The Commodities Market

Chapter Two-1

Chapter Two

I’m not sure if I passed out or fell asleep. My mind played a multitude of little games as the hours and possibly even days passed. The calves of my legs were the first to react but it spread out to different parts of my body. My back was the worst. I was bent in an unusual arched position which put a lot of stress and strain on my muscles and spine.

Suddenly I felt my little cubical move. I concentrated intensely to make sure but the crate was definitely moving. Obviously I was being unloaded from the ship. The jarring and jolting continued for a few minutes before it came to rest again.

I think my little box was put in a truck or something because there was a constant vibration and jarring for quite some time. Then the crate received a solid jolt before all was quiet for quite some time. During that time my bladder emptied and I had a bout with stomach cramps. Obviously I had to take a s**t but I was going to hold out as long as I could.

I’m sure many hours passed but finally something was happening. With several inches of foam covering my ears I couldn’t hear a thing but I thought I could feel a slight vibration. Maybe they were opening the crate. The minute quivering that I think I felt might have been the screw guns. I could only speculate. Then I definitely felt it. Moments later the foam that covered my face was ripped apart. Someone cut the hood from my head and pulled the tubes from my nose. Thank God. I was drenched with sweat but now I could actually breathe.

It took them the better part of an hour to completely extract me from the foam. Chunk by chunk was torn and pried away. Obviously there was some sort of a film on the suit I wore because the foam hardly stuck to the surface. I watched intently as they cut the heavy zip tie that held my hands and feet together but even then I couldn’t move. My body revolted. Roughly they pulled me up but my muscles were cramped too tight to help. I couldn’t stand so they threw me onto the concrete floor.

“Levantarse,” he yelled, “Ponerse de pie!

I had no idea what he was saying but because of my present situation, I assumed he wanted me to get up.

“I don’t know what you are saying. I don’t speak Spanish.”

He kicked me squarely in the ribs several times as he kept yelling at me. Several minutes passed before I heard someone else speak.

“Déjenlo en paz.” “Leave him alone.”

Slowly I started to straighten out my legs. Movement was finally returning.

“Ah, Mr. Jensen… I see you survived your little trip.”

I didn’t recognize this man but his strong Mexican accent assured me that I was not back in Florida.

“But it’s not Adam Jensen any more. That man is dead. After they found your suicide note they still did a thorough search of the ship, but of course they found nothing. They even stopped the ship and circled it in the area where you may have jumped. You were declared missing at sea. Your coast guard even sent out planes and a few boats looking for your remains. After two days you’ll be declared officially dead.

“So from now on your name is Esclavo, nothing more, nothing less… just Esclavo.”

I looked at him a little confused as I worked the kinks from my muscles and joints. Suddenly two black haired thugs lifted me to my feet.

“What is your name, gringo?”

“Adam… Adam Jensen.”

“No!” he yelled as the back of his hand slammed into my cheek. “Your name is Esclavo. Now let me repeat the question smart boy. What is your name?”

“I told you it is Adam Jensen. Adam… Jensen.”

“We can continue this until the plane takes you out into the jungle tomorrow. It makes no difference to me.”

This time his fist lodged just under my rib cage.

“Uh – h – h – h….”

“The next time you don’t give me the right answer I’m going to hang you up by your balls from that rafter. Sooner or later you will respond correctly and show a little respect for your superiors. Now what is your name?” he asked emphatically as his hand grabbed my nuts.

“Esclavo.”

He squeezed my balls until I was moaning in pain.

“Again… what is your name?”

“Esclavo.”

“Again!”

“Esclavo.”

“Esclavo what?”

“What do you mean? You said it was just Esclavo.”

His finger clenched once more. “It’s Esclavo, Sir!”

“My name is Esclavo Sir,” I said reluctantly. “What’s going to happen to me now Sir?”

“You will be chained over in that corner for the night. When we finish our dinner you will be able to eat up our scraps and leftovers. In the morning we will fly you 300 miles out in the jungle where you will be properly trained. When we are satisfied, your fate is up to Mr. Rodriguez, but I would surmise that you will be sold at auction to the highest bidder.”

“What do you mean sold at auction?”

“Remember you are just a commodity, a worthless piece of property that belongs to Mr. Rodriguez. In fact, he owns many pieces of so called property – you know dogs, horses, cars and boats. And he owns you. You are nothing more than a piece of worthless property. That is why your new name is so fitting. If we translate Esclavo into English it means slave. You will be someone’s slave for the rest of your life.”

“Slavery doesn’t exist anymore. It’s illegal.”

“Ah, Esclavo… so naïve for such a smart man.”

“What if I return his money?”

“It’s too late for that. You are already dead and I would be willing to bet a peso to some dog s**t that you’ll wish you were really dead before it’s all over.”

“That’s the second time someone has suggested that. You seem to be a smart and very reasonable man… why do you say that?”

