He woke up in a cold sweat, eyes dilated with terror, mouth open in a soundless scream. His pitch-black surroundings only enhanced the gruesome quality of his nightmares. He curled into the fetal position, gasping desperately for breath as an onslaught of memories hurtled at him like a torrential wind. He rocked back and forth, back and forth, eyes peeled wide open; for the moment he closed them, he would see a landscape of twisted corpses.

“Mama, can we get this one?” his younger self tugged at his mother’s sleeve, pointing persistently at a model airplane he had desperately wished for.
“Not now, Ejiro.” She looked down at him sternly, disgruntled at her son for interrupting her haggling with a nearby shopkeeper for the price of potatoes. “I’m busy!”
“If you’re so busy, why wouldn’t you let me go to Mugo’s party, get me off your hands for a while?” challenged Ejiro. He knew exactly why, but his mother was being exceptionally strict today, and the thought of being peevish seemed appealing. “Mugo’s son, Solaja, invited me! There can’t have been a problem!”
“Ejiro, I said no!” His mother snapped, as the shopkeeper’s eyes widened after hearing the name ‘Mugo.’ “Ade!” Ejiro’s older brother materialized behind them. “Ade, please entertain your brother, I have much to do right now.”
“Don’t worry, Mama,” Ade nodded, smiling at Ejiro’s immaturity. Ade was always the wise one, the calm one, the role model child. And Ejiro absolutely adored him. “Come on, Ejiro, let me show you that airplane.”
They set off. Just as they were racing away, Mama shouted out, “I love you both, remember that.”
“Love you, too!” the two boys called back, laughing.
As they turned around, a bang exploded through the street. A sudden blow sent the ground rushing up towards Ejiro. Someone was beating him over the head. And suddenly, the beating stopped, as someone tackled the assaulter to the ground.
People were running amok, screaming. It was utter chaos as Ejiro looked through tangled legs. Several people stepped on his back, pushing him farther down to the ground. Innumerous bangs ensued, until at last, the street seemed to be cleared. There was nothing but silence.
After several moments, Ejiro tried to get up. He was stumbling about, senseless-

“Ejiro?” someone called out. It was not Mama. “You okay?”
“Yeah,” he replied weakly. “Yeah.”
A candlelight appeared in the doorway, thrusting an eerie glow onto the pale face of its worried holder. “What’s wrong?”
Ejiro glared at the candle owner. “Put that out!” he hissed. “We’ll be seen!”
The boy huffed angrily, plunging them once more into the darkness. “Answer me now?”
Ejiro did not respond.
“Oi,” the boy spoke, annoyed. “You can talk to me. I have always kept your secrets.”
“Akpofure.” Ejiro muttered the boy’s name.
“Yes?” came the reply.
“Nothing.”
A pause.
“We leave in a few hours.” Akpofure, or Fure for short, stood up. “Be ready.” He ran his hand through his thick black hair before exiting.
Ejiro sighed as Fure left. As a group, they had decided against telling petty lies, such as “It will be okay” to comfort each other. They were older now. They knew better than that.
Ejiro clambered off his cot, knowing he wouldn’t be able to sleep. They had been lucky to find this deserted house, when all the drogados were claiming them for safehouses. And that wasn’t the only thing they were “taking.”
Ejiro padded outside, wondering about how the previous residents of this tiny home might have lived. How they might have led happier lives, had children who laughed and romped about cheerfully. How birthdays may have been celebrated, holidays, and so much more. And now, Ejiro thought spitefully, thanks to our useless government and rowdy drug cartels, everything has been destroyed.  But no, he couldn’t afford to think like that, and lose hope. He had to stay strong: he’d made it this far hadn’t he? He would make it even farther.
He sat down on the porch steps, eyes drawn to the high crescent moon above. He shivered in the cold, but refused to re-enter the little house, where he knew his memories would haunt him.

He was stumbling about, senseless. The blows to his head had rendered him incapable of thinking. He coughed, and something red flew from his mouth and splattered to the ground. He dropped to his knees, and retched loudly. A few people groaned in the street. A baby wailed loudly. No one came to help it.
