“Nothing serious,” Ana answered, a bit confused.
“Can you tell I have?” The question could have been rhetorical, as Shane had a crooked nose and puffy ears from years of UFC fights.
“Not at all,” Ana smiled, and Nate laughed.
“Ignore him.” Shane waved him off. “He’s just upset because I used to be the pretty one.” This time Ana laughed.
“Look, what happened at the market in Cairo never needs to happen again,” Shane said more seriously. “You’re a petite woman, so you don’t want to go toe-to-toe with a guy who has fifty to a hundred pounds on you. You want to strike and get away.”
“Okay,” Ana said, and Nate was glad to see she was taking the lesson to heart. A little self-defense training was never a bad thing, especially in light of what had happened in the Khan El Khalili.
“So if someone grabs you from behind, don’t worry about foot stomps and shin rakes. You wait until you feel his breath on the back of your head, and you whip your head back as hard as you can and slam it into his face.” He mimicked the action.
“Just straight back?” Ana asked.
“Yep. You’re going to hit something, whether it’s chin, nose, or orbital bone. It will stun him at worst or knock him out at best. Either way, it’s going to give you a chance to get away.”
“I’ll remember that,” Ana said.
“Good,” Shane replied. “Now, for times like when that douchebag was choking you from the front, I’ll show you a few simple things you can do to make that shit stop real quick.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
It was several hours later that Nate got up to use the bathroom and noticed Tim was missing. He exited the hatch onto the walkway that surrounded the superstructure. It was dark and he could see bright lights shining off to the east. He figured it must be Jeddah and was amazed that despite how close they currently were to Saudi Arabia, they would have to go through the danger of Yemen to make their way there.
It would have been nice to disembark now and skip the trials ahead, but they weren’t allowed into the country, and they certainly couldn’t come in with all the equipment they needed. It was possible to come ashore on the western coast, but then they would need to cross the whole of Saudi Arabia, which was over seven hundred miles. The odds of doing so without getting caught were virtually zero. As dangerous as it was, Yemen was their best option.
Nate looked around the deck, the majority of which was covered with dozens of multicolored SeaLand containers, inside of which were a variety of products. Down among them, leaning over a railing on theport side of the ship, he could make out Tim’s silhouette. He made his way down the stairs toward his old friend.
Nate was apprehensive. There was so much left unspoken between the two men, and it had created a gap that Nate wasn’t sure could ever be bridged. Regardless, he had to try. With the uncertainty that lay ahead, there needed to be a sense of closure to work together, or at least that was what he told himself. In reality, Nate knew that he just missed his friend.
He walked up and leaned against the railing, staring off into the dark night and the lights in the distance. “Nice night,” he said as an icebreaker.
Tim took a long swig of beer before responding. “Fucking hot.” Without a word he reached down into the case at his feet, pulled out a rapidly warming beer, and handed it to Nate.
Nate twisted the top off and felt the cool condensation run down his hand. “Not as hot as Iraq.” Both men were silent for several seconds, the awkward tension between them palpable. Finally, Nate exhaled loudly.Screw it, he thought.
“Look, Tim, I…” Tim raised his hand, cutting him off.
“You don’t have to say anything,” he said as he pulled out a Marlboro, stuck it in the corner of his mouth, and lit it with a cheap Bic lighter. He took a long drag off the cigarette and paused before exhaling a steady stream of thick smoke into the night sky. Nate said nothing.
Finally, Tim turned and looked him in the eyes for the first time since arriving in Egypt. “It’s not your fault, man. I blamed you because you were an easy target. The problem’s not you, it’s me.”
“I don’t follow.” Nate was confused. Tim had said quite a few hateful things back on the firing range in Kentucky just days earlier.
“Whelp, after you left, things kinda fell apart for me. I missed you, sure, but I had my own problems. It wasn’t your fault. I knowyou had to go. The army was never big enough for you.” He took another drag.
Nate shook his head. “I don’t know about that. Sometimes I feel like I never should have joined the army in the first place. Like I should have stayed in college and just become a scientist like my old man wanted.”
It was a true feeling. Everything seemed to push him in that direction. In fact, had the September 11th attacks never happened, Nate wasn’t sure he would have ever joined the military.
“What do you mean, man?” Tim asked, genuinely curious.
Nate shook his head as if he didn’t want to talk about it. But the truth was he needed to. Tim was pulling out another cigarette and Nate motioned for one. His surprised friend arched an eyebrow but said nothing as he handed him a smoke and lit it for him before lighting his own.
Nate took a drag off the cigarette. It felt heavy in his lungs.Third smoke this month, he thought to himself. Slowly he exhaled, and a large cloud of smoke hung in the dense, muggy air. After a long sip of beer, he continued.
“I’m not like you, Tim. I wasn’t built to be a warrior. I was brought up to be a scholar. I feel like I’ve been fighting against the universe this whole time. Doing research, solving problems, writing papers—that’s what I’m good at.”
