The thought of rowing downstream on a longboat might have seemed appealing if Jonathan had been in a better mood. With the sun shining, some friends around, and a few beers in him and on his kayak, the idea of paddling a vessel like the ones his Viking ancestors used centuries ago could have been enjoyable. But with time of the essence, Asher’s Swedish Police zodiac was the better choice. Asher had managed to pull some strings to delay the meeting about Lysekil, trade routes, and the next steps in Sweden for an extra day. People had traveled from far and wide to be there, from the battered envoys of Lysekil, arriving with their tails between their legs and their fancy dress uniforms, to the northern clans. A dozen clans, groups, and communities had shown up.

  The only obstacle between Norrk?ping and Asher’s favorable position at the negotiating table was the Somali clan blocking the river north of Norrk?ping. Despite negotiations, they refused to budge. Whether it was the fear of increased traffic attracting unwanted attention or their desire to avoid becoming a local trade hub, they wouldn’t relent. Not even Asher’s demands could move them.

  The series of longboats crafted by Norrk?ping, reminiscent of old Norse designs, had been painstakingly built to offer “fuel-free” transport across the Scandinavian peninsula and beyond. Each one could carry up to 15 tons of cargo in good conditions. The only thing standing between them and prosperity was the clan threatening to shoot any ships on sight.

  As the zodiac skimmed over the water, Jonathan gripped his machine gun tighter, lying flat on the rubber board. The “gift” from Karim was a modernized Minimi in nearly pristine condition: black, belt-fed, lighter than his MAG, and equipped with a sleek holographic scope.

  The man behind the wheel, around Jonathan’s age, was focused solely on navigating the narrow river bends, seemingly indifferent to Jonathan and Amir. Jonathan caught Amir staring at him for a while, their nerves frayed despite the briefing.

  Jonathan remembered Karim’s word just before the zodiac had set off from one of the piers.

  “You’ll find ample encouragement” the fool had said with a smile. Those words resonated inside of him like a sphynx.

  The idea of sending only two men there, with a map to discuss which rivers the clan would okay with Norrkoping sailing through was genius. Even better, no one knew Amir or Jonathan. And nothing besides sound logic could link Norrkoping to this, giving them plausible deniability. They had been briefed about how many people they could expect. Fighting men, families, kids. It wasn’t worth putting those people in categories if they would all have the same fate.

  “The flag!” the man behind the steering wheel yelled as he slowed down. Amir rummaged around before taking out a long blue flag from the front of the zodiac, lifting it up to signal their friendly intentions.

  Jonathan put his helmet on, the same ops core that had protected his head from certain death a few weeks back.

  The zodiac eased toward the riverbank, where a few people were waiting. The scene before Jonathan and Amir was strikingly out of place against the backdrop of the Swedish forest. A young girl with dark skin stood by the water, guiding the boat with a practiced hand. As they drew closer, Amir signaled the driver to cut the engine. Jonathan and Amir carefully disembarked, wading through the chilly water until they reached the riverbank.

  The ground was muddy and uneven, making their progress slow. The young girl and a young man quickly came to their aid. The boy, not older than fourteen and holding an old double-barrel shotgun, extended his hand.

  “Jonathan,” he said, offering a firm handshake.

  The girl, clearly taken a back, initially ignored Jonathan’s hand, a hint of annoyance in her expression. She seemed to remember he wasn’t from around here, and the boy, Burhaan, took Jonathan’s hand and shook it firmly.

  “I’m Burhaan, This is my sister, Aaminaa. Please, Axmed is waiting for you and refrain from shaking the girls hands around here” Burhaan said, nodding toward a nearby path. Both siblings looked strikingly similar, their features sharp and defined, clearly twins despite their youth.

  “Salam aleikoum,” Jonathan heard Amir greet a few of the tribe’s men as they made their way through the small village. The village itself seemed oddly juxtaposed against the dense Swedish forest. The homes were modest and haphazardly constructed, some made of timber and others of corrugated metal. Fishing nets and drying fish were strung between makeshift posts, and a few pens with sheep dotted the area.

  The air was thick with the smell of fish and earthy undertones from the surrounding forest. The village had a rugged charm, with its vibrant colors contrasting sharply with the muted greens and browns of the forest.

  Although the dozen people living here were all clearly Somali. Jonathan could see two young white girls hurrying their way inside one of the wooden house.

  A tall, skinny man emerged from one of the central houses. He was striking, with a bald head and a long, flowing white tunic that contrasted sharply with the earthy tones of the village. His presence commanded attention, and his soft, paternal tone brought a sense of calm.

  “I’m sad to see you brought weapons,” he said, extending his hand to Jonathan and Amir. His eyes were kind, though his words carried an underlying seriousness.

