THE SHIP OF DREAMS
Chapter Thirty-Two
Callista, meanwhile, stood
arguing with the man in charge of the only working elevator. He refused to go
down, for fear that they would both be trapped. "Oh, get out!" she finally
snapped, grabbing him by the scruff of the neck and shoving him into the
hallway. She pushed her way into the tiny elevator and slammed the gate shut,
and already pulled the lever before the man could protest.
The electricity flickered as she
moved downward, and she felt her heart racing with fear. When she eventually
reached E Deck, her eyes widened in complete horror. The entire corridor was
flooded in at least three feet of water, which instantly spilled through the
bars of the elevator gate. She shrieked in surprise as it froze her ankles, and
she had a bit of difficulty getting the gate open. She managed to pull it wide
open enough to squeeze her body through, and gasped. The water was so cold that
her entire body went into shock for a moment.
"Sam?" she called,
wading down towards the right section of the hallway. She had to duck when
several electric sparks shot down on her from the ceiling. "Sam!"
*****
Sam, alone at last in his prison,
stood on top of one of the nearby chairs when he heard Callista’s voice calling
him in the distance. His side throbbed after Lovejoy smacked him with the
barrel of the pistol on his way out, and it wouldn’t have surprised Sam at all
if he’d broken a rib or two. Though no doubt that man’s intention was to
leave me to drown, he thought. Never mind the legality of the situation.
He took a breath and gritted his teeth, attempting to shift in a way so he
wouldn’t ache so much. The room was halfway filled with water at this point,
and his pants were almost completely soaked from the waist down.
"Sam!"
Sam strained his hearing and
managed to raise his head to glance at the closed door, wondering if Callista
would be able to find him. It baffled him that she’d taken so long to come to
his rescue, but she had been right about Lovejoy not leaving the room at all.
At least, not until the news that the Titanic was indeed sinking came to his
knowledge. Then he’d sprung away as fast as he could.
"Callista!" Sam shouted
with all of his might, and banged his cuffs against the pole. "Callista,
I’m in here!"
Callista stood a few doors away,
and cupped her hand over her ear. "Sam?"
"I’m in here!" he
replied, and she eventually managed to find the door that led inside to his
room. She beamed when she managed to push it open, and saw him still alive and
fairly alert.
"Thank God," she
breathed, swimming over to the pole, and latching herself around his waist.
"Dammit, Callista!" Sam
cursed, doubling over again. "Let go, will you?"
Callista glared at him.
"Well, excuse me, Sam, but is it a crime that I am happy to see you’re
still here?"
Sam grunted under his breath.
"Not usually," he muttered. "But that son of a bitch whacked me
in the side with his gun, so I think my ribs are bruised."
Callista reached over to lift his
shirt for an investigation, but he shook his head. "We don’t have time to
stall," he told her, and she nodded. "I think Lovejoy took his key
with him."
"Lovejoy?" Callista
blinked.
"That was the guard’s name
who was in here."
"Ah." She took a good
look around the room and tried to think of any place that might contain a spare
key to pop the locks.
"Your earrings," Sam
told her. "Use those. You can pick locks, right?"
"No spare keys?" she
asked, removing the gold jewelry from her ears and the hairpins from her bun.
"Do you really think
so?" Sam muttered sarcastically. "I’m so sure that the guard would
have left a spare in here. He thinks I’m too cunning for my own good."
Callista rolled her eyes, and,
after climbing up onto the desk, began to stick her hairpin first into the lock.
She fiddled with it for a few moments, glancing over her shoulder as more water
filled the room. The two of them could hear the ship creaking under the
unwanted weight, and Sam swallowed.
Another eerie creaking sound
filled the guards’ ears, causing Sam to turn his attention towards the door.
"You were right," he said, once he heard a click, which meant the
lock came undone from his cuffs. Callista removed the metal objects from his
wrists, and watched as he massaged them gratefully.
