Africa (Complete)

Chapter Twenty-Six

Kam postured up so that his back was against one of the dirt walls. He reached into his hair and removed the pins he had stashed in his dreadlocks. Just as he had been taught, he began to pick the locks of his shackles. By now, he had become quite adept at it, having practiced over and over for weeks. Within seconds, the shackles snapped off and fell to the ground. But he wasn't done with the shackles just yet.

The pit was just over fifteen feet deep, carved into the ground. Using the shackles as a digging tool, he began to scrape away at the clay-plastered walls until he reached dirt. From there, he began carving out footholds. He worked diligently throughout the night, creating the proper ledges large enough for his feet to use as leverage so that he could push off and lift himself up.

He continued this process until he scaled the wall of the pit and grab a hold of the lid. From his vantage point, he peered out and saw several guards patrolling the area. He tried lifting the thatch roof, but seemed to be locked into place. He had an idea that was risky, but he thought it may work.

Using his Congolese French accent, he called out to a nearby guard.

"Hé, aidez-moi, un des esclaves s'est échappé et m'a mis ici." ["Hey, help me, one of the slaves escaped and put me in here."]

One of the guards came running and without thinking, released the locking mechanism and lifted the lid. To his surprise, Kam had climbed to the top. Before the man could process what was happening, Kam grabbed the guard by the legs and pulled him in the pit like a trapdoor spider.

The guard fell onto his back on the cold hard dirt. The unexpected impact did more than just knock the wind out of the guard, it cracked his head open. The guard was barely conscious and moaning deliriously in pain. Kam quickly put a stop to that by placing both his hands around the man's throat and squeezing the life out of him.

It only took a matter of seconds before the man succumbed to his fate. Kam then proceeded to remove the man's clothes in exchange for his. With boots, a gun, and a camouflage vest, he looked just like one of the Congolese soldiers.

Kam carefully climbed out of the pit, passing several guards, being sure to keep his head down and not draw any unwanted attention to himself. He made it through two security checkpoints without arousing suspicion. Their complacency was the one weakness in which he could exploit. They had never had any slave escape, nor were they suspecting it.

Kam made it outside of the compound, but still wasn't free yet. He knew there was a ten to fifteen-minute drive through the rain forest before he reached the ocean. Navigating without a light would not only be difficult, but it could be dangerous.

Instead, Kam found a more suitable solution. He saw a fleet of parked Jeeps not too dissimilar to the one he had back home. He even knew how to start it without keys. Walking over to the fleet, he selected one at random, and got in.

"Excuse moi, où vas-tu?" ["Excuse me, where are you going?"] someone shouted.

Kam stopped dead in his tracks. He thought for sure he had been busted.

"Euh, j'attends une livraison tard dans la nuit. Plus d'esclaves entrent." ["Uh, I have a late-night delivery that I'm expecting. More slaves are coming in."] he replied, starting the Jeep.

"Attends, j'irais avec toi." ["I'll go with you."]

Before Kam could respond, the soldier hoped in the passenger side of the vehicle. The fact that it was dark helped conceal Kam's identity. Before the soldier could get a good look at him or ask him too many questions, Kam had the Jeep in reverse. Shifting gears, he quickly raced down the dirt road toward the ocean. Just as he had remembered, the road was filled with large potholes causing him and his passenger to bounce around in their seats, deflecting the large vines that dangled in the road. Kam casually slipped his seat belt on.

"Où travaillez vous? Je ne te reconnais pas." ["Where do you work? I don't recognize you."] the soldier asked. A gun laid across his lap and was pointed toward Kam. Kam's gun was in the backseat.

"Je travaille dans les champs, et toi?" ["I work in the fields, and you?"]

"D'où êtes-vous?" [Where are you from]?" the soldier asked.

"Kinshasa."

"Quelle région?" "[What region]?"

"Le côté est," "[The East side]," Kam said, hoping that would satisfying the man's inquiry. In actuality, he had no idea what neighbourhoods were called in Kinshasa. There was only so much one could learn in a short period of time.

"Tirer sur la voiture," [Pull the vehicle over]," the man demanded, picking up the gun and intentionally aiming it at Kam.

Instead of complying, Kam sped up.

"Qu'est-ce que tu fais," "[What are you doing]?" the man shouted. "J'ai dit d'arrêter la voiture," "[I said stop the vehicle now]!"

Kam knew the consequences of pulling over would be one of two outcomes — either he would be shot on the side of the road and become food for the millions of critters roaming the jungle at night, or he would be brought back to the camp where we would undergo the most unspeakable torture. Death would be the preferable choice.

Thinking quickly, Kam turned sharply, steering the Jeep off the road and into the pitch black jungle. Within mere feet of leaving the road, the Jeep bounced around before slamming head first into an old growth tree, which caved in the hood of the Jeep and smashed out the headlights. The only light illuminating was from the red glow from the rear tail lights.