The Accidental Slave (Aya's story Part 1) (5 page)

Two weeks later, on the morning of Tara’s
departure, the love circus was on an all-time high. Tara wanted
Aston to commit to her and he simply wouldn’t. Tara tried pleading,
crying, and throwing a major tantrum but Aston remained grounded in
his decision that this was it.

“I’m not making any promises I don’t intend to
keep,” he said honestly, and it made Aya respect him and Tara hate
him.

Tara made a dramatic exit and refused to let
Aston drive her to the airport. He seemed more relieved than
disappointed about it.

“Are you going to miss her?” Aya asked him.

Aston shrugged. He was not prepared to discuss
his feelings with her and she didn’t want to pry.

Aya went to the infirmary and worked. She had
been in the camp two and half months and things were becoming
routine now. Every day new patients came in, but she knew her
colleagues, she knew where to find the tools she needed, and she
knew enough Spiri to communicate with her patients. Like in a
normal practice the patients had all sorts of problems; today she
helped operate on a young boy with appendicitis and she took out
stitches from a patient that had been operated on ten days before.
A father brought in his daughter who had severe bellyaches, and
even though Aya had only been in the camp for a few months she knew
that body aches were a common symptom of the immense emotional pain
these people carried. Aya examined the girl and went over all her
symptoms when a suspicion hit her.

“How old are you, sweetheart?” she asked the
girl, who had large timid eyes.

“Thirteen,” she answered in a small voice.

“Did you get your bleedings yet?” Aya asked her
but the girl didn’t understand what she referred to so, Aya
repeated to the father.

“No, not yet,” the father explained.

Aya called for the doctor, who came over, and
the expression on Aya’s face and a few implied words between them
told him of Aya’s suspicion.

“We’ll need a urine sample,” he murmured with
lips formed in a hard line.

Aya had the girl pee in a cup and the test
confirmed her suspicion. She showed the result to the doctor, who
sighed. “Let me handle this.”

The doctor sat down next to the girl and the
father and introduced himself in a warm and friendly manner.

“How long have you been at the camp?” he
asked.

“About two years,” the father answered.

“Do you have more children than your daughter?”
The doctor smiled politely.

The father looked confused. “I don’t have any
children.”

Aya saw the doctor make a small nod and look
down. “So this is your…?” he waited for the man to say what he
already knew.

“She’s my wife,” the man said to clarify.

“Alright, well, congratulations then, she is
with child.”

The girl looked at her husband, who smiled at
her and patted her hand. He looked genuinely happy and it seemed to
please his young wife.

Aya knew that it was not uncommon to marry off
young girls to adult men, but this girl was just the youngest she
had met so far. She was just a child and looked so small and
fragile compared to the man, who had to be in his thirties. This
part of the Spirima culture, Aya would never understand or
condone.

While the doctor gave instructions and advice to
the parents to be, Aya closed her eyes and tried to hide her
emotions. Her two and half months in this camp had taught her that
rape, incest, and child brides were common in this country, and it
made her sick. Some of the people didn’t even seem to understand
how wrong it was. They had never known any different and just did
what generations before them had done.

That night Aya wrote a letter to her friend
Sofia.

Coming to Spirima took only a few hours in a
plane but some days I feel like that plane was a time machine
taking me twelve hundred years back in time. Fundamental human
rights are nonexistent here and human life has little value. The
longer I stay here the more I think that innocence in this country
is for babies and toddlers only. These people are so disturbed in
their lack of distinguishing right from wrong. How many generations
will it take to enlighten this country?

Kato

Kato got up and went to the kitchen. It was
impossible to see the sink what with all the dirty dishes, and he
rubbed his eyes, feeling exhausted.

Jonul was still sleeping; it was getting harder
and harder to get him up, and most days he worried that Jonul would
end his own life with a bullet. The brother he had once looked up
to had become a cynical stranger with little pleasure in life other
than to fight, drug out, and cause pain.

