tape in with the rest of her skin. Then, taking out a delicate brush and some pots of color, he began drawing over the seal on her mouth.
Rose Ray awoke completely in the back seat of the Cadillac. She turned her head to the left. A black man smiled at her. She looked forward, her vision clearing. Two more black men in the front seat were turning around and smiling. She looked down at someone else’s body. An unobtrusive seat belt held a man’s waist firmly against the plush seat. The man’s knees were folded over each other. As much as she tried, Rose couldn’t get these alien legs to uncross.
The Caddy was a mediumly expensive one so there wasn’t much leg room. It kept her from kicking out with the bottom of these strange legs. On her feet were high-rise sneakers. Her hands were in the pant pockets. She couldn’t pull them out. She couldn’t even wiggle her fingers. She looked to the right. A tall woman with streaked brown hair and loop earrings stared back at her and smiled.
“I see you’re ready to go,” the woman said. “We just couldn’t drive off with you lying against one of your friends here. That would defeat the whole purpose of the exercise.”
Rose tried to reply, but no sound came out and the stabbing, rending pain came back.
“No, no, dear,” the woman cautioned. “Be quiet. Your lips are sealed by a plaster-chloroform mixture. Just enough chloroform to keep you weak but not enough to affect those near you. And more than enough plaster to serve. Only we have another mixture to get it off your face. If you tried, all your skin would be ripped off with it.”
The woman placed her hands on Rose’s arm and shoulder and moved her against the man to her left. “So just sit up straight, dear. It would be too dangerous to move you to your destination all bound up in the back of a van. It would look too suspicious when Mohamid finds you missing. We’re going to get you out of the district right before their eyes. And they won’t even see you.”
To prove her point, the woman reached into her large pocketbook and pulled out a mirror. She held it before Rose. Someone else’s face stared back. Her hair had been pushed under a cap and the back had been cut off to a boyish style. Her skin was a darker color. And worst of all, there were a pair of dark, male lips painted exactly where her full, rosy lips should be. To anyone looking in the car there would be just three black guys in the back seat, one with his hands nonchalantly in his pockets.
Rose’s face crumbled and tears welled up in her eyes as she looked in supplication at the woman.
“Ah, now for the final touch,” the woman remarked as she put the mirror back in her purse. When her hand came out, it was holding two cotton balls. “Close your eyes,” she instructed. Rose pulled herself back, her eyes widening with fear. “Close your eyes,” the woman said again, quieter. Rose felt a male hand on the back of her head. She closed her eyes.
The woman placed one specially treated cotton ball each over her eyes. They stuck her lids closed and also absorbed any moisture that leaked out. The woman then pulled a large set of sunglasses out of her bag. With a flourish, she placed them over Rose’s eyes.
“We’re all set then,” she concluded, stepped out of the Caddy and waved a black man holding the door for her in. “Have a nice ride,” she breathed to Rose. The frightened black girl felt the two men on either side of her press in. One put his arm around her shoulders.
“Act naturally,” he warned. “A sudden move and you’ll never see how you died.”
Rose sobbed silently, drily, as the car drove out of the alley and into the night.
It was Saturday afternoon and ABC-TV was waving a tit in Harry Callahan’s face. The cop was recuperating from yesterday’s classroom attack by re-creating the dream of every red-blooded American male. That is, he was sitting around in his apartment, wearing an undershirt, drinking beer, and
Rose Ray awoke completely in the back seat of the Cadillac. She turned her head to the left. A black man smiled at her. She looked forward, her vision clearing. Two more black men in the front seat were turning around and smiling. She looked down at someone else’s body. An unobtrusive seat belt held a man’s waist firmly against the plush seat. The man’s knees were folded over each other. As much as she tried, Rose couldn’t get these alien legs to uncross.
The Caddy was a mediumly expensive one so there wasn’t much leg room. It kept her from kicking out with the bottom of these strange legs. On her feet were high-rise sneakers. Her hands were in the pant pockets. She couldn’t pull them out. She couldn’t even wiggle her fingers. She looked to the right. A tall woman with streaked brown hair and loop earrings stared back at her and smiled.
“I see you’re ready to go,” the woman said. “We just couldn’t drive off with you lying against one of your friends here. That would defeat the whole purpose of the exercise.”
Rose tried to reply, but no sound came out and the stabbing, rending pain came back.
“No, no, dear,” the woman cautioned. “Be quiet. Your lips are sealed by a plaster-chloroform mixture. Just enough chloroform to keep you weak but not enough to affect those near you. And more than enough plaster to serve. Only we have another mixture to get it off your face. If you tried, all your skin would be ripped off with it.”
The woman placed her hands on Rose’s arm and shoulder and moved her against the man to her left. “So just sit up straight, dear. It would be too dangerous to move you to your destination all bound up in the back of a van. It would look too suspicious when Mohamid finds you missing. We’re going to get you out of the district right before their eyes. And they won’t even see you.”
To prove her point, the woman reached into her large pocketbook and pulled out a mirror. She held it before Rose. Someone else’s face stared back. Her hair had been pushed under a cap and the back had been cut off to a boyish style. Her skin was a darker color. And worst of all, there were a pair of dark, male lips painted exactly where her full, rosy lips should be. To anyone looking in the car there would be just three black guys in the back seat, one with his hands nonchalantly in his pockets.
Rose’s face crumbled and tears welled up in her eyes as she looked in supplication at the woman.
“Ah, now for the final touch,” the woman remarked as she put the mirror back in her purse. When her hand came out, it was holding two cotton balls. “Close your eyes,” she instructed. Rose pulled herself back, her eyes widening with fear. “Close your eyes,” the woman said again, quieter. Rose felt a male hand on the back of her head. She closed her eyes.
The woman placed one specially treated cotton ball each over her eyes. They stuck her lids closed and also absorbed any moisture that leaked out. The woman then pulled a large set of sunglasses out of her bag. With a flourish, she placed them over Rose’s eyes.
“We’re all set then,” she concluded, stepped out of the Caddy and waved a black man holding the door for her in. “Have a nice ride,” she breathed to Rose. The frightened black girl felt the two men on either side of her press in. One put his arm around her shoulders.
“Act naturally,” he warned. “A sudden move and you’ll never see how you died.”
Rose sobbed silently, drily, as the car drove out of the alley and into the night.
It was Saturday afternoon and ABC-TV was waving a tit in Harry Callahan’s face. The cop was recuperating from yesterday’s classroom attack by re-creating the dream of every red-blooded American male. That is, he was sitting around in his apartment, wearing an undershirt, drinking beer, and
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