**Chapter 7: Tema Bay – Run, Boy, Run**
**January 2000 – Ghana**
Relief surged through us as we passed the border without issue.
After everything—the fear, the near arrests, the betrayal—we had **made it through**.
Victory felt so **close**.
Hope hung thick in the air as we drove toward **Tema Bay**, exhilaration filling the car.
We thought we were safe.
**We were wrong.**
---
**Back at the Border**
Michael, the infiltrator, paced in frustration, realization dawning.
"**Something's wrong,**" he muttered. "This isn't everyone from the safe house."
The **chief officer** of the operation slammed his fist onto the table.
"**Are you telling me we didn't arrest them all?!**" his voice thundered.
Michael's stomach twisted.
"**Sir, John is missing.**"
Silence.
Then rage.
"**You failed to arrest the ringleader?!**" the officer snapped. "**Why waste our time if we can't take down the entire operation?!**"
Michael clenched his jaw.
"**This isn't over.**" His voice turned **cold**, **calculating**.
"The last stop is **Tema Bay**."
The chief officer narrowed his eyes.
"**Are you sure?**"
"**Trust me, sir. We'll get John today.**"
"**Then put Tema Bay on high alert.**"
---
**At Tema Bay**
The **checkpoint** was busier than expected.
Guards stood in formation.
Sniffer dogs examined bags, their handlers stiff with concentration.
Something about the entire setup **felt wrong**.
But we didn't know **what**—not yet.
"**Next!**" the woman at the checkpoint called.
---
**Lola's POV**
Unease **coiled around me** like a vice.
Something wasn't right.
The moment we stepped into **Tema Bay**, I felt it deep in my bones—a sensation I couldn't shake.
Joseph sensed it, too.
I moved forward as the checkpoint worker called me.
"**Passport, please, ma'am.**"
I handed her the **Ghanaian passport** Mr. John had arranged for us.
She scanned it.
A long moment passed.
Then—a **confirmation**.
"**You're clear. Thank you.**"
Relief settled in—for just **a second**.
Then I heard **movement**.
**Heavy movement.**
Guards were shifting.
Joseph tensed beside me.
His voice dropped.
"**Move and don't look back.**"
I stiffened. "Joseph, what's—"
"**Don't ask. Just move.**"
Behind us, chaos erupted.
**"DOWN! DOWN ON THE FLOOR!"**
I turned **instinctively**, but Joseph grabbed me—his palm pressing against my back as though he were pulling me into an embrace.
"**Don't turn around.**"
I froze.
His next words sent a **jolt** through me.
"**Head toward the dock. There's a boat at the west end of Terminal 2. We follow the shipment to Brazil. Move. Now.**"
---
**John's POV – The Arrest**
The moment I saw Michael, I knew **my time was up**.
His eyes gleamed with satisfaction as soldiers surrounded me.
"**Finally, we got you. This is the end of your operation.**"
They **dragged me down**.
Michael barked at an officer.
"**Total number of arrested travelers?**"
"**Three hundred and twenty, sir.**"
Michael's **smirk faltered**.
"**Are you sure that's everyone?**"
The soldier hesitated.
"**No, sir. Two travelers are missing.**"
Michael's **eyes darkened**.
"**Search Terminal 1 and Terminal 2! NOW!**"
---
**Joseph's POV – The Chase**
We rushed past **Terminal 1**, **security tightening** around us.
"**Left! Move left!**" I barked.
We took the turn—**narrowly avoiding detection**.
The dock was **in sight**.
I grabbed **Lola's hand**, helping her onto the **cargo containers** stacked across Terminal 2.
We climbed fast, **dodging security patrols** below.
I spotted **our target**—a white boat marked **G2**.
We jumped down, landing roughly.
A **guard spotted us**.
"**Release the dog!**"
"**RUN!**"
Lola **sprinted**, her breath ragged, her steps uneven—but she **never slowed down**.
"**Faster!**" I yelled. "**Run for your life!**"
I heard **the growl**.
**The dog was getting closer.**
###
A man shifted uneasily, his voice hushed.