"About what?" she asked,
shivering a little in her damp clothes. She grabbed both of his arms, aiding
him carefully into the water. He cursed loudly in Russian, slowly sinking under
to get himself used to the cold. He came up, shaking his wet hair, and spat out
a few salty drops.
"What are you doing?"
Callista hissed, rolling her eyes, and the two made their way for the door.
"Well, it’ll feel a little
warmer once you’re completely wet. I’d rather be soaked all the way than
partially." He shrugged, wading into the corridor. "Jesus," he
muttered, and Callista gasped. The end of the hallway leading to the staircase
was completely flooded now, providing them with no way out.
"Shit!" Callista
cursed. "It cut off our only escape route!"
Sam took her arm. "Not
necessarily," he replied. "Let’s go the other way."
"What did you mean before
when you said I was right?" Callista asked, as they grasped onto the
ceiling rafters for support, pulling themselves along.
"I meant about your feeling that
something bad was going to happen. That day you were so jittery, and I told you
it was going to be fine?" Sam asked, ducking as another light blew,
shooting sparks in every direction. "You have some instinct."
Callista shrugged. "Comes
with experience, I guess." They finally reached a shallow area of the
hall, and found they could walk. "There’s another stairwell just up ahead!
Look!" She pointed, and Sam nodded.
"Let’s make for it!" he
shouted over the continuous creaking and snapping of the ship.
*****
Meanwhile, Mac, Anastasia,
Fabrizio, Michael, and Tommy continued to stand in a group by the main
stairwell, having gotten nowhere with the stewards in charge. Tommy, due to his
broken leg, sat on the steps, muttering angrily to himself.
"How can they do this?"
Anastasia asked Mac, wishing her status was known for this one time. Clearly,
if people knew who she was, she might have at least a bit of influence. But
waiting down here when the steerage section would clearly be the first to go
was ridiculous. "How can anyone be so heartless?"
Mac rolled her eyes. "This
is reality," she replied bitterly. "Not everything is sugar-coated
like they have it at the palace."
Anastasia frowned, not knowing
how to respond to that statement, so she chose not to. "I wonder if
Callista has found Sam and freed him yet?" She changed the subject,
covering her ears as the crowd’s shouting grew louder and more impatient.
A mother and her two children
stood by the opposite wall, and the little girl asked, in a quiet voice,
"What are we doing, Mummy?"
The mother bent down so she could
be eye-level with her daughter. "We’re just waiting, dear," she
replied in a thick Irish accent. "When they finish putting the first class
people in the boats, they’ll be starting with us, and we’ll want to be all
ready, won’t we?"
The little girl nodded, and
Anastasia felt her heart breaking and saw Mac’s eyes growing a little teary, as
well. "I wonder if Rose and my father got out," Mac whispered, her
voice shaking. She missed him terribly, and wanted more than anything to leap
into his arms as she usual. I’m never too big for that, she thought with
a small smile, but frowned again.
"I’m sure she did,"
Anastasia encouraged. "Rose wouldn’t just leave him. I know her better
than that."
"Do you?" Mac snorted.
"You’ve barely known her for a week!"
Anastasia shrugged. "I don’t
know. She may be a bit complicated, but I definitely think she loves your
father too much to just drop him when something like this happens."
Mac certainly hoped Anastasia was
correct in her assumptions, but there was always that hidden pang of fear.
*****
Bang. Band. Band. A steward
walking along the steerage corridor stopped and stared at the wall to his left.
He could hear what sounded like someone trying to ram through it, and stepped
back quickly. Before he realized what was going on, the metal end of an axe
smashed through the wood, beginning to make a hole large enough for a person to
squeeze through.
Callista stood behind Sam as he
continued chopping at the wood…the gates were all locked, as well as the doors
that would allow them to their usual place, so he’d decided to escape by force.
It had taken them at least an hour to escape the dungeon section of the ship,
and they nearly drowned when walls of water burst through the ends of the
hallways.
She ducked as several pieces of
wood flew in her direction, and she watched as they fell into the rising water.