Kato roamed the cabinets looking for something
to eat. He found some crackers and stuffed his mouth on his way to
the shower. He could hardly see his own reflection in the mirror
because it was so full of toothpaste splashes. This place was
absolutely filthy, and the fact that he lived here made him
sick.

After the shower he walked into Jonul’s room and
pinched his ribcage. Jonul reacted by threatening him with murder.
Kato shrugged; he was used to it and didn’t take it personally.

“We’re late, just get your ass up and
moving.”

“I’m staying in bed,” Jonul yawned.

“Explain that to the general,” Kato said
dryly.

Jonul stretched and pulled on some clothes from
the floor and walked into the kitchen looking for food. When he
didn’t find anything tempting he opened the fridge and grabbed a
beer.

“Healthy breakfast,” Kato commented and shook
his head.

Jonul shrugged and produced a loud burp. “I’m
sorry, I would have chosen bacon and an omelet, but the kitchen
chef didn’t turn up this morning, did he?” His voice dripped with
sarcasm.

“At least take a shower… you really stink.”

Jonul smirked. “It’s the smell of a warrior,
brother. Masculine and raw.”

“No, it’s the smell of rot and death and it’s
disgusting. You’ve got blood on your clothes, stinking breath, and
both your hair and beard are long and greasy.”

“So?” Jonul rubbed provocatively against Kato,
who jumped away disgusted.

Jonul snorted and rolled his eyes before exiting
the kitchen and walking into the bathroom with another major
burp.

Kato listened, but from what he could hear Jonul
spend less than ten seconds brushing his teeth, and when he came
out he hadn’t even splashed water on his face.

“Let’s go,” Jonul said and rubbed his eyes.

“What happened to taking a shower?”

“I’ll do it tonight… or something.”

Kato opened the door and didn’t say anything
further. He was living in a pigsty but he would hold onto his
personal hygiene as long as he could. It was one of the few things
reminding him of who he used to be.

They walked to the headquarters in silence. The
streets were desolate, as this whole area housed only Masi
warriors. It was a ghost town, and the twenty-minute walk to the
headquarters took them through streets completely in ruins from the
many attacks this area had suffered.

When they arrived at the Masi headquarters they
met their uncle, the general, a hard man feared by everyone. He was
ruthless in his punishment of his enemies and people who displeased
him. His only soft spot seemed to be Jonul, whom he treated like a
son now that his own three sons had been killed in the civil
war.

He didn’t show the same affection for Kato, who
had only been a warrior for a year. Kato had been given the same
treatment as all new recruits and achieved a high-ranking position
only due to his skills.

“Join me in my office.” The general led them to
an elegant room and took a seat.

He signaled for them to sit down too and they
did as requested.

“We are under pressure,” the general started.
“Too many are dead and our position is weakened. Last night two
soldiers tried to flee; our army is crumbling.”

Jonul squared his chest. “And where are the
soldiers now?” he asked.

“In the basement. Waiting for their
execution.”

“Is that necessary? Couldn’t we use them for
something better?” Kato suggested.

“No. We need to stick to our rules, and I
wouldn’t trust them even if they promised never to run again. We’ll
give them to Masi. It will be a worthy sacrifice that will secure
our victory.”

“As you please.” Jonul nodded earnestly.

“We need more funding too. Too many of our
supporters are losing faith in us and less money is coming in.”

“What do you need us to do?” Jonul asked.

“What we always do. Find slaves we can sell and
make a profit from, or hostages we can get a ransom for. I want you
two to do patrols today and go scouting,” the uncle ordered. “Take
two others with you and see what you can find.”

“And the two deserters?” Kato asked.

“Don’t worry about them. I’ll take care of their
executions and make sure every soldier sees it and understands that
escape is not an option.”

Kato nodded and left with Jonul to find a car.
Going out of the secured area was always a risk, but he was
relieved that he didn’t have to stay and watch the executions. Last
time he had been out he had seen the blond woman and it had been
the highlight of his week, maybe year even, as nothing in this
black hole of civil war gave him any pleasure.

