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thelatvianblog · 1 year ago

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Jūrmala - Latvian city

Jurmala is the largest resort town on the Baltic Sea coast with a convenient geographical location – just over ten kilometers from the Latvian capital, Riga, and within a few hours' drive from Tallinn and Vilnius. The presence of the sea, a 24-kilometer-long beach, and the romantic wooden architecture give the city a unique charm. The city's history dates back two hundred years to when Europe discovered the healing properties of the sea and the first resorts began to form. Today, Jurmala is a place where nature, modern spa hotels, cultural heritage, and a contemporary city for business and leisure coexist.

Well-kept beaches and swimming areas Jurmala has a centuries-old tradition of beach culture, evolving to fit the lifestyle and habits of each era. Today, the 24-kilometer-long Jurmala beach, with its silky quartz sand and 11 well-kept beaches, attracts both locals and foreign tourists. The seashore in Jurmala is shallow for quite a distance, making it suitable for safe family swimming. The beaches are divided into calm and active relaxation zones, and there are cafes and children's playgrounds available.

Charming Jomas Street Jomas Street is the heart of Jurmala. It's a pedestrian street where vacationers and foreign visitors can be seen in all seasons and weather conditions. Legend has it that this is where the origins of Jurmala can be traced. In times when Jurmala's territory was still vast sand dunes, the sea breeze sculpted unique dunes and ridges, one of which eventually became the present-day Jomas Street. Today, Jomas Street is a center of public, cultural, and nightlife activities, offering numerous cafes and restaurants, quaint shops and souvenir stalls, street artists, entertainment venues, and cinemas.

Spa traditions and modern spas Nature has generously endowed Jurmala with unique healing resources. Jurmala is both a balneological and climatic resort, with therapeutic mud and the mild coastal climate enriched with pine forest air. The depths of the earth conceal mineral waters containing hydrogen sulfide, bromine, and sodium chloride, which have led to the formation of extensive deposits of therapeutic peat mud. Today, Jurmala's resort and medical facilities offer a wide range of therapeutic, rehabilitation, and spa services, making it an ideal place to combine leisure with health care.

Distinctive wooden architecture Wooden architecture, with its decorative turrets and glass verandas, is one of Jurmala's most prominent features. Wood was chosen for the construction of resort accommodations as early as the mid-19th century when vacationers began flowing to Jurmala from the cities. The unique aesthetics of wooden architecture embodied motifs of neoclassicism, Art Nouveau, and national romanticism of the time. Today, several historic buildings have been restored and are open to visitors, including the Rainis and Aspazija summer house, Aspazija's house, "Meža māja" (Forest House), and the Bulduri Exhibition House.

Great destination for children Jurmala is an excellent place for children to enjoy their vacation. There's no such thing as "boredom" here! The range of activities offered to children, both in the city and in nature, is so extensive that boredom simply doesn't exist. During the summer, Jurmala's beach turns into a 24-kilometer-long, spacious sandbox where kids can build sculptures, castles, or simply splash in the waves. The shallow waters of the bay are ideal for learning to swim, even for the littlest beachgoers.

In the Dzintari Forest Park, there's an adventure park called "Jurmala Tarzan" and a "Rope Park," offering activities of various levels of difficulty, suitable for all ages. The attractions at the Līvu Aquapark entertain both young and old, providing a tropical experience. Jurmala's entrepreneurs also offer special deals for children, ranging from attractive menus to special spa packages.

Harmony with nature Jurmala is one of the few European cities where you can not only breathe sea air but also enjoy the aroma of pine forests simultaneously. A third of the city is covered by forests, and the sandy beach is framed by pine-covered dunes. The forest has entered the city in the truest sense, bringing peace and harmony to its rhythm, and offering residents and guests the sense of balance that is so often lacking in the modern world. Nature enthusiasts can take a walk on one of Jurmala's nature trails, which stretch through ancient forests and even older swamps.

The flavors of Jurmala Jurmala has its own unique taste, where traditions of various culinary cultures blend with the unique flavors of local wildlife. The resort town's restaurant scene has been shaped by history, contemporary fashion trends, legendary local classics, and the daily rituals of Jurmala residents. Gastronomic journeys in Jurmala can take you to great dining places in the dunes or by the river, where, while enjoying your meal, you can watch sailing yachts and revel in the wonders of nature. It's just as easy to immerse yourself in the atmosphere of the Caucasus or meet exotic Eastern flavors. You can also journey through time and catapult yourself into the Soviet past. Or you can stay in the cosmopolitan present, where Italian and French cuisine dominates and is a matter of course.

Variety of culture and art Jurmala's historic open-air stages and concert gardens have been providing extraordinary outdoor concert experiences for over a century. Even today, in perfect symbiosis with natural lighting and distant waves.

Cultural and Artistic Diversity Jurmala's historic open-air stages and concert gardens have been providing extraordinary outdoor concert experiences for over a century. Even today, in flawless symbiosis with natural lighting scenography and the distant cries of seagulls, music delights audiences in the open Dzintari Concert Hall, on the beaches, and at the stages. History enthusiasts will find it fascinating to visit the Jurmala Museum, which houses over 60,000 items that tell the story of life in the resort from the late 19th century to the present day, including vintage postcards of Jurmala and works by renowned artists.

