Sorry for not having posted anything in months... and a huge thank you to all the others who did write J/A in the meantime!
Let their journey continue!
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In the past three days, I haven't seen any other human being. Except for her. She doesn't count – she's not one of the strangers who I prefer not to see and not to meet.
I can't even remember when there had ever been three days in which I met nobody else – it must be more than one and a half years ago, when I left Belgrade to do a trip like this one. Isn't it weird that I still turn around now and then, looking back over my shoulder, to check if there's anyone behind us? Following? My life has made me paranoid. If the CIA had found out where Audrey was, they wouldn't be following us. No. There'd be a rocket, which we wouldn't even see coming. A clean shot. They wouldn't get their hands dirty.
We're alone here, there's nobody following us. Even if there are boats in the vicinity, travelling the same route as we do, it's just because this area is quite frequented by tourists and their boats. It's a stunning part of the world. Light blue sea, white sand, sometimes you can see the ground, 30 feet beneath you.
The farther north we go, the more crowded everything gets. We left that beautiful bay in Greece six days ago. It wasn't too hard to find out Audrey was almost sad to leave it behind. She loved the loneliness just like I did. She still calls it freedom. I call it… I don't even know how to name it. It's a calm before the storm. It's definitely not freedom, since it has a clear expiry date: next Thursday. Freedom usually doesn't have an expiry date. Thinking of that day, my stomach cramps. It's even worse than looking back over my shoulder and spotting a boat that might follow us. I could let them come closer. Fight them. But I'll have no chance to fight what is about to come in Munich. This is an end game.
I've faced it before, when I exchanged myself for Chloe, eight months ago. But back then, I hadn't had the time to think about the consequences. This time, it's worse: I have the time to picture my possible future. My thoughts are racing, they're running wild even though I try to keep them in rein. That's something I fail at, miserably. Whenever I've had too much time to think, it always ends in that stupid misery. Sitting in prison, thinking. Hiding away, keeping a low profile, that's what gives you lots of time to think. I did so many stupid things in my life just to kill the silence that would have made me think.
Let it go, damn it. Don't think about Thursday. There is still a week to go. Life could still be so much worse.
Audrey is lying in the sun, at the bow. Ever since what happened three days ago, she's awfully silent sometimes. Maybe the things that happened made her realize that this shiny, beautiful, carefree world is just a façade. Deep down, we're still the same ones that we were three months ago, when we were locked up in that Chinese hellhole of a prison.
Our surroundings have changed, but we haven't. We can't make ourselves forget, trying it makes it only worse.
There are numerous bruises all over her body, fresh ones. I know them by heart, each one of them. I'm so sorry, Audrey, that you had to live through that again.
Three days ago, we were just about to cross from Greece to Croatia, when the storm came up. It was already dark, I wanted to use the darkness of the night to travel unnoticed through the Albanian waters. We hadn't seen the cold front coming. Without a phone or internet, we didn't have current met reports.
When we realized it, the storm was already close.
It took forever to turn around the boat and go the ten miles back to Corfu. It would have been safer to go to Albanian marina, but we needed to stay within the EU countries to keep our story of having rented the boat in Italy credible. Going to another country we would have risked our fake passports, our fake visa, everything.
Audrey was not much help. As she saw the storm come closer, she almost panicked. She ran around aimlessly until I harshly told her to stay below deck.
The waves got larger and larger, the longer we were out there.
Somehow I managed to take down the sails, even without her help. The engine ran at full power, but it merely brought the boat into a slow crawl.
She started to cry, first sitting at the floor down in the cabin, then wandering around in the cabin. The waves and the thunderstorm must have triggered something in her, reminding her of the times in prison.
I tried to keep the hatch to the cabin open, to talk to her, even though the waves were so high that water constantly spilled all over the place. It was useless. The noise of the engine. The sound of the waves. The water, everywhere. It spilled down into the cabin and soon soaked the rug.
It didn't make it any better, that I tried to talk to her. I had to shout, so that she'd even hear one word I was saying. But by shouting at someone, you can't calm them down.
It were only two miles to go when the rain sat in, not much later the first lightning strikes went down. One went down not far away from us. The thunder felt like a hammer. We couldn't just hear it – we could feel it. For a few moments I wondered what would happen if it hit the mast. Would I survive it, if a lightning went down just 10 feet away? I could only tighten the rope from my harness to the jackline.
She started screaming.
No matter what I told her, she wouldn't stop.
The lights of the marina were already in sight. I closed the hatch for a while when I called them via radio, to get a berth that would save us from the weather. What would they've thought, if they had heard her in the background, screaming and shouting like I was torturing her?
The closer we got to the marina, the stronger the thunderstorm got. At each sound of thunder, horror must have struck her worse.
