The Unimaginable

by Dina Silver

  The boy pointed up. Quinn and I exchanged glances.

  Baashi produced another water bottle. “I have more water,” he said.

  He pressed the bottle to my lips, and I drank furiously and then nudged Quinn to have some more. Once we were through, he turned and was about to leave.

  “Baashi?”

  He looked at me.

  “Do you think we could have something to eat? Anything.”

  “I will check for you.”

  “Thank you,” I said, and he left.

  I wanted to hate him, but I didn’t. I felt sorry for him. It was obvious that he was being forced to act against his will just as we were.

  Quinn adjusted his body next to mine. “Are you all right? Are you hurt? I saw those bastards hit you.”

  “I’m okay. I’m just worried about Grant. How did this happen?” None of us had had a moment to discuss the chain of events that led us to our fate.

  Quinn attempted to arch his back where his hands were secured behind him and rolled his neck. His eyes were red and bloodshot. “I was on duty. The whole thing happened so fast. I saw two skiffs, and they were coming at us fast like these fuckers weren’t even going to think twice about it. I woke Grant, and he put a distress call in to MARLO and a mayday call on the VHF, but before I knew it they slammed their boat alongside ours, and seconds later there was an RPG pointed at my face.” His voice cracked. “A fucking grenade launcher in my face!”

  “Shh.” I shook my head and glanced at the door.

  He continued to rattle on. “They struggled to climb aboard at first, but the whole time the other guys in their boat were pointing their guns at us. Once the first two guys had boarded us, it was a matter of seconds before they were all on. Then a second skiff slammed into the stern and more of them clamored to get aboard. One of them began shouting at the first group—the asshole in the orange shirt, I think. I couldn’t understand a fucking word. It was mayhem. They were shouting and firing off rounds and pointing flashlights in our eyes and throwing weapons around. Some of them looked as clueless and uncertain of what to do as we did. They kept asking how many people we had on board. We put our hands up, didn’t try to be fucking heroes or anything.

  “Grant was so worried about you, Jess. If either of us could’ve warned you or done anything, we would have. You know we would have! Grant too. He was sick about it.”

  “I know, I know. Please, there was nothing you could’ve done,” I said.

  “I’m so sorry. I just want to get off this boat and back to my girl,” he said, slamming the back of his head against the wall.

  “How much time was there between when you first saw the skiffs and when they boarded the boat?”

  “Ten minutes maybe,” he mumbled. “It was really quick.”

  “Quinn, are you sure Grant got the distress call out?”

  He nodded.

  “What did they say?”

  He sighed. His mind was elsewhere.

  “Quinn, please. Did they respond? Are you sure Grant made contact?”

  “I’m sure,” he said, fidgeting beside me, trying to manage an ounce of comfort with his wide shoulders. “Just like the other night, he put a call into MARLO, and they said they’d get a US warship on it as soon as possible. He told them we didn’t have much time, and the guy at MARLO said he understood. There could be a ship out there as we speak—I have no idea. It hadn’t come by the time these fuckers came aboard, but I know MARLO understood the severity of the call. I know he made contact.”

  I rested my head on the wall behind me and did my best to arrange my tied hands in a position befitting my posture. My stomach was empty and tight. At least Grant got a distress call in. I had no knowledge of piracy protocol but was grateful the navy had been alerted.

  In that moment of silence and brief hiccup of hope, I thought of my sister. I had promised to e-mail every day, even if it was short and sweet, and since I’d forgotten to send one the day before all this happened, she would be worried sick. I hated to think of her upset.

  I have no idea how much time passed before Grant returned, but Quinn and I sat up like lonely puppies in that dark room once he did. His hands were untied, and he was holding a loaf of bread. Behind him were three men. One squeezed past Grant and released the ropes around our wrists. As soon as mine were free, a searing pain ran through my arms as the blood flow went back to normal. Grant quickly handed us the bread, which we devoured, then he turned to the men behind him.