Jurmala boasts several galleries and exhibition halls where you can not only acquaint yourself with local artists but also participate in workshops and create your own works of art. Furthermore, following global trends, art in Jurmala has entered public spaces, with one of the busiest railway stations, "Dubulti," now transformed into a contemporary art space.

Enchanting Sunsets A sunset is a spectacle that requires no ticket, and the white sandy beach, where you can collect seashells as souvenirs, is the best place to watch it. Even in winter, when the sun in Jurmala sets not far beyond the sea horizon as it does during the warmer seasons but more to the left, the calm shores and the water still exquisitely display a color palette of pinks and oranges. Jurmala's beach stretches for 24 kilometers and offers a variety of spots, including quiet coves, apart from the brisk waves, to satisfy every visitor.

Active Recreation and Sports Sun, sea, wind, white sands, kilometers of coastline, and pine-scented air – Jurmala's natural environment is conducive to a wide range of active recreational activities. Alongside leisurely strolls, simple jogs, and Nordic walking along the seaside, through forest trails and hills, beach volleyball or soccer on the dunes, romantic adventurers and wind enthusiasts can opt for water skiing and kiteboarding. Along the coast, you'll find several well-equipped swimming spots, along with opportunities to rent boats, kayaks, stand-up paddleboards, and windsurfing boards, as well as excursions on riverboats, historic sailboats, and yachts. Golf enthusiasts can play golf at Jurmala Golf Club & Hotel, while tennis and squash are available at the "Lielupe," the most modern tennis center in the Baltics. In winter, Jurmala's beach transforms into a snowy 20-kilometer cross-country skiing track, and skiers can explore pine-covered hills and sometimes even the frozen bends of the Lielupe River.

A Resort for Every Season Jurmala is a unique destination in every season. In the summer, Jurmala lives the classic life of a seaside resort town. In spring and autumn, it attracts those who seek a peaceful and leisurely getaway in nature to improve their health and rejuvenate. During this time, the beach is ideal for cyclists, Nordic walkers, and lovers of peaceful walks. When winter arrives, the resort buzzes with pre-holiday excitement, and Dzintaru Forest Park is transformed into a snowy fairytale with thousands of lights. Jomas Street dazzles with the city's Christmas tree, and local cafes and restaurants pamper visitors with delicious food and warm drinks.

Cold-season water pleasures can be enjoyed at the "Livu Aquapark" or in one of the many spa complexes, where after a wintry stroll, you can warm up in mineral water baths or relive summer by plunging into a pool with warm seawater.

#jurmala #latvia #city #culture

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uzumaki-rebellion · 5 years ago

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Wet Sugar [Part 8 of 30]

Summary: Erik tries to survive Africa for himself and Yani...

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"You're on your own now We won't save you Your rescue squad Is too exhausted

And if you complain once more You'll meet an army of me And if you complain once more You'll meet an army of me…"

Bjork – "Army of Me"

The two men outside of Erik's hotel door stood quietly waiting for him to open up.

Erik took a few seconds to assess how fast he could pack his things and slip out of the room through the balcony. He was on the fourth floor, but he might be able to climb over to the balcony next to his.

Another knock.

Slipping on his clothes, Erik shoved his computer tab into its casing. He slinked over to the closed balcony sliding glass door and opened it. There was a wide gap between the balconies on either side of his own. It was too dangerous to attempt a jump. He thought he could tie his bedsheets together and climb down to the room below him, but before he could even reach the bed, the hotel door opened, not by being kicked in, but with a room key.

Someone had set him up.

The two hulky men rushed Erik and he used his crossbody bag to snag the hand holding the gun pointed at him. He wrapped the bag around the bearded man's wrist and swung him around, kicking him in the knees at the same time until the man dropped to the floor. Erik twisted the gun toward the man's throat and jammed his own index finger on top of the other man's finger and squeezed the trigger. The bullet ripped a wet hole in the man's throat unleashing a gushing cascade of blood. Erik released the gun and spun into a capoeira leg swipe to make the other bald-headed man lose his balance. The bald intruder was too quick and grabbed Erik's throat, choking him while pushing him out toward the balcony.

Erik dug his heels into the floor to stop the man's momentum but he was outweighed by at least fifty pounds and Erik felt the hard jab of the hotel balcony railing digging into his lower back. Before this killer had a chance to reach for his gun, Erik switched up his mother's Brazilian fighting stance to that of his father's. Ulwa was a Wakandan martial art that targeted an opponent's core and vital organs and Erik's index and middle fingers curled into hooks. He struck the man's neck twice and then made quick punctuating stabs into his chest and sides.

For an all too brief moment, Erik had the brute backing up so that he could raise his body from the railing, but a fist made like a cement block knocked Erik in the jaw throwing him back again. That strike was joined by a barrage of punches that had Erik gasping and falling to his knees, his hands twisting and jabbing to stop more blows while protecting his neck and face.

The business end of a gun was jammed against his forehead and the cool metal made him take hot shallow breaths. His eyes stared directly at the hired killer's pockmarked face, a calm coming over him as he worked out a multitude of scenarios to get himself out of this alive. It wasn't the first time a weapon had been stuck in his face over the years, so there was no begging and pleading to be kept alive. Just a stream of calculations running through his mind.

