by Ann Heathman
Zach broke off a hunk of cheese and sat down at the table.
“I’m afraid escape by air is impossible, and the borders to Egypt and Tunisia are closed, not that you would want to go there anyway. I have arranged to get you out by boat. We have many migrants fleeing Libya by sea to get away from the extremists who are overtaking our country.”
Tony returned and indicated all was clear at the door and down the street. He helped himself to some dates and resumed watch out the front window.
“Tell me about this escape,” Zach said. “When and where would it take place?”
“There is a fishing trawler leaving in the next twenty-four hours. I believe I can send you out with the members of an American school that is evacuating. It’s not the best boat, but all that is available for now. For twelve hundred Libyan dinars each, I can secure passage on this boat. At this time, it is the only way out of the city.”
“That’s a lot of money. Why so much, and who’s getting this money?”
“Smugglers know this is the only way out and are taking advantage of the thousands of Christians and migrants trying to escape persecution at the hands of ISIS militants seeking to establish a caliphate throughout Africa.”
Tony approached the table. “Even in good weather it’s at least a sixteen hour trip across the Mediterranean to Malta. If we encounter high seas, who knows how long the trip will take. Are these smugglers trained seaman, and how seaworthy is this boat?”
Ahmed shook his head. “I do not know. It could be risky, but it is your only way out.”
Zach wasn’t thrilled with this plan of escape, but this was the chance they took as private operators. They knew the government was only going to do so much to help them out. If they got into trouble, no one was coming to their rescue. It looked like they had no choice but to go with this rescue plan.
“When do we leave?” he asked.
“Tomorrow morning. I will come by with a van and take you to the port. Please be ready by six a.m.”
Zach nodded his agreement, and Ahmed started to leave. He stopped in the doorway and turned and spoke. “One more thing.”
Zach’s antenna went up. “What’s that?”
“I have heard ISIS is seeking to extend its caliphate into Europe by flooding the shores of Italy with members of their radical group mixed in with legitimate refugees seeking asylum. That being the case, keep your eyes and ears open. There may be enemies among the group on board.”
Zach nodded. “Zero six hundred hours. See you then.”
After Ahmed left, everyone stood staring at each other. It was obvious no one relished the thought of this journey across the sea, especially given what they had just heard. All three would go dressed as Libyans, looking like Libyan refugees.
“How’s your Arabic?” he asked Noreen.
She waved her hand side to side. “So so. Not good really.”
“Tony and I are fairly proficient, but our accent isn’t the greatest, so we don’t plan on saying much either. I don’t know what their security is like, so we’ll give our weapons to you to hide under your dress. I’m guessing, you being a woman, they won’t search you. If we see they’re searching women, we’ll have to think of another way to get our guns on board. I’m not making this journey unarmed.”
“Whew! Talk about flying by the seat of our pants,” Tony said. “This is going to be a rough journey. Not at all what I envisioned this mission would be like.”
“Roger that,” Zach said, “but we’ll get through this. Everyone get some rest today. If all goes well, we’ll be back on friendly soil by late tomorrow night.”
RIGHT ON time, Ahmed arrived in a white van along with six passengers from the American school. People nodded greetings, but no names were exchanged. The passengers assumed everyone in Zach’s trio were Libyan refugees… an important detail in maintaining their cover. At the dock, they exited the van and walked to a fishing trawler anchored at the end of the pier.
Ahmed approached two unsavory looking men and handed them some cash. Zach could see Ahmed point back toward his group and understood enough of the conversation to hear they were arguing about price. Evidently there was a dispute about how much money was to be paid for each passenger. Ahmed appeared to prevail and the group was signaled forward to get in line to board the boat.
Zach quickly scanned the exterior of the old vessel and thought it looked seaworthy, but definitely not well-maintained. No matter. As long as it got them home, no need for luxury.
