Under Vanishing Skies (6 page)

The stress that I had lost out on the water had found its way back into my neck and shoulders. I rolled my head from side to side until my neck cracked. “Thanks, Mohamed. I’ll keep that in mind.” I looked at my hand and wiggled my fingers. It hurt, but not bad. “And thanks for patching me up.”

“
It is my honor.” He smiled. “It is the Islamic way. We must always help the injured.”

“
Tell that to Jamal.”

From the expression on his face, I knew I’d crossed the line.

Why the hell did I say that? “I’m sorry, Mohamed. That isn’t what I meant.”

“
You said what is in your heart and the heart speaks only the truth. But I know your words were not aimed at me.”

“
No...of course not. I’m...after what they did on Embudu and Makunudhoo...I don’t know. Look, I probably should go.”

I started to stand, but he put his hand on my shoulder pushed me back down. “Please, my friend, sit. It is not healthy to keep this anger inside of you.”

I sat back down, but looked away.

Mohamed broke the silence. “It is natural to feel anger when something like that happens. And it is understandable that you direct that anger at the source of those attacks. But you must try to separate how you feel about the pirates and the religion that they hide behind. Jamal and his followers are fanatics. That is true. But they are no different than the New Crusaders.” I looked over at him and he continued. “The unthinkable atrocities that the New Crusaders carried out in the name of Christ did not make Christianity an evil religion.”

Memories of the stories my grandmother had told me about the vigilante groups called the New Crusaders flooded into my head. She had told me that after the terrorists blew up over a hundred high schools in the states back in 2018, a bunch of holier-than-thou right-wing shitheads went around killing anyone who looked remotely Muslim. And the damned president and his fellow Tea Party yahoos in Congress just looked the other way and let it happen. I couldn’t remember how many had died. One hundred thousand? Two hundred thousand? It was enough to make the military have to stage a coup.

Mohamed was right. Religions didn’t kill people. People killed people.

I said. “I’m sorry…really.”

Mohamed stood up and smiled. “We must sit down and have a long discussion about this someday when you have more time.”

 
I stood up. “Be sure to have a bottle or two of your moonshine ready. I’ll need it for that discussion.”

He laughed and said, “How many times must I tell you. It is medicine, not moonshine.”

I looked at my watch and said, “It’s almost time for me to head back to Male.”

“
How long will you be gone for this time?” he asked.

“
Just a week. They’re taking a three-day break for the Remembrance Day Weekend.”

“
They are taking a break so close to the arrival of the ship?”

I shrugged and walked to the door. He reached out his pudgy arm and pushed it open for me. I stepped outside and said, “Thanks again for fixing me up and for the advice. I’ll see you when I get back.”

“
Stay safe, my friend.”

I turned to leave, but stopped when he said, “Wait. I almost forgot.” Turning around, I watched him disappear into his hut. A few seconds later he reappeared with an old water bottle that I knew wasn’t filled with water.

“
Here, take this. It will help with the stress of the Council.”

I took the bottle and smiled. “You of all people should know that booze is prohibited in Male. What are you trying to do...get me arrested by the morality police?”

He smiled and said, “If anyone says anything, you have them call me. I am a doctor, remember? I am prescribing this medicine to help ease your hypertension.”

*** 

Two hours later, my teeth rattled in my skull as the hull pounded against the waves. It was useless to try to read anymore, so I bunched up my data mat and tucked it into my back pocket. There would be time to finish reviewing the updated list when I got to my room on Male.

I stood up and grabbed the railing to keep from falling over. After getting my sea legs, I climbed two steps up to the bridge. Kamish sat behind the console, steering the twenty-four foot speed boat through the shallow channel that ran between a chain of islands. He kept one hand on the wheel and the other on the throttle, cutting back the engines every time we launched off the top of a big wave.

His younger brother, Lanka, was strapped into a fishing chair up ahead on the bow. I watched for a second as Lanka swept the horizon with his binoculars. If anyone could find something out there, it was Lanka.

Then I turned around and saw Kamish’s youngest brother, Senil, on the aft chair doing the same thing. Both of them held fast to their rifles.

Above the high-pitched whine of the electric engines and the roar of the wind I yelled, “How much longer?”

Without taking his eyes off the waves, Kamish said, “Maybe ten minutes. I can just make out the light from the port.” He nodded toward the horizon.

At first I didn’t see anything, but when we crested the next big wave I saw the light for a brief moment before we slid down the backside.

Ten minutes was a long time out here, but it didn’t used to be. For the first several years, the MDF Air Patrol had kept the pirates outside the atoll. But there were fewer functioning boats and helojumpers nowadays, and there were more pirates. So nobody took anything for granted.

I felt my shoulders tighten and I tried unsuccessfully to crack my neck. It wasn’t that I was afraid of getting killed; it was what they did to their prisoners before they killed them that bothered me. That brought back the image of Rick tied to the tree.

I checked my watch. It was seven o’clock. The heavy storm clouds that blanketed the entire sky made it seem later. At least the rain had stopped, so visibility wasn’t too bad.

“
How are we doing on juice?” I asked.

Kamish glanced at the gauge and said, “Should be enough to get us into port, but I will have to swap out batteries before we head back. There wasn’t enough sun today to get a full charge.”

Like most vehicles manufactured after the gas crisis of 2021, the boat was solar powered. Its paint passively collected the sun’s energy and eventually converted it into electricity. The technology used to work pretty well before the storm, but the weather patterns had changed and it was a lot cloudier than it had used to be. Most boats had to deploy a floating solar net to help them get a full charge.

I walked aft to add my eyes to the watch. Besides, it wasn’t as bumpy back there. Senil greeted me with his mischievous smile. In this light, his teeth looked luminescent.

