rod fisherman
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Chapter 1
Cameroon
London > Lasham > Yaounde
It was a slow journey to the south, Central London and the surrounding
luxury that is the M25 was unsurprisingly crawling with frustrated stationary
people in their flashy fast cars. As I inched closer to my destination, the
distorted metropolis in my peripheral vision slowly faded out to nothing, just
miles of empty space.
The unenthused voice of my sat-nav ordered me to take the slip road away
from the motorway and head in to the unknown roads of the country side. To
be honest, it was a nice change from the typically grey views of the City, but
unfortunately I was only passing through.
I found it hard to believe that somewhere amongst all the fields and livestock
was an airport. Lasham could only really be described as a hamlet. It was a
tiny place with few houses and one old pub. But somehow tucked away out
of site was a high security airpot for private and military flights?
I lumbered my bags out of the car and marched towards the front entrance
of the airpot, Almost immediately I noticed there were familiar faces from my
past line of line of work. Dotted about the waiting room We all knew the drill,
it was no coincidence that we were all here together but we refrained from
acting surprised and kept our heads down.
21st April 2042, 08:13.am. GMT
I grabbed my boarding pass and made my way towards the plane, As
expected my palms became moist with anxiety, my heart beat was like a
sped up record and my insides, well lets not get in to that.
As expected the plane felt claustrophobic and the air was as dry as a bone.
Like sardines we all crammed in to the tiny space we were allocated for the
next twelve hours. On the plus side I got the pleasure of having the fucking
wing seat. I couldn’t think of anything more Perfect for man scared to death
of flying with a high blood pressure and I suppose if flying wasn’t quite bad
enough, I now had to spend the duration of the flight glaring at the wings in
anticipation of fuckers falling off.
No one likes a recliner.
Calming my nerves with Duty free.In-Flight Entertainment.Making friends with Gordon.
“ Ladies and gentlemen, as we start our descent, please make sure your seat backs and tray tables are in their full upright position. Make sure your seat belt is securely fastened and all carry-on luggage is stowed underneath the seat in front of you or in the overhead bins. Please turn off all electronic devices until we are safely parked at the gate. Thank you.”
21st April 2042, 18:21. GMT21st April 2042, 18:21. GMT
Flying at 30,000 feet over the ocean has left me a spluttering drunkard mess.
The understated ‘minor’ turbulance announced by the pilot seemed like
the ideal excuse to drink like a tramp in the winter. As the seat belt lights
illuminated we began our gradual decent towards Yaounde airpot.
My Anxiety levels syncronised and lowered in unison with planes altitude,
With a great deal of effort I managed to stagger my way off the plain. A crowd
of emotionally drained passengers slowly paced them selves towards the
baggage claim. I was beggining to suffer from over doing it with the duty free
whisky I had been over indulging , it had left me exhausted and brain-dead.
Remembering what my bags looked like would prove to be a real challenge.
There is my lift...
I was greeted outside the humid airport by one of the Hilton Concierge
drivers. He took my bags from me and placed them in the trunk of his car. We
were a fair distance from the hotel and the heat made it hard to keep my eyes
open. I think it must have been the overwhelming sense of curiosity about my
whereabouts that kept me awake. It was a surreal feeling seeing an African
city lit up at night. The sky line was littered with blurred neon lights and
Large advertisements. Crowds of tourists flocked from bar to bar. Apart from
the extreme difference in climate, it was hard to ignore how westernised the
city of Yaounde had become.
21st April 2042, 18:41. GMT
Apparantly this journey takes 10 minutes
Sometimes I forget where I am.
I Managed to grab a snap from the cab window.
From the outside, the hotel was grand, a building that dominated the skyline
and the surrounding areas. The passengers on board my flight slowly began to
emerge from taxis parked out side the entrance, Hotel porters loaded up their
trolleys with luggage and carried it away out of sight. I drifted towards the
entrance of the hotel, the air conditioning made it much cooler and bareable
than outside, As I strolled towards the hotel lobby I was greeted by the jazz
playing of the lobby pianist which acted only as a lullaby to my dosile head.
21st April 2042, 19:10. GMT
Everyone must already be at the bar.
My hotel room was a comfortable modest size, I unpacked my things
from my suitcase and took my shoes off for the first time in about 24
hours. On the bed was a note, the details of 3rd world development
program’s conference this evening down in the main conference
room. I decided to set the alarm on my phone for quarter to nine and
catch a few hours sleep to brush off the drunkenness, from here on
out I was going to need to be more alert. Africa had changed drasticly
over the past 30 years, phsyically anyway, along with the Western
political influences that ensured the struggle for independance and
freedom.
21st April 2042, 19:10. GMT
zzz.
I woke with a blaring alarm clock in my face, God forbid if ever had fire in my
house, nothing of any importance ever seems to wake me up. My head felt
like it had been smashed with a paving slab and my clothes were clammy
with sweat, I splashed some water over my face and grabbed a gum before
i made my way downstairs. I wanted to catch the gist of the lecture I had
missed from the other guests at the bar downstairs. After all, they’d done the
hardwork for me by sifting through all of the bullshit and bravado of these
propagandistic confrences.
There was an unnerving feeling in the air when i left my hotel room, I
appreciated that it was late but there was no noise of any kind or other guests
walking around the corridors. As i made my way down stairs I was stopped
in tracks, Overwhelmed at the horrors that surrounded me. Walls of the first
floor were smeared with blood and torn apart from what I can only assume
were bullet holes. My hangover and the fear of what I was about to see next
made me feel extremely Nauseous. I’d seen some pretty graphic things in my
life but nothing that would equate to what I saw next...
21st April 2042, 22:15. GMT
James ‘Wally’ Burrage1998 - 2042
Who would have thought it, drinking saved my life.
The room had been cleared out, No bodies just a blood stained floor and
the aftermath caused from the attack. Almost immediately after taking the
photograph I was greeted by two large security guards pointing loaded
machine guns at my face. There was a moment of uncertainty between the
two men, the looked at each other then back at me. They said nothing but
implied with the motion of their guns that I was to follow them. Security had
the place surrounded, ambulances waited out side as the distorted bodies of
my colleagues were being carried out on stretchers, I was walking through
a war zone. One of the men pointed towards a stationary Land-rover parked
outside the main entrance. The men helped me climb in to back and threw
me a blanket to conceal my self from the view of others. I had no idea where
I was heading and to my knowledge the driver spoke no english or it was
just as likely that he was ordered to keep his mouth shut. The city of Yaounde
slowly faded in to the darkness of night and the tarmac gradually exchanged
itself for earth.
21st April 2042, 22:43. GMT
To be continued.
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