Africa (Complete)

Chapter Twenty

The part of the compound they were in had two sets of chain-linked fences, each with razor-sharp barbed wire at the top. Every time Kam walked past, he would study the fences, looking for a flaw that he could exploit. They had to pass through the two fences to get to the crops, which was always in the daytime and they were always brought to a wide-open field. It was impossible to do anything without being seen.

"There has to be other jobs here, right?" Kam asked Ukari in a whisper.

"Let it go," she said.

"Please, you've been here longer than me," Kam insisted. "You must have knowledge that can help us."

"Us?" Ukari questioned. "There is no 'us'."

"Please, I need your help. We can't go on like this. What is the point of living if we are just slaves?"

"God's will."

"God's will? That's your answer? You can't be serious," Kam scoffed, being sure not to be seen by the guards. "God must really hate you then. What kind of God destroys the planet and then makes the survivors live in hell?"

"I don't question God's will. The bible speaks about the last judgement where Christ will return to glorify the believers and punish the doubters."

"So that's your plan? Hang out here until Jesus comes and saves you?"

There were some other murmurs amongst the group, which were silenced when the men with guns entered.

Kam hadn't seen a blue sky in weeks. Since the impacts, the sky had become a depressing grey and the air was even harder to breathe. The climate continued to heat up, which was saying a lot considering they were in the thick muggy African jungle. Kam took a deep breath and looked around at the hundreds of desperate faces separated into small factions, all waiting to be brought into the fields.

As for Kam's new identity, he was a field worker. Day in and day out. He worked so hard to the point where his hands would become raw and bleed. The skin would rip like paper, never fully being able to heal. The wounds packed with dirt would become infected and swell. 

Working alongside dozens of other strangers, they weren't allowed to communicate with one another, ask for a break or a sip of water, or even look at any of the guards. Those who did paid an ultimate price and were made into an example to scare others into submission. Anyone foolish enough to disobey or talk back were either beaten or shot with no questions asked.

Picking fruit under the scorching African sun was bad enough. Having the heavy metal shackles and chains around his wrists and ankles was more than just demoralizing, it was uncomfortable. The metal would get extremely hot and burn if it were left exposed to direct sunlight. The slaves had found a way to work with their backs to the sun to create a shadow for their hands.

Standing at the edges of the field were armed guards, spread out every fifty metres. They scanned the fields and made sure everyone was steadily working and not taking any breaks, as well as to prevent anyone from trying to escape. There were other guards that would walk up and down the rows to ensure every worker was maintaining a certain level of productivity. They could tell based on how much workers around them were picking. If their basket wasn't as full as the others, they would be beaten and humiliated. One poor worker was kicked over and urinated on, while another was stripped naked and whipped until his back bled.

There were three breaks during the day — the first one was in the morning — a ten-minute water break. Then there was a thirty-minute midday break for lunch, then another ten-minute afternoon break. This wasn't to be nice, it was to maximize productivity. Dehydrated workers tend not to work as efficiently. Many of the workers were not used to strenuous manual labour and didn't have the strength or stamina to endure the long days of back-breaking work. Some would even pass out from heat exhaustion.

A large lady began to complain and yell slurs at the men. "This is inhumane!" she hollered, much to the surprise of others around her who all looked at her like she was crazy. "You can't treat us like animals. Human beings have rights!"

Kam looked over at her with his eyes, but kept his head down. One of the guards began shouting back at her to be quiet. The lady would not stop yapping. "Who's in charge!" she demanded as if she was at some five-star resort and had received subpar service.

"I'm in charge, b*tch. Now shut the f*ck up."

"You have no right to speak to me that—"

Before she could finish, the man raised his gun and blasted her in the face. The loud gunshot caused everyone to jolt. It happened ten feet from where Kam was stationed. Everyone was in a state of shock, but they didn't stop working. The large woman crumpled to the ground like a sack of potatoes. Her lifeless body now lay face down in the blood-soaked dirt.

Kam kept his head down, pretending it didn't happen. Two more guards came over and started speaking to each in French. Kam couldn't understand what they were saying. Then one of them said, "Hey, you."

Kam turned to look and saw all three guards were staring at him.

"Come here," one of them said.

Kam stepped over several rows of vegetation until he was standing next to the men. They had also called over another man who had an athletic build. Kam and the man briefly made eye contact to acknowledge each other in this messed up situation.

"Get this fat b*tch out of here," one of the men commanded in a thick French accent.

"Follow me."

Without saying a word, Kam and the other man each grabbed a leg and dragged the three-hundred-pound woman face down through the field. The blood from the bullet wound in her head left a long trail. It was at the end of a long day and they were exhausted. The dead weight didn't make the task any easier. Slowly, the woman's body was dragged to another part of the compound in which Kam had never been before. One guard was in front, and one was behind. The lead guard entered the pig pen and held the gate open. "Come on, hurry up," he demanded.

Kam thought about making an attempt at the man's gun. It would be two against two, and if they did a surprise attack, wrestled the gun away from one of the guards, and shot them both before they could get shot, then that might be their best opportunity to escape. The scenario played out in Kam's head, but he was snapped back to reality when he felt a gun barrel push into his back nudging him forward.

As the two slaves dragged the corpse into the pig pen, and stepped away. The enormous pigs rushed over, snorting with excitement, and immediately began biting her, ripping the flesh off her body. Kam looked away. He didn't want that image in his head.

They exited the pig pen and were forced at gunpoint back to the field to finish off the rest of their shift.

Working in the fields for a few more hours, Kam couldn't wait to hear the whistle. After being stripped naked, the slaves were hosed down, given their final meal of the day, and then were sent to their sleeping quarters. By now, Kam was getting used to the routine.

As he lay awake in the cold dirt, listening to the strange jungle squawks and clicks, he stared up at the exposed beams of the wooden structure and thought about Cara. The thought of one day reuniting with her gave him the strength to pull him through all this.