Welcome! Here is the legal stuff. All legal disclaimers are in effect. If laws where you live prohibit reading material of an 'adult' nature or if you are under the minimum legal age required to do so, you should leave this site at once. Please do not read this if homosexual relationships disturb you.
All rights are reserved by the author.
This is a Fictional work. Any resemblance to anyone living or dead is coincidental. Only the main character, Andy van Ryan and the brief mention of Terry are based on a real persons.
I hope you enjoy it! Andrew van Ryan
Where No
One Owns The Rain
Part One
by Andrew Simon van Ryan
Copyright 2000. All Rights Reserved
The signing of the CanAmMex inter-trade agreement in 2010 was the tool that allowed all this to happen. The CanAmMex treaty was preceded by the market crash of 2007 which fueled the governments drive to stave off competition the EU had given North American Corporations. The United States decided to construct a treaty whereby the entire North American Continent would effectively be one massive economic 'SuperNation'.
Contained deep within the CanAmMex were two seemingly benign paragraphs. One allowed for smaller Central American and Caribbean nations to join the trading group and the other allowed for a corporation to 'hire' workers from one partner country and relocate them to work in one of the smaller partner countries. The reasoning was that the larger, more computer driven countries needed skilled technical workers while the smaller countries needed laborers with lesser talents. No one foresaw the use of these clauses to relocate workers considered 'undesirable' to the smaller countries, but once President Conner came to power that's just what happened.
Joshua Conner had run on the New American Party ticket. Five years earlier the NAP was considered a joke, a party of right wing wackos loosely based in the Pacific Northwest. When the market crashed in '07, people suddenly started listening to the finger pointing and name calling the NAP did so well. When Conner began his campaign he referred to his party as the "logical choice for a strong future'. He made promises that were impossible to keep. When the opposition candidates questioned his ability to make good on these promises he would deride them as 'faithless unbelievers that are the root of what's wrong with our country'. Once elected he moved quickly, using the CanAmMex in ways no one ever imagined. Evil ways. Immediately he issued an Executive order, sending anyone opposing his political views to the smaller partner countries where they were 'employed' by one of the Off Continent Corporations.
Even college educated, white collar executives suddenly found themselves 'reclassified' for having an 'outdated educated viewpoint'. No longer considered useful to the corporate level, these poor individuals soon found themselves computer clerical workers in some small nation beyond the protection of the laws of the United States.
Not that the laws protected the citizens anymore. That started going wrong before the turn of the century. Congress had slipped so many 'unnoticed' clauses inside of other bills that the public simply couldn't keep track of it. So they gave up trying and their rights were chipped away at an alarming rate. By 2004 most children were taken from their parents to be raised in state run 'school homes'. By the time Conner ran for office, most of the civil rights fought for in the 1960's had been lost. The laws providing equality had been repealed, one by one. Amongst the first group to lose their rights were homosexuals. This drove many gays back into the closet or underground. Then Conner came up with the idea of 'reclassifying' gays as third class workers, undesirable for the elite work force or the secondary force. They were considered unskilled and untalented.
Once discovered, a homosexual quickly found himself on a transport freighter, being 'reassigned' to one of the Off Continent Corporate Work Camps. It was the Third Reich all over again and America simply let it happen.
I had been an easy target. I was already a known homosexual from my work as an author. Shortly after the roundups began, they came for me and my boyfriend. They sent us to Miami on cargo planes and from there, shipped us by freighter transports to our new 'homes'. I don't know where my boyfriend was sent. He and I were separated for 'precautionary' measures in Miami. As the transportation security police drug him away screaming, I was certain I'd seen Terry for the last time.
When I discovered my destination was Panama I felt sick. Rumors had been spreading since the first roundup saying anyone sent to Panama wouldn't live long. It was considered the kiss of death. I knew it and decided to make a break at the first opportunity. It came much sooner than expected.
Hurricane season was at it's peak when the ship left Miami. Before we reached the first Off Continent Transfer Port in Havana, the warnings were out. Our ships captain decided to try going around Hurricane Jason. This gamble cost him, but played well for me.
Some of the other young men decided to try taking over the ship. Once the storm began rocking the freighter violently, they made their move. Several of them started what appeared to be a gang fight at the far end of the security detention compartment. Several of the guards entered 'the Pen' to break it up. A lone sentry entered through the doorway closest to me and I made my move. I slipped out quickly behind him as he gave the door a swing to shut it. Scurrying up the stairs I found myself exiting onto the aft deck. Standing in the wind whipped downpour I swiftly scanned for anything that would float.
As luck would have it, there was an emergency locker not more than ten steps away. I yanked it open and found two life vests and a small inflatable raft. I grabbed one vest and pulled it on over a shoulder. Holding the other vest I pulled the raft along behind me. I jerked the handle to begin inflating the raft and jumped over the retaining rail.
I hit the water flat on my back and the impact nearly drove all the air from my lungs. In desperation I clung to the expanding raft as I tried to inhale. I struggled for breath and just when I thought I wouldn't make it my lungs filled. I gasped heavily as the wind whipped seas began tossing me like a childs' toy.
The Hurricanes forceful winds pushed me onward though the rough sea. For how long? I have no way of telling. It seemed forever before the storm began to let up. Knowing most hurricanes lose their power when they come onshore, I figured I must be close to land. If it was the wrong land I was dead already. The rain and the clouds began to thin out and I strained to see. I found I could barely lift my head. Too exhausted to fight any longer, I passed out.