They took off in a van with two other Masi
warriors picked by Jonul and headed for the outskirts of the
abandoned city that was now the Masi territory.

Forty-five minutes later they were at the
marketplace, keeping a low profile. They watched from the car as
people walked to and from the shopping area.

“What happened to you last night?” Jonul asked
Kato while yawning again.

“What do you mean?”

“You went home so early, brother, and you missed
out on the best part.” Jonul smirked and elbowed the warrior on the
passenger seat. Kato knew him a little; his name was Mika and he
was a twisted psychopath with a short fuse and a heavy use of
drugs. Kato tried to keep away from him if possible – the guy was
simply bad news – but Jonul wouldn’t listen. He seemed so
determined in his self-destruction and self-hatred that he sought
out the worst among the Masi warriors and tried to top them. It was
painful to watch.

“What happened?” the fourth warrior asked. He
was young, not more than seventeen or eighteen, and fascinated by
the hardcore grown men that went to the edge and far beyond.

“Oh, the usual game of pain, a little wrestling,
and some hardcore live porn.” Mika laughed in a low hoarse
voice.

Kato had attended his share of those gatherings
and he had the scars from the pain game that was mandatory for all
newcomers and used as a way to pass the time and show off
testosterone. The game varied, but most often it was simply putting
your lower arm against another man’s and leaving them resting on
the table. A lit cigarette would be set burning slowly in the
groove between the two arms, and whoever pulled his arm away first,
lost.

Most Masi warriors had long burning marks on
their forearms because they were too proud and doped to pull their
arms away. Kato found it primitive and unnecessary; he wasn’t here
to prove himself to the other warriors. No, pain was Jonul’s game,
and he loved to sit and watch his opponent suffer. Kato figured it
was Jonul’s distraction from the chaos he carried inside.

The wrestling that Jonul mentioned was the Masi
word for brawls, a common thing among the bored warriors who missed
their families and wives. They were constantly on edge and fights
broke out over nothing.

“I wish I were there,” the young warrior said
enviously. “I could have used a live porn show.”

Kato could hear them describe the details of
slaves being raped, but he shut them out and focused on watching
the people walk by. And then he saw her. Aya got out of a car with
the same guy he’d seen her with last time. They walked closely
together and once again they were smiling and laughing. She was so
different from any other woman here. So free and happy and so
casual in her tight blue jeans and t-shirt. Women here wore dresses
and skirts, never pants, and even though he could only see her
back, he was transfixed by her tight little butt and her long blond
hair swaying around her and reaching down to the middle of her
back.

Kato was completely focused on her and ignored
the other men in the car. His staring glance made Jonul turn his
head in that direction and whistle slowly. “Beautiful.”

Mika growled. “I think we have a winner.” And
before Kato could react they jumped out of the car.

“No, wait,” Kato tried to object, but he could
see that this was not a discussion. They had come to collect and
when a prime target walked in front of them, the men acted. Jonul
gave short commands to the others, and before Aya and Aston reached
the marketplace they were attacked. Before Aya even got a chance to
turn around Jonul put a bag over her head and pulled her with him
while Mika and the young man jumped Aston, who fought back
fiercely. Aston managed to punch out the youngest warrior easily
but Mika was high on drugs and didn’t stop when Aston fired his gun
and shot at him. Aston turned to pursue Jonul, who was half
carrying, half pulling Aya with him towards the van, and he would
have reached them if Mika hadn’t knocked him down from behind. Aya
was kicking and screaming for help, but the locals looked the other
way. No one dared intervene when Masi warriors were around. The
danger of being shot was too great. They just hurried away.

Kato saw the scenario and was acting on default,
making sure the doors to the van were open and getting up in the
front seat preparing to set off before police arrived.

Jonul threw Aya in the van and knocked her hard
on the head before shouting at her to lie still. She froze, and
Kato couldn’t tell if she had passed out from the blow or if she
was too afraid to move.