He turned his attention back to the containers, but they were daunting. Saleem’s hopes dwindled. He was beginning to think that he would have to seek out a smuggler, though he had no idea where to find one. Tomorrow, he promised himself, he would stroll through the town and look for refugees. Someone had to know of a smuggler. Saleem returned to the docks to make one more scouting expedition before nightfall.
The last ferry for Athens was scheduled to leave in fifteen minutes. As he neared the ships, Saleem saw a driver step out of his truck and make his way to the loading area where two young women in blue-and-white uniforms stood chatting.
When he was sure no one was looking, he went around the back of the truck and crouched down to get a look at the undercarriage. He saw nothing he could latch onto without repeating last week’s mistake. He stood again and stared at the padlock on the bottom of the truck’s back door. There was no way in. Saleem studied the bottom of the door and realized something else.
There was a platform. And more than that—there was a small latch on the side of the door.
He stepped up onto the platform and grabbed onto the side of the truck. He managed to perch himself and get his right foot onto the small latch. He dug his fingers onto the edge of the truck, his breaths quick and nervous. He pushed himself up against the latch, his foot nearly slipping from the small hold. He reached as far as he could to grab onto the truck’s roof but couldn’t get his fingers onto the ledge. Voices neared. The drivers were coming back. Down or up, he needed to go somewhere.
With one last determined effort, Saleem leveraged all his weight on his right foot and swung his left leg upward. The metal ledges dug into his hands. His left foot landed on the lip of the roof with a thud. Saleem strained to pull the rest of his body up.
His biceps burned from the effort but he’d made it. He lay flat and still on his belly with his head turned to the side, hoping his backpack was not visible from the ground. The voices were within a few feet but by their easy tone, he knew they’d not seen him in the twilight.
Moments later, the truck jerked with the start of the engine. He was moving in the direction of the ship. There was another bump as the truck backed onto the ramp. Saleem’s cheek slapped against the cold metal.
The driver maneuvered the truck into a spot alongside several other trucks. More came in after them and the air became warm and thick with fumes. Saleem pulled his shirt over his mouth and nose. He heard a door slam and heard footsteps walking away. Within the space the trucks were parked, voices echoed and it was difficult to tell which direction they were coming from. He raised his head just slightly and saw two figures walking off the ramp, exiting the ship. There was the second ramp. Saleem could make out the line of travelers climbing the steps and boarding the boat, their luggage in tow. Not too long ago, he and his family had boarded a ferry in the same civilized manner.
He could hardly believe how far he’d come.
Within minutes, the horn sounded, ramps were raised, and doors were closed. Saleem clung to the roof of the truck in the ship’s underbelly, afraid to celebrate this small success. When he was certain no one was walking about in the space, he slowly sat up and tried to look around. It was dark and he couldn’t make out much, but that gave him peace that he, too, would be hidden from view.
The next stop would be Chios and from what Saleem remembered, this was a short leg of the journey, an hour at most. From Chios they would travel to Athens, a much longer journey. Maybe nine hours? The question was how Saleem would get off the ship once it docked in Athens. He’d watched them unload incoming ships in Izmir again and again. All he could hope for was to stay on the truck unnoticed until a time when he could slide back down and make a run for it.
When he heard a shift in the ship’s machinery, he guessed they were nearing Chios. He slid back onto his belly and stared at his watch.
I’ve gotten this far, Padar-jan.