Chapter 22: Blood and Oil
The Moroccan coast is a wispy twist of land on the horizon when the sky goes dark. The wind picks up, whipping my hair and roaring in my ears. The waves, moments before a clear blue, turn grey with great white crests and crash alarmingly close to the deck, soaking our yacht in a spray of water.
“Two weeks of the best Atlantic weather I’ve ever seen and we hit a Mediterranean winter storm!” Mossie shouts above the upcoming storm as she moves to the upper deck to talk to the captain on the bridge. “This is going to get nasty fast. Go down below. Check on Amun.”
I stagger into the main cabin, grabbing onto anything stable as I try to stay upright and travel to Amun’s room. I duck into the kitchen as lightning cracks just outside the thick glass of the porthole. The floor shifts violently left, knocking me to my hands and knees. Coffee mugs and plates slide off the counter over my head and crash to the floor.