Game on, bitches. I’m fucking ready.
“Here.” He hands me a piece of cloth, and I catch it mid-air. “Cover your head… like this.” He shows me how. “You need to cover your neck, face and your temples.”
“Why?”
“They will be able to see you are a woman from a mile away. Try to show only your eyes,” he says.
“Gotcha. I’ve got something for that.” I dust off my shades and put on the cloth.
The ship is really close now, and I can clearly see men dressed similarly to us who are sporting old weapons similar to ours.
Tension is in the air. The Bedouin looks worried but confident. I just want to eliminate any obstacles that can prevent me from finding Bruno.
“Let me do the talking. Don’t move too much, and don’t look down.”
“Sarah, what the fuck is going on over there?” Rage asks from the other side of the world.
“A ship with armed men is very close to us.”
“Hide,” Rage commands.
“Can’t. There’s nowhere to go. Plus, they are already in front of us. Have to go now,” as I say those words to Rage, the ship is upon us.
The Frenchie pretends to be relaxed, a show for these people, he’s grabbing the helm with a single hand. The other one is inside his pants pocket. I try to mimic his calm posture.
That ship’s crew consists of really skinny men as in you can see their ribcages –thatskinny. Frenchie starts a conversation in a language I don’t recognize, but since everyone seems calm, I’m guessing this is a friendly chat.
One of the men jumps over and lands on our deck. The rest remains on their ship, at least for now. The Bedouin is no longer comfortable. He grips his weapon harder, with one hand, and lifts the other to signal the invader to stop. The man halts and shifts his eyes to me. I’m standing my ground as he studies me from top to bottom. All of a sudden, he starts talking to me.
I say nothing in reply.
I’m a mute.
He is getting angrier, I think. He takes a step forward, and The Bedouin quickly gets between us. It looks like the man is asking who I am. He doesn’t take his bloodshot crazy eyes off of me, not for a second. He looks dreadful.
The guy has resentment written all over his face, and yells something at me, but I don’t move a muscle. He even spits on the ground.
Still I do nothing.
I can’t think of anything that would make the situation better. The man stalks around me and goes through The Bedouin’s duffel bags. I glance at my shipmate, and he is telling me to stay calm with an open palm.
How can I be relaxed? Are we being raided? I don’t understand why we are not in a firefight right now.
The pressure builds inside me. We’re all grown-ups, with guns and an agenda. This is bound to explode. Any second now.
One of the bags is filled with provisions, canned food mostly. He grabs this and slings it across his body immediately. Just when he is about to stand up, he notices my bag concealed behind. The Bedouin moves toward him, trying to distract him, but that makes the situation worse. The man starts yelling and then points his gun at him.
This isn’t good.
We have no way to deescalate this situation.
We’re outnumbered.
Outgunned.
Fuck.
He’s still yelling and pointing the gun, moving his head from left to right like a maniac.
