Chains of the Broken

Chapter 2: September, 1781

The next time I came to my senses, I could see fine, but I still had no idea where I was. My head no longer hurt and it was resting in someone's lap. A hand ran through my hair, calming me. I looked up.

"Desta?" I mumbled.

"Yes, Anaya?" I looked at his green eyes. Everybody in the tribe considered us outcasts for this. I loved them though.

"What happened? Where are we? Are you okay?" Questions began to pour out of my mouth and before I could stop myself my head was pounding again. The ground started moving below me and I squirmed closer to Desta. People from my village and other people that looked like me but I had never seen before were surrounding me, all tightly crammed together. As soon as I breathed in again I smelled the foulest smell ever. It was a mix of rotten flesh, blood, puke, sweat, and excrement. My breathing started getting quicker and quicker as much as I did not want to smell anything. Where were we? "What is this? Why is the ground moving? Are we going to die?"

"Hush little one," he spoke in a soft voice.

"It's a ship" a voice called out. I whipped my head around. Desta squinted into the dark. "It's a ship." The voice repeated. I saw someone moving closer to us through the horde of bodies. As the figure moved even closer to us, I could see a lantern in the figure's hand. It was a boy, but he had a different color skin that was not pale, like the men who took us, or dark, like ours. It was like a lion's mane but darker. His eyes were the color of the grass and the sky combined. I gasped. Desta shook me,

"We do not stare at people Anaya.". I blinked and sat up, sliding towards the wall where Desta was leaning on. I raised my hand up to my face and in the dim light saw my skin. It was the color of the clay in my village and this boy's was... different. He had inched closer and closer to us until his eyes met mine. I stared, wide eyed and afraid. Then I reached my hand out and touched his face.

He did not move away. Desta gave me a look and hissed in my ear.

"Anaya what are you doing?" I did not respond, I just traced my hand along his face. It felt the same as Desta's or other men in our tribe but his jawline was sharper. All his features were sharper. I drew my hand away and looked at the boy. His eyes were wandering from my eyes down to my neck and I self consciously looked down at my body. I was wearing a white shirt that did not belong to me and brown pants.

"How can you speak our language? Who are you?" I asked. As sweet as the boy's eyes were I did not know if we could trust him.

Desta gave me a pat. The boy looked at me and then at Desta.

"You do not look like us... How can you speak our language?" Desta inquired, his voice soft and kind.

"I'm... Luca." I gasped. As soon as he spoke I recognized his voice.

"You! You were... defending me?" Luca gave me a shrug, his now noticeably too large clothes practically falling of his shoulders. He told me it was the right thing to do.

"There is a lot you two should know." Luca said, his voice loud. Desta stared at Luca incredulously and then exchanged a look with me.

"Are not you afraid the men who took us will hear you?" Luca shook his head.

"The men above us cannot understand what I am saying. Even if they do they would not be able to hear us over the wailing." My eyebrows went up in surprise. I had not heard any wailing but since he had pointed it out now I could hear children crying, women drowning in tears and the occasional manly sob.

"We are on the Zong ship. It's an English slave ship. I doubt you know where the West Indies are but it's a distant country that's across the sea. Anyways, I'm from Africa but not originally which is why I can speak your language but your kidnappers can not..."