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Firdaus
would go on a boat with Massoud’s friend Arash to Australia, and
meet their aunt’s husband Mahdi. He would then look after them
until their parents came. Massoud said goodbye to them quickly.
Azar asked him where he was going.
“To get more of you.”
And then he had gone, his little truck, with the blankets in the
back that had hidden them, wheezing up the hill, away from the
water. Azar and Omid had turned to face the boat.
Azar opened her eyes now, again looking automatically for Omid.
Seeing her sister was still sleeping, she stood and moved past the
unmoving bodies around her, to the ladder that led up to the deck.
Before she climbed out, she looked around again. She counted – 75
people. She turned again and shuddered. There had been 83 when
they left Konårak. Azar made her way to the deck, passing the
captain. He nodded to her, and kept walking. Looking over her
shoulder, Azar saw him take a sip from a flask. She knew it wasn’t
water – they had almost run out. No, she knew, from the stories, that
he had done this journey many times before. And she had been told
that after the first, it wasn’t water that kept him alive. She kept
walking. Making her way to the side of the boat, she sat down. She
breathed in the cool air, a welcome relief from the stuffiness inside.
Massoud had been right, there weren’t that many people on their
boat. But still many more than it was built for.
The first few days on the boat had been frightening. Azar’s fear of
being caught lessened, but was replaced with a new one. What if
they didn’t reach Australia at all? This drifting in the middle of the
ocean was maddening. She didn’t know where they were, she didn’t
know how long they had to stay pent up in the boat with dwindling
supplies, more people dying and being thrown overboard every day.
But most of all, Azar was scared for Omid. Every day that passed, the
spark in her eye diminished, and Azar knew they must reach land
soon. Omid was her own beacon of hope, a personification of
innocence. She couldn’t lose her, or she would have nothing. But the
duller Omid’s eyes became, the more Azar realized that physical
death isn’t the only way to lose someone.
After acknowledging this, Azar found her hope dwindling more
every day. She sat in the shade of the mast with Arash, watching
Omid play with the other children. She saw her sister say something
to the others, and knew immediately what it was. Once more, Omid
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