  “Can she go to the top bunk?” He spoke to them in English but mostly used his finger to get his point across.

  All three of them stared at me long and hard before one of them nodded.

  “Get up there,” Grant said to me, and I did.

  Two of the pirates walked away, leaving one to guard us with his rifle. He leaned on the doorframe, chewing khat. Some time later, he was seated on the floor, passed out.

  “The navy is on their way,” Grant whispered.

  “How do you know?” Quinn asked.

  “They brought me up there because they were having trouble with the autopilot, so I ran around from the cockpit back down to the computer below like I was in a frenzy and got an e-mail out to MARLO. About two hours later, I got a look at the radar. I could see a ship on our approach, and when I glanced out at the water I could see them. There’s two ships, and they should catch up to us in a couple hours.”

  “Fuck,” Quinn said, shaking his head. “What then? They’re not going to pay a ransom for us.”

  Grant looked up at me. “I don’t know, but I’ll figure it out. I’ve offered to wire them money, but they want millions,” he said, and then took a step toward the top bunk, and I leaned forward and threw myself into his chest, trembling with fear as he stroked my back and kissed my head. He pulled away and grabbed the sides of my face, rubbing my now only slightly swollen eye with his thumb. “I’m so sorry,” he mouthed. His lids were heavy.

  I nodded. “I know,” I mouthed back. “Have they hurt you?”

  He glanced at the floor and shook his head. “I’m doing what they ask.”

  “What have they asked?”

  “Just to increase the speed, work the sat phone. The guy with the scar is definitely in charge and has a short fuse. We have to make sure we don’t set him off for any reason. I’ve seen him pistol-whip his own guys.”

  My stomach sank. Grant gave me a quick squeeze and then stepped back and sat down on the bottom bunk.

  Over the next couple hours, Grant negotiated with them to show us an ounce of respect. He’d demonstrated to them how to activate the secondary water supply, and they agreed to allow us to wash ourselves—our faces, our mouths, our hands. Deep down I knew they had to keep us alive in order to accomplish their goal, that if we died of starvation, they’d wasted their time. Once we finished, we were sent back to my cabin.

  Just after sunset we heard shouting and confusion above us. Company had arrived.

  DAY FOUR

  From what little we could understand, the navy had arrived, and negotiations for our release had begun. Our lead captor had increased the engine speed, and Baashi had not come with water that morning. Sometime after dawn, we were dragged into the salon and tied up again.

  One by one, we were then taken up top. They likely had to traipse us out on deck to prove we were alive. Grant went first.

  “You!” The leader pointed to Grant and gestured for him to get up.

  Grant managed to stand as quickly as possible but was shoved by another pirate and fell to his knees. Two men forced him to stay down, and another blindfolded him.

  “Now!” the man shouted.

  Grant recovered and was pushed clumsily up the stairs. Once he returned, his blindfold was removed.

  “Come!” He pointed at Quinn.

  My heart skipped a beat at the sound of his voice. His abrupt commands were filled with hatred. Perhaps he liked being there as little as we did.

  Quinn’s eyes were covered, and he was jabbed in the b
ack with a rifle as he made his way up from the salon.

  I counted twelve men standing below with us. The place had been destroyed. The smell, the trash, the odor. My heart broke for what they’d done to the beautiful Imagine in only a few days. Unknown liquids were doused on every surface, and small splatters of spit and saliva were everywhere from the khat. Food and garbage were smashed into the carpet and couches. And the urine. Again, the smell of urine was overwhelming, making my eyes water. When they led us past the once-pristine bathroom, I got a glimpse of the clogged toilet and fluids all over the floor. The sight and smell of both nearly made me vomit again, but I had nothing inside of me to give up, save for a few sips of water and a slice of bread.

  I bent my head close to my chest because the stench in the salon was too much to bear. I buried my nose in my shoulder as best as I could and tried to take in as little air as necessary through my mouth. There was no way I could remain there much longer without becoming queasy again. My body began to shake and dry heave when Quinn reappeared.

