by Jools Louise
“If we use sail as much as possible we should be able to get quite far. Maybe to Greece, maybe further. I have charts as far as Italy, Sicily. We will leave it to Allah to guide us the rest of the way.” Najib shrugged, not caring too much from the sound of it.
“Do you have a passport?” Aaron asked carefully.
“I have a passport, yes. As a young man I travelled a great deal. I went to school for a while in England, but my family needed me back home so I returned to Syria.” Najib shook his head wearily. “They are all gone, too. Cancer. There is nothing for me there. My friends and family are dead. Insurgents moved in to take our homeland and rape it of all that is good there. Our government does nothing. They are as murderous as the invaders. It is time to make a new life.”
“We will have to plan what we are to say when we reach land again,” Kadil said, looking thoughtful. “I have no passport, nor do the children. We will seek asylum.” He made it sound simple.
“I have contacts in Italy. I have a satellite phone I use in emergencies. I will try to contact my friend when we get closer,” Najib answered, nodding. “We should be in international waters now. We just need to watch out for large ships. It would not end well for us if we were hit by one.” Najib smirked a little at his passengers, laughing as the pair rolled their eyes at his words.
Kadil looked to the stern, narrowing his eyes against the glare of the sun.
“What about smaller ships? There appears to be one following us.” Najib and Aaron both jumped up, staring behind. Najib cursed fluidly in Arabic, adjusting the wheel ever so slightly so the wind filled the sail even more.
“Grab the wheel one of you, I will raise the other sail.” Najib waited for Aaron to take hold of the steering wheel, then leapt up on deck and began unfurling the large mainsail. The added propulsion had the little boat leaping forward like a horse at the Grand National. It gained speed, the wind filling the sails to capacity as it scurried along ahead of the breeze, widening the gap with the boat in the distance.
It took a while, but eventually they left the other vessel behind, continuing to sail at full tilt away from danger. Throughout the rest of the day, taking turns at the wheel and napping in between as much as possible, they travelled for miles. The wind favored them, pulling them away from Syria, passing large cargo ships and ferries plying their trade along the coastlines of the Mediterranean. Still they moved forward, using every available hour of daylight to gain as much ground as they could.
“Why are Malik and Qasim so relentless? Why do they follow us, still?” Aaron asked Kadil, not understanding why their pursuers still came after them.
“This is a vendetta, now,” Kadil replied softly, sitting beside Aaron in the cockpit, the captain taking a power nap below. “I refused to join their cause and mocked them for their idiotic ideals. They are greedy and stupid. They carry their manly pride around like a cloak, strutting and preening as though we are all supposed to bow before their greatness.” Without realizing, Kadil placed his hand on Aaron’s knee.
Aaron looked down, feeling that jolt of awareness again. He sighed, ignoring his unruly cock which was reacting predictably now they were relatively safe again.
“I just thought it was because they had really tiny dicks,” Aaron drawled out casually, waiting for Kadil’s response.
A bellow of laughter was his answer, swiftly stifled as Kadil fell to the side in apparent hysterics. Their recent escape, the pent up fear, were released in a torrent as Kadil’s sense of humor asserted itself. Aaron knew he wasn’t that funny, but they needed to laugh at something. Laughing hard his teeth gleaming brightly against his tanned skin, dark eyes sparkling with mirth, Kadil was beautiful.
Aaron’s breath caught in his throat, trying to rein in his arousal. They were still not out of danger yet. The captain may just throw them overboard if he realized they were attracted to each other. Neither had a clue how the man felt about homosexuality. Aaron had already experienced a betrayal by a mother of her son. Who knew what a fisherman thought?
“That may well be true. Over-compensating for tiny dicks, so they throw the rest of their weight around. I think you may have something there.” Kadil laughed, his breath gasping from him as his chuckles subsided.
Aaron grinned at the man, shaking his head.
He stared out to sea, the fading light reflecting like a billion jewels on the water. He’d always loved the water. He had been sailing a few times, never believing he would be sailing away from people intent on killing him.
