Bile leaped into my throat as the hatch banged open and a black rush of terror poured into me.
The evil captain climbed down the ladder and kicked me in my side with his booted foot, knocking me sprawling. I banged my head on the bottom of the cold dark hold.
The hatch banged shut again. My head rang like a bell.
“It’s better,” said Shai in a voice that seemed too mature for her age, “if you remain calm. And quiet.”
I took a deep breath, not sure how to ask what I wanted to ask. “Is it really worth it? I mean leaving China, going like this to Canada? You could die.”
“My mother . . .” she nodded at the woman who was now sleeping, “. . . is not well. My father was a professor, but he died two years ago. Lung cancer from the terrible pollution in the air where we lived. We are very poor now. I had to stop school last year and work in a factory. Very little money. My grandfather . . .” she tilted her head toward the old white-haired man, snoring against a travel bag, “. . . his only wish is to see his brother before he dies. His brother, my great uncle, is younger. He lives in Vancouver. Has his own business. We will live with him. All these others, they hope to get work in restaurants owned by family. It is very poor in China for most people.”
She sighed. “Some get very rich, others struggle to survive.”
Shai stopped talking and closed her eyes. “We think it is worth it. But we didn’t know it would be this bad. And now we don’t know if we will really ever get there. But I trust we will. I have to. There is nothing else.”
Suddenly it was quiet, but I didn’t know what to say. This was a whole world I knew nothing about.
“Where is your family?” she asked. “Where do you live?”
I sat up, rubbing my head. I wasn’t sure what to say after hearing Shai’s story. My troubles suddenly seemed less important. “We were camping on an island nearby when they took me. I think that’s where my family and friends are. But I’m not sure. I heard the captain say we’ll leave early in the morning for Vancouver. I’m not sure how they’ll find me there.”
My mouth was parched, but I wasn’t so sure about drinking the water in that bucket.
“I live in California,” I finished.
“California,” she said, closing her eyes again. She made it sound like some mythical place. “Disneyland. The Golden Gate Bridge. I want to go to California someday.”
I looked at her. She had dreams of a future. How could she be so calm? Shai and her family were being treated how I imagined people in the African slave ships had been treated. Maybe not quite that bad, but still pretty awful. I was amazed she could think about anything more than surviving it.
It was a challenge with my hands tied, but I managed to squeeze my right hand into my hip pocket and fish out the Bic pen I always carried for writing in my journal. I found a scrap of paper wedged at the bottom of my pocket, smoothed it out against my thigh, and wrote on it.
“Here,” I said, handing it to her. “If you ever get to California—when you get to California—write me at this address. Maybe you could, you know, come and visit sometime.”
She took the paper, tucked it into the pocket of her jeans, and gave me a big smile. Then she curled into a ball like a cat, rolled away from me, and nestled her head on her mother’s lap. Time to sleep again.
Shai may have been calm enough to sleep, but I was not. What if my dad and the others found us and tried to save me and it all went wrong? Or they don’t find us and when we get to Vancouver the captain realizes I’m too big a risk to keep alive? Realizes I could run right to the police if he lets me go.
I might not even make it to Vancouver! He could dump me overboard at any time!
I felt as if my world had been turned on its axis. Suddenly, nausea and dizziness sent me into a panicked daze.
I lay there in my wet clothes, in the dim orange light, and struggled with worry and fear. Fatigue dragged me down like chains. The next day was supposed to be the last day of our kayak trip.
But it could be the last day of my life.
And these people were literally in the same boat. If my dad and the others did try to save me, we might all be held hostage. There could be a violent standoff with no way out but death.
I slid slowly down the hull—as darkness closed over me—thinking, I am going to die.
They are going to hang me up like a dead duck on a hook.
My thoughts went round and round. My mind was a dog chasing its tail.
The dim light got dimmer and dimmer. The ribs of the boat creaked. Finally, I couldn’t think anymore and exhaustion swept over me in waves. I drifted away into stormy dreams.
Then suddenly, my mom was shaking me and calling, “Wake up, Aaron. Wake up!”
I woke up, but not to my mom. It was Wong, the Chinese diver, shaking me and hissing, “Wake up! Wake up, boy!”
His eyes looked fierce. His teeth were bared. He pulled something from his belt.
The blade of a huge fishing knife flashed in the dim orange light.