Chapter 5: Moonlit Flight
The women cooked a meal using jerky chopped into small pieces, mixed with tinned sardines, crushed hardtack softened with boiled water, and stale bread.
It tasted terrible but warm food filled their stomachs and calmed frayed nerves.
Ethan approached Talia and murmured an apology. SShe huffed dramatically, but her cheeks turned pink.
She leaned closer, acting shy and strangely cute, but Ethan barely noticed.
Ethan, still confused by the strange girl, decided to check her injuries. Earlier he had helped Baruch disinfect his wound with alcohol and had dressed Salman's hand with clean linen.
When he checked her injury, pressing gently near the sensitive bone, she blushed so intensely that she covered her face with her hands.
Ethan, however, was distracted by a scent rising from her skin. It smelled warm, rich, and painfully delicious, like grilled steak fresh from a fire. He clenched his jaw, fighting down the growing urge, terrified of what his senses were turning into.
His mind whispered explanations he did not want to hear. He had eaten the soldier's heart, and now his endurance had tripled. His reflexes sharpened. His senses grew stronger. He remembered muscle memory that was not his.
The only logical scientific hypothesis was horrifying. If he ate more, he would probably inherit more traits. But that would mean becoming a cannibal.
Or was he considered a cannibal if he no longer counted as human?
His thoughts broke when Shmuel approached slowly, leaning on a stick, his breath coming in tired wheezes. "We will reach Egyptian waters before dawn if we can maintain the speed," he said.
"But the British would surely blow us up if we drive this German boat to their waters."
Everyone went silent, staring at the dark horizon nervously, knowing a single British battleship could destroy them without hesitation.
The hours crept by quietly, with no patrols and no sudden alarms. The wary minds were able to get some shut eye before climbing the boat again.
The moon hung low over the North African coast, glowing faintly through a veil of hot summer haze. The sea breathed in slow, heavy waves, the kind that slapped the hull with a rhythmic thud that made tired nerves twitch.
Ethan kept the engine barely above idle, guiding the boat eastward with the lightest touch. Every sound felt too loud in this dead stretch of water. Even the hum of the motor seemed like a scream.
The refugees huddled under canvas sheets and crates, every face pale under the moon, Everyone seemed to be waiting for something terrible to rise out of the dark.
Shmuel squinted toward the coastline, leaning heavily on the railing. "We pass that headland, then there's one more patrol." He winced as his breath hitched. "After that, five miles to British waters."
Talia held his arm tightly, whispering, "Saba, sit down. Let Ethan handle it."
Shmuel waved her off. "If a man dies, he dies standing. And this night is not done yet."
Ethan kept silent, eyes fixed on the water ahead. Sweat rolled down his neck, but his hands remained steady on the wheel. The night air tasted sharp, metallic, intense. His senses were stretched thin, drinking in every ripple of the sea, every shift of the wind.
They slid past the next rocky outcrop when a faint light flickered in the distance.
A patrol boat. German.
The radio crackled. Ethan cursed under his breath and grabbed the receiver before anyone could panic.
A sharp voice barked in German, "Patrol Three. Identify and report your coastal zone code."
Ethan answered smoothly, "Routine patrol. No abnormalities."
A pause.
The voice growled, "State your zone code. Now."
Shmuel muttered, "Something is wrong."
Ethan's mind flicked through the dead soldier's memories, but the regional codes were scattered pieces, mismatched fragments. He took a gamble.
"Zone Eighteen. Proceeding east."
Silence.
Then a cold reply cut in.
"Zone Eighteen is not assigned this week. Confirm your identity."
Ethan's blood ran cold. He turned off the radio.
A moment later, the German boat's spotlight snapped on like a wolf opening a glowing eye.
Followed by the roar of engines revving.
"Run," Shmuel whispered.
Ethan slammed the throttle forward.
The boat lunged. The women and children screamed.
The chase began.
The German engines roared across the water, the noise rolling over the waves like thunder. Women clutched their children. Some prayed loudly. Others whispered shaky verses.
Rochel shielded three siblings under her arms while Rivka clung to the nearest support beam.
Salman rushed to the mounted machine gun. Baruch dragged himself up, clutching his rifle with trembling fingers.
Talia kept Shmuel from falling as the boat bounced violently.
Bullets whined overhead, splashing into the sea around them.
