Chapter 4: Across the Black Water
The group, after a brief discussion, chose the German patrol boat because it was larger than the tiny fishing boat, carried two engines instead of one, and even had a mounted machine gun bolted near the stern that could be used if things went badly.
They found crates of rations stacked under a tarp, mostly hardtack, tins of sardines in olive oil, packets of meat jerky, a few bottles of stale beer, basic medical kits, spare uniforms, spare spark plugs, a coil of thick rope, a flare gun with three cartridges, and a barrel of diesel.
Shmuel inspected the hull and nodded, "I fished on this coast for forty years. The sea hides stones sharper than a butcher's knife. We take the small boat, the first hidden shoal might cut us open like a fish."
Ethan nodded and replied, "Then this one it is."
"For once the brutes built something that helps us instead of killing us,"Baruch tried to ease up.
They spent a few minutes settling everyone in place, moving the wounded to the driest part of the deck and tying supplies to the side rails so nothing slid overboard. Rochel kept the children in the middle of the boat, surrounded by adults who made a living wall with their exhausted bodies and minds.
Ethan helped Shmuel check the fuel tanks, tapping each one with his knuckles until the sound satisfied the old veteran. Talia stood near her grandfather, holding his hand tightly as he tried to stay awake.
Once everyone settled, Ethan slid into the control seat and turned the ignition switch, both engines rumbled awake with a smooth thrum that felt strangely familiar. He pushed the throttle gently, guiding the boat into deeper water.
When everyone thought they had a clear break….
The radio crackled, bursting through the quiet with a sharp hiss of static.
A clipped voice came through, tense and impatient, speaking in German.
"Patrol Three, report in. Give your position and situation. Why haven't you checked in?"
Everyone flinched at the sudden noise. Even the engine seemed to hum quieter.
Ethan didn't hesitate. His hand shot out, grabbing the receiver before panic could ripple through the deck.
He straightened, let his voice settle into that calm, precise military tone he had just inherited from the dead soldier's memories, and answered in German:
"Patrol Three here. Everything is under control. Routine patrol."
A pause. Static rolled like distant thunder.
Ethan continued, still in German, before the voice could bite back.
"We had to change course. Unexpected sandbank. Nothing else to report."
Another stretch of silence pressed against them. Everyone's eyes darted between him and the radio, breath held tight in their chest.
Then the radio replied, slower this time, still speaking in German, suspicious but accepting.
"Understood. Report your position again in ten minutes."
Ethan forced a steady breath.
"Will do."
Ethan froze for a heartbeat, shocked by how instinctively the words flowed from his mouth. His accent was perfect, crisp, trained, and unquestionably German.
Everyone on the boat stared at him. Baruch whispered, "Our new brother speaks German like those soldiers. Are you actually German pretending not to be one?"
Someone else muttered, "Maybe he is someone sent by God to save us, a messiah."
Ethan sighed and replied, "I am not German. Even I do not know how I knew what to say."
Shmuel gestured to everybody to sit down and rest. While Ethan brought the boat to the deeper waters, killed the lights and started moving using only the moonlight.
Which would have been impossible for others, but with Ethan's unusually good eyesight and Shmuel's experienced guidance they managed to avoid scraping every submerged rock near the coast.
After some quiet moments of staring at the dark sea under the moonlight, the tension again crept in, and finally someone broke the silence.
Baruch, despite his injured leg, leaned forward and asked, "How did you tear a man apart like that? Was it black magic? My grandmother used to swear that the desert has creatures that drink blood like goats." A middle-aged woman chimed in, "Was it jinn magic? Like in stories?" Another child added, "Did you swallow a demon?"
Ethan rubbed his forehead and said, "There is no demon. It might be a result of genetic polymorphism triggered by a biochemical instability. The serum that….." He stopped when he saw their blank stares. Everyone looked at him like he had just spoken some unknown language.