Someone put a hand on his shoulder. He should be scared. It could be one of them. One of those who had attacked him and everyone else who was unfortunate enough to be here. But he was too exhausted to be frightened. He turned his head calmly to face a man he had never seen before.
“Please,” the man pleaded, red liquid streaming from his forehead. “Help me. Please.” Ejiro tried to speak, but he was hit by another wave of nausea. He ducked his head and emptied his stomach onto the street. He was vaguely aware of the man staggering away. When he was done, he shakily wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.
“EJIRO!” He whirled around and what he saw brought him lower to the ground. It was a sight he would never forget. How could he? His very own-
“Ejiro!” Someone was actually calling his name. His head snapped up, and he turned around to find a dark figure approaching him.
“Who is it?” Ejiro whispered into the night. As the silhouette approached, his shoulders slumped in relief: “Amadi.” The boy plopped down next to him, a silly grin plastered on his dark face. Ejiro couldn’t help but smile back. Amadi had gotten his name because, during the time of his birth, his mother was desperately ill. The doctors his family could afford were not experienced, and they could not diagnose the problem. Everyone was sure the baby would be lost. Yet still, surprisingly, Amadi made it through the delivery with no defects, though his mother passed a few hours later. Even today, Ejiro saw time and time again Amadi was a survivor. They all were, they had no choice but to be, but Amadi was different.
“So you know my name, Ejiro?” Amadi shoved Ejiro’s shoulder playfully with his own broad one. “It took you quite some time!”
“Just because I was being cautious…” Ejiro’s words were serious but his tone was light.
“What are you doing out here anyway?” Amadi changed the subject. Ejiro grinned, looking up at the heavens. Amadi’s eyes followed Ejiro’s gaze into the sky. “Ah, so that’s it!”
Ejiro looked at him questioningly. “Contemplating the love of your life, eh?” Amadi wiggled his eyebrows, nodding towards the moon. Ejiro actually laughed out loud. Amadi never failed to amuse him.
“Absolutely,” teased Ejiro. “I bet you can’t tell who it is.”
“I don’t have anything to lose,” Amadi joked. In truth, none of them did. When you have nothing, you’d risk everything. “I’d say it’s...hmmm....Ayomide?”
“She was a sister to me.” Ejiro didn’t hesitate in using the past tense. They both knew what had happened. The whole country knew, right up the the man sitting in the seat of highest power. Yet everyone refused to do anything. Some feared what would happen if they spoke up, while others believed if they just ignored it, things would get better. And many were on the side of the people who had reduced them to this pitiful state. There was nowhere else to go.
“Of course,” Amadi murmured softly. Ejiro toyed with a pebble at his feet. “I don’t mean to be nosy, but why’d you get up?” Ejiro turned to him, puzzled. Amadi laughed. “I don’t sleep very well, not after...anyway, I heard you making some noise, tossing stuff from your bed, from what it sounded like, then Fure got up to investigate.”
“That’s Fure, always the detective,” Ejiro joked half-heartedly. Amadi waited patiently. “I suppose it was a nightmare. I must have been thrashing about.” He paused. The boys had agreed not to hide anything from each other. It was the only way to survive. “I am sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you.”
“Don’t be so soft.” Amadi swatted his arm. “It’s not like any of us sleep well anyway.”
There was another awkward silence.
“You should try to rest,” Ejiro coaxed.
“While you get to stay here and enjoy the moon?” countered Amadi, light-heartedly. “I don’t think so.”
“We will both go inside,” Ejiro promised. “Even if we do not sleep, we should at least make sure we rest our bodies.” Amadi groaned, but heeded his advice. Though Ejiro would have like nothing more than to stay outside, he knew he had to recharge for tomorrow. Besides, it was too risky to remain on the porch for too long. He could catch someone’s attention for staying out so late and for so long. He’d have to be cautious about that, if he wanted to live.
