Slave: Zero Chapter 1: Chapter 1

Read chapter 1 of Slave: Zero by HEAVENLYLARPER on NovelPedia.

"Eric. 'YOU READY'!" His father yelled, as if he was yelling for his life. "Almost, give me a minute." Eric scoured through his shelf of new books, he asked his father to buy for him. "Found, song of the cell, found the song of ice and fire series,...ahh shit, where's that book about the civil war." He began searching through the bookshelf faster to avoid hearing his father's yelling again. And finally he found the inspirational book he heard so much about, from his history teacher. "Finally found it." He stared at the book with curiosity. "A long walk to water." The words escaped his mouth as if he had been possessed for just a single second. "Eric, what's taking you so long". His father's yell sent a frightened unexpected shiver down his spine. "I'm coming". "Hurry up". Eric stuffed the books down his book bag along with his laptop, notebook, and pens and pencils, and rushed down the stairs to the garage, with his luggage and book bag. His father stood next to the car, drinking a can of coke. "What took you so long? If we get there by nighttime, your granny will give me a headache amount of yelling. You know how she is". Hearing that, Eric chuckled softly. "Sorry, sorry, I was searching for those new books you got me". Eric's father let out a sigh. "When did you even get into reading". "Aaaah, about 5 months ago". "Is grandma going to have a feast?". His father took a moment to finish the can of coke before responding. "Of course, she hasn't seen us for about…4 years now. So yeah, the old lady is definitely cooking up a storm." Eric's father laughed briefly, followed with a light smile from his son. "Alright, let's go see the old woman". His father said, while throwing the coke can to the rubbish bin from about 20 feet away with insane accuracy. Everytime he sees his father perform impressive feats such as that, he would think his father could have been a famous Basketball player, rather than a famous model, if he pursued it when he was younger. "Mr. Deng, could you get the gate open". His father said ordering his gate man in a very kind respectful tone. The type of tone a person talks to their grandparents with. "Sure, saw". Mr. Deng exclaimed. Old Mr. Deng hurried to the gate, with speed not suited his age. Eric and his father told him repeatedly to be careful, but it seems to him and his father that old age comes along with great stubbornness. Eric and his father got into the BMW, and drove off. Before he left the compound, Eric turned back and waved at the saddened maids, they waved back with a smile that shivered. The staff were like his family. They came along to his trips, to Nigeria and Egypt, and even to the U.S to visit his mom. And everytime he got in trouble (which rarely happens) or got banned from drinking soda, the maids and Mr. Deng always came to his rescue and defended him. The reason why they aren't going with them was because they were from the Dinka tribe. Eric doesn't know why, but his grandmother doesn't like them at all. But he did know the protagonist of the book he wanted to read so badly was from the Dinka tribe. He also knew the protagonist was the one who was responsible for bringing water to South Sudan. So he finds it really hard to see why she dislikes the Dinka's. But putting that aside, in the course of the next couple weeks, they will miss each other dearly, even if it's just a couple weeks. Suddenly he wondered about something, his father never really told him how long the trip would take. "Hey, paps, how long until we reach South Sudan". "Well, am, from here there, it should take us about 9 hours". "9 hours". Eric said, shocked beyond belief. "Well, you see why I told you to hurry up". "But I thought it would take us about 4 hours". "You wish". His father said eyebrows high, followed with a smirk, that was made with nothing but amusement at the chance of them reaching South Sudan in just 4 hours. That seemed to be near miracle level to him. Eric let out a sigh to mentally prepare himself