Looking ahead, approximately fifty passengers were boarding the boat… men, women, and children alike. Passengers had very little luggage with them. Most had just what appeared to be a gunny sack full of items which no one was searching. To Zach’s relief, no body searches were happening either.
As they stood waiting to board, a pick-up truck with militants drove up to the pier. Several gunmen got out, walked to the front of the line, and began questioning people. They asked them to recite a certain verse from the Koran. When they came upon someone not able to do that, they assumed them to be Christians and shot them.
Zach could see people of Christian faith in front of the line quickly hiding their crosses and begin moving to the back of the line. Another truckload of militia rolled up. Zach nudged Noreen and indicated she should slip him a gun. Luckily it wasn’t needed. The leader of the militia signaled the gun-toting men to return to their truck and leave.
“Fuck, that was close,” Tony said when they left. “Got some real barbarians living here.”
Zach couldn’t disagree. His only regret was not being in a position to do more to help these people. For once, all he could do was to stand by and watch. Though he was tempted to open fire and drop the militants where they stood, it would have been foolhardy. His main goal was for him and Tony to complete the mission and get home safely. For the first time in his career, he stood by and watched innocent people die.
He wanted to throw up.
Everywhere you looked, American flags were flying. Patriotism was on display ready to embrace the Memorial Day weekend. Doubled over, hands on her knees, Arianna paused to catch her breath from the jog around the lake. Whew! That’s a long run.
She looked over and saw a young woman sporting white, retro sunglasses and a large brim beach hat, sunbathing on the dock in front of the cottage. “Good morning,” she said. “Are you here for the weekend?”
“Just rented the place next door to you. Came for the holiday,” the young lady answered, not looking up from the book she was reading.
“Well, it’s supposed to be a nice weather, so enjoy your stay.”
The woman nodded, and Arianna sauntered away toward the cottage. Before mounting the steps to the deck, she stopped to stretch her tired muscles. Looking back at the sunbather, she thought something seemed remotely familiar about her but couldn’t put her finger on what it was. Also she’d said she rented the cottage next door to her. How did she know which cottage was hers? Hmm. She pondered the question for a moment but finally decided she must have seen her leave for her run earlier.
“On my way to the market,” Kathryn said, as she breezed out the door toward the car. “Have to get groceries for tomorrow’s cookout. Anything special you want?”
Arianna shook her head. “Whatever you’re fixing will be fine. We need more wine though. I finished the last bottle yesterday.”
“Got it. Oh, and by the way. Your phone’s been ringing. A call from Lisa. I answered it and told her you’d be home soon.”
“Okay, good. Thank you. Did she say what she wanted?”
“No. Just said to have you call her.” She set her purse in the car. “What are your plans for today?”
“I’m going to change and then go for a swim. Cool down from my run.”
“Sounds refreshing. Not liking this ninety degree heat. I’ll be back soon.”
Arianna went into the house and grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge. She opened it, tossed the cap on the counter, and polished off the enti
re twelve ounces. Next, she picked up her phone and dialed Lisa while trying to shed her running clothes and wiggle into her swim suit at the same time.
“Oh, hi, Arianna. I’m glad you called.”
“Yeah, hi. Is everything all right? You sound upset.” She put the phone on speaker and laid it down to hook her swimsuit top.
“I am upset. I walked in on a phone conversation Juan was having out on the veranda. I heard him yell, ‘Well find them! Obviously something went wrong, so get off your ass—.’ Then, he saw me so he walked away to where I couldn’t hear anything else he said.”
“Oh!” There was a long pause. Arianna stood frozen. “Oh… so did you ask him to explain what he meant…find them? That doesn’t sound good. It could mean the guys are lost, or it could mean they’re in trouble.”
“Right, so I tried to get more information.”
“And…”
“Well, he put his arm around me and very politely told me not to read anything into what I heard and not to worry. Then, he left despite me yelling at him to explain himself.”