He lay in bed, tossing and turning, hoping to get some sleep. Even a few precious minutes would be helpful. Yet every time his eyelids closed, he recalled the horrific scene he had been reminiscing when Amadi had stumbled upon him.

“EJIRO!” He whirled around and what he saw brought him lower to the ground. It was a sight he would never forget. How could he? His very own brother was standing only a few feet away, a gun pulled to his forehead by another strange man.
“ADE!” Ejiro stood up, then fell to the ground again. No matter how many times his brain commanded his feet to move, his body refused. He looked up in desperation at his older brother.
“Ejiro, run!” Ade screamed. The man’s grip tightened on the gun, his finger cocked dangerouslyclose to the trigger.
“I can’t leave you!” Ejiro began to sob. This was the brother that had saved him from his father’s wrath when he had attempted to escape to Mugo’s property only a few weeks ago. This was the brother that had talked him out of pulling such a stunt again by treating him like a ‘big kid’ and explaining that Mugo was a drug dealer.  This was the brother who had willingly taken the blame for Ejiro breaking his mother’s precious vase with his bat. This was the brother that had helped Ejiro with his studies, and even sacrificed his candle to allow Ejiro to complete his homework when there was a power outage. This was the brother-
“Listen to him, little boy!” cooed the man, laughing at his own twisted humor. “I am feeling very...generous today. Run along on your little legs. Save yourself!”
“Ejiro, please.” Ade’s eyes were pleading. “Go. Just go.”
Ejiro couldn’t understand what was happening. Why would these people take an innocent person like Ade? He had nothing to do with them, he hadn’t wronged them or anyone else. And why Ade specifically? Why not Ejiro himself, or one of the other people lying in the street? It was just so confusing, and he couldn’t think, not after the severe impact he had suffered.
“Ejiro.” The word fell from Ade’s lips, soft and full of meaning. He looked up to meet Ade’s eyes, and suddenly-
“Ejiro, would you shut up?” Someone was shaking him awake. “E-ji-ro!”
He shot bolt-upright, hands outstretched. Before he knew what he was doing, he had his hands wrapped around someone’s neck, throttling them. He squeezed hard, blindly attempting to kill whoever it was that had assaulted him.
“I-it’s m-me.” The strangled voice rasped out the words. Immediately, Ejiro released the person from his grip in horror, as he realized who it was.
“Fure.” It was a statement.
“Y-yes, it’s me,” the boy replied, rubbing his throat. Ejiro noticed red marks where his fingers had been. “You had another nightmare, didn’t you? And don’t bother denying it,” he cut Ejiro off. “I heard you screaming.” Ejiro didn’t reply. “What happened?”
“I-I had another nightmare,” Ejiro responded shakily. “It was so real, I just...I…”
“Ade?” The boys knew everything about each other’s previous experiences with the drug traffickers of their country. Or what was left of their country.
“Yeah, Ade.” Ejiro turned away, shame-faced. He was the weakest of the five boys he travelled with, and all of them were well aware of this. He had the most nightmares, was the most home-sick, and he was too merciful.
Fure allowed Ejiro a moment to collect his thoughts before speaking. “Ejiro, you need to let go of the past.  If you keep thinking about it, you will keep getting these nightmares. And we all know that you start creating a huge ruckus when you dream of what happened..”
“I know, I just...can’t help it,” Ejiro cried desperately. “They are my family, how can I forget them?”
“They were your family,” Fure said firmly. “And I am not asking you to forget them, I am asking you to stop binding yourself to them. If you keep on making all the noise you just did now, every night, we are sure to get caught. And then your past will ruin all of our futures.” Ejiro stared at the ground, although he couldn’t exactly make it out in the darkness.
“I do not mean to be hard on you, Ejiro,” Fure continued, more gently this time. “But you must realize, we are escaping. Not just from this stupid country, but from this entire continent. We are going to create a better life for ourselves, no matter what it takes. Who needs this stupid government when we have each other?”