They called again to tell me which berth to take.
Down below under deck, I heard porcelain shatter – but not because of the swell. She was throwing it, defending herself against whoever was battling her in her head.
And I couldn't help her.
It was hard work to keep steering the boat and to aim for the entrance of the marina. It didn't make it easier to see through the tiny gap in the hatch that she had taken one of the pieces of porcelain.
I could read her mind. As she was losing the battle against whoever she was fighting in her head, she at least didn't want to give them the pleasure of getting her into their hands again. She was about to hurt herself.
It was pure madness to leave the steering wheel and to rush down to her.
I couldn't talk her out of this, she wouldn't even listen. To take a rope and tie her hands behind her back, in a way she wouldn't be able to hurt herself, was the only thing that came to my mind. She started screaming and shouting, even louder than before, calling me names, telling me off, as if I was her enemy. In her head, I was the enemy. I was the one who bound her arms and legs together, to leave her trapped and helpless. Like they had done.
The port master called again.
I had to answer his call. Without her, screaming and shouting in the background. There was only one thing I could do… I'm still sorry for that, Audrey. I just didn't see any other way than to shut you up with that tape over your mouth.
The waves got bigger and bigger, the nearer we got to the harbor entrance. The entrance was a 50 yards wide gap between the surrounding hills, but in that night, it was one of the biggest challenges to go through there without keeling over.
What, if we had capsized back then? She would have been helpless inside the drowning boat, her hands and legs bound to the nearest pole I could find. Tied up so tightly, that she couldn't move an inch. If I had given her more space than that, she would have only used it to hurt herself.
In all those travels that I've made, I've never been that afraid of keeling over or to run aground. In that night, it was a horrible prospect. The marina was already so close… but the boat had drowned, we wouldn't have stood a chance. The lights were only two hundred yards away. Even twenty yards would kill you. It's impossible to swim in these waves. If we had keeled over, I would have never managed to get her out of the boat in time, untieing the knots that tied her arms and legs.
That was all I could think of, back then, standing in the cold rain, soaked to the bones, trying to get the boat to the berth. We were so lucky that we made it. No matter how.
When I finally moored the boat, the storm was heavier than ever before. Not even the harbormaster showed up. Over the radio, they asked me how many people were on board and how long we'd stay. That was it – for now.
I told him I was alone. That I just wanted to stay for a few hours until the storm is past.
Damn it. What else should I have told him?
To make him come back a few hours later, maybe to check my passport – just to find a tied up woman down in the cabin? Or tell him that she was here, so that he'd ask her for her passport and maybe she'd still be hysterical like she was in the past half hour? This could only end in a huge disaster, with questions, police, blowing our cover. There's a lot at stake. I had to hide her. I couldn't show her to anyone, in the state she was in.
For the time being, it was no problem. Nobody of them wanted to step outside into the rain anyway.
We were alone. For the first time, there was time.
I went down into the cabin and found her lying on the wet rug, crying silently. She had given up the fight. The floor was all wet, so were her clothes. I wasn't in a much better shape, having been in the rain for that long.
She winced, when I touched her arm softly. Did she even realize that it was me? And not the tormenters, which were in her head again?
I called her by her name, softly, but she didn't react at all.
When I released the knot around her arms a little bit, she started to fight me again. It wasn't over. The memories were still there, blacking out the reality, throwing her mind back a few months, into prison. The touch of my cold hands didn't help. No matter how careful I tried to be, she yielded away from me.
I told her that she wasn't there any more, it didn't help.
I told her that I was here to help her, but it didn't help either.
I couldn't leave her lying on the hard floor, so I carried…. no, let's be honest – I dragged her along, into one of the empty cabins at the stern of the boat. One that we didn't use. One where it wouldn't matter if the bed got soaked by our wet clothes.
Then we lay there, at the empty bed. I held her tight, but that didn't keep her from shaking. Was it the coldness? Could have been, soaked like we both were. Maybe it was something else, I'll never know.
She didn't realize that it was me, and neither did she realize where she was.
An hour later, the cold front and the thunderstorms came back even stronger than before. The flashes of lighting illuminated the cabin even brighter than any light could have ever had. Not even a second later, everything was shaken by the thunder. Lightning. Thunder. Almost in the same moment. That one must have gone down really close. Another one.
She cried, silently, having finally given up fighting whoever that enemy inside her brain was. I would have loved to take those wet clothes off her, but I didn't dare to. What if they had already done that to her… taking off her clothes, maybe something even worse than that, that I don't want to think about. That'll only trigger more of her bad memories.
There's not much I can do for you, Audrey.
I can hold you close, I can silently talk to you. That's it. There's nothing I could do to rip these memories out of your head or to erase the past months.