Arianna cursed under her breath. “I hate these guys. It’s not fair keeping us in the dark like this. At some point they have to let us know what’s going on.”
No one spoke for a long time. Finally Arianna said, “Maybe these guys are right, though. As much as I hate being kept in the dark, I think it’s better we don’t know where they are or what they’re doing. Now, that we’re aware there’s potentially a problem, we’ll be consumed with worry until they get home safely.”
“Exactly. Boy, I wish you were here.”
“Me too, but I can’t be there, so stay in touch. Let me know if you hear anything.”
This was a hell of a deal Arianna thought when she hung up. First, she was mad at Zach for possibly being involved with another woman, and now, she could add worry to the cacophony of emotions in her head. Yeah. Mad and worried. The two emotions were at war with each other. But it was hard for the two of them to coexist. Eventually, one would have to surrender to the other.
“KEEP YOUR head down and don’t do anything to attract attention,” Zach said softly to Tony and Noreen as they filed by two dead bodies on the way to boarding the ship. No one had bothered to cover the corpses of the two men, shot for failing to deny their Christian belief. Sad, but this was why the passengers were fleeing this war-torn country. This was why Zach had dedicated his life to rooting out evil such as this.
“You think this old rust bucket will get us home?” Tony asked as they shuffled to the stern of the boat and negotiated a place along the rail.
“Has to. We’re committed now.”
Zach looked around at the primitive conditions on the trawler. The phrase packed in like sardines took on a whole new meaning. People sat shoulder to shoulder with barely any room to move. The stern smelled of rotten fish, and there was no evidence of any restroom facilities. His biggest concern however was the weather. The entire voyage would be made riding out in the open. They would be forced to endure the elements… wind, rain, sun, and hot or cold temperatures, all with no cover to protect them. It could be a rough trip. He prayed for fair winds and following seas.
“Glad to be leaving that hell hole,” Noreen said, as the boat weighed anchor and slowly motored out of the harbor. “It’s been one stressful day after the other since the first night I arrived and Jamal failed to return. Can’t wait to put my feet back on friendly soil again.”
Tony stood to look out over the rail. “Well, stay strong. It’s a long way home. This could be a wild ride.”
“I’m going to go have a look around,” Zach said, standing and making sure his weapon was handy but hidden. “Save my place.” He wove his way through the throng of passengers toward mid-ship, and under the wheel house, he found the entrance to the crew quarters and attempted to enter. A man standing guard blocked his entrance.
“Toilet?” Zach asked in Arabic.
The man frowned but allowed him to move down into the lower level. He passed the galley where another man was preparing some food, a small amount, sufficient only to feed the crew. The passengers would have to fend for themselves. If they were smart, they packed some of their own food and water for the trip. When the man looked up, Zach again asked, “Toilet?”
The man pointed down the passage way, and Zach resumed his mission to get the lay out of the ship. Passing the crew quarters, he saw bunk beds with raised sides to keep the sailors from falling out of bed in rough seas. Though there were six bunks, other than the cook and the man at the top of the stairs, he hadn’t seen any other crew. In good seas, it wouldn’t take much of a crew to sail this vessel. If things got rough, however, it was obvious they were dangerously under-staffed. Those smugglers were making a fortune on these people desperate to leave the country.
Next to the crew quarters, he found the head. Designed for men with only one urinal and stool, tiny and cramped, it smelled like it hadn’t been cleaned in weeks. By the time fifty passengers used this for two days, the stench would be horrific. He was glad he made an early pit stop.
Back on deck, he moved to the bow of the boat and looked up at the captain in the wheel-house. He was a portly man, slovenly dressed and sported a shaggy gray beard. Not an impressive image, and Zach hoped his navigational skills were sharper than his appearance. The Med could be an unforgiving place when the seas were wild.
He returned to the stern of the boat and met up with Tony and Noreen.
“Well? How’s it looking?” Tony asked, his voice low so no one heard them speak in English.
