The Accidental Slave (Aya's story Part 1)

Copyright © 2016

By Elin Peer

All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced
in any form without written permission from the author, excepting
brief quotations embodied in articles and reviews.

The Accidental Slave – part 1

First Edition

The characters and events portrayed in
this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons or
organizations is coincidental and not intended by the author.
Recommended for mature readers due to adult content.

Graphic Design: Jaclyn Hicken

Editing: Martin
O’Hearn

The Slave series consists of four
separate, but intertwined, stories.

For the best reading experience, this is
the recommended order to read them in.

The Accidental Slave (Aya’s story)

The Healing Slave (Sybina’s story)

Never a Slave (Sofia’s story)

The Feisty Slave (Uma’s story)

This book is intended for
mature readers only as it contains graphical language and sexual
scenes of violent nature.

All characters are fictional and any
likeness to a living person or organization is coincidental.

Consider yourself warned!

Before you start searching Google Maps
to locate Spirima, don’t! The country is fictional and used to
represents religious fanaticism across our world and throughout
human history.

The Accidental Slave is for my
grandfather Peer - one of the greatest storytellers I ever
knew.

Thank you for guiding me on wonderful
journeys into the land of imagination.

I will see you on the other side!

“
The lives of the dead are placed in the
hand of the living.“
Quote Marcus Aurelius

Elin

Aya walked from the small plane and into the
arrival hall of the airport.

A large sign with golden letters stood in stark
contrast to the rest of the place where several windows had been
replaced by plastic, secured with yellow duct tape around the
window frames. The walls had a faded brown color, similar to that
of cardboard boxes, and they were full of stains, holes, and
scratches.

Aya wrinkled her nose and looked up. After the
water leak in her parents’ basement, she knew what mold and rot
smelled like; and sure enough, the ceiling had large black stains
in the corners.

Unlike most airports this one was unnervingly
quiet. Spirima was not a tourist destination but a country with a
civil war raging between the government and Masi warriors, and Aya
was here to work as a nurse in a refugee camp for former
slaves.

Aya had been jumpy and nervous since she left
Heathrow, but now that she was here and couldn’t see anyone waiting
for her, fear made her heart race and her palms sweaty. In her mind
she once again went over the briefing she had received over the
last week in London, warnings ran through her mind:
You’ll never
be allowed to leave the refugee camp without armed protection.
Don’t trust anyone, not even the local police; they might be loyal
to the Masi warriors.

The only people present in the arrival hall were
a man sweeping the floor in the corner, two police officers at a
counter, and a few other passengers leaving the building quickly.
Aya looked discreetly at the two police officers and noticed that
they were looking at her and seemed to be talking about her. She
was aware that she was a rarity here as a woman on her own, not to
mention a blond foreigner.

One of the officers lifted his chin and looked
straight at her as if silently asking her if she needed his
help.

Aya quickly looked the other way, hoping he
would get her signal that she didn’t need anything from him. In an
attempt to look busy and unapproachable she pulled out her phone
and pretended to make a phone call.

“Are you on your way? Brilliant, two minutes…
yes, I understand, that’s fine. I’m here. Thank you,” she said loud
and clear.

Five minutes passed with Aya crossing and
uncrossing her arms while fidgeting with her bags and internally
chanting, “Come on, come on.”

But no one came and in her peripheral view she
saw one of the police officers walk towards her. He took his time
and for every step he came closer her body tensed up.

Finally he was too close to ignore and Aya
turned to him with a polite but strained smile.

“Who are you waiting for?” he asked in broken
English with a curious smile and eyes sliding down her body.

“My driver will be here any second. I just spoke
with him,” Aya lied and took a small step back.

The officer took a bigger step forward and
entered her personal space, making Aya extremely uncomfortable. He
had a sweet and suffocating odor of cinnamon and other spices that
she couldn’t point her finger at.

“Really, sir, I’m fine.” She tried again and
turned away from him to break off the contact.”

“May I see your passport, miss?” he asked and
shot an unnerving glance back at his colleague, who nodded
discreetly.
Never give your passport to anyone. Ever!
her
instructor’s voice warned in her mind.

“Excuse me, I have to take this one.” Aya pulled
up her phone again, pretending it had been vibrating. “Oh, you’re
here now… I’ll come meet you then.” She nodded politely at the
officer, still with the phone to her ear, and started walking
towards the exit doors.

“Come on, driver… please, please,” she muttered
anxiously through gritted teeth, fearing that she had been
forgotten about.

The second she stepped outside she was hit by a
wall of dry heat making it even harder to breathe.
And now
what?
Aya was tapping her Converse shoes and rubbing her sweaty
palms down her white jeans.
Christ, it’s hot here.
She
considered removing her white long-sleeved shirt; but that would
only leave her with her purple tank top, and she had already
attracted too much attention. She would just have to endure the
heat.

She took a quick glance over her shoulder, and
through the glass door she saw the police officer walking towards
her again…
No no no… damn it!
Her heart was still racing and
she looked around, desperately hoping for a place to hide, but
there was no time.

“I would like to see your passport, miss,” the
officer said, now standing next to her and looking impatient.

With a sigh Aya put her bags down and started
going through them. “One second, I’m not sure where I put my
passport,” she lied, and saw the man tap his foot rhythmically.

The sound of a vehicle approaching made them
both look up, and with a pasted-on smile Aya pointed to the jeep.
“That would be my driver.”

The police officer didn’t look pleased but
didn’t pursue the matter of her passport further; he just waited
next to her while the Jeep pulled up.

Aya held back tears of relief when she saw the
logo of Spread Life on the side of the vehicle. This
was
her
ride. She was saved.

A tall man jumped out of the jeep and nodded to
the police officer and her.

“Miss Aya Johansen, I assume,” he said with a
perfect British accent.

“Just Aya,” she said and couldn’t help her
beaming smile.

The man shook her hand. “Welcome, my name is
Aston. Did you arrive early?”

“I don’t think so,” Aya answered and shot a
displeased side-glance at the police officer. Aston spoke a few
reassuring words to the man, who finally retreated back into the
arrival hall.

“I apologize that I’m late. On my note it says
you’ll land in twenty minutes.”

Aya curved her lips and in a too-jolly voice she
said: “I’m here now.”

Aston raised an eyebrow, clearly not finding
this jolly at all. But he was courteous enough to take her bags and
place them in the jeep.

When he opened the passenger door for Aya to get
in, it gave her the chance to get a better look at the man. She
estimated him to be around thirty which would make him seven years
older than herself; and although he had handsome features, his
formal and stiff way made her categorize him as boring and much too
serious for her taste. His blond hair was cut in a short military
style and he was wearing a uniform with a gun on his side.

“Thank you,” Aya said politely and noticed how
he kept scowling around. She couldn’t see his eyes clearly because
of his sunglasses, but with his blond hair she suspected them to be
blue like hers.

“Are we in danger?” she asked.

“Public places are never safe in Spirima,” Aston
murmured.

“I’m happy they warned me about that at the
briefing because I’m pretty sure those police officers were up to
something,” Aya said conspiratorially.

Aston raised an eyebrow and scoffed before he
got in on the driver’s seat.