"**John has never been late before. Something's wrong. We should leave.**"
His companion hesitated.
"**Give it five minutes. If he doesn't show, we go.**"
---
**Joseph's POV**
"**Keep moving!**" Joseph urged, his voice sharp with urgency.
I **ran**—my legs moving faster than ever, ignoring the heavy weight in my womb.
**Survival mattered. Nothing else did.**
Then—
"**Over there! After them!**"
A guard unleashed **a dog**, its body launching forward like a bullet.
I **whipped around**—fear gripping my throat.
Joseph didn't hesitate.
"**Stop!**" he ordered. "**We can't outrun it on open ground. Take the bend ahead!**"
We veered sharply, darting toward the turn—**praying it was enough**.
---
### **Security Room – Michael's POV**
Michael's **eyes locked onto the security screen**, tracking every movement.
Joseph and Lola were **right there**.
Then—
**Gone.**
Vanished **in seconds**.
His **stomach dropped**.
"**WHERE DID THEY GO?!**" he bellowed, turning to the nearest guard.
The man shifted nervously before answering, "**There's a blind spot in Terminal 2. No cameras.**"
Michael's **face twisted with fury**.
"**Are you telling me I LOST TWO TRAVELERS BECAUSE OF A BLANK SPOT?!**"
Silence.
Then, over the walkie-talkie—
"**Anyone have eyes on them?**"
A pause.
Then the dreaded response:
"**Negative, sir.**"
### **Earlier, Before the Blank Spot**
#### **Joseph's POV**
Going by land through the terminal would be suicide. **Too open. Too exposed. Too dangerous.**
We needed a route that would **hide our movements** and **buy us time**.
Then I saw it.
A wall of **cargo containers**, stacked high, covering **most of Terminal 2's western side**.
The perfect way out.
"**Go up, not down,**" I thought.
"**Take the bend ahead!**" I said, noticing that the **wall behind the containers had no cameras**.
Lola **moved fast**, but I **pulled her back** at the last moment.
"**Wait. We climb.**"
With **one swift motion**, I **hoisted her upward**, helping her scale the first container.
"**Faster, Lola. We don't have time!**"
She **scrambled**, her breath sharp as she pulled herself up.
I followed, moving quickly, using the metal edges as leverage.
From **above**, The guards couldn't spot us easily.
We raced forward, hopping from **one container to the next**, making our way toward the docks.
**The boat was in sight.**
A **white hull. Labelled G2.**
Just as we prepared to **jump down**, a piercing shout echoed—
"**THERE! STOP THEM!**"
---
### **The Chase Intensifies**
A **guard spotted us**, his voice rising in alarm.
"**Release the dog!**"
The snarl tore through the air.
I **grabbed Lola's arm**.
"**Jump! NOW!**"
We **leaped**, hitting the ground hard, momentum carrying us forward.
"**Start the boat!**" I yelled, my voice cutting through the chaos.
Lola ran—her **legs burning**, her **breath uneven**, her **entire body screaming for relief**.
But **she didn't stop**.
She couldn't.
Behind us, guards **swarmed**, dogs **charging**, security sirens **blaring**.
The **dock was close**, but the distance between us and the boat was **shrinking too fast**.
I could **feel** them closing in.
"**Faster, Lola! DON'T STOP!**"
---
### **On the Boat **
"**Something's wrong,**" one of my men muttered, watching from the deck.
Then we saw them.
Two people—**running for their lives**.
And behind them?
**An onslaught of security.**
"**Start the boat! Someone's coming!**"
The engine **roared** to life.
"**FASTER!**"
Lola leaped aboard.
I ran—**but the gap widened**.
I was **being left behind**.
***
The **first person**—a woman—**leaped onto the deck**, collapsing in exhaustion.
I **reached for the second**—but he was **still too far behind**.
The boat **was pulling away**.
The **gap widened**.
The woman's scream **pierced the air**.
"**NO!**"
She **watched in horror** as the man fell behind.
For a second, I thought he was **lost**.
Then—
**He jumped.**
Straight into the sea.