“
Better hold on. It is a bit bumpy back here,” he said.

“
That’s okay,” I replied. “It’s better than up front where Lanka is.” I held fast to the boat rail and crouched down next to his chair. “See anything?” I yelled.

He must have picked up the concern in my voice because he winked and said, “Do not worry. The pirates won’t bother us tonight. They do not like the rain. It makes their prayer rugs all wet,” he laughed.

I forced a smile and said, “Kamish said you guys aren’t staying in Male tonight? What’s the rush to get back?”

His smile got wider. “Mohamed told me that Jemil will deliver soon and I want to be there when my son is born.”

“
What makes you think it’s going to be a boy?” As far as I knew, there wasn’t a working ultrasound in the atoll.

“
I can tell. My grandmother used to say that if the baby rides low in the belly then it will be a boy. Jemil’s belly is almost touching the—”

Blood poured out of his mouth as he tried to finish his sentence. I didn’t hear the shot that killed him, but I saw who did it. The pirates were coming up fast behind us in a large, rigid-hull inflatable boat and they were shooting wildly at us. One of the bastards had gotten lucky.

Where the fuck did they come from? I looked around. They must have been hiding in one of the small coves of the island off to the right. I reached for Senil, but his lifeless body slumped to the deck before I could get a hold of him.

Crouching next to him, I yanked the rifle from his hand and yelled towards the front of the boat, “Pirates!”

Kamish looked back and I saw the horror in his eyes and he screamed, “Senil!” Then, looking out ahead, he blasted the horn to alert his other brother. Lanka unbuckled himself and sprinted to the back of the boat. Kamish was already on the radio calling the MDF for help.

Lanka took a quick look at Senil and then crouched down next to me. Putting his hand on my shoulder, he pulled me further down below the railing. Then, shouldering his rifle, he took aim and fired. I just knelt there and watched. It took the ricochet of a bullet near my head to remind me that I had a rifle of my own. I brought it up and fired.

Kamish must’ve had the throttles pegged because we were bouncing so hard that I couldn't aim. It didn’t matter. I kept firing. At the rate they were closing, I could tell that we wouldn’t reach the protection of the port in time. And the damned MDF Air Patrol wouldn’t get here in time either. It took at least fifteen minutes for those assholes to get a helojumper off the pad.

I was about to fire another shot, but stopped when I saw something that looked like a snake flying through the air. It took me a few seconds to realize what I was looking at. It was a grappling hook on the end of a rope and it was heading straight for us.

Lanka shoved me hard out of the way. I rolled into the corner. When I looked up I saw Lanka pinned against the rail. The hook was in his back, and two of its metallic prongs protruded through his chest. I watched in horror as the rope tightened. I tried to get up, but before I could reach him the hook ripped his body in half. He collapsed onto the deck next to his brother. The hook was now solidly jammed into the back of the boat.

I heard Kamish scream above the rush of wind. “No!”

I looked toward the bridge. His face was filled with rage. He pushed the throttle as far as it would go. It didn’t help. We were slowing down. Our engines were no match for their diesel hybrids.

I looked around for something to cut the rope. They usually kept an axe in one of the storage containers. I crawled over and looked inside the rusty metal box on the starboard side. All that I found was a solar net pack. I pulled it out and threw it overboard so I could look for the axe. The box was empty. Out of the corner of my eye I saw something behind us in the water. I turned to look. It was just the solar pack automatically deploying. Thousands of miniature water activated servos stretched the net to its full one hundred foot diameter.

I could hear rifle shots above the roar of the wind now. They were almost on us. I laid flat on the floor and crawled over to the box on the port side. The floor was covered in an inch of bloody water that sloshed around. I reached the box and opened the lid. I peered inside. It was filled with life preservers. I started pulling them out and throwing behind me. Then I spotted it. The axe was attached to a metal clasp on the inside of the box. I freed it and crawled back to the hook. Raising the axe above my head, I brought it down on the rope. The rail bent, but the rope held. Two more shots whizzed by me and I ducked. Peeking up over the rail I saw them. They were less than fifty feet behind us. We were out of time.

Suddenly I heard their engines strain and then cut out completely. I peeked up expecting to see the bastards boarding our ship. Instead, I watched as they ran to the back of their boat. I suddenly realized what had happened. The solar net had tangled in their propellers. Taking advantage of the diversion, I brought up the axe again and swung down hard. This time the axe cut clean through the rope. We lurched forward and I fell back. Lanka and Senil’s lifeless bodies slid across the bloody swill and joined me.

After a few seconds, I peeked over the railing and watched as the pirate boat shrunk into the distance. We were finally out of range.

I got up and walked slowly toward the cabin. I looked down. My clothes were covered in blood. When I reached the bridge, I looked over at Kamish. Tears streamed down his cheeks, his face tight with hatred.

I turned away and stared at the light shining out from the lighthouse at the Port of Male. Tears streamed down my face and I pictured Senil as a boy, shimmying up the palm tree to get me a coconut.

Chapter 4

A fried fish stared up at me from my plate with an accusing eye. I looked away and filled my empty glass from the bottle that Mohamed had given me. Half of the bottle was already gone and I still felt like shit. No medicine was strong enough to help me forget what had happened out there on the boat.

I took a sip anyway, winced, and set the glass down. Then I pushed the plate away. There was no way I could eat tonight and tomorrow wasn’t looking good either.

I looked around the hotel’s grand dining room and saw about a dozen people finishing their meals. It was late and the dinner rush was over. Most of them were Europeans who, like me, were stranded here while on vacation. This hotel was their home now. A few looked like locals, Maldivians, although I guess technically we were all locals now.