Condemned to Slavery Read Online Free Page A

fire and blood, gouging out its territory from the flesh of a larger and negligent parent. The foe were driven out and hunted down, the droves of unoccupied soldiers turned to policing duties, and to bear the cost of this massive military the citizenry were squeezed for everything they had.
    The new regime was exceptionally cruel and paranoid, reporters and aid workers had been killed or imprisoned on trumped up charges, few of them ever being released because most met with ‘regrettable accidents’ while in the care of the police. No one knew the identity of the ruler of the country, or even if there was one. The generals were passing their orders to their troops as though it were they who were responsible for issuing them. The borders were closed and fortified, and all traffic vigorously scoured, while torture and execution were used to create the cloud of fear that helped keep such tyrants in power. The entire situation seemed no different to the other examples of such revolution, but there was something else to the story of Guenerros, a secret that hovered just out of the limelight. It could be sensed, lurking behind the stories, the reporters aware that a great secret existed, but it was one they were unable to locate or unearth.
    The plane bathed briefly in the layer of curling clouds and broke through. The lights calling for the fastening of seat belts pulsed again and the intrigued chatter of the passengers was accompanied by soft peals of compliant metallic clicks. Slipping elegantly down towards the soil, the city began to whizz past as they cleared its perimeter. The houses zipped past underneath and were suddenly replaced with the wide expanse of the runway. With a soft jolt the jet brushed its wheels to the tarmac, sending a shudder through the interior as they slowed and started to maneuver along the wide roads towards the main building.
    The airport was small and dilapidated, the runways encompassed by a tall mesh fence with barbed wire rolls laid atop it and watch towers rising up along the entire length. The troops manning them glared with a paranoid intensity at the streets beyond, their heavy machine guns following their stare.
    Disturbing clusters of holes pockmarked the exhaust-tainted walls of the main building and small nests of sandbags cradled uniformed figures and tripod mounted machine guns or anti-aircraft batteries. There were few persons in the main structure, the quantity of troops easily outnumbering both staff and customers put together.
    At a lethargic pace the massive jet wheeled and slotted itself amidst a selection of antique planes and grimy attendants with cigarettes drooping in their lips, flaunting the existence of the fuel trucks nearby. The sour faced lackeys brought forth flights of rust-flecked steps to permit exit, slamming them carelessly to the side of the plane and wandering off.
    The hatches hissed and yawned, granting the passengers opportunity to stretch their legs as the sealed and carefully regulated environment was compromised. Instantly a wash of oppressively humid air rolled throughout the cool interior of the cabin. The tropical heat devoured the comfortable temperature and kindled a sudden sweat across every passenger. It was an ardent heat, the kind that could be detected with each inhale of air, which demanded complete inactivity and plenty of iced drinks in the shade.
    Several guides awaited outside to escort the flow of unexpected visitors to the airport lounge and gift shop where they could be parted from their money for some worthless indigenous trinkets, the tensed fake smiles of the escorts worn like customary masks.
    Donning her sunglasses, Lydia removed her jacket and braved the glaring eye of the day, quickly trotting across the open zone and into the welcome shade of the proffered hall. Parking herself directly beneath one of the overhead fans, she regarded her surroundings, intending to recall every detail so that when she returned home she could boast I