It didn’t take Nio long to discover the only thing worse than sitting immobile in a container parked in Cuba was sitting in one bobbing with every whim of the Atlantic Ocean.
For the better part of a day the transport barge worked its way up the eastern seaboard, the facets of the metal container groaning with each roll of the ocean. Halfway through, seasickness began to grip the people inside, reducing them to retching on the floor as those nearby tried to ignore it.
Among them was Nio, breathing through his mouth as much as possible, trying to keep the scent out of his nostrils, fighting the rise of bile in the back of his throat.
The container was the same exact dimensions as the previous one, though somehow the accommodations were even tighter. Folded up tight, each passenger was able to find just enough floor space to sit, many fighting for the outer walls, pressing their backs against them and attempting to find some bit of sleep.
Outside, matching containers were stacked above and to either side, shielding most direct sunlight, keeping the metal of the side walls somewhat cool. Being the last one on board afforded Nio another corner perch, his shoulders pressed into the perpendicular walls, the top of his head resting back into the crook they formed.
Seated in that position, Nio was able to put his body on auto-pilot, his eyes glazing over. Ignoring the stench around him and the perpetual groaning of the ship and its cargo, he allowed his mind to drift, his body drawing back as much strength as it could.
As hours passed by, the perpetual rolling of the ship began to take a toll. Many inside the container were unable to resist the pitch of the sea any longer, motion sickness setting in. Coupled with the cumulative odor of urine and feces, the air became rancid, heavy vomiting ensuing.
By the time the ambient glow peeking through the cracks of the door began to fade, the floor was covered with a thin layer of viscous fluid. Nio could feel it splashing against the side of his shoes with each roll of the ship, ebbing and flowing in time with the waves outside.
For a brief spell he could sense people making an attempt to avoid it, their objections echoing through the space, bodies pressing against each other. Soon the discord faded away though, the passengers resigning themselves to the night ahead.
Rising to his feet, Nio kept his body positioned in the corner, locking his knees to brace himself upright. He stood with his eyes still closed and lifted his face toward the ceiling, praying the journey would end.
Just as the first pangs of seasickness gnawed at his stomach and dry heaves began to rack his body, the ship slowed to a crawl. The container ceased to sway, the sound of men shouting outside replacing the incessant groaning of the metal box.
Spurred on by the sounds, a flicker of life passed through the container, a low murmur of recognition setting in. Pulling himself awake, Nio glanced around, watching as others did the same, their eyes bloodshot, their clothes stained with various bodily fluids.
More people worked their way to their feet, letting out loud moans, their bodies protesting as they fought for purchase on the slick floor. They waited in silence as the ship came to a complete stop, the omnipresent rumble of the last twelve hours mercifully falling silent.
While the loading on the front end a few days before had been an easy affair, Nio couldn’t help but wonder how the unloading would take place. Nobody in harbor customs seemed too concerned with whatever was leaving the country, though it bore to reason that they would be a bit more concerned about a load of refugees attempting to enter it.
Judging by the people around him, he was the junior man by at least a decade, the only one looking like he might be capable of running for it if he needed to. His wallet and identification were both in his back pocket, though that wouldn’t necessarily help him if a customs agent demanded to know why he was attempting to reenter the country through such nefarious means.
As he stood and tried to piece together what might occur in the coming hour, the sound of ramps being attached to the side of the boat rang out. Heavy slaps of metal against metal reverberated through the space, many inside covering their ears, their faces twisted up in agony.
Pushing aside any thoughts, any trepidations, anything that might block his conscious mind, Nio remained still, listening as forklifts began passing over the ramps, the whine of their engines rising and falling. A few moments later the hydraulic pulleys of an overhead crane could be heard joining them, containers scraping against one another as they were hefted into the air and moved ashore.
A renewed wave of energy crept up in the darkness, encircling the passengers as the crane worked outside. It swelled into a palpable buzz, gripping the people inside, every last one rising to their feet, fighting for the few narrow strips of light that were visible.
It took almost an hour for the crane to work its way to their container, many inside speaking in hushed whispers as footfalls could be heard echoing against the roof above.
After what seemed an eternity to the eager crowd inside, the crane beeped three times and wrenched the container from the barge. The sensation of uneven flight settled in as it swung through the air, tossing it from side to side, those inside finding no traction against the vomit-coated floor.
Throughout, Nio remained in his corner, wedged tight between the perpendicular walls. In the muted darkness he could hear the muffled sounds of people falling about and occasionally feel their fingers tugging at him in an attempt to steady themselves, all careful to remain as quiet as possible.
The container swung free for almost ten full minutes, ending with a heavy jolt as it was deposited on the dock. There it stayed as the workers outside unlatched the levers from the crane, already moving on to their next target.
Chapter Sixteen
Liberation Day - A Thorn Byrd Novel Page 17