Your tongue feels swollen in your dry mouth as you look across the dusty landscape. Over the last nine hours you've watched the sun rise up over and bake the desert plains. In that time you and your team of fellow inmates have slaved under the brutal heel of the work camp guards as you all paved over one of the old dirt roads with hot asphalt. Death seems like a welcome release from the constant itch of your dry sunburned skin, the pain of pulled muscles, and the sickening smells of toxic chemicals. The guards seem to think you've suffered enough for now as...
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