Ethan zigzagged hard between rising whitecaps. The boat groaned under the torque. Supplies started sliding across the deck. Someone yelled, "We are going to tip!"
"Throw everything heavy!" Ethan shouted without looking back.
Salman kicked crates overboard. Spare uniforms, rations vanished into the dark. A coil of rope splashed away.
Even the pots went flying across the deck.
The Germans opened fire again. Tracer lines sliced the night like angry red snakes.
Boom.
A shell hit the water to their left, spraying saltwater over everyone.
Boom.
Another exploded behind them.
Salman fired back. His bullets skipped uselessly across the waves. Baruch tried too, but his aim was a disaster.
"We are wasting ammo!" Baruch groaned.
"Keep them nervous," Ethan barked.
More engines. More lights.
Multiple German boats rushed in from the west.
Shmuel pointed east with shaking fingers. "Less than four miles. Just push. Push."
But one German speedboat broke formation, cutting sharply toward them, gaining fast.
Ethan tossed the wheel to Shmuel. "Hold it."
Shmuel gritted his teeth and grabbed the controls.
Ethan marched back, grabbed the rifle out of Baruch's hands, braced himself, and fired.
Bang.
Miss.
Baruch smirked weakly. "See. Not easy."
Ethan inhaled. The world slowed. Wind direction. Boat angle. Engine vibration. Distance. Recoil. Bullet drop. All calculated in a heartbeat.
Second shot.
Bang.
It struck the hull, but the speedboat kept coming.
Ethan exhaled slowly. Everything went quiet inside him. The boat seemed to zoom in his vision.
Unknown to him, his pupils dilated to something impossible for humans.
He aimed.
Bang.
A clean hit.
Smoke burst from the German motor. Sparks flew. The boat veered off course, engines sputtering. A few seconds later, it erupted in a bright fireball against the night, lighting the waves like a red dawn.
Everyone stared at Ethan.
Salman whispered, "Your eyes… how far can you see in the moonlight?"
But the moment of awe vanished as more German boats emerged from the darkness.
Ethan fired four more times, each shot precise.
Bang.
Another motor disabled.
Bang.
A second boat stalled.
Bang.
The third boat spun out, its driver slumped forward.
Bang.
Another boat lost control, drifting sideways as its engine choked on smoke.
But the return fire intensified.
Bullets punched into the deck. Screams erupted. Children cried hysterically. Two beams splintered. A woman shrieked as a round grazed her shoulder.
Then tragedy struck.
A young mother named Miriam shoved her six-year-old boy backward just as the boat lurched violently. He slipped under the rail and fell toward the water. Rochel tried to grab him.
But a burst of machine-gun fire struck her in the back. Rochel collapsed instantly.
Ethan screamed to duck, and keep low. But it was too late, another bullet spray found its way to still standing Miriam.
Her other daughter wailed. "Mama! Mama!"
The boy splashed into the water with a small cry.
Talia jumped to her feet. "I'm going after him!"
Ethan caught her wrist and threw her down onto the deck before she could leap overboard. "You jump, you die."
She screamed curses at him, kicking the floor as the boy drifted behind them in the darkness.
Salman grabbed the flare gun and gave it to Ethan. "Fire at them, it should blind their sight for some seconds."
Ethan fired the flare at 45 degrees and a bright light blossomed between them and the pursuers.
Shmuel handed the steering back to Ethan and concentrated on the shoreline to remember any useful information.
But the pursuers started shortening the gap again. Ethan asked Salman to throw the machine gun and the ammo crates over as well. Anything they could throw, even barrels of water were thrown out.
Meanwhile, Miriam and the body of Rochal lay motionless, blood soaking into the deck. Ethan looked back and nodded towards Salman, who grabbed the bodies and started moving towards the railings.
Baruch sobbed. "No, no, no. God, please no."
Talia shouted at Ethan, "You monster! You said throw cargo, not bodies!"
"Weight." Ethan's voice was flat, dead calm. "If we don't lighten the boat, all of us die."
Salman's face twisted, but he obeyed. He lifted Miriam's limp body, whispered a shaky prayer, and slid her into the waves.
He muttered, "Better to rest with your child. The sea keeps families together."
Another explosion behind them.
Shmuel yelled, "Half a mile! Cross it and they must stop."
Ethan concentrated, pushing the boat to its limit. The hull rattled like it would split apart.