When Ejiro remained quiet, Fure stood up. “Forgive me, Ejiro, if I have hurt you. But I only wish for the best, for you and for the others.” Just before as he stepped into the doorway, he turned back. “Imagine if Ade was here now,” he said, immediately garnering Ejiro’s attention. “He would be so proud of you.” And with that, he left.
Ejiro did as he was told. He conjured images of Ade, and his parents, all together in his mind. They would frolic about in the park, Ade chasing Ejiro, with Mama watching after them, an amused smile on her lips. Then Papa would appear, brandishing a silver-colored ball to throw around. They would play and play, tossing and catching the ball. Then Papa would drag a reluctant Mama out of her seat on the park bench to join them, and soon it would turn into a team game. It would be Ejiro and Papa versus Ade and Mama. Eventually, Papa and Mama would retire to the park bench, and watch with pride as their two sons laughed, getting along much better than most siblings would. They would enjoy themselves and, when the sun began to set, they would head off home to eat a wonderful feast made by Mama’s skilled hands.
For the first time in many nights, Ejiro had a nightmare-free sleep.

The next morning, Amadi, Ejiro, and Fure woke to find their other two companions, Ayo and Berko, absent. They had left behind a note stating that they were raiding some nearby homes for rations. The moment they returned, the five would continue on their way to their destination.
The remaining three boys packed up their few belongings in sacks that they carried on their backs. They made sure to clean out the kitchen and grab any extra supplies they might need on their journey. Then, with a final look around the tiny home, they swept out the door, travelling only a small distance down the street so Berko and Ayo could find them.
“You okay, Ejiro?” Amadi chanced a worried glance at his friend. “Sleep well last night?”
Ejiro knew Amadi already knew the answer, but he answered anyway. “No,” he replied truthfully. “But at least I am rested enough to get moving for today.” Fure remained quiet, knowing that Ejiro would not want the details of his nightmare disclosed, and Ejiro was quite grateful for Fure’s understanding nature.
At last, Ayo and Berko arrived, and the five of them took off. “How long d’you suppose it will take?” Ayo asked his daily question in accordance to the routine he had built up for himself.
“A few more days,” Fure replied automatically. “We have to make sure we are heading to a port that will export goods to a good country, and not one of the usual secret ones where those drogados are.” They all laughed at Fure’s coarse choice of words for “drug addicts,” or “druggies.”
“Funny how our parents gave us traditional West African names, when the official language here is Portuguese.” Ayo said thoughtfully.
“Probably because they didn’t want anything to do with those drogados, eh?” Amadi joked, and they all chuckled with him. It was crude humor, but humor all the same. If they remained serious the entire time, Ejiro was sure they’d all go insane.
They continued their trek down the winding road, with Fure checking his map every so often to make sure they were heading in the right direction. Every once in a while, they would cut across some grass, or take a right on a street. Several times, they were forced to veer off course to avoid any suspected drug-traffickers.
“Surprising that the government doesn’t even bother to stop these people,” Ayo muttered one time, as they hid behind a dilapidated house, waiting for a group of gangs to finish their cocaine exchange. “You would think that with all the other countries banning drugs, Guinea-Bissau would think twice.”
“Oh, please,” Berko spoke up for the first time since they had begun the journey for the day. “Some of the government officials actually support the drug-trafficking business. Why do you think they’ve turned a blind eye to the imports going on near the coast? And the exports that are heading to Spain? That’s a long distance to travel, and it’s very difficult to get drugs overseas, with security and all that. Unless, of course, you have a handy-dandy government on your side.” His words were filled with venom. The other four boys remained quiet. Berko’s story was tragic, but not an uncommon one.
His family was what you might consider “normal.” They had kept out of any drug-trafficking affairs, and had been doing their best to keep out of trouble in a country reigned by barely-controlled anarchy. Yet a member of a gang had set fire to their house in the middle of the night. Berko refused to tell the boys why. The best they could figure was that his father had crossed swords with another member of a gang, and his words had not been taken pleasantly.
