We lived in California until that summer, from down south. We didn’t want to move. Least ways, Mammie and Mama and Papa were reluctant. We kids were as excited as you would be if you heard the news you were going to ‘paradise’, where the rain fell, where there was no drought, and where we would have a place of our own—with air conditioning for summer, and heaters for the winter.

   Dominica awoke to crashes in the house that she shared with her parents and brother. Leaping out of bed, she grabbed the dagger that was on her bedside table and dove into her closet to hide.

  When the crashes stopped, she left her hiding place and crept downstairs. She peeked into her parents' room.

  Empty.

  She then checked her brother's room.

  Empty.

  Dominica ran to the living room and looked out the front window. She made out  shapes in the darkness, hurrying away from her house. She figured that her brother and parents had been kidnapped.