The two women stood on the docks with a certain hush-hushedness to them. Their eyes darted around suspiciously as they stood before the boat about to depart. Emesta wore a soft yellow sundress, with her wavy brown hair back in a braid. She'd suited Emesta up in heavy furs and coats, pulling her hair back into a ponytail when she'd realised the thick curly hair was downright immune to braids.
Emesta stared at her sister for what could possibly be the final time. She studied the heart shape and widow's peak atop her head. She looked deep into the mocha brown orbs full of loss she hoped to never have to know and she accepted that Yanire was to leave, and hopefully, get somewhere safer.
Yanire stared back, eyes wet with tears as she pulled Emesta into a hug. The woman had kept the same suitcase from before, only now they'd gone and filled it to the brim with everything Emesta could think of that her sister might need. Toiletries, hygienics, some new sets of warmer clothes: everything. She'd furthermore packed some American money that could be converted to pounds overseas.
"The ship is set to drop you in London, I'd recommend checking in as a refugee somewhere, seeking asylum maybe. Northern Europe is safest and you've got enough warm clothes for a head start. Yanire, I'm sorry. I wish I could do more…"
Yanire crushed her sister to her chest pointedly, pulling back and cupping the young woman's face in between her polished but rough hands.
"Emesta Carmen Quema, you have saved my life. You may not know that yet, but you have moved mountains for me and I will never be able to explain to you how much this means to me."
Emesta's eyes betrayed her, growing damp with her own tears as she laughed a little.
"I'm going to miss you. You make the best food ever."
Yanire laughed now, pulling away and wiping the tears from her eyes. Their sisterhood had been short-lived, but Emesta had done for her everything that a sister would do and she would never forget.
"You'd better mail me your thesis when it's finished, Doctor Quema."
The younger girl smiled through shiny tears and nodded. Goodbyes were difficult for her.
"Whenever you're able, please reach out and let me know you're safe."
Yanire nodded and the boat made its call for all passengers on their voyage. After giving the younger girl a small wave she turned and strode fiercely towards the boat.
If Martien was going to hunt her down, she'd be sure to make it he
Yanire had decided the best way to cope with a seven day voyage by sea was to sleep through as much of it as she possibly could. Emesta had sent her as a passenger among an ocean liner, deciding it would be harder to track than airport passengers. Yanire was given a quaint compartment on the lower level with much of the ship's cargo. She wasn't the only passenger, but rather one of the few. There was an ancient couple in the compartment to her right and a woman and her daughter to the left. She was pretty sure the other passengers were in similar predicaments to her own and she made it a point to be kind to them whenever they did happen to interact.
One such example of this was on the second day, when the mother had gone into a sort of PTSD daze, Yanire had tended to her daughter and taught the girl some of her favourite words in Filipino. The girl already knew English and Arabic, and Yanire knew she had a better chance of becoming a polyglot if she were started on the path young. She was a shy girl but not an impolite one by any means. Yanire suspected she was anywhere from seven to ten, though she felt it improper to ask.
They ate one meal a day with the crew members, who kept to themselves for the most part. The captain would play his banjo and sing sea shanties every other night, prompting some of the members to join in when they knew the words. The woman suspected it was to keep their morale high while they travelled through icey and rough waters. The ship also had two resident cats that helped to fend off the rodents. One was spritely and young, wandering about with a great curiosity, while the other was an ancient ginger tabby with all the attitude of a governess. They called the cats Prince and Missy. Yanire grew fond of Missy, even being that she was an old grouch. The cat would slink into her room some nights and sleep in the closet compartment opposite the bed. It was comforting somehow, as though she had her own protector for the voyage.
It was the fourth night, Yanire in a deep slumber amidst the lower compartments. She was jerked awake when her body was catapulted through the air, and she crashed into the compartment's wall. The crash had slammed her head quite hard, leaving her both injured and disoriented for a great deal of time. She could hear distant commotion and she was pretty sure their ship had somehow become sideways, but perhaps that was just the open head injury.
It wasn't until she heard the splatter of gunshots that Yanire jumped to her feet. She pulled her body up from the floor and made her way hazily through the ship. Half of the shipment containers were busted and awry, and she passed at least two bodies climbing through the wreckage alone. The shock and disorientation enabled her to not think too much and rather move as the commotion got clearer around her. Men shouting. Gunshots firing. Water rushing in through the damage in the boat. When she creeps through to the boat's deck, she confirms the ship is in fact sideways, and lodged against a landmass of some sort.
She pushes off of the boat and her boots crunch the sand of the cold island as she tries to make sense of what is around her. She sees the captain get shot down and the gruff shout of confusion just before his body slumps over. Yanire tries to move further and inspect their situation but her head injury gets the better of her and she tumbles over, passing out on the shore.
The final thought she has in the haze of confusion is itself disorienting.
She has no idea where she is.