"Who fucking sent you here?" he barked, buying a little more time. The man's eyes looked smug, and he smiled. One of his top front teeth was chipped and he pressed the gun harder into Erik's forehead. The stranger slid his free index finger up to his lips making the "Shh" sign and before he could fire the weapon, Erik used all the force in his right fist to punch the man in his balls. Twice. He snatched the man's gun from his hand and threw it into the hotel room as he jumped to his feet. They grappled with each other's shirts and Erik threw a punch that caught the man's eye. Leaping back with his left leg, Erik pivoted his hips giving momentum to his right foot as he lifted it and kicked the man in his chest. He struck the man in the face with his right foot again and again. A final hard kick to his midsection sent the man tumbling over the railing. Erik heard the thud as the body hit the ground.

Wasting no time, Erik shoved the man's weapon into his crossbody bag and scurried to pack up the last of his belongings. They all fit into a small duffle bag. He spent a few minutes wiping down all the surfaces he touched and then rinsed off the wash rags he had used to clean up his semen.

Turning off all the lights, he slipped out of the hotel room and used the stairs to get to the lobby. Dark glasses over his eyes, he kept his head down and left the hotel. Flagging a cab, he had the driver take him to another hotel across town.

Erik paid for a room in the new hotel with cash and made a call to his pilot.

"Joma, I need to leave tonight," he said into his cell. Staring out of the new hotel window, Erik felt his adrenaline kicking in. He was always calm in the midst of trouble, but right after, his body would remind him that he was human.

"Mr. Killmonger, it is so late, it may be difficult to get—"

"I'll double the pay. I need to get out of the country now!"

"Call me back in ten minutes. I will see what I can do."

"Ten minutes."

Think.

Joma was a desperate man, but Erik didn't think he would be involved in a plot to kill him. It might be better to get a regular domestic flight back into Angola to be safe. But if it was Joma, they would be the only two in the plane. Erik could kill him if it turned out the man was an accomplice. He could fly the plane himself if he really needed to. But he was always good at sniffing people out, and Joma was just a regular dude. His desperation was because of a bossy wife and too many children. He wouldn't take the chance of bringing harm to his family. He knew right away that Erik was not a man to double-cross. In fact, Joma was eager to work for Erik again once he saw what he was paying for a regular flight.

Erik kept his eyes on the entrance of the hotel.

Time to call.

"Joma—"

"Okay, meet me at the airstrip. I will take you."

Erik hung up. Wiping his prints and any traces of himself away, he left the second hotel.

The streets were busy and the cab he caught he ditched a few miles away from the hotel to throw off his trail if he was followed. Moving through the night time crowd of people, he zig-zagged his way down different streets, dipping in and out of bars and cafes before he took a final jitney cab to the airstrip. The last cab driver was paid a little extra than the fare required and Erik showed him the gun that he took from the intruder. Pointing it at the man he made his intentions clear.

"You never saw me, and you never came to this airstrip. Understand?"

The cabbie nodded and left right away.

Joma was waiting for him and they slipped out of Benin. Staring down at the city lights as the plane ascended, Erik thought of the two dead bodies growing cold at the hotel. He had to find out who was after him.

And kill them first.

###

Erik didn't mention anything about being attacked in Benin.

He acted normal and ready to get to work when Klaue picked him up from the regular airport and brought him back to the Luanda compound. He went to his small room in the two-story house they occupied and rested a bit. He focused on calming his energy, but it was hard when he suspected that the attack might be an inside job. A lot of Klaue's men didn't like him. But not many were bold enough to confront him if they had a problem. Erik could be pretty belligerent and a bully over basic shit, so coming at him over something major was not something any of those meat bags would attempt overtly. But covertly…

His first thought was Huntsman. That man was already in Nigeria waiting for Klaue so it would've been easy for him to pay off some goons to come after Erik since he was relatively close by. It could possibly be Limbani, Klaue's main man after Erik. He would just have to keep an eye and ear out for anyone acting suspiciously over the fact that he made it back to Luanda in one piece. Any slight looks of surprise or a subtle expression of disappointment at his walking around the compound again would help him sniff out clues.

He couldn't rest, and he took a sleeping pill to help temper his nerves. He wasn't falling asleep fast enough and used the restless energy in his body to use his own satellite cell phone to sneak a peek at his DMs.

Killmonger? This You?

I know this is you. Where are you?

You there? I know you saw my first message. You had me on read.

Call me.

Will you come back?

Are you alright?

Just tell me you are alright. I won't bother you again.

Are you with your Linda?

Killmonger?

???

He ignored his social media feed for weeks. He could hear the sound of Yani's tender voice as he read each of her messages. He read them over and over. His eyes felt a bit drowsy and blurry as he stared at the screen of his cell. He was about to swipe his phone off when a new message suddenly popped up.

Sweet Pea misses you. I miss you.

Erik sat up from his bed, his eyes blinking at her new words.

He had extended family scattered around the world, and they missed him often, but they weren't waiting around to see him. The only person who ever missed him in that way was his Ex. That was so long ago he had forgotten the emotion and the sensation he was feeling at that moment…guilt. Guilt came when one felt bad for making another person feel even worse. And that only happened to Erik when he cared about someone. And Disǎ was the only non-relative who made him feel like that…until now. Now, there were two people out there. A mother and her baby.

I know you're there. You just read this.

