Empire of Mud by James Suriano

Author:James Suriano [Suriano, James]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Women, thriller, international, suspense, workers rights, bookclub
Publisher: Weaving Genesis Publications
Published: 2020-11-30T22:00:00+00:00

The Ways of Kumzar

Our local took a stick from under his knees and whacked the woman’s fingers, but they held and pulled harder. The man was yelling and pointing us to the opposite side of the boat; the two other women fearfully let out screechy moans. I reached for the hand; I was sure we could bring her on board. She had to be the woman I’d seen go under the water. The man swung the stick, and it connected with my shoulder.

“No, no, no, no!” he yelled at me, shaking his finger, and then he made a motion: his flat hand flipping over.

I stopped moving. He turned away, satisfied he had made his point. I slunk my hand over the side of the boat and fluttered my hand in case the woman might see it. I felt a brush of fingers, and then the stick hit my arm and pain shot through my entire left side. This time, when I looked at him, he snarled. I sank into myself; I couldn’t believe that I was going to let this go, that I would sacrifice helping the woman for my own well-being. I imagined my bad karma stacking up like poppadoms next to a baker.

When we reached the shore, I couldn’t get away from the boat quickly enough. Our local pulled it in until he perched it between a set of rocks where it fit comfortably and wouldn’t wash out to sea. There were flickering lights in each of the buildings, which sat in a ramshackle fashion on the beach. The flames cast dim glows out of the gaps in the walls and doors. The buildings were low slung and created a border on the beach. We stepped into one of them, following the man’s lead. One of the women from my boat went before me. Inside, there was another man, much older, with a white beard and dressed exactly the same way, with a Polaroid camera in his lap. His hands held it loosely, and his head dipped back, mouth open, in the unnatural pose of sleep having come suddenly. Our local slapped the old man’s shoulder, and he woke up and pointed to a space on the wall where a sheet of clean blue paper hung. The local nudged one of the women toward it. The old man tried to direct her from his chair, until he got frustrated, jumped up, and used his hands to adjust her position and expression. She kept wanting to smile for the picture; I didn’t know what about. But the photographer—and I use the term loosely—tried to dissuade her from it. Finally, he was satisfied and took her picture. Then it was my turn, a flash and half-blinded snap, before I was shown into the next building. The first thing I noticed was the cacophony of languages. I heard things I understood, brief moments of sanity amid the static …

“How long will they hold us here?”

“They took my picture two days ago, and I haven’t heard anything since.

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