Africa (Complete)

Chapter Eighteen

The planet was heating up rapidly, causing the polar ice caps to melt. Mass flooding destroyed what the meteors had not. This was further aided by the fact that many of the meteors carried large amounts of ice, adding to the global body of water.

The world was in a state of chaos. In one fell swoop, everything had changed. Entire countries had been wiped off the map. Human population as well as hospitable land had been drastically reduced.

Governments were ill-prepared to deal with the evacuations as there was no time to organize and decide who among the desperate masses offered the most utility. Boats and cruise ships were filled with whoever fought hardest to get on, as were planes. There was some effort to bring weapons, books, manufacturing equipment, supplies, seeds, artifacts, and anything else they may want to preserve for themselves as well as posterity.

Droves of uninvited guests from all over the world arrived on the new shores of Africa. Inland jungles and mountain terrains were where many sought refuge as they were thought to provide the most security from the floods as well as plenty of life-sustaining resources.

The land wasn't set up to handle a sudden influx in population. In the unforgiving and foreign terrain, desperate and like-minded individuals formed small groups and tribes in an effort to survive. There was strength in numbers, especially for people who were familiar or had a shared culture. These groups met other groups and either waged war or formed new alliances to gain strength. Aggression and violence thrived as people quickly reverted to a lawless state of nature. Laws and morality had become obsolete in many parts as people rationalized their actions. With limited space and resources, it was a race to secure as much power and territory as possible before some other group did. It harkened back to a state of medieval times where human life was devalued and one could get murdered for just about any reason.

Mass murder, theft, and enslavement were common practice. Established cities became wastelands as they no longer served a purpose, and in fact, offered little in terms of sustainable resources. Aside from rooftop gardens that could feed a small family, there was no place to raise cattle or grow crops for large groups of people. 

Some parts were occupied by weaponized gangs who colonized the area and claimed it as their own. In those regions, systems and governments had collapsed and were non-existence. Prosperity for a few was provided by the slave labour of many.

As new boundaries were being drawn, so too were people's identities. A lawyer from Connecticut was now a fisherman off the coast of Chad, which was once a landlocked desert prior to the meteor event. A sport's agent from London was now in a field tending to crops. A former political adviser was now building shelters.

As for Kam, he was about to be assigned a new identity. Arriving on the new African coast, with his hands and feet bound, Kam lay curled on his side. He could hear people below hustling about and speaking in a foreign dialect. The heat was on another level than what he had experienced. The air was damp and thick, making it hard to breathe. The large man approached and untied the ropes that bound Kam's feet. Kam was then ordered to stand.

He wasn't sure where he was, but assumed he had arrived somewhere in Africa. He looked out in amazement. The shoreline was littered with boats, but not in an orderly fashion, they were all just sort of mashed together as one might expect to find after a hurricane. In front of him, as far as the eye could see, were endless miles of dense jungle.

The large man shouted something at Kam and shoved a gun in his back. Kam understood the instruction and began walking. With his feet finally on solid ground, Kam was escorted at gunpoint to a militia of dangerous looking men. They wore camouflage, but not as part of uniform, but more like mismatched items picked out of a salvation bin. Some wore headbands, while others wore an open vest with nothing underneath. Even their weapons were different. These guys were definitely not a part of a government-sanctioned military regime, and they didn't look like they were welcoming to newcomers. Kam could only imagine what was in store for him.

The men from the boat spoke in a Congolese French, which Kam didn't understand. He stood nervously as they eyed him up and down. Then an exchange took place, and the next thing Kam knew, he was bouncing around in the back of a Jeep on the hot, tattered leather seat, entering the dense jungle.

In any other circumstance, it may have made for an exciting trip, but given that he was bound and had likely just been sold into slavery, the moment had an entirely different context. Confusion and fear dominated his emotions.

The jungle was alive. A melody of strange squawks and chirps filled the air. Kam kept looking around, which was made difficult because he was jostling back and forth as the rugged Jeep barreled down the bumpy dirt road. Long vines dangled over the road hitting the Jeep and sliding back like going through a forest car wash. On several occasions, Kam had to duck his head to avoid being hit.

They drove down a long and winding road for what seemed like fifteen minutes before reaching a crossing guard where several more armed guards were stationed. A few indecipherable words were exchanged between the men before they were waved through.

They continued driving until they eventually arrived at a large gated compound, surrounded by a tall barbed wire fence. The Jeep came to a stop, skidding in the dirt, and Kam was hauled out the back. This was definitely not the hospitable welcome he was hoping for. The fact that no one spoke to him, and that he was by himself, made it even more unnerving.

He was passed off to another set of men who took him into one of the buildings where he was strip-searched and questioned.

"Where are you from?" one of the generals asked, sitting in an oversized chair, puffing a cigar.

"America."

This somehow amused the warlord as he chuckled. "America, the great and powerful, am I right? Where are they now? Washing up on our shore like pieces of debris after a storm."

"Look, man. I don't—"

"You don't speak until you are spoken to!" the man shouted. He stood up and looked at Kam like he was about to eat him. "Is that clear?"

"Yes."

"Yes, what?"

"Yes, sir."

"Very good," the man said, sitting back down. "Around here, I am the boss. Do you know how I became the boss?"

"No."

"Because I have no fear. I kill my enemy with no remorse. Do you understand?"

"Yes, sir."

"Congo is my home. You arrive here looking for refuge, but you were not invited. You belong to me now. Don't ever forget that. I decide what you do, how you do it, what you eat, when you eat, I even decide when you sleep and wake up. Do I make myself clear?"