He saw little green circles light up. She was writing something more. He wanted to turn his phone off, kicking himself internally for not shutting off his public online status. She must've had his feed linked to her notifications for whenever he was on live the same time she was. He had to focus on who wanted him dead, not lay there like some moon-faced teenager filled with angst.

He expected another text but instead, a picture of Sydette popped up.

Erik's eyes widened. He had only been gone for a little over a month, and already the baby was bigger and changing dramatically. She was wearing a blue jumper and her hair was pulled up into two fist-sized afro puffs. So much more hair now. And there were those big dimples in her smile, and…two little teeth trying to grow from her top gums, looking like tiny white grains of rice.

Yani…

He typed her name but hesitated about sending it. He could just read her messages and not respond, knowing that she was alright, but ignoring her.

But that was cruel.

She and the baby were on his mind all the time. As much as he fought to forget them and just keep on his task, keep Klaue close, keep his eyes on the prize as always, he couldn't let go of them. He didn't understand the sudden attachment. It was messing up his mental. He was a loner. His only responsibility was to himself and his goal…

He pressed the send button.

Yani.

Green circles again.

Her words made his heartache.

Tell me it's you, please, tell me. I need to know.

Words wouldn't be enough for her.

Erik held his cell phone high above his head and snapped a picture. He sent it to her.

He saw the green circles on her end and he waited to see what she would say. But no words came. For five minutes he sat and waited, but no text popped up for him to read. He saw that she viewed his picture, Yani knew for sure it was him, but she still didn't send him new words. And he needed them. Desperately.

It's me, baby. It's really me.

A private Face Chat link popped onto his screen with Yani's avatar. He accepted the invitation to join her.

Her round face greeted him and her eyes were wet with tears. She was lying on her bed in Leona's apartment with Sydette in her arms feeding her. He could see Sweet Pea suckling her left breast with Yani's thin sleep shirt pushed up above the baby's curly head of hair. Yani was using a laptop to speak to him.

She wiped her eyes and stared at him. He couldn't breathe for a second. Couldn't speak. Just watched her feed the baby while trying to absorb the swirling emotions he was feeling. He was grateful to see her. Happy to see Sydette. And he was scared. The fear welled up in him and he could not ascertain exactly what it was that frightened him as he looked at this young woman with her child.

"You look tired, Killmonger," she finally said.

Her voice made his lower lip tremble. He longed to hear her say his real name.

"I am tired. Tough day, girl."

Her hand went up to her face again to wipe at her eyes.

"Sweet Pea…she uh…wow, she's really growing, huh?" he said.

Yani nodded and he could see her struggling to keep her composure, her chest heaving and causing Sydette to squirm in her arms. Her eyes gazed down at the baby.

"She changes every week almost. And these new teeth coming in…whew!"

Erik laughed and he was glad to see Yani smile. She lifted her head back up to look at him.

"You're not ever coming back, are you?"

He felt the hot tears slide down from his eyes. He had no control over them and was shocked that they fell from his eyes in front of her so easily. If he had a target on his back, he didn't want to bring it with him to her.

"Yani I—"

The door to his room flung open and Erik ended the chat with a swipe of the finger. His right hand swept under his pillow and brought out the gun he took from the hotel.

"You still up, man?"

Shipley staggered in with a can of beer. Erik's mind was so distracted that he forgot to lock his room. He slipped the gun under the covers near his hip.

"I'm about to go to sleep now."

"Who were you talking to?"

"My sister."

"Come have a beer with me, I'm bored. Everyone else is asleep but there's a match on. England versus France."

"I'll pass," Erik said turning over in his bed and switching off his bedside lamp.

"Party pooper."

Shipley closed his door. Erik waited a few minutes then leaped up to lock his room. He thought about calling Yani back on the Face Chat line, but he couldn't bear to see her cry again. It would only make him break down more too. It was enough for now that she knew he was fine.

He shoved the gun under the second pillow on his bed and tried to go to sleep, wanting so badly to dream of Yani and Sweet Pea. Wanting so badly to be in the bed with them at Leona's. He wanted to hold her while she held the baby. And maybe for once…just once…be still.

###

Erik checked all ten of the trucks loaded with assault rifles and made sure numbers matched up with all paperwork needed to cross the Angola borders into Zambia and Namibia. Their stockpiles of weapons were low once this last shipment went out, but another one of Klaue's cargo planes from South Africa was due to touch down in a few hours with the armaments the Nigerians wanted.

"Relax Killmonger, I've double checked everything," Limbano said, annoyance in his voice as Erik's eyes took in everything.

"And now I'm triple checking. Can't afford to miss anything. You remember last time."

Limbano kept his mouth shut. 500 man-portable air-defense systems were loaded onto an incorrect convoy headed out of Luanda into the Congo, and disaster was averted when Erik's OCD kicked in and he had to look over the paperwork and trucks himself. Limbano was in charge of that job and nearly botched it.

Secure that everything was in order, Erik gave the head nod to move out and he sought out Klaue.

"Flights on time," Klaue said typing into a laptop as he sat under a cooling tent.

"Good," Erik said.

"Got a little nibble for some grenades and small arms in Botswana," Klaue said, his eyes twinkling with the thought of another sale.

"And?"

"I'm ready to get up outta here, man," Erik said.

