Life Struggles (Life Stories Book 1) (20 page)

The same was true of the South African security guards. Each had been individually recruited over the internet and paid through banks in various Caribbean island nations. Those countries opened their books to U.S. financial investigators who were unable to trace the money transfers beyond three hops, and never found the original source.

The Oriental nurses were Chinese. A human smuggler had been paid in cash to deliver sixty nurses to the U.S. and knew nothing more. The nurses were being debriefed, and almost all of them had asked for asylum in the U.S. Those who wanted to be returned home would be flown to Beijing when the debriefing was done.

The person in charge at the facility was a woman of about fifty. Isotopes in her teeth showed that she had been raised in Bulgaria, and her steel dental work indicated she had probably lived most of her life in Bulgaria or some other Eastern European country. She had apparently never had children. Otherwise, nothing was known about her except that it proved impossible to reassemble the two thousand plus pieces that were found.

Transmissions from the facility were traced to and from a masked server in Bulgaria, but Bulgaria had been cleared of all complicity. The server further encrypted the already-encrypted received transmissions and sent them to a variety of other masked servers which sent them to more masked servers, and the end point was still a mystery.

Danny said he had to be at work early tomorrow, so he left. At that point I broke out beers for me, Marcus, Luke and Alex.

“Ethan, I missed the start of the semester at school. I'm going to enroll next semester and start my computer programming studies.” I waited for the third shoe to drop. First he called me Ethan, then he was enrolling in school.

“Marcus, you got any …” Alex looked at me guiltily. I knew what he was after. Fuck it.

“Alex, if you want to smoke some weed with Marcus go ahead. Do it outside in the back patio. If the police show up I'll help them put the cuffs on you.” I tried not to grin, but Alex came over and hugged me. There it was, the third shoe.

He and Marcus went onto the back patio, and Luke got us each another beer.

We clinked bottles.

“Manhandler.”

“Pervert”

I smiled and thought about Brenda. That had some real possibilities. But for now, I have one big fucking story to write.

West Africa

Kupake cheered along with the rest of the boys as the bus crossed the border from Niger to Nigeria. He looked around at the other smiling, friendly black faces and was only sorry that his cousin, Prosper, had decided to leave the bus in Rwanda and return to Congo. He had started crying and one of the adults had taken him to another bus station to send him home. Kupake would write to him as soon as he could from his new job.

A white woman and an Oriental man had visited Kupake's village and told the leaders that each boy whose blood was strong enough would be given fifty thousand Congolese Francs and taken to a school in Nigeria where he would be taught construction and given a well-paying job. His family would be given another fifty thousand Congolese Francs.

Very few of the boys' blood was strong enough, just Kupake's and Prosper's. Kupake was proud of his accomplishment. Even after Prosper left he laughed and plotted with the other boys about what they would do with their riches. This was a dream come true.

The bus had picked up other boys, just one or two at a time, as it wound from Congo through Rwanda and Uganda, back into Congo, and then on through four other countries before arriving in Niger for the last pickup. The trip had been a real adventure. The boys sang, and laughed, and told jokes, and bragged about all the girls whose
ukes
they had poked with their
uumes.
Kupake was a virgin, but he told stories about
ukes
and
uumes
just like the other boys. He wanted to fit in.

The bus was actually
air-conditioned.
The seats were comfortable and the two adult men made sure the boys had plenty of water throughout the day. The evening meal was a feast. Every night they had a whole piece of a marvelous meat called Spam. It was delicious. Kupake wondered what kind of animal it came from. Maybe he could find some and raise them in Nigeria.

In Cameroon, toward the end of the journey another boy, Janopo, became homesick and was allowed to leave. One of the adults took him to a nearby bus station and gave him a ticket home, just like Prosper. In both cases the adult man had returned in less than twenty minutes. Kupake marveled at how many bus stations countries outside Congo had.

Finally the bus arrived at a building site that had to be part of the school. The boys were led off the bus by the adults and put in a line. Always, curious, Kupake looked around.

A camouflaged roof had been erected over the largest building Kupake had ever seen. It was round and seemed to go on forever. There were all sorts of strange pieces of equipment nearby. The whole area was guarded by school security guards with guns. One of the boys from Niger pointed at them and said “Boko Haram,” but Kupake didn't know what that meant. He assumed it was a term for school security guard in the boy's native language.

Kupake and the rest of the boys were taken to a smaller building and told to shower before dinner. One of the boys from Rwanda knew how to operate the shower controls and demonstrated for the others. More than twenty naked boys laughed, giggled and played games in the water.

After their showers the boys went into a dormitory room where they found simple white
vazis
to put on. Their clothes had been taken away to be washed and would be returned tomorrow.

Each boy sat on his own bed and was brought a tray. On it were yams and
three
pieces of Spam. Each boy had a bowl of soup that one of them identified as Isapa. Kupake found the taste strange and wasn't sure he was going to like having it often, but he ate it anyway. On a separate plate were slices of a yellow fruit called
pineapple.
It was absolutely delicious.

Most miraculously, every single one of the twelve and thirteen year old boys had a whole cup of fermented parm tree sap. Kupake's father had let him have a small amount on his thirteenth birthday, and it was fabulous. It warmed his insides and left him feeling good. After he drank his whole cup Kupake finished another boy's parm wine. He was feeling light-headed and happier than he could ever remember.

One of the adults came in and told the boys they would have to get a good night's sleep because school would start tomorrow. Each would be given a pill to help him sleep well, so he could awake refreshed and ready to go. Kupake eagerly swallowed the pill with a small sip of water.

Kupake thought about his old life. Some days there was not enough to eat, but daily back-breaking labor was needed to cultivate the few crops they could grow. There was no time to laugh or play. He was sad that he wouldn't see Prosper or the rest of his family for a while, but he cheered up quickly when he thought about Spam and fresh water and the games he would play. And maybe the
ukes
he would get to poke.

With a smile on his face Kupake fell asleep. Tomorrow would begin his new life.

The End

Thank you for reading this story. Its sequel,
Life Continues
, will be available shortly on Amazon in the Kindle Store.

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