I can feel your every move, every time you cringe because of some memory that haunts you. Again. And again.
The longer I kept lying there, the worse it got for me, too. I couldn't help but think back, to my worst days. Sengala. Russia. China. The next time she jerked and let out a scream, muted by the tape over her mouth, I almost felt it, too. A whip that goes down on me. It tears my skin open. It hurts. I ripped my eyes open to remind myself that we weren't there. The lightnings even helped, they illuminated the cabin just enough to let my eyes get some evidence that we really weren't there.
Audrey, we're not there… we're safe…, I tried to tell her, but it didn't help.
Another thunder. Another wince. Another scream of hers, muted by the tape that I had put over her mouth.
I couldn't help but think back. There they were again. The pair of boots comes closer. My head hurts, not sure why. The many blows that I caught earlier? Or is it just the blood pressure, after hanging up side down? The bush knife shimmers in the dim.
I buried my face in her neck and told myself that I was not there.
It got harder every moment to keep reality separated from my memories. How the hell should I make her realize that she's safe, if I can't even get my own thoughts straight?
Another lash.
Damn it, it's just a memory – why the hell does it hurt so much?
I grabbed her even tighter, holding on to her body, like I was trying to protect her… or maybe just to have something that would guide me through the pain.
Another one.
Keep your eyes open, damn it, keep them open and you'll see that you're not there! You're in a boat, a thousand miles away from there!
We'll never be free. Now matter how safe we are, these memories will always follow us. Are you thinking about it now, Audrey? Lying there in the sun now, at the bow of the boat? I know you've realized it in the meantime. Thank god, we got through that night. The portmaster stopped by in the morning, around five, when the first rays of the morning light showed everyone that the storm was over. He checked my passport and asked if everything was still okay with my boat after that rough night. That was it.
What would he have done, had he known all the facts? That just a few feet beneath him, there was a woman, tied up and gagged? What would he have done, had he found out? He would have tried to help her. I could only be the bad guy in that picture. Call the police? What then? They wouldn't need long to find out our passports were fake. With lots of luck, they'd treat us like criminals. Without that much luck, the CIA would probably get a hold of the picture of that mysterious woman and identify who it really was. I'm pretty sure they'd find an excuse to take us away from the Greek police. And they'd make us disappear. That was the only clean solution for the problem that Audrey being alive created for them. They just can't explain why President Heller's daughter suddenly isn't dead any more. Not without a plausible explanation. I'll give them one, in just a week.
I watch her how she gets up and puts on her summer dress again. For a moment, I see the bruises on her arms and legs. Some of them came from when she was fighting that invisible enemy in her head, hitting against the walls, the cupboards and whenever else was in her reach. Some others are from the ropes. When I dragged her back into the cabin, I wasn't too soft either. The way you fought against my grab, I just had to be a little rough. I'm sorry, Audrey.
If they saw us now, me, you, and your bruises, they'd never guess that it was me, who gave you those, not after how you hold my hand, how you snuggle up to my body and how we use every short moment to get a hold of each other.
I'm just glad that this night is over and that your bruises are the only thing that stayed behind. Short after I paid the portmaster for the berth for that night, I steered our boat the hell out of there, back into open waters, away from anyone, back into our intimate togetherness, away from the rest of the world.
The moment when I finally ripped the tape off your mouth again, after hours…. I have to admit that I even stalled it for a while, because I was so afraid of what would happen. Would you be back in that catatonic state in which you were one? Or not speaking to me? Or would you hate me for having treated you so roughly?
Nothing like that happened.
We stared at each other, both tensed up beyond imagination. Nobody wanted to be the first one to say one word.
And suddenly we both started to speak – at the same time, saying the same thing: sorry.
Laughter. Relief. I couldn't have been happier. None of my fears had become real. It had just been a bad night and it was over. We'd leave it behind.
Really nothing has changed. All the intimacy we had before is still here and all the little things that you don't cherish when you're young, or just too stupid to see. That someone doesn't just go past you, no, she'll always brush her body against mine. That from time to time, you look around and see that somebody is doing the same, your eyes will meet and suddenly you just have to smile because of that warm feeling in your gut.
I don't know how else I could put it in words. It's just perfect to know that she's here.
Her wide summer dress waves in the wind as she climbs back to the stern of the boat. Since the spinnaker is up, the ride is really smooth today.
Her arm touches mine, she smiles wordlessly, before she heads down into the hull.
Twenty years ago, I wouldn't have even noticed these little things. Or if I had, I paid no heed. If they're there, you barely notice. If they're not, you don't even know what is missing, but you know that something important is missing.
I never missed anything when you were in my life, Audrey. It's so good to know that you're down there, just a few feet away.