"In and out. Half payment upfront, the rest on delivery. Then a nice week off before we head to Kabul. Four-man team cut four ways only."

"Who do you have in mind besides me?"

"Limbano and Iverson. Low key. Go in like tourists. Check the players out. Take the cash. Set up delivery."

Erik needed to keep this man close. Klaue's greed had him doing penny-ante jobs that were more for the thrill than for financial gain. Erik needed this fucker alive until he was ready to kill him and use his body as a bargaining chip. Turning him down could cause problems and force the man to cut him loose in the future if he felt Erik was being selective with jobs. He was supposed to be about that money. He had to do it. Especially if he wanted to take advantage of getting back to St. Thomas and locked into the man's stronghold.

"How soon?"

"Two days from now."

"Okay."

Klaue rubbed his hands together.

"My good man! Two more jobs and then a nice long break."

Erik looked at Klaue's prosthetic arm. It appeared tampered with and not in good condition.

"What's going on with that?" he asked.

"Making some alterations, but it's not doing so well. Need to figure out how to design something with a better energy transfer without shorting out the mechanical use. It's too uneven. I could blow my entire side out."

"When I have that vacation time you keep talking about, I'll come up with something for you to fix that," Erik said. Klaue smiled.

Erik nodded to the lead truck driver and watched the vehicles head out. Africa was wearing on him. The one bright spot was finding a hired guard for the Luanda compound who shared the origins of capoeira with him once he saw Erik working out under the hot sun during a lunch break. To be in the birthplace of the fighting style he learned from Brazilians who carried it with them into the New World was an honor he couldn't deny. Ramses, the guard who played with him and showed Erik the differences in style was a humble man with a sister and disabled brother to support.

Erik shared meals with Ramses and they spoke of wars and political fiascos infecting the region. Men like Klaue made the problems worse, but many Angolans were caught trying to survive any way they could. Men like Ramses tried to minimize harm to their families. Klaue paid well, and sometimes men were killed in his employ, but Ramses had survived three years and counting. A month's salary from Klaue could keep Ramses and his family afloat for six months.

The night before Erik was to fly into Botswana, he snuck another peek at Yani's timeline under a new fake social media account. More pictures of Sydette. More pictures of Yani at the beach posing in swimsuits. Provocative shots. Showing too much in Erik's opinion.

There was one of her in an orange two-piece that made her skin look like magic as she sat back with a smile on her face, her legs open on wet sand, foamy high tide water rolling up to the apex of her thighs, her fat vulva barely covered. His face got a little tight looking at the picture. He enlarged it so he could see the outline of her pussy lips clearer. He wanted to send her a DM telling her to stop sharing photos like that, but she would know it was him. Niggas online were getting an eyeful and he was hanging on by a thread trying to get back to her so he could taste that juicy center of hers once more. He was tired of being just another faceless digital creep jerking off to her photos. He did that more often than he cared to admit. That pussy had sat on his dick once. Albeit fully clothed, that covered slit was made for him, and he couldn't wait to lift her up again and drop her down on his shit raw. Put her ass to sleep.

Klaue acted on edge the entire flight to Botswana. No, not on edge. Hungry. Hungry for some grand scheme that would satiate the greed that would never leave him. The greed permeated all that Klaue touched. Made him reckless with decisions.

Erik had been to Botswana twice before, and each time felt sketchy, to say the least. Something about the smallness of the place made him cautious. In other countries on the continent, Erik felt that one could seamlessly blend in and disappear, but with this place, there was no telling what familiar face on the mercenary circuit could pop up…friend or foe. Or both in the same individual.

They stayed two nights in a hotel near the Zimbabwe border doing touristy things like they were a group of buddies on holiday. Klaue wanted to arrive at the border post right when it was evening, that way if they sensed problems with the meet-up, they could implement an escape and evasion plan. Each man had emergency cash sewn into their utility belts in case something happened and they were separated. Erik had several thousand British pounds and a fake passport in his belt. The jeep they rented from a local had plenty of gas to get them to their meet-up. They reached the customs post and waited in line behind two Scottish blokes who were hitchhiking through Zimbabwe.

"Sir, these men need a ride to a hotel. Could you give them a lift?"

The short customs official had a pleasant face as he asked Klaue to assist the strangers. Klaue gave a wide grin that showed off his gold-rimmed teeth.

"No problem!" Klaue said.

The short custom official looked pleased and set about getting the proper customs documents that they would need for their jeep to cross the border. Erik felt calm as he watched the sun dip low on the horizon. Darkness would be their friend. This customs dude just needed to step up his paperwork game so they could leave quickly and be on their way.

"Shit," the customs guy said.

Erik and the other men watched him closely.

"I am sorry, I don't have the papers here to document your vehicle properly—"

"Just have one of them drive you over to the other border and bring back some extra forms," another customs official said looking bored as he scratched the back of his neck.

Klaue jumped at the chance to do it. It would mean that their vehicle would probably avoid being checked. Klaue and Limbano had some weapons stashed in the paneling of the doors. Erik agreed to go with Klaue and have Limbano and Iverson stay behind.

The ride over was punctuated with Klaue talking way too much to the customs agent. Erik felt like over-talking was suspicious, but he kept his mouth shut and kept his eyes on the road.