She was so cold, so damp, and so uncomfortable. Sam was clearly uncomfortable,
too, but he certainly wouldn’t even dream of showing it.
With a final "Argh!" he
managed to slice the last bit of wood through, and practically pulled Callista
through it. She gasped as the splinters tore at the hem of her dress, but she
didn’t slow down. The steward attempted to chase after them, shaking his fist
angrily.
"Here!" he shouted in
his thick British accent. "What do you think you’re doing? You’ll have to
pay for that, you know!"
Callista rolled her eyes, and
linked arms with Sam as they continued walking very quickly. "That’s White
Star Line property!" the steward added, and both guards whirled around
with loud, "Shut ups!" The steward instantly did so, and stood very
still as they disappeared around a corner.
They could hear commotion as they
made their way towards the main steerage stairwell, and soon saw crowds of
passengers gathered in a mob. "Callista!" Michael suddenly shouted
over the din, and Mac and Anastasia both whirled around.
"Sam, stay away from
him," Callista ordered, as Sam glared daggers at the teenage boy standing
in front of him. "Oh, Tommy, thank God you’re okay!" she breathed,
and Michael shook his head, stepping back from Sam, who looked clearly ready to
strangle him.
"Well, he’s not completely
okay…the metal frame broke his leg."
Callista sighed. "What is
going on, by the way?"
"They’re not letting us up
until the first and second class passengers have boarded," Mac explained,
and Sam glanced towards the gate.
"How long do they think
that’ll take?"
"It’s already been at least
an hour," Anastasia groaned. "Or more. I lost track of time."
Callista raised her arms, and Sam
lowered his head, clearly trying to think of something to do. "Well, let’s
try to find another gate," he told them, and Tommy raised his eyes.
"We might have an easier time persuading other stewards without a huge mob
waiting. They’re probably afraid of a stampede."
"Not that they don’t deserve
to be run over," Callista grumbled, and Sam had to agree with her.
"I doubt we’ll have any
better luck, boyo," Tommy replied as Fabrizio managed to hoist him to his
good foot, and he grimaced when he accidentally put weight on the broken limb.
"But I’m willin’ to try anyhow. Certainly beats hanging around here."
Just as they were preparing to
leave, the steward wrenched open the gates, shouting, "Women and children
only, please!" Sam and Callista stared at each other.
"Bring Anastasia and Mac
up!" Callista shouted to Michael, and the younger guard prepared to pull
the Grand Duchess up the steps. However, Mac refused to move.
"Mac, come on!"
Anastasia screeched, making her way through the anxious crowds. Men were beaten
back with axe butts or threatened to be shot at with pistols if they attempted
to make their way through.
"I’m not leaving you
here!" Mac shouted at Callista, Sam, Fabrizio, and Tommy.
"Kid, go on! You’ll never
get out if you don’t go now!" Tommy exclaimed, but Mac stood her ground.
"Get her up!" Sam
snapped to Michael, who gave the Grand Duchess a final shove through the gates
and managed to squeeze through the panicking guards himself. Anastasia turned
around once they were safe enough away, and her eyes were wide as saucers.
"Mac!" she cried in horror, starting to run back to the gates, but
Michael grabbed her arm.
"No!" he snapped, and
she stared at him, shocked.
"You have no right to talk
to me in that tone!" she hissed, and he rolled his eyes.
"We’re equals on this ship,
Ana, no matter what you may think. The ship is sinking, and personally, you’re
much too important to lose."
"And Mac isn’t?"
Anastasia cried, as they began running down the hallway.
"I didn’t mean it that
way," Michael told her, "but you are royalty, and you have no idea
how thin our lives are right now. Your father trusted us to take care of you,
and we’re not about to fail now."
Anastasia found no room to argue
with Michael at this point, so she kept quiet, and merely followed him towards
the boat deck. Oh, Mac, she thought, feeling sick to her stomach. Please
let her come out all right!