---
### **Joseph's POV –**Final Escape; The Last Stretch**
The impact of the water **knocked the breath out of me**.
Cold. Violent. **Unforgiving.**
I kicked, **pushing against the waves**, arms clawing toward the boat.
Lola was **above**, her hands stretched out—**eyes filled with terror**.
Then—**hands grabbed me.**
A man
His grip **strong**, pulling me onto the deck.
I coughed, **water spilling from my lungs**, struggling to **catch my breath**.
---
### **The Reality of Survival**
I turned to the man, still **panting**, my body **aching**.
"**Joseph, I introduced myself and this is my wife, Lola,**" I finally managed to say.
Caleb (the man who saved me) nodded, his expression heavy.
"**John?**"
Silence.
Then I forced the words out.
"**They got him. But he made sure we got out.**"
The atmosphere **shifted**—the weight of **loss settling over everyone on board**.
Grief lingered—but **so did the brutal truth**.
We had survived.
But at **a price.**
Lola reached for my hand, **her fingers trembling**.
I held them **tight**, reminding her that **we were still here**.
Still fighting.
Still running.
We had come **too far** to stop.
And if we let fear consume us now?
John's sacrifice would have been for **nothing**.
Caleb exhaled, staring into the open sea.
"**There's no use crying over spilled milk,**" he muttered.
But we all knew—
**This wasn't just spilled milk.**
This was survival.
This was war.
This was the price of **escaping death itself.**
---
### **Before the Pursuit – Back at the Checkpoint**
#### **John's POV**
My phone buzzed again—this time, the news sent a **chill** down my spine.
"**John… They got them. The travelers. The arrests happened.**"
I closed my eyes, exhaling slowly.
I had known this would happen.
I had **prepared** for this outcome.
Still, the weight of **three hundred and twenty lives** shattered something inside me.
I had sent them into the unknown, their fates sealed by forces far beyond their control.
But we had **no choice**.
Sacrifices had to be made.
Then my phone **buzzed again**—this time, urgency **sharpened the voice** on the other end.
"**John. You're not free. Michael is onto you. He's coming to Tema Bay.**"
The words hit like a gunshot.
For a moment, my expression **slipped**—just briefly—enough for Joseph to **notice**.
His eyes locked onto mine, his voice steady but lined with worry.
"**What's wrong?**"
I hesitated.
How could I tell him that in **less than an hour**, I'd either be **captured or dead**?
I **forced myself to breathe**, to think fast.
Finally, I spoke—short, direct, urgent.
"**West end of Terminal 2. A boat marked G2. If I don't make it—run.**"
Joseph held my gaze.
No questions.
Just **understanding**.
Then he nodded.
We both knew what that meant.
---
### **Back to the Present – At Sea**
#### **Joseph's POV**
Salt filled the air, but grief weighed heavier.
Caleb stood still, **processing** the news.
His jaw clenched. His shoulders squared.
Silence.
A silence that **spoke louder than screams**.
Around us, the boat crew looked on—some **wide-eyed**, some **stone-faced**, others **gripping their chests like they were holding back tears**.
We had **won**.
But at what **cost**?
Lola's fingers tightened around my wrist, her touch **trembling**.
I turned to her—she didn't say a word.
She didn't **need** to.
In her eyes, the weight of **everything** sat heavy—**grief for John, fear for tomorrow, the aching truth that our journey was far from over**.
Caleb finally sighed, shaking his head.
"**There's no use crying over spilled milk.**"
But he didn't **move**.
He didn't **breathe** for a moment.
Because even he knew—this wasn't just **spilled milk**.
This was **loss**.
This was **betrayal**.
This was the kind of wound that **never really heals**.
And yet—
We had to move forward.
We had **no choice**.
Survival was the only thing that mattered.
And if we stopped now?
John's sacrifice would have been for **nothing**.
I turned toward the open sea.
The waves stretched before us—**vast, empty, waiting**.
We had come **too far** to let ourselves **disappear** into history.
We weren't going to be **forgotten**.
Not now.
Not **ever**.