In the fire, Berko’s then 3-year-old sister had died from smoke inhalation. His mother had made it out, but his father was nowhere to be seen. A few days after the assault, Berko’s mother passed from severe burns. Infuriated that no one was taking action, Berko headed to the nearest police station to file a complaint, where he was shooed away, as he “had no idea what was going on.”
When he attempted once again to make his voice heard, the police badly beat up the then 12-year-old child, and tossed him outside the station. They warned him that if he tried to talk about it once more, they would “end him.” Berko then knew that there was no one to turn to, and no one to ask for help. The entire judicial system was corrupt, and he realized he’d have to escape from the country in order to gain any reprieve from the constant threat of the gangs and drug-traffickers. When he turned 13, he began his journey west, and picked up boys who were in similar situations. Those boys were Ayo, Ejiro, Amadi, and Fure.
The journey west to the sea continued. The boys were on constant lookout for dangers lurking nearby. The land changed, but only slightly. All the houses were generally in shambles, and streets were run down. Living spaces were cramped, and everyone wore a rugged, worn look about them. Being in a country where two thirds of the people lived below the poverty line, appearance was not on anyone’s list of priorities.
The five boys spent their nights in an assortment of woods, ditches in the street, and the rare abandoned house. They split their rations as evenly as possible, attempting to make their food last for as long as possible. They raided houses and stores at every possible chance, more often than not being forced to steal from an innocent, poor shopkeeper when his back was turned.
After one such expedition, Ejiro couldn’t help but wonder how he had gone from avoiding lies when possible to outright stealing. As he and his friends strode quickly out of the shop, hiding their guilty faces, he couldn’t help but think of what his mother might say if she were here.
As they settled down in a nearby trench for the night, Ejiro once again thought of his family, how their lives might have been different had they not been interrupted by mobs and gangs. He fell into a restless sleep.

“Ejiro.” The word fell from Ade’s lips, soft and full of meaning. He looked up to meet Ade’s eyes, and suddenly they fell on something else. It was a body in the street. There were only a few people who had been outside, here, when it all had happened, but everything had seemed indistinguishable in the aftermath.
“Mama?” Ejiro’s voice was uncertain. Ade followed Ejiro’s gaze, and his eyes widened, but he remained silent.“Mama!”
Ejiro rushed towards his mother. A gaping hole was visible in the side of her head, and that same red liquid that was everywhere else was pooling around her face. “MAMA!!” Ejiro’s voice tore through his throat. “MAMA, NO!”
“Ejiro, leave!” shouted Ade. “Ejiro, just run!”
But he couldn’t. He remained on the ground, furiously shaking his mother’s lifeless form. “MAMA, PLEASE! Mama, Ade and I are in trouble! You always help us when we ask for it. Please, Mama, help us now.” Why wouldn’t she respond? “Mama, help us now! PLEASE!” How could a simple trip to the market have gone so wrong? “MAMA!”
“Little boy, your mother won’t respond,” the man still holding Ade hostage laughed nastily. “She’s gone, far from here. Your brother will be joining her soon enough.”
“Why do you want Ade?” Ejiro spat. He refused to believe his mother was de-no, she was just injured. Just hurt. They would go home and fix her. He had to focus on saving Ade now. “Why do you need him to get your stupid drogas?!”
“Ah, your brother did not tell you, I see.” The man wore an evil grin, chuckling almost manically. “You see, he stumbled upon a little drug trade that even some people in the government find unacceptable when he was fetching a ball his friends had chucked. By the time we realized, he had already run away. So we decided to have a little, ah, run-in with him at the marketplace. Pity all these other people were here to see it.” He indicated the other bodies and the moaning injured in the lane.
Ejiro knew immediately this man was high. There was no way a trafficker in his senses would reveal their plans to a 13-year-old-boy. And there was absolutely no way a trafficker would actually offer said boy to get away from him after witnessing a group of innocents be massacred. Ejiro turned to Ade, who returned his gaze courageously.