  Jonathan tried to respond, “Salam Aleikoum,” but his pronunciation was a bit off. The man smiled warmly and replied, “Aleikoum salam, brother. I hope you had a safe journey.”

  “We apologize for the weapons,” Amir said, placing a hand on the man’s back in a gesture of respect. “It’s less safe around here, and we traveled far.”

  The man nodded understandingly and led them into the lounge. Inside, the space was a blend of traditional Somali aesthetics and a touch of unexpected contrast: a young white girl, clearly out of place in this setting, was busy preparing tea. She moved with practiced efficiency, setting out delicate, intricately patterned glasses and a silver teapot. Her presence was an anomaly, yet she seemed at ease, contributing to the preparations as if she had been part of this community for some time.

  As Jonathan and Amir settled onto the cushions, the man gestured for them to sit and made introductions. “I am Axmed,” he said, offering a seat to Jonathan. “This is our humble lounge. Please, make yourselves comfortable. We have much to discuss, but first, let us enjoy some tea.”

  Jonathan’s new found machine stood against the table but in reach. They had even removed their shoes and left them outside as they discussed the rivers with Axmed and his boys.

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  Most were young, only two of them were older than twenty. Their weapons were old and not as flashy as Jonathan’s minimi or Amir’s AK5C. They all pretended to listen as Amir and Axmed went over the map. Amir was pretending to be interested and negotiated half-heartedly as he marked the rivers Axmed wanted to avoid. All in a 5km range around their village.

  The white girl entered the tent again holding an empty board and awkwardly made her way to the table to pick up the empty tea glasses.

  One of the younger lads sitting with his back to the door grabbed her leg from under her tunic and his hand rose up her legs. The girl didn’t even recoil, as if she was used to this treatment.

  Axmed shot him a look, before signaling with his eyes towards their guest.

  “They’ve seen worse, hell I’ve seen the young guy stare at her since he got here.” The kid, not older than sixteen said in Bajuni as he saw’s Jonathan’s eyes from behind Jonathan’s ballistic sunglasses.

  “If you want brother, you can have some time with her before you leave.” The kid said in Swedish.

  Jonathan tried to control himself.

  “Thanks bro, but I ran out of anti biotics.” Jonathan said with a grin.

  The people in the tent all laughed to Amir’s astonishement.

  “She’s clean, none of us here have any sickness. That’s an issue in the big cities.” Axmed said as the girl left the tent.

  “We got business to discuss first.” Amir said, bringing the attention back to the map.

  Getting everyone around wasn’t hard. With the sack of fake gems they had brought as a token of “Norrkoping’s friendship”

  Jonathan scanned the small mob gathered around Amir. Less than twenty people encircled him, half of them boys, the rest young girls their age, along with one older woman who seemed to be Axmed’s mother. Jonathan’s eyes darted from face to face, his mind racing as he tried to account for everyone. Was there anyone else? He couldn't shake the feeling that someone was missing. The tension gnawed at him, a silent alarm ringing in his head.

  Axmed and the young boy from earlier were still in the lounge, their hushed conversation adding to the uneasy atmosphere. Outside, the crowd was fixated on the fake gems Amir had brought, their eyes wide with fascination. But Jonathan's instincts screamed at him that this distraction was too convenient, too perfect.

  Amir was white as a sheet, even with his skin complexion. The girl from the tent moved towards the crowd as if she wanted to look at what the fuzz was about. Jonathan grabbed her arm quietly, stopping her in her tracks.

  She stared at him, her brown eyes seeing right through his sunglasses. She seemed to understand what was about to happen and she slowly moved back.

  “What is this you got us.” Axmin asked as he walked out.

  “Come and see, it’s a gift from Asher.” Amir said loudly as he made his way out of the small crowd towards Jonathan while the others seemed to be fighting for the small bag.

  To Jonathan chagrin, the young boy didn’t move an inch, he seemed to bored as he stood near the entrance and watched the rest.

  The old woman muttered something in Somali, her voice commanding enough to quiet the group. They reluctantly handed the bag to her, and she poured its contents into her wrinkled hand. As the fake gems spilled out, her eyes widened in shock. She passed them to Axmed, whose face twisted with a mix of disbelief and shock as he realized what they were holding. Compared to the younger people, her and Axmed knew a thing a two about precious gems. They knew enough to realize those were fakes.

  Amir looked at Jonathan and they both gave each other a quick nod.

  Jonathan lowered the ear protection attached to his helmet on his ears.

  Axmed looked at Amir with an expression between shock and disbelief. “Yeah well.” Amir said before lifting his rifle, the boy at entrance was the closest to him. At close range he fired two fast shots in his chest. Before his lifeless body even hit the dirt, Jonathan and Amir had their weapons pointed at the crowd.