Arriving at the control point at the other border-crossing, Erik and Klaue stepped out and followed the agent as he went to retrieve their needed papers. Things were already feeling off, and Erik kept his eyes on Klaue who was less loquacious. Standing near the desk of an on-duty policeman, Erik noticed a full-faced photo of Klaue and Limbano. Right there, out in the open. Descriptions and a listing of their crimes. Fucking wanted posters smack dab in the middle of a border checkpoint. Probably had one of Erik under theirs too. All the check-points probably had the same flyers everywhere.

The policeman hadn't made the connection of the photo with the man before him and Erik slid over to Klaue.

"There's a wanted poster of you and Limbano," Erik whispered.

"Shit," Klaue said when his eyes spotted his mug shot.

"They shopped your ass and we walked right into it," Erik said under his breath while avoiding eye-contact with Klaue. A loud jangling phone rang in back of the customs office and the policeman glanced at the flyer on his desk and then up at Klaue. His eyes went back to the photo again and then things clicked.

"It's him! It's him!" The policeman jumped up and yelled for someone to bring a gun. Uniformed officials swarmed around them.

"There are two more over at checkpoint three," said the customs agent that rode over with him, his voice giddy with excitement. Chatter on a police radio alerted their Zimbabwe counterparts that Klaue had been apprehended. Erik focused his breathing to stay even. Within twenty minutes, Limbano and Iverson were brought in, all of them now in police custody. Erik did his best not to think of all the years he put in to get to Wakanda and to have that goal bashed because he would now do time in a Botswana prison because of his ties to his secret enemy. His mind immediately went to his Uncle Bakari in D.C. He would be allowed to have a lawyer and he wanted his Uncle to represent him since his specialty was International Law. More practical calculations swam in his head. He had to get the fuck away from here. He didn't want to lose Klaue over his reckless stupidity and greed, but he also had to think of his own well-being. His own survival. Without Klaue, getting into Wakanda would prove more difficult, but not impossible.

The four of them were crammed into the jeep they had driven over in. Police vehicles escorted them from the front and back over to a larger local police base. Their car was searched and their weapons were found in the door paneling. Shit was just too smooth. Erik wondered if this bust was part of the set up to have him killed in Benin.

Erik exchanged glances with Klaue, Iverson, and Limbano. It was do or die time. He noticed that none of the officers had guns on them, just two that stood near the vehicles and the main office door. The longer they were there, the faster their lives would be put in danger. Erik's Special Forces training kicked in. Rule number one: don't waste fucking time.

Erik sucker-punched the official right next to him. Klaue and the others did the same quickly knocking the men down. They all made a run for the tall security gate that divided the two countries. Erik was in top shape and reached the fence first, scrambling over it with ease.

Two officials tried grabbing for Klaue and Iverson's legs as they went up, but Lambino helped beat them back before he was scampering up the chain links himself. The falling darkness was their friend as they rushed into the bush on the other side disappearing into the early night, turning into shadows that the officials couldn't see.

They wasted little time putting distance between themselves and the fence. Erik heard the sound of tripped up feet. When he stopped to glance back, he saw Klaue limping.

"My ankle is injured from the fence," he said between gritted teeth, the pain squeezing a few tears from his eyes. Klaue would have to keep moving through the injury or he was a dead man.

"Broken? Torn ligaments?" Erik shouted.

"It just fucking hurts," Klaue said running on it through clenched teeth.

"Keep moving forward. The Zambezi is up ahead. We'll find a boat and get across!" Limbano yelled.

The four men headed in the direction that smelled like water to Erik. Iverson helped Klaue along.

Hope sprung eternal as they found a makorro, a wooden dugout canoe sitting on the bank. Erik and Limbano pushed it out onto the water, and as they all hopped in to make their getaway with the oars lying inside of it, the damn thing sank under them once they were far from the shore.

Treading water in the dark, Erik could see people lining up and down the riverbank screaming at them. Shots rang out and he could hear bullets plopping into the water near them. They had to move further out and downstream. And that brought another immediate danger. Crocs and hippos.

"Fuck!" Iverson screamed.

He'd been hit by one of the bullets whizzing over their heads. Struck in the left shoulder and also grazed on the left side of his head.

"How bad?!" Erik yelled.

"Bullet passed through," Iverson yelped.

"Keep fucking swimming!" Klaue screamed and they all moved along with the strong current of fast-flowing water.

Erik swam like a dolphin but kept his eyes on Klaue to make sure the man survived. He was doing his best with his arms, but his injured ankle made it difficult to keep up. The man struggled but kept swimming.

"Keep going! We can make it!" Erik yelled to encourage the others. He didn't care about Limbano or Iverson. Klaue had to make it out of there with him.

Searchlights scanned the water, and Erik could hear splashing and movement in the current that wasn't coming from humans. Iverson's blood was attracting the large crocs, and Erik was surprised they hadn't been attacked by them yet.

The river itself had to be half a mile across, and Erik kept his eyes on land as the dark water soaked his mouth as he tried to breathe deep to keep his body going. It was terrifying to think that he could be dragged under the current by a hungry fourteen-foot-long and twelve- hundred-pound beast. He worried about the amount of blood loss Iverson was seeping into the river creating a crimson path right to them.

