Action & Adventure
After my brother died, my dad said the nightmares—the ghosts—were all in my mind. That they couldn't hurt me. Turns out he was wrong.
And then we watch helplessly as the jeep burns. Flames leap from the driver's window and lick at the door frame, red tongues reaching into the black smoke. A wall of heat pushes toward us.
A dhow, an open wooden boat about the same length as ours, is motoring alongside, thudding into our hull. From the edge of the sun, another boat hurtles toward us.
I sense the gunfire more than hear it.
Duncan is yelling at Mom, "Those are warning shots. Cut the engine! They won't hurt us if we cooperate."
All I could think was that I was in over my head again. The guy had one hand tight on my throat and I was pinned down. The other hand held a knife. He was snarling at me but I couldn't make out anything. Then I looked in his eyes and noticed that he was as scared as I was. He was breathing hard and he was trying to say something.
"You tell, I kill," was what I finally made out.