  They came for me third.

  Once I reached the top of the stairs, my lungs gasped for fresh air. My blindfold had been tied high up near my eyebrows with little care, so I was able to lift my chin and see underneath it. I saw the vast open water out of the corner of my eye and wanted to jump. The ocean breeze filtered through me and represented my only chance at freedom.

  I tilted my head back a little farther and could see a massive navy warship, but its presence gave me a false sense of hope. I lowered my chin and tried to sit on one of the benches. I could not go back down into that salon. The men pulled me back up, but I still fought against them with what little weight I had and wriggled free. Miraculously, they’d lost their hold on me.

  “Do not move!” I heard the leader shout, but I ignored him. “Get her!”

  I jerked my head up and down, trying to get a glimpse of the water again, and ran lopsided toward the bow with my hands behind my back.

  If I could just get into the water, everything would be okay. The shouting behind me was nonthreatening in that moment, like the white noise of a television playing in the next room. All I needed to do was get off the boat.

  The glorious scent of saltwater replaced the rancid stench that lingered in my nose for only a second before I felt a hard tug on my hair.

  I almost made it.

  My whole body jerked backward in one motion, and I fell hard, slamming my tailbone against the surface of the deck. The man still had my hair in his hands and was pulling me back to the cockpit. The pain was intense as I struggled to my feet and tried to keep up with him. As soon as we got back to where the leader was standing, I was thrown to the floor.

  “Stupid fucking bitch.”

  He kicked me in the ribs, and my whole body shook as I clambered to my knees.

  He bent down close to my face and screamed, “Idiot! Get up!”

  “Please! Can I please stay up here?” I said in a voice I hardly recognized.

  I repeated myself as he shoved me to the floor again, where I couldn’t be seen, and kicked me three more times. I curled up into a ball, my body convulsing as I tried to speak, even though no one was listening.

  “Enough! Leave her alone.” I heard Grant’s voice but didn’t see him. “She’s down. Let me take her. She’s not going anywhere.”

  “I can’t go back down there.” My voice trailed off in a weak murmur, until I was pulled to my feet and tossed down the stairs. With my hands behind my back, I landed on my head and blacked out.

  Grant’s face was the first thing I saw, and for a moment I was happy again. He sighed, relieved to see me open my eyes, and then his face went hard.

  “What did I tell you? You do not speak to them, and you definitely do not argue with them!” he said sternly in a low growl as I lay on his master bed while he stood over me, gripping my elbow. “Have you lost your mind?”

  Yes, I had.

  “They will kill you, Jess. Do you understand?” He shook his head in amazement and then held me tight. “I can’t believe he didn’t shoot you. Thank God, you’re all right.”

  I closed my eyes and nodded as he brought his face closer to mine and whispered loudly, “They will show you no mercy because they have nothing to lose. Do you understand? Nothing! They have no money, no hope, no promise of any life other than this drugged-out, miserable existence.” He paused and scanned my distant eyes. “Can’t you see that they’re as in control of their own lives as we are of ours right now? They’re being forced to produce. They’ve increased the speed, and they need to get us to their mother ship before the navy reaches us. If they return without the means to acquire some huge ransom, then their lives and the lives of their families are in just as much danger as ours.” He sighed. “Don’t ignore what I’m saying to you. You need to be as invisible as possible. Make them forget you’re here. You will not escape. You will not bargain with them. You will not befriend any of them. Not even the boy, so don’t try. Just do exactly what they say. Do you understand?” His eyes were wide as he studied my face with desperation, then loosened his grip and lowered his voice. “Please, Jessica, please tell me you understand?” he pleaded.

  I nodded again, and he pressed his mouth hard against mine and devoured my lips like it was the last chance he’d ever have to kiss me. I didn’t doubt that it might be.

  He stood up and glanced at the door, then grabbed a paper towel with some ice folded in it that was lying next to my head.