Hours had passed by the time they all made it to Zambian territory, floating through to the dense thickness of a reed bank that stretched out hundreds of yards into the river from the bank. Zimbabwe and Botswana had already rung the alarm in tracking them down. Klaue was worth a pretty penny to whoever ratted him out to the borders. The Zambezi sat conjoined with three countries, Botswana, Zambia, and Zimbabwe. Any and all of those nation-states could want Klaue. Hell, even his own country of South Africa too.

With no machete to slice through the thick reeds, they would each have to force down reeds in front of them, flatten them down as best they could and drag themselves over until they encountered the next standing reeds blocking their ease to dry land. Erik could see torches burning up and down the opposite side of the river as perhaps a hundred men searched for them. Fast boats could be heard and a few seen with spotlights going up and down the water.

He was fucking drained and yet he knew he couldn't stay there. None of them could. The search teams would get closer and closer and the Zambians were already on their side searching. It would only be a matter of time before they were discovered. And Klaue couldn't move for shit. His ankle had swollen up big and he was in immense pain. His anger was just as intense as he whispered to Limbano about who could've sent their photos to the authorities when only the four of them knew about the meetup. Limbano gave his opinion, but Iverson kept quiet, pressing his hand into his wound. The moon was half full and they kept themselves hidden in the reeds, resting for a moment. They were exposed alongside the water. Zambia's militia would find them and take them back into custody if they didn't do something fast. Erik slipped his emergency cell from his utility belt. Klaue did the same.

"I'm not getting reception on mine," Erik said.

"Me neither," Klaue said.

"I lost mine back in the jeep," Limbano said.

"Lost mine in the river," Iverson said. He moaned a bit as he held his body.

"We gotta keep moving," Erik said lifting his hand up to wipe water from his eyes.

"Shh, listen!" Klaue said.

They all remained silent.

Shouts.

They could hear men in the distance. They were getting progressively closer.

"They are being thorough," Klaue said. He moaned low into his chest. His ankle was even more swollen.

Iverson gave out a loud groan.

"Keep it down," Klaue said.

"I'm in pain too!" Iverson shouted.

"Shut the fuck up. You want them to hear you?" Erik said.

For three hours they listened to the voices in the distance grow closer.

"We gotta get back in the water," Erik said.

"I can't!" Iverson howled.

Erik crawled over to the man and shoved him into the water. Iverson flailed his arms and dragged himself back up onto the reeds.

"Shit!" Limbano screeched and Erik jumped just out of reach of a croc that snapped its powerful jaws missing him by inches. He lifted his body and scrambled over to Klaue. The croc lingered for a moment before drifting back down into the water.

Voices.

Much closer. Perhaps a half a mile away.

Erik could face prison time, torture, and death in an African nation that would never care to find his people, or he could try to outswim an ancient cousin of dinosaurs. Choices.

"Fuck it," Klaue said rolling himself back into the Zambezi with a soft plop. Erik searched the water for the crocs. If Klaue's arm was working properly, they could use him for protection. He was useless. Especially with a busted ankle.

"We gotta keep quiet and slip away. No sudden splashing. The croc will ignore us…maybe," Erik said.

Limbano slipped in without hesitation. He had been to prison in West Africa before. Facing a croc was a piece of cake apparently. Iverson was the only holdout.

"I think we should stay here," Iverson said, lifting himself higher into the reeds.

"Suit yourself," Erik said.

Iverson sat up and a cell phone fell out of his fatigue's side leg pocket. Erik reached over and snatched it up.

"You said you lost your phone in the river," Erik said checking the status on the fold-up cell.

"Klaue," Erik said. He tossed the cell to the man who caught it.

Klaue glanced at the phone, then over at Iverson.

"Coordinates, mate? This is all your doing?" Klaue asked.

"I thought I lost it…those…those are just coordinates to help get downriver—"

"Stop," Erik said.

Iverson was part of the crew out to get Erik and Klaue. Iverson was a pawn.

Klaue gave Erik a look. Erik nodded at him before his arms shot out and grabbed Iverson dragging him into the water.

"Don't! Wait a minute-!"

Erik ignored Iverson's pleas and shoved his head down into the river water. After ten seconds he lifted the man back up. Iverson thrashed wildly, and Erik positioned his arms and hands on the man to calm him.

"Chill, Iverson. We just want to know who put you up to this," Erik whispered in his ear.

"No one put me up to anything—"

Erik twisted the man's head, breaking his neck.

"Croc!" Klaue shouted. Erik pushed Iverson's limp body into the maw of the river beast and the three of them pushed away from the reeds to put distance between themselves and the feeding frenzy that the croc was enjoying shredding Iverson's flesh and bones before it dipped below the surface with the remains.

###

Exhaustion held him in a twilight of life and death. All three men floated on their backs as the current carried them downriver once more. For once in his life, Erik thought he might actually fail. So much of his plans depended on keeping Klaue alive, that Erik forgot that he had to stay alive himself.

Clutching onto Klaue's arm and helping the man stay afloat, Erik considered letting him go. Surrounded by killers, crocs, and deadly hippos, Erik contemplated swimming to shore and just walking out of the bush. He could very well blend into an African population. His picture wasn't the one plastered on wanted posters. They wanted two white men from South Africa.

"Shit."

