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PAGES FROM PENITENTIARY PACIFIC ... ENJOY!!! Cold and damp May 1997, 12:17 a.m. LITTLE Alverez was sound asleep on the bottom bunk of his twin bed when his life suddenly took an unexpected turn. A talented soccer player for his junior high school team, six hours ago he had led his teammates to a first-place championship at the Maldonado Junior Soccer Finals, where he had anticipated his father’s presence, but Alverez Zsapata Sr. had been conspicuously absent. Instead, little Alverez’s mother Austeñia was there alone to support her son in his first showcase game. He'd been sleeping for several hours when he woke up frantically to the sounds of wood and metal crashing apart. He instantly knew that something was wrong because the little house that he shared with his parents was suddenly flooded with cold, mountain air. Instinctively he got out of the bed and dropped to his knees to reach under the bottom bunk and find his wooden baseball bat. Then he quietly tiptoed over to the door and knelt down on one knee to peep through the keyhole. He was relieved to see that it was only his father, who was stumbling through the house like he was looking for something. His father had been drinking heavily for the past few weeks and had been taking his anger out on his wife, so little Alverez watched intently as he father stumbled into the second bedroom of the house. “Where are you?” Alverez Sr. yelled, before momentarily becoming quiet like he had forgotten what he was doing. After realizing that there was no one in the bed, he hobbled back into the hallway and ran into Austeñia as she was coming out of the bathroom in her nightgown. Their eyes locked and she knew at once that something was wrong. “Get the fuck out of my house you tramp! Get out now!” he demanded. Austeñia observed her husband carefully, staring at him as though weighing her words before speaking. “Alverez please, not tonight,” she responded as he continued to shout obscenities. Then he knocked her off of her feet by delivering a hard, backhanded smack to the side of her face. “What is wrong with you? Have you gone mad?” she said in astonishment, as tears the size of hail rolled down her visibly swollen cheeks. “You hit me! And for what? Because you are drunk?” She was crying and her lips were trembling. They’d had fights before but things had never escalated to this sort of violence. She could clearly see the rage in his bloodshot eyes, and for the first time in their entire marriage she was afraid of him. “I did nothing to deserve the type of treatment that you have been giving to me!” “What!” Alverez exclaimed. “What in the hell are you talking about?” Austeñia decided to make a run for it, but he grabbed her by the arm and pinned her against the wall. “What the fuck is wrong with you?” he said breathing heavily, only an inch away from her face. “Going over to Raúl's house while I'm at work?” “Raúl?” she asked, seeming to pretend to not know what he was talking about. Alverez had a stare locked in on her face, but she continued to deny the rumors that had been haunting him. “¿Crees que estoy jugando?” he asked. “Huh? ... I am not a fool!” He then began to violently shake Austeñia’s small frame, eventually banging her back against the wall. “I work hard to provide a good home for you, and this is what I get?” he told her. “I do everything for you! And now I hear from everybody in town that you are with another man when I am at work?” “Alverez, baby,” she said soothingly, trying to calm him down. “What are you talking about? Who is telling you these lies? I have never been unfaithful to you. How can you believe the word of strangers over mine?” His blood pressure boiled as if she was patronizing him, so he struck her in the head with his fist. “Lies?” he questioned, while cocking his hand back again to hit her. “The lies are coming from you! ... Don’t tell me that is a lie when I saw it myself!” Austeñia’s agile body enabled her to quickly dodge the next powerful swing. In her haste to get away she tripped and fell, but she was still able to scurry on her hands and knees to the bathroom and lock the door behind herself. “¡Abre esta maldita puerta!” Alverez shouted, violently jerking on the doorknob. “Alverez, baby you’re drunk ... you don’t know what you’re talking about,” she said from the other side of the door. But his tan skin was turning dark-red as he continued to beat on the thin plywood door. “Don’t lie to me!” he yelled. “Don’t try to make me look even more stupid than you already have. I’m not dumb!” He pounded harder and faster. “Open this door ... Now!” Little Alverez had his door cracked open and was fearfully listening to what was happening. Alverez Sr. took two steps back, and lunged a heavy kick at the doorknob. Austeñia let out a piercing scream when the door flew off of its hinges, backing her up against the wall near the bathroom sink. “¡Callate!” Alverez ordered as he approached her. “Shut up I said!” He swung his right arm clockwise and struck her on the jaw. “You tramp!” The impact of the swing knocked her head backwards and caused it to collide into the mirror. Everything fell from the medicine cabinet and landed in the sink and on the floor. Little Alverez heard the glass shatter and shouted, “Ma-má?” Then he dropped the baseball bat and ran out of his room into the hallway. “Ma-má!” he called again. He stopped where the bathroom door used to be, and stared in astonishment as his father had his hands wrapped tight around his mother’s neck. She was gasping for air and was almost blue in the face. “Pa-pá! Stop! - Stop it!” Little Alverez was petrified. “Pa-pá, please don’t kill her!” he screamed as he ran over and jumped on his father’s back. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- HUMAN beings have been the designers and the constructors of several wondrous objects such as the precise pyramids of Kemet and the International Spacestation. Another architectural masterpiece derived from the brains of mankind was Penitentiary Pacific. It was a place set aside from all normal societies on the planet. It was the size of a metroplex and ultimately it housed just as many people. Sixty percent of its space was used for its millions of convict residents, and twenty percent of its space was used to house the military personnel and administrators. Thirteen percent of it was for the cafeterias and for the supply storage, and seven percent of the penal territory consisted of IC Hospital Wards. Its construction began in 2003 and ended in 2012. Engineers and construction workers from The aggregate, six hundred billion dollar cost of this project extended far beyond its expected budget, but during the digging of the tunnels in late 2003, the discovery of several tons of gold provided extra funds for the establishment's fabrication. Back in 1999, Its setup was similar to the setup of a major city. There were many roads from sector to sector for the military shuttle buses. Also there were hundreds of hallways used for bikes and walking, because the buses were always crowded. There were hallways on every floor that ran parallel and perpendicular to all of the main roads and the side roads. The Central, or Main Sector, was like downtown. This was where the main cafeteria and the main laundryroom were located. Also this was where the Main Control & Surveillance Room was situated. Right outside of the Central Sector were the North, South, East and West Sectors, where almost all of the prison cells were located; all except for the detainment cells, which were in what was called the Solitary Sector, located in the basement underneath the Central Sector. Although the inside of the entire Penitentiary Pacific establishment looked decent, the inmates’ sectors looked less than decent. Their sectors were nowhere near as nice or clean as the quarters for the military personnel and the administrators, which were located at the far North and South sectors, and the far East and West Sectors, sort of like suburbs. They had rooms instead of cells, with carpet instead of cold floors. And most of the personnel dined at their sector’s local cafeteria instead of the main cafeteria. They wanted as little contact with the inmates as possible. The entire penitentiary and its twin tunnels were built earthquake resistant. Although the force an earthquake could still be felt, it’s exterior was made to withstand any actual destruction. The entrance/exit tunnels stretched ten miles into the Earth to reach the prison, which was two miles beneath the ocean floor's Marianas Trenches. Though it was nowhere near as wide or as long as the eighteen hundred-mile Marianas, this was the largest penitentiary ever built in the history of the planet, with enough space to hold over ten million inmates. The penitentiary's security operated in junction with each country's military services. The administration was abundant and well organized. Every prisoner was subject to be searched by a member of the martial staff at any time. Privacy did not exist and no incoming packages were allowed. All rules were explained upon the prisoners’ arrival. Also there was no visitation. The closest thing to visitation was a room called the COMMUNICATION ROOM, where inmates could occasionally talk to an approved guest for eight minutes on the visua-phone while watching them on screen. The make-up of the penitentiary’s population consisted of convicts of all races, colors and creeds. Everyone was mixed up to prevent ethnic clicking, but the effect was actually the opposite because being separated made the different races click even more when they were out of their cells. The military guards were of no real protection to the inmates because most fights occurred in discreet locations. Most of the times the guards had no way of actually knowing who was involved. Nor did they care to find out. But they did use extreme measures when enforcing their policies. They only provided protection when it was necessary. Therefore, for real protection and comfort, inmates of likeness clinged together like subatomic particles, which eventually encouraged the manifestation of gangs. Most gangs functioned strictly for the defense of its own kind, but some of the gangs were involved in the illegal commissary and drug functions that existed. The four hundred and sixty-seven-man-stock of inmates were unloaded, assembled, and stripped of all garments when they arrived. They were given identical black uniforms for the day, and florescent uniforms to wear when it was lights out. Then they all had to undergo the implant process, in which a microchip was implanted into their left nostril. This chip identified a prisoner's nine-digit serial number and kept track of their whereabouts. When the microchip process was completed, the group was guided all the way over to the penitentiary's South Sector. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- VI Saturday Shortly after 4:30 a.m. TENSIONS were heated in the back of the midnight blue stretch limousine as it traveled up the long and empty avenue. Sterlin Jarris was trembling uncontrollably like a deer cornered in a lion's den. One minute he was at his home in the shower preparing for work. The next minute he was apprehended by a group of eight rowdy individuals whom he did not want to see. Now he was having a type of heartache that he had never experienced before. The air conditioner in the limousine was on full throttle but sweat was still irrigating uncontrollably from the pores of Sterlin's face. His stringy blonde hair was drenched with perspiration and his respiration was corroded. Breathing through his clogged nostrils seemed to be more and more difficult by the second. Zsapata had forcefully squeezed a six fluid ounce tube of quick bonding glue into Sterlin’s mouth when they first snatched him. Sterlin initially coughed up some of the super-glue, but his tongue, gums and teeth were already instantly plastered by the paste. His teary eyes bulged with fear as he sat with his wrists lassoed together so tightly that his hands had turned from pale to a dull blue color. Sterlin was watching the eyeball movements of each of the eight predators who surrounded him in the back of the lengthy dark Two of the brawny hitmen grabbed his forearms in a tight brace and held them straight out, while another one of the hitmen reached down to the right of the seat and pulled out a pair of old hedge clippers with strong twelve inch blades. Sterlin started to moan loudly as he anticipated his upcoming fate. Then he started to savagely shake his head and body like a fish out of water when he saw the sharp steel blades. The other three hitmen immediately grabbed his arms and shoulders and legs to keep his body still. Once they had him stabilized, Zsapata scooted forward in his seat and started to calmly speak. “It is amazing,” he finally said as he looked directly into Sterlin's intimidated eyes. “Fear can have an adverse effect on one's usual courage.” He rubbed his chin and paused for a moment, then he continued with what he was saying. “Did you think that I would never find out? ... Or did you actually think that you were that clever?” Sterlin's fear escalated and his pitiful moans grew louder. “I glued your mouth shut because I did not want to hear your disgusting voice. So shut that fucking moaning up, before I put you to rest sooner than you think!” At the time Sterlin would have preferred the threat. “No explanation is necessary,” Zsapata resumed. “You're a traitor! A damn traitor! ... And we all know that terrible things always happen to traitors.” The man who was holding the oversized garden shears began to tighten his grip on the clipper’s wooden handles. “What you have been doing is pussy,” Zsapata scolded, as his deep, foreign dialect echoed in the car. “Very pussy! -- So since you have been acting like a deceptive feline, I am going to take your nine lives away from you.” Sterlin had no idea what Zsapata meant, but he knew that whatever it was, it was not going to be pleasant. Suddenly the henchman knelt in front of Sterlin and opened the shears. Sterlin’s heartbeat doubled when he heard the rusty blades scrape apart. He tried to move and jerk away but he could not, and before he knew it his thumb was sliced clean off of the side of his left hand. The pain made him grit his teeth together and let out a deep, agonizing scream through the openings of his nostrils. “That's one!” Zsapata shouted in enjoyment, while watching the transfixed look of disbelief on Sterlin's face.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------- VIII 70 miles northwest of THE air was dark, sticky and humid at five minutes until The final agent crept in cautiously after one of the crewmembers ahead of him gave the hand signal to proceed. Once inside, the agent scanned the bare floor, then he started a slow but steady pace across its wide square footage. His crewmembers had already assumed their designated lookout positions at every corner of the building, and while still in motion, the lead agent pulled out a pair of sharp, four-inch scissors and a spindle of thin, dirt brown electric wire that resembled a small spool of thread. Once near the wall he started unwinding the flimsy wire and snipping it inch after inch, letting the lightweight pieces fall to the corners of the floor as he stepped alongside the perimeter. The pressure was on for him to complete this mission successfully, and after lacing each inch of every edge and corner of the building with the wiretaps, he checked his stopwatch and saw that sixty three seconds had already elapsed. The DEA officials in Currently, the bugging operation was running on time. The eight drug agents had been on a rush job every since they left the laboratory at the Floyd was under strict orders from President McPhearse and the Now the only thing that the intelligence agents had to do was listen, twenty four hours a day, until hopefully one of the phonographic wires recorded a conversation that could be used in court. ------------------------------------------