“We will lower our sails for the night.” Najib sounded tired, yawning as he came up on deck. Scratching his chest he lowered both sails, tying them against the mast with swift efficiency.
“Is anyone hungry? We will catch something for our supper.” Najib sent Kadil below for fishing gear, and they were soon casting lines into the darkening sea, baited with bits of bread and pieces of dried fish since they were all out of fresh. It wasn’t long before hungry fish took the bait.
“Hey! You got one!” Zada had joined them along with her cousin Akeem, the pair of them excitedly pointing at one rod which bent nearly in half from the weight of the fish on the other end.
“Akeem, would you like to help me?” Najib asked gently, ruffling the little boy’s hair teasingly.
“Akeem likes fish,” Akeem answered shyly, holding onto the rod in Najib’s capable hands and helping Najib land the catch.
The squirming, slippery fish flopped about on deck before being placed into a large container filled with water. Najib explained that they would need to catch a few fish that night, so they didn’t need to stop as many times. He knew his fishing grounds, though, and within an hour, they had several plump and succulent fish bobbing gently in the container. The final three to be caught were gutted and filleted efficiently.
A small grill was set up below in the miniature galley and they were soon tucking into freshly fried fish and more fruit. The bread was gone, but there were some dry crackers and Najib found a jar of olives to accompany the meal. It was a veritable feast as the small boat chugged along, its engine carrying them further toward safety.
Chapter Four
Daybreak again, the sea still fairly calm after the long night. As soon as it was light enough Najib unfurled their sails again, eager to make up some time. There was a brisk breeze, again favorable, and as soon as the wind caught the large expanses of canvas, the little boat took flight again, racing along as fast as she could.
Aaron gazed around, alert for other ships. They had narrowly missed a passenger ferry during the night, steering aside just in time and his heart still pounded at the near disaster. So far they had seen nothing of the vessel following, but no one was in doubt who was in pursuit. No one believed in coincidence, and Malik and his evil twin had a vested interest in retrieving what they perceived to be theirs.
Najib had mentioned that the new menace in Syria were as brutal with their own as with anyone else. If Malik and Qasim failed in their bid to take Zada back, they would suffer severe consequences. Fortunately, their pursuers were also in a fishing vessel, rather than a powerful speed boat or cruiser. With Najib’s experienced sailing prowess, they had the upper hand for now.
In the distance they could just make out a darker shape on the horizon, Najib pointing out they were approaching the coast of Cyprus. They would see if they needed fuel, since the little boat had been working hard through the night. Were it not for their murderous followers they would have been able to drift for a while to conserve fuel, but they dared not stop.
A shape suddenly loomed in the distance, not land but a large ship of some kind.
“It could be the coastguard. Or the Navy,” Najib suggested, not looking too concerned. “Perhaps we can find another solution to ridding ourselves of our enemies.” He looked over at Kadil and Aaron.
“You mean send the coastguard after them?” Aaron asked the obvious question.
“We will tell the truth. That the men Malik and Qasim carry weapons, and ha
ve murdered people. We will say we are in fear for our lives and wish to seek refuge far from here.” Najib sounded certain of a positive outcome. The further they were from the shores of Syria the more confident he became. His background was still a little murky, but they had to trust someone. Najib had risked his life to help them.
“Perhaps we can use Akeem’s family connections to help us. His father was a diplomat and dealt with a lot of the European enclave trying to reach peaceful solutions for future trade deals,” Kadil suggested, glancing at Aaron as he made the comment.
Aaron looked over, tensing as he realized what Kadil was suggesting.
“They might want to return Akeem to Syria if they feel he is of use. Maybe we just tell them that the children were in danger, that their families are dead and they have only us to take care of them now.” Aaron had a distinct edge to his voice, not liking the thought that Kadil would in any way use either of the children. “Since we now know that Malik and Qasim want Zada for nefarious reasons, she is in grave danger if she is returned. Akeem is an orphan, and has no one to care for him. His father’s connections have no bearing on this situation.”
