Better than in the Caliphate, his thoughts shamed him. No. Not shame. Anger. He glared at the three mute men holding rifles.
Touch one of them and I will kill you.
Three hours turned into just over four, five, the seas swirling, the children asleep, crawled into little balls, hands around each other. Only Clary stayed awake, her head drooping, worried the ship would turn into a prison and the guards would rip off her clothes. Finally she slumped, exhausted with hope, in the corner.
A light flickered in the distance, once, twice. Azhar rapped sharply on the center console, alerting the men. They re-checked the rubber dinghys attached starboard and port. Azhar signaled back to the other ship three times. He turned off the engine.
The orphans woke with a collective uneasiness, tightening their circle, fearful little animals. Clary whispered gently, rubbing a few heads and handing out water, which they greedily gulped. The large boat, probably a sixty-five footer, ambled forward, stopping a quarter klick away.
Say nothing, he’d been told, orders he didn’t care for. What did these people look like? The ship was not the American Navy. No markings, not even a name, number. Nothing to identify them. Neither was his ship, he shuddered, unease deepening. Azhar glanced back at the orphans, standing and holding hands, Clary in front, hands on hips, waiting. His children who he’d never see again.
Perhaps this wasn’t a good idea. Americans are pigs. You should’ve let me hide Clary, Azhar thought sadly in the direction of home. We always wanted a daughter. Fool, he grew angry. Too much sentimentality, these bastards are just Crusaders, infidels, the Caliphate is better without them, The Son is wise to send them off. Let their weak souls and perverted genes infect America. Our enemy. These children are our enemies, enemies of Allah, your wife, your sons.
The boat blinked twice. The large men dropped the dinghys into the water and lowered the children. Clary helped guide her friends down. She was the last to leave.
The folder with all the orphans’ files tucked under her arm, Clary wiggled her fingers good-bye. Azhar sunk to his knees and held out his hands. Clary’s face twisted in violent debate, eyes watering. Finally, she just nodded, wiggling her fingers for a last time and climbing over the side.
“Gracias, senor,” she said, disappearing into the dinghy.
Diego’s mouth dropped as the little boats pulled alongside.
“They’re children,” he said to Lee as if discovering fire.
“What’d you think they were?” The Captain jerked his head toward the coffins lined up in the rear of the boat.
“We’re killing them?” Diego asked, his horror increasing.
Lee disgustedly shook his head at the boundless stupidity of his first mate and leaned over to help the children onto the boat. As they boarded, the youngsters’ eyes locked onto the coffins. They were terrified.
Clary scampered up last, growling at Diego’s outstretched hand. She swung her legs onto the deck in a slight crouch, looking between her orphans and the coffins.
“Que es esso?”
“Para esconderse de Allahs,” Lee surprised Diego with the foreign response, directing the words to the group. The frightened children waited for Clary to answer. She nodded brusquely and opened one of the boxes, pulling out a tiny blue pillow which she shook mockingly; the orphans laughed nervously.
“Tienes hambre?” Lee gestured at sandwiches on a small table.
Clary cracked the air with her fist, stopping the children from chowing down. “Esperamos hasta llegar a Estados Unidos.” She peered at Lee. “Sera abuela estar alli?”
“Finalmente.”
The children murmured excitedly about meeting Grandma. Clary clapped her hands for quiet. The captain hesitated and gestured to the coffins. “Por favor, usted sera mas seguro.”
Clary lifted each of the coffins and made a gesture of breathing deeply; Lee showed the air holes on the sides.
Diego finished counting heads and nudged Lee. “There are twenty-one of them, Captain.”
The orphans tensed at the low suspicious whispering.
Lee bowed politely at Clary and pointed at the coffins. “Veinte.” He waved at the orphans. “Veintiuno.”
“Si.” Clary pondered this and pointed toward the heavy tarpaulin in the corner.
“Excelente,” Lee said, grinning.
Clary motioned for him to be patient as she guided each of the children inside the coffins, whispering gently as she closed the lids. She burrowed under the tarpaulin with a loud, contented sigh.
“That girl’s gonna break a lot of balls and clits when she gets older.” Lee laughed, poking Diego to get underway.
The Allah ship still watched them. Lee waved and received a wave back. Their engines eased into low gear and turned steadily north by northwest. He heard the Allah boat move in the opposite direction.
Lee passed Diego, still shaking his head.
“Where’d you learn Spanish?”
“Who was talking Spanish?” he raised his eyebrows in shock. “That’s illegal, ain’t it? Now get us rolling, we have to deliver the coffins back to Hayden’s before sunset.”
The Captain was deliberating over an AG chicken sandwich when the whirring of blades exploded overhead. Bullets riddled the deck, soaking the food with Lee’s blood. Diego steered wildly away from the trio of black ‘copters, but more bullets lacerated the ship, ricocheting into his side. He screamed at the children to stay in their coffins, but they popped up like dolls in an amusement park shooting gallery, falling in rows, draped over their wooden boxes.
“No!” Mustafa screamed at the flashing tracers and turned the boat around.
“What’re you doing?” One of the large men grabbed the wheel.
Azhar whacked him in the forehead with a crowbar and headed directly toward the smoking Crusader ship. Hovering impatiently, the ‘copters poured a last round into the slowly sinking vessel.
“Tarak hadhih almintaqat ealaa alfawr,” bellowed a voice over the loudspeaker.
Azhar froze for a moment before his rage melted