V 2018 IT was a beautiful and breezy Friday morning in the month of May. The sun was bright yellow and it glittered above the fresh noon air. The sky was a lovely pure blue, with thin altocumulus clouds arranged into uniquely shaped billows and spread throughout the air by the wind. A freshly waxed, marble-black and gray Peugot Terrainer400, with license plates that read ‘HELL YEA’, cruised smoothly down “You are going west-southwest at twenty eight miles per hour.” The driver, with his rangy frame sunk low into the cushioned leather seat, was twenty one year old Avatar Klughes. He navigated with his left hand on the twelve o'clock position of the steering wheel and a cup of Armadale with Welch's grape juice in his right hand. His hair was short, curly and trimmed around the edges, and his beard was shaved while his mustache was shaped like that of a vampire. His glowing skin was like crimson bronze, and his nose was pointy but not thin. He spoke with a northeastern dialect and had a habit of using his hands alot when he spoke. Sitting in the passenger seat was twenty two year old Gabriel Juarez, pouring grape juice onto the ice cubes that were floating in his cup of vodka. His body structure was robust and his height was average. His hazel eyes always sparkled even though he regularly wore his hats pulled down low. Today he had on a navy blue suede cap covering his wild hair, with thin sideburns stretching to the bottom of his earlobes. His skin was like soft Cappuccino Cream, and he sported a thin mustache with goatee. The ten-month old Peugot glided down the boulevard and passed a junior high school where kids were running and playing during recess. Each of its doublewide black radial tires surrounded twenty four inch chrome wheels; and when in motion, the diamond cut chrome sparkled like rolling mirrors in the sunlight. On the median of the street entrance to the right was a seven foot spherical sculpture made of brick. The glossy four wheel drive slowed down and turned right, passing the giant brick ball which had capital letters curved across it that read, FORESTDALE SUBDIVISION, spelled in tiny white stones. On the sunniest and the brightest of days, a majority of the quiet subdivision remained shaded, like a community buried within a forest with beautiful white pine and royal palm trees hovering high above the streets and homes. “You are going northwest, at nineteen miles per hour,” said the computer navigation system. Gabriel shook his cup and then took a sip to see if the drink had mixed. “Man I’m glad all that academic shit is overwith,” he said. “Yeah I know,” Avatar said as he took a sip of his mixture. “All those years of school seem like they took forever.” “Word. I thought it would never end ... But the social part was cool though. It was just all that damn studyin’ that I could have done without.” “For real,” Avatar agreed. “As a matter of fact, I stayed up ‘til four this mornin’ crammin’ for the final that I just took.” He took another sip. “It was my last one and it was supposed to be all hard and shit. But I was finished in thirty minutes. Half the shit I studied wasn't even on there.” “Damn,” Gabriel said, smiling. “After all that studyin’ too. I know you was salty.” “Hell yeah,” he said, “that exam was the reason I ain't even get to kick it last night. ‘Cause I was at the library all night! ... Had I known it was gonna be that easy, I would’a been chillin’ wit’ you and Lando.” He slurped more vodka, then asked, “What did y'all get into anyway?” “Shit, we went ahead and went over to the party at Lauren’s crib.” “How was it?” “It was pretty hot. Plenty’a females and shit.” “Word?!” “But Shantel showed up just when it was gettin’ good. So I had to chill. I'm lucky she aint catch me out there.” “You should'a known she was gon’ show up. I mean, her, Lauren and Kristal are best friends.” “Yeah but I was feelin' so nice from that gin that I couldn’t help myself. Until I actually saw her ... Then I had to straighten’ up.” Avatar grinned and said, “That gin'll do it to ya.” “I ended up leavin’ early though,” Gabriel explained. “I had to go home and get some sleep so I could wake up early and get an hour of studyin’ in before my test this mornin’.” “Was it hard?” “What?” “Your test.” “Noh ... It was tricky tough, but that extra studyin' helped.” “Smart move,” Avatar said, making another right turn. “... So Lando stayed at the party after you left?” “Yeh, he stayed.” “How'd he get home?” “I don't know. I guess somebody dropped him off. Unless Kristal finally talked him into spendin’ the night with her.” “That’s prob’ly why he aint answerin’ his phone,” Avatar said. “I’ll bet he’s still laid up with her.” “I doubt it,” Gabriel said. “Not MR. FAITHFUL. He’s prob’ly just knocked out sleepin’.” He changed the subject. “But yo, I knew there was somethin’ I was meaning to tell you. There was a couple of honeys askin’ about you last night.” Avatar's eyebrows rose. “Oh, word? ... Who?” “Actually they was askin’ Lando about you. I don’t remember their names but I know they were fine as hell.”