“It was merely a suggestion. I meant no harm.” Kadil backed off quickly, realizing he’d gone too far.
“Zada and Akeem have been through enough. They are to be protected at all costs, not used as a bargaining chip.” Aaron sounded furious at the suggestion, his green eyes gleaming like jewels against his tanned face. His hair had lightened in the sun, bleaching it almost white. Kadil thought he looked stunningly handsome, his dark eyes lingering on the curves of the lush lips which were now thinned in anger.
“I’m a British citizen. I’ll certainly explain the situation. We won’t need to mention Akeem’s father at all,” Aaron finished, turning his back on Kadil, shoulders taut with anger.
The atmosphere was tense on the small boat for a while.
Kadil sulked for a while, pouting as Najib sent him a shrewd glance and raised a brow. Before he could speak, little Akeem came up from below to sit next to the young Syrian, taking his hand.
“Kadil trying to help. Kadil not bad person. Kadil help us get away from bad men. We find new home now.” The little boy patted Kadil’s cheek gently, tucking his head against Kadil’s chest and resting his warm little body against Kadil’s.
Tears came from nowhere as Kadil looked down at the little boy. Their minimal diet had meant all the puppy fat had disappeared from Akeem’s cheeks giving him a more grown up look, and his eyes were still shadowed by recent grief. Despite that, he was coming out of his shell and Kadil felt ashamed at himself for even considering using Akeem’s connections for his own ends.
“Yes, Akeem. We will find ourselves a new home. Away from all those bad men.” Kadil spoke hoarsely, his throat choked with tears. He sniffed, wiping at his eyes.
A hand offered him a slightly ragged tissue and he looked up at Aaron before accepting the offering gratefully, blowing his nose hard.
“I’m sorry. You’ve lost people, too. You’ve done more than your bit to help us all. We’ll get through this,” Aaron said quietly, his green eyes calm and confident. Without thinking he cupped Kadil’s cheek gently, rubbing a thumb across the dark beard that was forming on Kadil’s jaw.
Kadil leaned into the touch, closing his eyes and sighing.
“After this, I would think you would want to be far away from us,” Kadil said softly.
Aaron’s warm hand tilted Kadil’s face up to his, leaning forward until their faces were inches apart.
“No, I don’t want that. Not at all.” The green eyes softened, showing an emotion Kadil was afraid to put a name to, lest it disappeared.
“If you’ve finished playing kissy kissy, we’re about to be boarded. The Italian Navy has just found us.” Najib’s voice was dry and both young men jerked apart as though tasered.
They both looked warily over at their captain, not sure what he would do next.
“What?” Najib grinned at them, winking mischievously. “I may be only a lowly fisherman, but I am not a bigot nor a fanatic. I spent time in England, and I am aware that there is more than one belief. Who am I to judge?” They relaxed slightly, not quite knowing what to say. This man had more layers than anyone they’d met.
Their reply was lost as a large Navy cutter slid gently alongside like a ghost, smooth as silk. They were soon boarded and they found themselves being questioned by several handsome Italian sailors. Aaron grinned to himself at Kadil’s wide-eyed admiration. If the man thought he was being discreet, Aaron had news for him. The man’s gaydar beacon was shining brightly right now, although Aaron didn’t think any of the sailors were particularly bothered. He was fairly certain at least three were similarly entranced.
Fortunately the common language was English, which they all spoke, so communication was fairly easy.
Aaron spoke for them all, explaining their escape from Syria, the bombing raid on Damascus and the pursuit by Malik and Qasim, plus the thugs’ involvement in several murders.
Producing his passport, as did Najib. Surprisingly Kadil had one as well. Aaron shot the young Syrian a piercing look. He could have sworn the man had told him he had no papers, his excuse for not going to Jordan.
He’d lied yet again.
Shrugging off his irritation, Aaron helped the children aboard the Navy cutter as the crew conducted further investigations. The vessel was explored for contraband. Satisfied with their explanation, the little fishing boat was secured by a line to the cutter and pulled along after the larger ship.
