“We are spending the night in this house, then we leave before dawn.”
Thishouselooks more like a hut from the outside, and as soon as I step inside, I have to be honest, Rage and Carter weren’t lying when they said that the pleasant part of the journey ended back in Greece. There is only an old table with two wooden stools accompanied by a few worn, dirty and smelly mattresses flat on the floor.
Welcome to the shittiest part of this adventure.
“You could do way worse considering where we are and your gender,” Life says.
Without showing my disgust for the state of things in this place, I throw my duffel on top of a mattress and sit on it.
“Are you hungry? I can fix you something to eat if you want,” he offers while rummaging inside a bag.
“I’m good, thanks,” I quickly reply. I don’t care if he’s the best cook in Cairo. I don’t want to eat anything cooked here.
As I’m removing the wig, Frenchie asks, “So… how do you know Rage?”
Fuck! I forgot to let Rage know! He’s going to be a pain in my ass because of it.
“Through a friend,” I reply carefully. I still don’t know how much I can trust this guy.
“That’s a lie if I ever heard one. Rage has no male friends, let alone female ones. That’s like a rule for him.”
“Then I’m the exception to that rule.”
“If you don’t want to tell me, just say so,cher,” he remarks as he lies down on a mattress.
“If he was here, listening to our conversation, I don’t think he would like me to reveal how we met,” I reply.
“I’m here, Sarah,” Carter says through the earpiece. “If you had to phrase it like that, it means you don’t trust the guy. Right?”
Rage is missing again?
“Fair enough, American Girl. Get some sleep. We leave in a few hours.”
“Affirmative.”
“Psst… Sarah,” Carter says, “still can’t talk? Tap the ear piece if you can hear me.”
I tap the device once.
“Okay, cool. I don’t have anything to report. Just remember I’m here.”
I roll my eyes. Carter can be childish sometimes.
* * *
Something hits the mattress, and I snap open my eyes. The Bedouin is standing next to me looking down, he looks like a giant from where I am.
“Get up, we have to go,” he orders and heads out. It’s still dark outside.
I immediately stand up, put on my wig, shoulder my duffel bag and leave that dirty mattress behind.
We get in the car, and he drives until we reach a place that, to my eyes, looks like an abandoned pier. A medium-sized fishing boat is moored to the dock. He shuts off the engine, and the only noise that remains is the ship grinding into the dock.
“Come on, this way,” he calls while boarding the boat.
The thing is old and rusty, the hull is light blue, and I cannot see cabins or anything to shield us from the world.
“Are you sure this will hold itself together?” I ask while jumping on the deck to test it.