------------------------------------------ VII AN establishment like this was far too large for the occupancy of only two residents. There were more than a dozen rooms in the main annex alone. Other rooms suitable for various purposes could be found throughout the many extensions of the lavish, three-level mansion. Twenty feet to the rear of the manor's acreage were two twin guest homes that were separated by a maze of tidily trimmed shrubbery and rows of bright dandelions and azaleas. The two guest homes were called 'Siarrah' and 'Liarrah', named after Dalearah's two late nieces back in the This weekend two of Dalearah's best friends were in town visiting. Dalearah insisted that they stay with her instead of staying at a hotel. Tionne picked the Liarrah-guesthouse because it had exercise equipment and a lovely array of teddy bears. Tahj picked the Siarrah-guesthouse because it contained a king sized waterbed and sky blue painted walls. Tionne had slept alone in comfort in the Liarrah, but Tahj left the Siarrah shortly after Tionne had been awake for thirty five minutes. Her hands were now gripping the sidebars of a Stairmaster Floater machine as she paced to the beat of the music that was blasting. She did a lot of traveling around the country but she always found a way to exercise no matter where she was. The stereo was on repeat, pumping Glen Sal's number one hit 'Forever Saved'. Tionne was deep in a world of her own for sixteen minutes, strengthening her heart muscles and working her metabolism. The music was playing so loud that she did not hear the telephone when it first started to ring, until she noticed that the florescent signal light was blinking on the receiver. She snapped out of the high paced trance that she was in and pushed the 'slow' button on the Stairmaster's handle. Then she hopped off of the machine like a gymnast and maintained her balance when she landed. After rushing to the stereo to turn the volume down, she was able to activate the speakerphone’s transmission after the sixth ring. “Hello?” she said in an exhausted tone. “Hello there, lady,” said the voice’s sophisticated accent through the speakerphone. “I take it you were in the middle of your workout?” Tionne’s panting was clearly audible as she spoke. “Yep, I was just doing a few miles on your Floater,” she said, recognizing Dalearah's distinguished dialect. “You know me. I'm still an early bird every day of the week ... I'm surprised that you're up so early, and on a Saturday morning?” “Amazing huh? I think it was that music you were blasting.” “Oh I'm sorry,” Tionne said apologetically. “Was it too loud?” Dalearah started to giggle after a quick moment of silence. “Tionne, you know that I am just fooling with you! It is only what, “For you, that's early,” Tionne joked as she pulled the green cloth towel from around her neck and tersely buried her unblemished face into the soft fibers. “What's up?” she asked when her face was dry. “Nothing really,” Dalearah said. “I am still a little tired from the photo shoot yesterday. For some reason I could not get much sleep last night.” “Really? What’s wrong? Are you feeling alright?” “No. I mean yes. I feel fine ... Nothing is wrong.” “Well, then what's the matter?” “Nothing...” Dalearah paused and then she started to speak again before Tionne could say anything. “Do you remember those guys that we met yesterday at the Vacation Sunday's restaurant? The ones who we ate with?” “Yeah,” she replied in a lively tone, while approaching the refrigerator on the other side of the room. “Do you remember the one named Rolando?” “I remember them all. He was the tall dark one, right?” “Yes...” “He was cute.” “Cute? I think he was gorgeous!” Dalearah declared. “They all looked great, but there was something about him. It was like; his mystique was overwhelmingly attractive to me ... And I don't know why, but he has been on my mind every since we left the restaurant yesterday.” Tionne froze in her tracks in front of the refrigerator. “Really?” she said in a surprised tone, before grabbing a plastic bottle of Liqui-Clear spring water. “Yes. And it is so strange to me because I have not felt this way about anyone since ... well, you know. You were with me back when I first met Alvy. Well, I am getting that same feeling now with Rolando. He just seemed so, attractive to me.” Tionne stared blankly into the air. “Wow,” she said to herself and to Dalearah. “I could tell that you two were getting along well and all, but I had no idea you felt like that.” “Neither did I,” Dalearah said, “until I could not stop thinking about him.” “I don’t know what to say,” Tionne finally said. “Do you think I should try to get in touch with him?” Tionne's look became even more perplexed. “You are not for real are you?” she asked, as if she hadn't realized how serious Dalearah was. “If I remember correctly, aren't you married?” “Married?” Dalearah