Stirring at the sound I regained consciousness. 'What was that?' I thought. I recognized the sound of waves breaking and my eyes popped open. I was less than fifty yards from a thin belt of sand behind which there stood jungle. Scanning for any human form up and down the beach I saw none. I let the waves carry the sagging raft into the shallows and I jumped out. I pulled it behind me as I stepped ashore and crossed the sand. It was less than ten feet into the trees and I hid the raft as soon as I could.
There was only one safe place and I prayed God had guided me there. With King Charles as their head of State, Belize was aligned with the EU. It was the only country in Mezoamerica the Off Continent Corporations didn't control. In very short time Belize had gone from being a 'going nowhere place on the road from nowhere place' to being what Cuba had been during the last half of the 20th Century. In short, a perceived 'threat' to the security of the United States. However, the US didn't dare attempt a takeover. The NATO and British/American Anti Aggression pacts, plus the UN Peaceful Nations Accord were still in effect.
If I had come ashore in Belize, it could be good or bad for me. It really depended on who detected me first. The Garifuna would treat any American coming ashore on a raft as a US spy. If the Mennonites found me, I'd be viewed with suspicion and handed over to the authorities. My best hope was to stay out of sight and look for an expatriate North American.
The US Congress had made expatriation illegal after '05, so these folks were becoming scarce. I hoped perhaps a son or daughter of an expatriate would find me. One thing was certain. I needed food and I needed it now!
As I began to cautiously venture deeper into the jungle I thought 'What was my crime?'. I was targeted for persecution because I loved another human being! In a world engrossed by hate, It seemed no one loved anymore. At least heterosexual North Americans didn't. Marriage was outlawed and any woman who got pregnant lost the child at birth to a government run Child Services Home.
The administration had decided in '07 that parenting was best left to the state. Within two short years, the 'Family unit' was a forgotten way of life, tossed aside as antiquated.
A rustling in the undergrowth ahead stopped me dead in my tracks. I stood frozen in fear as the sound of footsteps moved toward me. I was about to bolt when I saw him. Seventeen at the most was my first thought. North American, blonde hair and blue eyes, tanned from the tropical sun. Beautiful. He spotted me and called out "C'mon! This way!"
"Who are you?" I weakly shouted. He replied "Your salvation. Now get your ass moving before the Garifuna arrive. Hurry!" I had to decide to trust him or not. I stared directly into his eyes and saw something familiar. An expression of desperation and a look of persecution as well. "OK" I answered and started toward him. "Follow close" he said and turned to lead the way. "Where are you taking me?" I questioned. "Where no one owns the rain" he replied...
I followed him as closely as I could. However, my legs wobbled beneath me and running was a struggle. He kept urging me along until we came to the edge of a wide red dirt roadway. "Keep down" he whispered "We wait here for the truck. When I tell you, we're going to run and jump into the back of it. They won't stop. It's too dangerous. You think you can do it?" he asked. "I don't have a choice. I have to do it" I whispered still out of breath. He turned to glance at me and replied "Good. I knew you could do it." His attention returned to watching the road. "Where am I?" I asked the obvious question. "Belize. Near Placentia" he whispered "Closer to Seine Bight, though. That's why we gotta get you inland. Once you're inland and the Garifuna meet you, you're safe. If they catch you alone and on the shore, They assume you're a spy" Then he glanced toward me. "Instant Death" He whispered eerily.
We heard it at the same time. A truck was heading towards us from around a bend in the road. As the beat up and rusted 1977 GMC pickup came into view he said "OK. This is it!" He crouched and suddenly sprang toward the road. I followed hot on his heels, not wanting to miss the chance.
The old blue pickup barely slowed as we dove into it's open tailgate. Landing almost too short the boy grabbed my arm and pulled me to safety. He reached and pulled the gate shut, then lowered the hatch on the camper shell. "Made it" He puffed. "Thank God!" I said lying on my back and panting.
"You're Andy van Ryan. The writer?" He asked breathing hard. "How did you know?" I wondered at him. "It's all over the marine VHF channels" He explained "You escaped and they're horny to get you back." "I see" I replied "I was hoping they thought I'd drown." He chuckled and said "They do think you drown. It's your body they want. Just to make sure."
As I lay there catching my breath I became aware of the hollow feeling inside again. "Listen, I don't know how long its been, but I need to eat" I said "Anything!" He nodded and opened the back window into the cab. He reached up next to the driver and handed me a bag. Inside were fruits and cheese with a small end of bread. "Here and Welcome to Heaven" He replied. "Heaven?" I asked looking up from viewing the bags contents. "Yeah. It's the name we've given to the compound" He replied "We're the escaped slaves of the 21st Century." Looking out the side window, he added "Hard to believe, isn't it? Imprisoned in camps and worked to death. Who would've believed it could happen again?"
"I did, if you've read any of my books" I answered. He smiled and said "I have, but only recently. Two years ago I was still in high school and I knew nothing about politics or the system. Then someone outted me. I've learned a lot since then." The driver up front shouted for us to lay down until he passed the last small village before turning up the Hummingbird Highway.
I lay on my back and hastily peeled an orange. The fruit tasted to me like the best thing I'd ever eaten. Dirt would have tasted the same. I wolfed it down and peeled the two bananas, consuming them in an instant. "Better slow down Andy" He said to me. "All clear!" The driver shouted.
We say up and I studied my companion. "So, you know my name. What's yours?" "Ezekiel." He replied. "But everyone calls me Zeke." "How old are you, Zeke?" I asked. "I'll be twenty next month" He replied.
"You're twenty?" I asked. My salvation was only four years younger than myself!