Men in an Amish society are more likely to know stuff and get things done, right? you think as you stride confidently into the little village. There is no need to clear your throat or cough as they notice your approach and suddenly stand straighter. The older man you've targeted narrows his eyes at you but remains silent. The women at the well begin whispering furiously, it sounds German, maybe, as they collect their buckets and disperse.

"Excuse me," you say to the older man. "Can you tell me where I am?" The narrowed eyes are joined by a frown.

"'Merican," he states. You nod and the other men step to surround you. Several have drawn daggers and knives you weren't aware they had.

"Look, I'm sorry for anything my government has done to you but I'm not responsible," you cry as you try to back up. You're shoved away from the man you nearly stepped on into another. He grabs you and holds you while a younger man steps forward and pushes a dagger into you gut. The one holding you lets go and you stumble forward before sprawling to the ground.

It hurts more than anything you've ever experienced. Blood pools around you and world is getting fuzzy. You see the dark figures of the men surround you. One gives you a kick and you groan in agony. They must not have understood it was a groan of pain and kick again. It's more of yell from your mouth this time and the old guy stomps your gut with a malicious grin. It last what seems an eternity, the pain, the bleeding, the random kicks, until you grow cold and the world is dark.

I don't think they were Amish.