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Chapter Eighteen
Rylee’s heartbeat tripled, and her soft core emerged. Big brown eyes, filled with fear, awash in tears, tore at her heart. The small boy burrowed in the corner behind the gurney couldn’t have been more than twelve or thirteen. If she hadn’t shone her flashlight in that exact direction, she would have missed him.
Seriously? Rylee was struck mute. Shit like this happened on TV shows, not in real life. What’s a kid his age doing hiding on the ship? The heat gathered in the black space was the kind that could make a person gag. A quick survey of the area showed him crouched on a bunch of towels with a supply of water bottles, food containers and other paraphernalia stacked close by. From the appearance of his hidey hole, he had bunked in here and intended on riding out the trip with no one the wiser.
“Don’t be afraid. I just want to come in and talk with you.” His eyes swiveled between her and the door, and she knew he was measuring his chances to escape. “I’m going to close the door so no one else sees us. Stay calm.”
Once they were enclosed with only the light from her phone, he seemed to shrink even more. The sad state he was existing in, the stale, thick air and the gloom, with gurneys of deck chairs piled high over head, must be horrible when one knew that just beyond the door lay paradise.
She calmed her own agitation so as not to frighten him more than the terrified child already appeared. Opening the conversation as gently as possible, she spoke. “I’m Rylee. What’s your name?”
He shook his head, making her wonder if he only spoke Spanish. Though she often had to use it on her job, she wasn’t fluent. In fact, the others teased her about her accent, and her mangling of the language.
Knowing she had to try and get him talking, she asked him if he could speak English. “Hablas inglés?”
She saw the hesitation and waited, giving him time to decide rather than trying to force the issue. When he didn’t answer, she switched to her rotten Spanish and dove in.
“Mi nombra es Rylee. Cóma tu llamas?”
His head moved questioningly, and she knew she’d messed up the words. In English she added, “I wish you spoke English. This would be a lot easier. I’d like to help you. I won’t turn you in if that’s what you’re worried about.”
Suddenly, he spoke, “My name is Miguel.” His voice shook and tears steadily flowed. Wringing his hands like one would expect from an old lady with arthritis, he watched her closely.
“Thank goodness you speak English. My Spanish is terrible.”
“Si.”
“Hey, you don’t have to agree so quickly.” Pretending to be hurt, she watched a smile fleetingly pass over his face before it disappeared. He swiped at his tears, his hand still shaking and leaned forward slightly as if to prepare himself to make a quick move if necessary. “Please don’t tell anyone about me.”
Ignoring his request because she had no idea what to do about him, she continued, “Did you sneak on board? The crew doesn’t know you’re here, do they?”
He shook his head vehemently making her aware that her first instincts were correct. He’d hitchhiked a ride.
“Where’re you from?”
“Grenada.”
“The spice island. We arrive there in five days.”
“Si.”
“You were going to hide for five days.”
“Si.”
“How could you survive in here that long?”
“Sometimes, I come out. Pretend I’m passenger. Play with other boys.”
“No one knows the truth.”
“Si. You go now, okay. Don’t tell.”
Rylee knew that couldn’t happen, but she didn’t feel right in getting the curly-haired cutie in trouble either. Examining her choices, she stayed quiet.
Suddenly, the door opened, and a harsh male voice broke the silence. “Who’s in here?”
Thinking quickly, Rylee turned her phone’s light in the direction of the voice, trying to blind him, and she grabbed the kid’s hand and pulled him toward her whispering, “Shuuu, let me do the talking.”
She turned and started crawling to the door. “I’m sorry. My son and I were playing hide-and-go-seek, and he won. Hid in here, and it took me forever to find him. We’re coming out now.”