Erik's thoughts distracted him and he had let go of Klaue for a second. The man's eyes were so done. Erik made the decision to go back to the bank and find a place to hide in the bush. The river would kill them all if they stayed in the swirling vicious waters. He grabbed for Klaue again to help the man focus. Limbano helped him and they finally made it on dry land just as dawn was breaking. They didn't even know what country they were in, losing all sense of direction after being in the river all night.

Erik rolled over onto his back closing his eyes tight.

Rest.

That's what he needed.

His body gave into complete exhaustion and right before he drifted away, he thought of Yani. His eyes caught the shimmery light of the new day's sun and when it struck the river, his bone-weary mind created a mirage of her, swimming nude in the Zambezi river, beckoning for him to follow her. That sly smile on her lips, the sway of her hips, the jiggle of her backside held him in a peaceful dreamlike state as his body slowly powered down.

Goddess, that was the nickname Tahir had given Erik's woman. There she was, swimming in the swirling murky river water, breasts still full from the milk she carried for their daughter. He smiled at the thought. Name it and claim it. Sydette was his. No one could tell him different.

Voices again.

Closer.

They weren't going to make it. Klaue was too far gone with his leg. He and Limbano were too tired to fight off anyone, limbs water-logged and limp.

"You're not ever coming back, are you?"

Her last words to him.

He struck the damp earth with his right fist. He had let that girl down. Gave her false hope by letting her see his face, and now he was never going to see her again.

His eyes drifted back to the river and the sun pierced his retinas, burning the sight of her back again. She was still there, his Yemanja, hands still waving toward him.

"Baby…" he whispered before blacking out.

###

"Killmonger…"

Erik shot straight up, Yani's voice in his ear.

Eyes darting around, he saw Klaue and Limbano passed out on the bank near him. He checked his watch. Four hours. He had been out for four hours. Yani's voice woke him up. It sounded like her lips were right near his ear as if she had been sleeping next to him and wanted him to wake up suddenly.

Jumping up, Erik took a moment to listen for the noise of his would-be captors.

Quiet.

The silence unnerved him, but he had to take a chance and go look for help in escaping. He left Klaue and Limbano behind and trudged through the bush. He found a well-traveled road and before he could hide, a Range Rover pulled up.

"Hey!" The driver said. For a split-second Erik almost ran, but he recognized the driver. He was a ranger that Klaue had introduced him to back at the hotel they stayed in Botswana. Shit, they were back on the side of the river and country they had started from.

"Looks like you've been swimming my friend," the driver said. Tim. That was his name.

"Yeah, wasn't by choice though. Can you give me and my friends a ride back to our hotel? We have money," Erik said.

"Hop in!"

"Give me a few minutes," Erik said.

Tim pulled the Range Rover over and waited.

"Where have you been?" Klaue said when he saw Erik running like a mad man back to the river's edge.

"Let's get the fuck outta here," Erik said lifting Klaue up and helping him keep weight off of his bad foot. Limbano assisted him and it didn't take long to make it back to the Range Rover.

Sitting in the back of the vehicle, knowing that disaster was averted, he couldn't help but think of Yani and Sydette. His vision of Yani had woken him up and tried to keep him awake. He was convinced of this. There was no way beyond blind luck that he would have woken up in time to catch Tim out on the road. It could've been anyone driving, the police, another search party after them…but this guy who happened to know Klaue was the one to see him stumbling out from the bush. This was Yani's doing. Had to be. Whatever connection, whatever strong attachment he had made with her…her spirit woke him up.

She had saved him.

But because of Iverson and whoever pulled his strings, Erik couldn't go back to her. Not yet.

The scenery passed by from the backseat and he pressed his face against the glass. His eyelids squeezed tears out and he wiped them away before the other men saw them.

"Yani, I'm trying," he whispered into the glass before he fell asleep once more.

###

"Yani, mail!"

Leona called to her from the kitchen in the apartment. Fixing her work heels on her feet, Yani stepped into the kitchen. A small brown package with her name and address sat on the kitchen table. No return address, but the forever stamp was dated with markings from Brazil.

She opened the package being careful not to chip her nails. Work at the restaurant had been busy and she was making a lot of tips that allowed her to splurge on some nice things for herself like getting her nails done professionally. Since there was no more work at Klaue's compound, she could indulge in making herself pretty without fear of damaging the costly nail job.

"Your hair looks nice," Leona said.

"It doesn't look too weird straight like this?"

"Just different. And it's just slicked down, not really straight. I like the lines you cut in it too," Leona said touching Yani's scalp. Sydette sat in her high chair staring at Yani while her fingers stuck mashed bananas into her mouth from her Dora The Explorer bowl.

She wanted to try something new with her hair to try and perk up her spirits. New hairstyle. New nails. New work dress.

Soft purple tissue paper was encased inside bubble wrap. When she pulled it all out there were two blue velvet boxes and a small light blue envelope stuck to one of them. She opened the envelope and read the card inside. Her heart fluttered.

"Yani,

Another early birthday present for Sydette and something for you as well. Tell Sweet Pea I miss her too. And you. E.K."

Yani opened both boxes. Diamond earrings. Real diamond earrings. A mother and daughter set.

"Who send you that?" Leona asked staring at the expensive gifts.

"Killmonger," Yani whispered.

She clutched the boxes to her heart.

###

[Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 3] [Part 4] [Part 5] [Part 6] [Part 7] [Part 8]

[Part 9]

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