The freighter cut through the waves like butter. He gazed out over the rolling sea. The blue sky and steely gray waves were vastly different from the yellow-orange sand dunes behind. The salty sea air was invigorating.

The ship made a strange sound that sent adrenaline coursing through his veins like ice. Every muscle tensed. The sound was yellow-orange.

He saw the messenger stop at the door. Placing the scope to his eye, he nestled the butt of the rifle into place. The man threw a leg over the back of the bicycle and leaned it carefully against the stucco wall. He reached into the wire basket at the front and removed a bundle.

Trigger finger pressed ever so slightly upon the curved metal. The bundle was moved the man’s shoulder like an infant. It wailed. A screech of starvation rudely awakened by the jostling.

He couldn’t shoot.

A voice yelled “gangway!” and a hand shoved him aside on the deck. Stumbling forward, blue-gray replaced the yellow-orange of his vision. He caught hold of the rail.