Zach grimaced. “You don’t want to know. Just pray for good weather and a quick crossing.”
But it was not to be. At first, the sailing was smooth, but the wind picked up and the boat began bucking some big waves. People were violently bounced around, and seasickness overtook most of the passengers. One person after another threw up—some over the side and some on the deck. A bucket was lowered and water collected to wash away the remnants of some poor soul’s breakfast. This went on for several hours. Everywhere you looked, people sat in a nauseated daze trying to fight the effects of this malady.
Zach knew the feeling. As a young Navy SEAL, he’d had a couple bouts of seasickness, but was not bothered by it now. Tony also was immune to the effects of the rolling sea, but the poor people around them were really suffering. Only time and smoother sailing would ease the problem. At least there was no need to worry about food. Sea sickness killed everyone’s appetite.
The weather caused the trip to take longer than it should. About a day and a half into the crossing, the seas had settled and so had everyone’s stomach. The sun was out, and it looked like there might be smooth sailing on into Malta.
Noreen pulled out a loaf of bread and broke off a piece for Zach and Tony. They had taken turns trying to sleep, but no one had gotten comfortable enough to really enjoy any shut eye. Thinking the worst might be over, Zach tried once more to lay his head back and take a nap. Suddenly he heard shouting at the back of the ship. He sat up to see what the commotion was all about. Though not totally fluent in Arabic, he made out enough of the yelling to tell there was an argument between some Muslims and Christians.
The argument became quite heated, and to the horror of onlookers, a Muslim picked up a Christian boy and threw him into the sea. Other Muslims tried to do the same and a struggle ensued. A couple more men were thrown overboard. There were many Muslims trying to throw Christians overboard. For all he knew, he might be the next one they tried to toss into the sea. It looked like Ahmed was right. There were extremists mixed amongst the passengers.
He could no longer sit by and watch people being killed by these barbarians. He had to do something, so he sprang to his feet and fired his weapon in the air. He bolted toward the group and shouted in Arabic for the Muslims to move back. One man had a gun which he drew and aimed toward Zach. Tony took aim on the gunman and dropped him to the deck. All the while, Noreen, her back to Tony, kept a watchful eye on the rest of
the passengers for any other combatants mixed amongst the group.
While Tony held the Muslims at bay, Zach peered over the rail and saw five people in the water, fighting to stay afloat. Fathers and mothers wailed, distraught about their loved ones in the sea. A couple of life preservers were tossed overboard, but the ship was moving away, leaving the victims in its wake. Without hesitation, Zach raced to the front of the ship, flew up the stairs, cold cocked a man blocking the entrance to the wheelhouse, then burst through the door and put a gun to the captain’s head.
“Turn the boat around,” he ordered in Arabic. It didn’t look like the captain wanted to comply, so Zach released the safety on his gun and repeated his command. “I know how to drive a boat. We can either do this with or without you, so I’m not telling you again, turn the fucking boat around.”
“Okay. Okay.” The captain immediately commenced a maneuver to turn the vessel back toward the men overboard.
Slowly the ship made a wide turn and came about. Zach ordered the captain to run at full throttle. He had no idea how long the people could tread water. Running at four knots, they could see heads bobbing in the water ahead. Passengers cheered as the boat neared the men and boys holding on to each other and treading water.
Being a fishing vessel, there was a large fishing net on the stern. “Lower that net,” Tony yelled in Arabic as they approached the victims.
Dropping it over the side, the passengers yelled for the three men and two boys to swim to the net. Loud cheers from the families rang out as the poor souls grabbed on and pulled themselves to safety.
It was a joyous moment, and people filed by Tony saying sukran, sukran gazilan… Arabic for thank you. Thank you very much. They waved and applauded Zach standing next to the captain on the bridge above.
Zach heaved a huge sigh of relief. Turning to the captain, he said in Arabic, “Turn this boat around, and take us to Malta.”