“Mr. Rodriguez is one of the richest men in all of Central America. You crossed him and now he will enjoy seeing you suffer as much as possible. The two guards that will be conducting your training are very, very mean men. They are true sadists and will make your next few months as miserable and agonizingly painful as possible. I guarantee it will take them a very short time to break you and trust me, they will enjoy it. You won’t however. That I guarantee.

“And then there’s Mistress Maria. She’s a lesbian who absolutely abhors men. When she has you in her clutches you’ll be praying to your god every day for a quick death.

“I know that you and your wife played little bondage games in your bedroom. That was mere child’s play compared to what the three of them will do to you.

“Ah, our dinner is here,” he said as he looked at the two guys that still held me. With just the pointing of his finger I was taken to the corner of the warehouse and thrown in a heap. One of the men knelt down, picked up a heavy chain and padlocked it tightly around my neck.

I watched with envy as they laughed and joked and enjoyed their meal. My stomach growled and hunger pains gnawed at my insides. After all it had been well over forty eight hours since I had anything to eat or drink. When they were done they scraped their plates onto one and put it on the floor in front of me as if I was a dog. I looked at the offering and held up my tightly clenched fist hoping for a fork or spoon. He just laughed and walked away.

I decided I would have to eat it like an animal. So on hands and knees I started to lap up the disgusting stuff. The first mouthful nearly brought tears to my eyes and started to take my breath away.

“Oh f**k!” The hot peppers burned my lips and tongue. Immediately I spit it back on the plate.

“What’s the matter, Esclavo, a little too hot for you?”

“A drink… please, Sir. It burns,” I struggled to say.

“You’ll have to get used to the peppers we use. Go ahead and finish your dinner. Then you can have some water. If you don’t clean your plate you get nothing to drink. Your trainers want it that way. They’re your boss from now on.”

I looked at the slop on my plate. There were a couple kinds of beans, a few chunks of fat and gristle, an assortment of tiny green and red peppers all held together with some kind of red, tomato-like sauce. Truthfully it was horrible. I had no idea how they ate such crap.

But I was hungry. As much as I hated the thought of eating their offering I worked my way from one side of the plate to the other. It was like eating red hot coals taken right from the fire. My lips and tongue burned worse than it does when the cheese from a hot pizza sticks to the roof of your mouth. The smell alone burned my sinuses, but after a while my mouth could not taste anything. I have never eaten anything like it in my life.

I used to make a pretty mean three alarm chili but that couldn’t hold a candle to this. We’d laugh when my mixture brought sweat to our eyelids, but this destroyed every taste bud in my mouth.

When I was done I moaned and begged incoherently for something to drink. One of them pushed an old rusty bucket that was filled with dirty, stagnant water within my reach. I looked at it but had no choice. I had to cool down the inferno that blazed in my mouth and throughout my digestive system.

After gulping several mouthfuls one of them spoke. “Don’t you Americans have a saying about Mexico?”

“What’s that?” I was finally able to answer.

“Don’t drink the water,” he replied with a hearty laugh.

He may be an evil man, I thought, but at least he has a sense of humor. But after that food I would have drank anything. It wouldn’t have mattered. Besides I doubt if anything could live in my system after being roasted by all those peppers.

“You want to know something else that’s funny?” he asked rhetorically. In the morning you’re going to be praying for ice cream. Ha – ha – ha – ha….”

I knew what he meant. Those peppers were going to burn just as much when they come out as they did when they went in. It was not going to be fun.

Before long my abductors were into a game of cards. They drank shots of tequila and bottles of beer. Me, I curled up in a fetal position as my stomach churned and worried about what lay ahead.

After a while they quieted down and finally dispersed. I had worried what they might do to me once they were drunk but it was like I wasn’t even there. Night had crept into the abandoned warehouse and brought with it a sense of loneliness and despair. I slept on and off, sometimes awakened by rats and other creatures as well as dreadful thoughts and nightmares about my future.

Sometime in the mid-morning I was suddenly awakened as a bucket of water was thrown on me. Obviously I hadn’t slept well during the night and my body craved some more sleep.

“Wake up, Esclavo. Someone is here to see you.”

As I opened my eyes and looked up I could not make out who it was. With the sun coming in through the broken out windows three figures were haloed by the morning’s rays.

“Esclavo, Esclavo, Esclavo… You disappoint me.”

Immediately I recognized his voice. A chill went up my spine as he spoke.

Slowly I struggled to my feet. It was a little difficult after my bout in the box and sleeping on the hard concrete floor last night.

“Mr. Rodriguez, please have mercy on me. Didn’t I make you a lot of money? I helped you disperse your money and hide it from the authorities.”

“Quiet! You stole from me.”

“No, Mr. Rodriguez, you don’t understand. I didn’t. I merely used some of it to make a profit for myself. I didn’t take any of your money. I returned it all. As your stock broker I’m entitled to a commission.”

“Silly boy… if you used my money to make a profit, those earnings are mine, not yours. And eight million dollars is a rather steep commission, don’t you think?”

“But…”

“There are no buts. You have made your bed and now you will sleep in it. You sold your soul to the devil and you’ll spend the rest of your days in hell. That I promise you.”