“Ejiro,” Ade said once again. His voice was steady and strong. Once again, the single word was filled with meaning, with words unsaid. And Ejiro knew. His brother was telling him he loved him. His brother was recalling all the good times they had together, and asking him to remember everything, too. His brother was telling him to stay strong, that this was not the end. And his brother was saying goodbye.
An earsplitting bang rent the air, and Ejiro watched. Before his very eyes, Ade’s knees buckled, and red spurted from the side of his brother’s head. Ade’s body fell, a vacant expression taking over his face. With a final thud, his lifeless corpse fell to the ground, limbs sprawled in awkward angles around him.
And Ejiro turned and ran.
“Oi!” A voice was calling to him again. “Oi, wake up!”
Ejiro’s eyes snapped open, dilated in fear. “Wh-what is it?”
“You need to stop thrashing around so much.” The figure came into focus, and Ejiro discovered it was none other than Ayo. He also realized it was still dark, meaning he had woken Ayo in the middle of the night.
“What?” Still disoriented, Ejiro sat up.
“You need to stop thrashing about,” Ayo repeated. “You just smacked me in the face.”
“Oh.”
“Another nightmare?” Ayo guessed. At only 12 years of age, he was stronger than Ejiro, and he had survived much more.
“Yeah.” 
“Don’t worry, I used to get them, too.” Ejiro’s head snapped to attention. He’d never heard this from Ayo before. “Yeah, it’s true.” He chortled lightly at Ejiro’s surprised expression. “You just have to let it go. Realize that we’re going towards something better. It doesn’t exactly get rid of the nightmares, but it does make you feel a whole lot better about yourself.”
“I’ll try that.” Ejiro cracked a grin. No one said a word for a while. Then Ayo spoke:
“We should try and rest, I suppose.” Ejiro agreed quietly, though he knew he would not be getting a wink of sleep for the rest of the night.

The next morning, the boys got up and proceeded to the port. According to Fure, they were quite close. “I must have misjudged the distance in the dark last night,” he said, pushing the map closer to his eyes to study. “If  I am right, the port is only a few miles west of here. We can cover that distance in just a few hours.”
“If  you are right,” Amadi emphasized. Ejiro chuckled. Amadi’s favorite pastime was irking Fure, who was generally the more uptight, serious one out of all of them.
“Yes, if I am right,” Fure replied impatiently. “And when have I been wrong?”
“Well, let’s see,” Amadi mocked, putting a finger on his chin. “There was the time you told us that shop was empty when we tried to raid it, and inside there actually were at least five shopkeepers. Then there was the time you told us a house was empty, and we broke in to find none other than an exchange of drogas going on. That was interesting. Oh, and let’s not forget the time-”
“I get it!” Fure huffed, putting his hands up in surrender. “But I’m serious this time. We are close.”
“Whatever you say, sir,” Amadi bowed in mock respect. Fure swatted him, and continued down the street. The four boys followed him, all laughing playfully.
They soon found that Fure was, in fact, correct. Before them stood a massive port. In actuality, it was quite small, but to the boys, it was enormous. Huge boats were tied onto the harbor, docked securely by their owners. Porters scrambled about, loading cargo and directing people to various ships based on the words on their tickets. Provisions such as oil and water were being loaded furiously onto boats docked to refuel. Lifts and cranes performed smoothly as they lifted heavy loads onto cargo ships. To the boys, it was beautiful.
“Whoa,” breathed Berko.
“You don’t say,” muttered Fure.
“Shut up and enjoy the view,” Amadi whispered.
“It’s brilliant,” muttered Ayo, ignoring Amadi.
Ejiro couldn’t trust himself to speak.
After quite some time, Fure shook them all out of their daze. He cleared his throat. “I read some news from yesterday about the port. There’s a cargo boat headed to India. They came here to pick up some cashew nuts and other stuff like that. We need to sneak on to it to get away.”
“Is India any better than here?” Berko asked doubtfully.
“I do not know,” Fure shook his head. “From what I have read, it probably is.”
