terrified. Who were these men? What did they want? She sure didn’t want to go with them! She couldn’t stop them, though. All she had on was her swimsuit. God, she felt practically naked, and three ugly old men, homeless types they looked like, were dragging her into the woods! No! No! Stop! No! She struggled, managed to get out one or two brief cries, but soon they were far into the woods. They pulled her over behind an old brick wall, dropped her on some old tile floor, or what was left of it. The big white man dropped her and she started to scream. He immediately punched her hard in her face, causing her to hit the back of her head hard on the floor. “Uh!” she grunted and her world got totally blurred. Her whole head throbbed; the side of her face hurt bad. Stunned, she felt him hit her again, in her stomach this time. She gasped for breath; her whole body hurt now; she couldn’t hardly get a breath. Her mouth was wide open, but she couldn’t hardly even gasp. The man stood up next to her, she watched in stunned horror. Her whole body ached. He started taking his pants off. As he did, the other two grabbed her swimsuit, undid it and pulled it down and off of her. She twisted her legs but couldn’t stop them. She clutched her arms around her, trying to cover up, curled up from the pain in her stomach. The man dropped his pants and his underwear; knelt down.

Stacy just kept gasping, “No, no, no, don’t, no, no, don’t...” The two negros grabbed her wrists and her ankles, pulled her arms and legs apart, forcing her onto her back. She squirmed hard, trying to turn over, anything. She was barely eighteen now, and her boobs were really getting bigger. Her long brown hair was a mess now. Obviously Italian, her nipples were big and dark brown; her breasts an easy 32B. She had a good bush of hair between her legs now. She was about twenty pounds heavier than she wanted to be, but she wasn’t concerned about that right now. Her thighs were wide apart; she could feel the air against her pubic hair ‘down there’. She could feel her boobs bouncing around; dammit! These nipples always seem to get hard at almost anything lately. She could sense them staring at her boobs. One negro leaned down and tried to suck on her left nipple; but the white guy pushed him aside as he got between her legs. She tried to close her knees, but he used his hands to force them apart. She saw his penis- it was huge! Oh my God! She’d never actually seen one before, only in pictures. Well, there was the time Uncle Bill had jerked off in front of her a few years ago, but she’d kept her eyes closed and never saw it.