  The sound of the screams struggled to cut above the sound of the blazing gun fire. One after the other they were cutdown. Be it from Amir’s rifle or Jonathan machine gun emptying into the small crowd. The bullets cutting through all of them like a knife through butter. A few screamed and cried as they hit the floor, injured but still alive. Jonathan and Amir got closer, not stopping the lead storm as one after the other the voices became silent.

  One of the young girls tried to stand up, her legs refusing to move as she pushed her upper body. Jonathan put her out of her misery as he fired a salvo right through her back.

  Amir looked at the bodies, sporadically shooting at anyone left moving. His bolt stuck back, he pressed the magazine release button before throwing the empty magazine into his pants side pocket. He was taking out a magazine from his plate carrier as both him and Jonathan saw a girl run away from the village. It was Aaminaa. Jonathan realized he had forgotten someone as he saw her silhouette running further and further into the forest. Jonathan lifted his machine gun, the weight of it heavy in his hands, and his nerves were frayed. He squeezed the trigger, expecting the gunfire to drown out everything else, but the salvo abruptly cut off. His shots veered wildly, missing their targets entirely, shredding the nearby trees and bushes instead. Bark flew, and the foliage exploded in a chaotic spray.

  Had he really burned through 100 rounds that fast?

  Without a second thought, Jonathan let the machine gun fall to his side, the sling catching its weight as his hand instinctively reached for his pistol. The Glock came up quickly, his sights locking onto the girl's back as she scrambled through a thick bush, trying to escape the sudden eruption of violence.

  He squeezed the trigger and saw her collapse. He moved closer to her up to twenty meters away while Amir was checking the rest of the bodies. He saw her move before lifting up his pistol again and firing three rounds for good measure.

  Jonathan waved at Ingrid from across the park. She half heartedly waved back. Her head still hurt beyond any measure. She had overdone it more than usual last night and her stomach and headache reminded her constantly. It was cold enough for Jonathan to play outside, the cold would make sure he kept long sleeves as to not arouse suspicions from the parents in the park. Last thing she needed on top of the debt collectors were social services coming for a random visit because some neighbors noticing bruises and other marks on his small arms. Jonathan fell to the ground, he wasn’t hurt nor was he distressed as he noticed the flower he had fallen next to.

  “Please, no.” Ingrid thought in her head as Jonathan grabbed the daisy. To her chagrin, he sprinted towards her with the Daisy in his hand.

  “Look, sorry.” Jonathan uttered. Even at four year olds Jonathan still struggled with words.

  Her heart gave out so to say as she faked a smile. His face was full of expression as he smiled and waited a response from his mother.

  She took the small daisy and put it behind her ear as she faked another smile. Not knowing if he noticed the tears building up.

  “Look!” she pointed to the ducks about thirty meters away. “Go play with them!” Ingrid said, trying to maintain her tears from flowing. Jonathan looked at her confused before spinning around and taking off like a wild dog towards the ducks. She took this as her chance to leave. The subway was just a few dozen meters away, she could walk downstairs and wait for the next train that would arrive while Jonathan tirelessly chased the ducks around. As she heard the train approach she tried to imagine him running after them. It would be a quick exit she tried to reassure herself as she threw herself in front of it.

  The Zodiac hit a small wave, jolting Jonathan back to reality. He wiped a bit of vomit from the corner of his mouth and glanced around. Across from him, Amir quickly looked away, pretending to focus on the riverbanks, avoiding the brief moment their eyes almost met.

  Amir’s thoughts churned, heavier than the icy water beneath them. He had committed one of the worst sins in Islam—the betrayal of a guest by their host, no matter who the host might be. Years of killing, violence, drinking, gambling, and women had already condemned him, or so he believed. But this act, this treachery, felt like the final stroke that would secure his place in hell.

  Jonathan shifted his gaze to the two young girls huddled across the boat. He didn’t know their names and didn’t care to. They looked far too young, fragile in a way that gnawed at the edges of his conscience. One clung to the other, both trembling beneath Amir’s jacket, seeking warmth and comfort where there was none to be found. Their wide, vacant eyes stared at nothing, as if resigned to whatever captivity awaited them next.

  The Zodiac driver had protested bringing the girls aboard, his voice barely masking his unease, but he knew better than to argue. In his mind, they were Oksj?’s property now, just another part of the spoils, and he wasn’t paid enough to care.

  The biting cold wind whipped across the boat, made sharper by its speed. Jonathan pulled his coat tighter and tried to steady his nerves, though it was no use. The weight of what he’d done clung to him, suffocating and relentless. The reality of it all still felt distant, like a nightmare he couldn’t shake awake.