“That’s our Fure, always has his nose stuck in a book.” Amadi nodded sagely.
“Oh, hush!” Fure snapped, but he grinned at the subtle praise. “Anyway, the real question is how to get on to the boat without getting caught.”
“We will just have to wing it,” Ejiro spoke. “Who knows how much time we have until the boat leaves?”
“But if we get caught, we will just get chucked out and land up back here again,” Ayo called out.
“I do not like this,” Fure agreed, hesitant. “I hate not having a plan.”
“Ejiro’s right,” Amadi argued. “We can’t afford to waste time bickering. This ship’s our best shot. Besides, we’re pretty good at sneaking around. If we can avoid those drogados-”
“Still poking fun at me, aren’t you?” Fure muttered.
“-then being a stowaway shouldn’t be that difficult, right?” Amadi smiled at Fure’s interjection, refusing to deny it.
“We can give it a shot,” Berko said, also uncertain.
“Let’s go for it then.” Ejiro wasn’t sure where his sudden boost of confidence came from, but he wasn’t about to let it slip from his fingers.
Together, the boys joined the crowd of people in the midst of the port, milling about and attempting to look casual. They kept their eyes fixed on the cargo boat, which Fure had pointed out to them earlier.
A ramp with a guard next to it led from the land of the port to the hull of the ship and into the inside. A guard stood watch by the ramp, ensuring no one passed without permission.
“I will distract him.” Before anyone could argue, Ejiro strode right up to the guard. “Excuse me.” He called, attempting to catch the guard’s attention.
The towering man turned over to him. “Yes?” he asked in a deep voice.
“Is this the ship leaving to India? With exports from here?” Ejiro asked, trying to seem interested.  He noticed his friends quietly slip up the ramp behind the guard’s back.
“Yes, it is,” the guard said, seemingly surprised by the question.
“Oh, I was just wondering.” Amadi had tripped on the ramp, and his shoe was stuck in between the boards. “I have a great interest in boats, you know,” he chattered away. “Once, my father got me this boat from a shop outside our house. It was huge, the biggest I’ve ever seen.” Amadi had pulled his shoe free, and scrambled up. “I really do love boats, they’re quite amazing.” Ayo, the last of the boys, quickly followed Amadi. Just as he was about to enter the boat, he turned to Ejiro and mouthed: What about you?
The guard was looking at Ejiro expectantly. “I’m sorry, what did you say?” Ejiro tried to remain focused. Out of his peripheral vision, he noticed Ayo hesitate, then follow Amadi into the boat. Ejiro breathed a sigh of relief in his mind.
“I just said, that’s quite interesting.” The guard held a fatherly smile. “But I really must go. I’ll see you around, son.” And he walked up the ramp and through the door into the boat. To Ejiro’s utter dismay, he closed the door.
Ejiro quickly raced up the ramp, tugging at the door. It was locked, sealed shut. Oh, no. Ejiro’s heart beat out of his chest as he tried to figure out what he should do. There was no other door on this side of the ship, and he had nothing he could use to smash one of the windows in. Even if he did escape into a window, someone would surely hear the noise and come to investigate.
Suddenly, the ramp began to shift under Ejiro’s feet. With growing horror, he realized the ship was leaving its dock, and the ramp was being moved to allow the ship to continue its course. The porter that was supposed to supervise this process had taken this opportunity to become lazy. He had decided to control the ramp from the port, using a mechanical system. Later, when he decided to finally get up, he would collect the ramp and return it to the port.
Ejiro felt his stomach turn as the ramp continually moved. He glanced at the ship door, which was already beginning to move out of sight, then back to the port. As the ramp moved once again, he lost his balance and fell on his rump. He finally made a split-second decision and leapt into the water, buffeted by the waves. He swam to the surface of the water, gasping for breath. Thank goodness he had learned how to swim
The sound of a horn filled his ears. He turned around, wading in the water. With wholly consuming dread and a sinking heart, he watched as the cargo ship carrying his friends and a bright future sped away from the port, leaving him behind.