The crew of the cutter made them welcome, friendly and quite willing to take them to the nearest consulate for assistance. The captain had already met Malik and Qasim, and explained the two idiots had fired upon the Navy vessel, who in turn used their small cannon to blast the pair’s stolen vessel to smithereens. The coast guard had not seen their bodies, presuming they had perished in the destruction of the boat.
“Najib?” The Italian-accented voice spoke hesitantly. A man in his mid-forties, a lieutenant, had entered the galley where they were sitting eating a hearty meal. His hair had the same salt and pepper shade as Najib, his slim build fit and well-toned, and his dark blue eyes alert.
“Tonio? My goodness! Is it really you?” Najib looked stunned, his dark eyes wide and unbelieving as he studied the newcomer.
Aaron’s gaze bounced between the pair of them, and it gradually dawned on him that Najib was also holding back some secrets about himself. There was a look shared by Najib and the officer that could only be described as loving. Najib had a colorful history that was for sure.
“This is your Italian contact?” Kadil asked without noticing the looks exchanged. Aaron rolled his eyes, nudging the man on the arm, forcing him to look closer.
Kadil gave him a questioning glance, then belatedly considered the fact that both Najib and Tonio had not moved a muscle, were staring in awed amazement at each other.
“Has it suddenly gotten hotter in here, or is it just me?” Kadil mocked gently, getting his own back on the fisherman who shot a glare at the unrepentant young Syrian.
“We knew each other years ago. My family needed me back home as my mother was ill. We were good friends.” Najib explained finally.
“Yes, good friends. I always wanted to visit Syria, but now with all the fighting it is impossible.” Tonio smiled at the table in general. “Now I don’t need to. Now Najib is here.”
Aaron smiled to himself, not saying anything but fairly sure Najib and the handsome Naval Officer had been more than just good friends. His gaydar may have failed with Najib, but the officer was definitely exhibiting signs. He didn’t know, or want to know, the details, but he hoped Najib had found happiness. After losing his daughter and wife to the brutality of war, perhaps he would find love in another direction. Aaron was not one to judge, he knew the world swirled with many different colors, many different ways to love.
“We are heading for Sicily, where we will need to process everyone. Th
en I have several days’ shore leave,” Tonio said, speaking mostly to Najib, his eyes sparkling. “Perhaps I will show you our beautiful island.”
“I’d like that,” Najib replied huskily, then flushed as he realized he had an audience of grinning companions watching the exchange with interest.
“The children have no passports.”
“It’s no problem,” Tonio answered, his soft accent musical to the ears. “We ‘ave many such as you travelling from Syria. We will sort out the red tape, you don’t have to worry.”
“What will happen to Zada and Akeem?” Aaron asked with concern. He didn’t want the authorities taking the children somewhere, surrounded by people they didn’t know. They’d been through enough.
“The bambinos will be fine. You are acting as their guardians, yes? So you will be kept together, I am sure.” Tonio smiled at the little ones, receiving a dimpled smile back from Akeem.
“I don’t suppose we could have a shower? We’ve been on the road for days,” Aaron asked politely, desperate to rid himself of nearly two weeks of dirt and dust. The two small backpacks were all he had brought with him, having to leave the rest of his gear at the hotel in Damascus.
One crew member showed the way to the crew quarters, treating them like guests rather than refugees.
Aaron stepped under the hot spray, sighing with pleasure as he cleaned himself. He would never take for granted such simple luxuries again. And it was a luxury. A lot of people took for granted running water, clean clothes and the conveniences of modern living in the west. He would never do that again. Fleeing for one’s life gave a person a new perspective on life, and the simple pleasure of a hot shower and clean water.
A set of clean clothes lay on the bunk as he re-entered the cabin he had been offered to change. A pair of gray sweatpants and a t shirt, plus some boxer shorts had him smiling gratefully and he donned the gear quickly. Turning at a noise in the doorway he locked eyes with Kadil, who was hesitating to enter.