  I struggled to speak. “I’m so sorry. I don’t know what I was thinking. I wasn’t thinking. I was trying to jump.” My voice was weak, and I burst into tears. “I didn’t want to come back down here.” I paused to catch my breath, and Grant dried my eyes. “I will do exactly what you said. I promise.” My voice broke as I tried to get the words out without sobbing. “I just want us to get out of here alive.” I wiped my face. “I’m so scared. Scared of what they might do to me . . . to all of us. I keep thinking they’re going to rape me or kill you guys and then rape me to death . . .”

  Grant jerked his head to the side, while his eyes and mouth were tightly closed as I spoke. He’d been thinking the same awful things I had—I just knew it. My brain wouldn’t allow it.

  “I’m losing hope. I’m sorry.” My throat was so dry I could barely speak, and my stomach was cramping from deprivation.

  He opened his eyes, scooped my upper body into his arms, and held me tight. “I’m not going to let anything happen to you,” he said, but we both knew it was likely a promise he couldn’t keep. He couldn’t save his wife, and there was no guarantee he could save me either, but I wasn’t about to challenge his optimism.

  “I’m so happy they untied you,” I said.

  “Just to get you off the floor and out of the way.”

  “What is going to happen to us?” I dared to ask.

  He stroked my hair. “I don’t know,” he whispered into my ear. “I know it’s hard, trust me, but you need to think positive. The navy knows we’re here now, and I have to believe they’re going to do everything in their power to put an end to this thing.”

  I shook my head. “Why haven’t they rescued us yet? It’s been days. What are they waiting for?”

  “They can’t.” He raised his voice slightly and quickly looked over his shoulder. “They can’t intervene unless they are attacked, or they visibly see us being harmed.”

  “Why?”

  “They just can’t yet!” He inhaled slowly and closed his eyes for a moment. “It’s like any hostage situation. They can’t just storm in here, or we’ll all be killed for sure. There are certain regulations that have to be followed. They have to tread lightly, and so do we for our own safety, so please . . . just concentrate on their presence and try to find some peace inside your head. Don’t get desperate. If these thoughts you’re having lead to desperation, then you’re bound to do something that will get you killed. Please just relax in any fucking way possible.”

  With my body bordering on dehydratio
n and having no use of my hands and no food, I was the pure definition of desperate. How could I not be? My brain was beginning to play tricks on me, and short hallucinations became commonplace. Many of the images that flooded my mind were of my youth. Riding my bike across the road to the Yoders’ farm for fresh eggs, brushing my horse and braiding her mane, feeding the cats in the barn. A wave of contentment came over me as I relived those moments—happy, beautiful, peaceful, safe moments that went unappreciated until then.

  And then there was Mom. I hardly remember her ever being cheerful, but there she was right beside me on the boat, nodding and smiling and praying with her rosary beads. Was she praying for me? After all this time, did I finally have her undivided attention? I closed my eyes and held her hand, and we prayed together. My heart rate slowed to a healthy pace, allowing a lightness to emerge inside of me. My concept of wisdom and patience and understanding became clear again, and for the first time in my life I realized that my mother was always—and would always be—there for me.

  I thought about the cats we used to have on the farm, and how much I loved the time when one of them got pregnant and had kittens. My dad built a little pen for the mother to rest in and feed her babies. I used to sit there for hours and watch them sleep and eat and explore. But there was one in particular that I connected with the most. It was a little boy kitten, who was the last one in the litter of six to open his eyes, and he always had the hardest time finding his mom when he was hungry. He would just sit and cry with the tiniest meows while she lay there feeding the other kittens. I never understood why she didn’t come to him and help him, how she could bear to listen to his sweet, panicked cries and not do anything about it. But she was always there for him, and he’d always eventually find his way to her.

  That’s just it. She was always there for him—she knew it, and so did he. I looked over at my mother and apologized for losing faith in God and in her. She just smiled.

  Grant laid me down on my side and gently rubbed my forehead. “Try and relax, okay? You need to heal, and right now rest is all you have.”

  “I’ll try.”