Shmuel chuckled and said, "He sounds exactly like my cousin. The man went to study in a big school and came back telling us water has memories and stones vibrate at the frequency of the universe. We did not understand anything he said either."
Someone else added, "My uncle once said the reason cats land on their feet is due to centrifugal gravitational magnetics."
The entire group burst into small laughter and gossip, and the theories became more wild with every new addition. Ethan sighed before nodding along as if agreeing that yes, maybe cats landed on their feet because of magnetics.
Underneath the surface of that laughter, Ethan felt his mind pulling back to the serum. The Aeternum formula always turned test subjects into mindless hive-connected creatures that lost individuality within minutes. Nothing about what he had become aligned with the formula's known effects.
He wondered how he had kept his sanity, but the idea of testing his own physiology in this primitive era was laughable. He could barely keep everyone alive, let alone run genetic diagnostics.
Salman approached awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck. He muttered, "Earlier… Thank you. I do not know what you are, but you saved us." Ethan nodded gently, and Salman patted his arm before clearing his throat. "You should rest. I can handle the controls for a while."
Ethan raised a brow but eventually moved aside, watching Salman take the wheel like a young man trying to impress their crush.
Ethan settled near Talia, who hugged her knees to her chest. She asked in a low voice, "Does it hurt? I saw they punched you hard."
"They heal fast. Do not worry, kiddo. How about yours? Can't believe those animals hurt a small girl like that."
She jerked upright as if someone had slapped her, glaring at him with burning humiliation. "You too? I am not a child. Stop calling me that. You are impossible."
She kicked his foot hard, enough to make herself grunt, then snapped, "You are so stupid sometimes."
Ethan blinked and muttered, "I genuinely don't have the mental resources to decode teenage behavioral spikes at the moment."
Talia threw her hands in the air and groaned dramatically while Shmuel chuckled under his breath.
Hours later, Shmuel stood and pointed toward a series of rocky formations sticking up from the sea, explaining that they should hide there before daylight revealed their silhouette to any passing patrol boats.
Ethan took the steering wheel and slowly maneuvered the boat into position when suddenly an Italian patrol boat appeared around the other side of the rocks, cutting across their path.
Ethan's brain calculated their trajectories instantly like a machine. He pulled the throttle back and killed the engines.
Salman grabbed the mounted machine gun with shaking hands while Ethan reached for a rifle. Baruch, sweating heavily, still grunting from his thigh wound, held a handgun shakily.
Shmuel lifted another pistol with trembling fingers, muttering a prayer under his breath.
Everyone else crawled to the bottom of the deck, flattening themselves behind crates. Rochel held the children. Mothers pressed their baby's face into their chest, whispering silent prayers from behind clenched teeth.
The Italian searchlight swung across the waves, inching closer.
Just as the beam was about to land on them, a small breeze caught the German boat and nudged it a few inches to the side. The searchlight passed by barely a foot away, sliding harmlessly over the waves.
For several long seconds, no one moved. Then a wave of trembling relief swept through everyone at once.
They waited until dawn before pulling the boat near a shallow coastline. Using tree branches, piles of seaweed, and the canvas from earlier, they camouflaged the boat to look like an abandoned wreck.
Then Shmuel guided them to a natural cavity in the rocks, a small hollow he remembered from his fishing days. Everyone huddled inside, exhausted beyond belief.
Shmuel's strength finally gave out. The stress, the night-long adrenaline, and his age crashed down on him, and he collapsed onto the ground with a feverish groan. Talia panicked and tried to wake him.
Ethan stepped forward quickly and said, "He needs rest. I can help you take care of him." Talia shoved his hand away and muttered, "I can handle it." Rochel rolled her eyes at the girl's stubbornness before pulling Ethan aside.
Rochel whispered, "She is angry because you called her a kid. She is twenty two. Her birthday is on the third day of April. People in the village used to tease her for looking small and acting like a boy."
Ethan stared blankly and whispered, "I see." Rochel patted his arm and said, "Try apologizing. Preferably in a way that does not sound like a lecture."