questioned. “Hah! Have you seen my husband at all during the past two days that you and Tahj have been here?” “Well, no. Not yet at least. But I thought you said that he went to “My point exactly. It is like we are not even married anymore. He is always gone on business trips and he is always out and about at all times of the night. When I do get to see him he is always too tired to even talk with me ... It is totally clear that he is married to himself and his work, not to me.” “I didn’t know you felt that way,” Tionne said after swallowing the last of the twelve-ounces of water. “I thought you two were doing fine. When did all of this come about?” “We are doing fine,” she said. “Or at least everything is normal ... But, we have been together for nine years, and it seems like every year I see less and less of him. He never seems to give me any attention that does not have a price tag on it.” “And what's wrong with that? The next best thing to being single is having a husband who you don't have to see all the time, and who buys you anything you want.” “I can buy things for myself. That is not the point.” “Then what is the point?” Dalearah paused and tried to recollect what she was initially trying to say. “I guess what I am trying to say is, that I am not happy anymore,” she remembered. “My marriage was once strong but now things are not how they used to be ... But enough about that. I just wanted to get your opinion because I was thinking about getting in touch with him.” “With Rolando?” “Yes ... It is not like I’m out to have an affair with him or anything. I just want to see him again.”
REVIEWS Chad Gordon California (11/28/2005) Judith Thurmon MA (11/16/2005) Barbara Rhoades Missouri (11/14/2005) S.Rodarte Orange County, CA (10/21/2005) Full of surprises! I enjoyed this book from start to finish. This book not only cought my attention but left me wanting more. I will recomend this one to all my friends. Thanks J. Buchanan Betty Dravis North California (10/3/2005) I enjoyed this book immensely and was very impressed by the originality of the concept and the fresh new voice of the author. My heart went out to the two young men who were framed for something they didn't do. The mother puts up a courageous fight to free them. As for the rest of the story, you will have to read it yourself. ––– The characters are believable, the dialogue realistic, and the plot moved along at a steady pace. I couldn't put PENITENTIARY PACIFIC down, leafing from chapter to chapter as fast as I could read. ––– Bravo, author Jerome Buchanan! You have a bright future ahead! Glee Deaton Danbury, Connecticut (10/1/2005) The writing is very good. The stories are fierce, but the writing is great. A reviewer Philadelphia, PA (9/22/2005) Vincent A. Princeton, NJ (9/7/2005) I was very satisfied with this book. It took me through emotional ups and downs like a movie. I am starting to read it again to catch the things that I missed on the first read! Lynn Trace University of Ohio (8/26/2005) "What an interesting concept! I admire the originality of this book. It is appealing to all genres." Sean Brooklyn (8/11/2005) "This book is good! Respect due. Worth the money. Don't know about the ending though. I don't think justice was served to the villan." Brad Chase Philadelphia, PA (7/24/2005) "This action packed book had me guessing about the outcome from chapter one. The writing style is literally amazing and artistic. I am really impressed." Trevor Davenport San Diego, CA (7/7/2005) "I must admit, I was initially sort of skeptical about purchasing this book. But after the first few pages, I was hooked! This novel is well worth the money. I highly recommend it to anyone who can stomach good graphic fiction!" Pamela Taylor Washington, D.C. (05/11/2005) Mark Hamlin Queens, NY (4/20/2005) "This is the sickest novel I've ever read! It's like a movie, like the Scarface of the new millennium!" Kimberly "This is a very graphic book. It kept my eyes wide open." Charles Gentry "This novel is a definite page turner. For short attention spans like mine, it served as mental delight. I actually read it twice!" Carolina "I read the whole book all in one sitting! There wasn't one boring moment." KayKay "I couldn't put it down. It was like... so real, man!" Get Book'd!
II
Bauru, outskirts of Puerto Maldonado,
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"I enjoyed book more than I thought I would. I usually don’t' venture into this genre, but a friend of mine suggested that I take a look at it. I wasn’t disappointed. It delivered a fresh and new insight to a band of new characters. Descriptive powers were at an all time high because the writer let the characters develop in the readers' mind; in other words letting them utilize their imagination. The plot leads you through the book and you as the reader eagerly follow."
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