imthepilot | Refugee AU 2018

The galley wasn’t exactly a good place to be. It was hot as hell and stank of rotting food, the last of that they had left. It was narrow and dangerous – no more than a propane hotplate balanced on a plank of wood that could fall at any moment.

But it was a slightly quieter corner than the rest of the packed boat. And even the rotting food smell wasn’t as bad as the rotting flesh smell everywhere else.

Please, please, let the girls be safe.

Bodhi regretted that he’d never really had faith. If he’d believed in Allah or God or any deity at all, he’d at least have someone to mutter those prayers too. Rather than just losing them to the open air.

Nothing more than swearing. Just a release valve.

And even if his arms were pock-marked by oil burns and splashes, it was better than the other options.

Two more had died overnight, their bodies tossed into the sea. And at least one more wouldn’t make it to see another sunset. And a storm was coming.

“Hurry up with that food! You have other duties.” The captain shouted and Bodhi winced.

He knew the bastard wasn’t hungry, at least not for the pathetic meal of beans and rice Bodhi had managed to scratch together.

Bodhi kept reminding himself that it could be worse. There were kids on board, girls not much younger than Pema. While the captain’s hands were on Bodhi, they weren’t on the poor girls.

Please, please, let this not have happened to his sisters.

He had paid more for their passage, smuggled them out on what seemed to be a bigger, sturdier boat. It meant he had had to stay behind, pay the lesser bribe for a smaller boat. One that looked like it was barely floating. But what did that matter.

As long as the girls were safe.

Or so he told himself. Every night, squeezed into a corner, held in place by the crush of desperate humanity.

His own life didn’t matter, as long as the girls were save. And no-one was safe at home any more.

They were the lucky ones, if you could call it that. When the bombs had rained down from the sky, their house had been spared. Even if they had had to climb over the rubble of their neighbours to get out when the thunder stopped. Bodhi had done his best to shield his sisters’ eyes from the crumpled remains that may well have been the family next door.

Bodhi was educated, literate, thanks to his maternal grandmother who had raised them after his mother and brother had joined the insurgents. And that gave him and his sisters prospects the rest of the family didn’t have.

But bullets didn’t discriminate. And suicide bombers did.

The government depot when Bodhi worked had been bombed twice before Bodhi had managed to save the money to bribe people smugglers to get his sisters away to Europe.

The third time his truck was flipped by the blast, leaving him with burns to his back as he tried to crawl free.

It was time to get out of here. Nothing was left of the city of his birth. Nothing but blood and madness.

When he heard the shouts from on deck, he armed himself with the galley’s only sharp knife. He’d heard the crew joke about selling them to slavers, to pirates, to human traffickers. Even make bets about who would be worth the most.

And Bodhi wasn’t going down that way. If needed, he’d go down fighting.

Please, please, let my sisters have had a clean death. Anything but this.

But then a name was called across the boat. An aid agency he’d heard of in the news. It echoed across the deck like a wave of relief and Bodhi put down the knife.

Thank you. Whoever is listening, thank you. Just let them have my sisters.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

From:

galen_erso

"We don't know what they went through," Galen says softly, stroking Bodhi's shoulders.

"Let's take it as our reverse wake-up call. Go-sleep call, maybe."

From:

imthepilot

The voice is attached to Martin. The snarky one Galen's been warning about all day.

"Erso. Haven't you got better things to be doing. Who are you up here fraternizing with?"

He clearly can't see them in the dark.

Bodhi tenses more at the comment and shifts a little away from Galen, as if ready to bolt.

From:

galen_erso

"Off duty, doing nothing," Galen says. "Turning in now."

He swallows several pointy comments for the sake of Bodhi's presence.

From:

imthepilot

Bodhi is still very tense but he manages to put the mug down carefully. "I should go find a bunk." if there's any left. "Thank you for the tea."

From:

galen_erso

"Any time," Galen says. "Glad if I could help; that's what we're here for. There's a reason we call our passengers that, and not refugees or castaways."

That last bit is for the edification of Martin as well -- fraternisation indeed!

From:

imthepilot

"Or detainees." Bodhi whispers under his breath bitterly as he heads back inside, heading towards the passenger areas.

He's working in the mess in the morning, working the breakfast queue with a massive pot of porridge. Which is much, much better than usual.

From:

galen_erso

Galen turns up in the queue eventually, looking bleary and barely awake.

From:

imthepilot

Bodhi's fingers brush Galen's as he hands over a bowl of porridge, adding a swirl of stewed apple and cinnamon. "Good morning." he seem brighter, more alive this morning.

From:

galen_erso

Galen perks up a little.

"This smells wonderful," he says. "Cooking does you good. Even Martin can't possibly object to this."

From:

imthepilot

"I enjoy cooking. I always have. Not so much on the ship I was on." He lifts his arms to show off the spotted oil burns on his forearms. "The galley here is wonderful, by the way."

From:

galen_erso

Galen touches a burn with the tip of his finger, very carefully. "That is from cooking in a badly equipped galley?"

From:

imthepilot

"Propane stove balanced on a plank of wood. Grease tends to spit and in confined spaces there wasn't anywhere to go."

From:

galen_erso

Galen briefly squeezes his hand, but lets go before anybody can notice.

"Sounds awful. I'm glad it's better here."

He steps aside to let the next person get their porridge, but lingers on the side while he tastes it.

From:

imthepilot

Bodhi keeps busy serving people, including a few she recognises from the ship they rescued him from.

Rochin lingers near near the coffee machine. She needs nothing but coffee and rage.

From:

galen_erso

Galen steps over to her, porridge half eaten, as he needs coffee as well.

"Do try this," he tells her. "Bodhi made it. It's excellent."

From:

imthepilot

"I'm good." She answers, not a morning person. "Tell your pretty boy I want to talk to him after breakfast."

From:

galen_erso

"He is not" -- well, he is somehow Galen's now, and he is amazingly pretty, especially his eyes and lips -- "not a boy! But yes, can do that. Anything else I should know? An new Martin shaped problems?"

From:

imthepilot

"Martin is his dumb-ass problem." She growls. "And what I have to say is the pretty boy's business. But you seem attached so you can bring him."

From:

galen_erso

"I'm attached," Galen says. "Happened suprisingly fast, but I am quite attached to him. Also, he can make common porridge taste magical."

From:

imthepilot

Rochin gives him a look. A look that pretty clearly says she finds the cute love at first sight things utterly nauseating. "Go away. I haven't finished my coffee yet."

From:

galen_erso

Galen nods, and drifts back to Bodhi's station, joining the queue again, in the hope of seconds.

From:

imthepilot

There's a massive pot with plenty to go around. Even if lots of people are coming back for seconds.

Bodhi smiles to see him again and reaches for his ladle. "Still hungry?"

From:

galen_erso

"Hungry is different," Galen says, "but I would really like more of that excellent stuff. What spices did you use on the apple -- cinnamon, and what else?"