THE SHIP OF DREAMS
Chapter Thirty-Four

Mac, meanwhile, continued to follow Callista, Sam, Tommy, and Fabrizio. Now that they were no closer to escaping than before, she was beginning to regret her decision to stay behind. She was freezing and beyond exhausted. She missed her father and Anastasia so terribly that it took a lot not to burst into tears.

At last, though, she gave a small yelp and fell into the ankle-deep water.

Fabrizio, who had been walking in front of her, whirled around. "Wait!" he cried, and the rest of the group stopped. He lifted Mac into his arms, and Callista looked at Sam.

"Keep moving," he said. "She chose to stay with us."

Mac felt helpless as she clung to the Italian man’s neck, but uttered no word of complaint. The ship’s not that big, she thought, her teeth chattering. We have to find an exit soon! Just as she was about to nod off, she saw an unguarded stairwell up ahead.

"Look!" she called. "I’ll bet we can get up there!"

Sam glanced at Callista, who was panting and clutching a stitch in her side. "Can’t hurt," she gulped. The water was rising; it was almost knee-deep now, making walking difficult, let alone running.

"Come on," Sam announced, and they made a mad dash for it.

They’d used a piece of broken wood as a splint for Tommy’s leg along the way, though he still hobbled painfully. "Locked!" he yelled once he reached the bars and gave them a rough tug.

"Dammit!" Sam cursed, stomping his foot on the metal stairs.

Callista removed another pin from her hair and asked Tommy to move aside. "That actually works?" Tommy asked, impressed, as she began to fiddle with the lock, and Sam raised an eyebrow.

"Obviously, or I wouldn’t be here, would I?" he asked, and Fabrizio let Mac down on the steps.

"You’re getting heavy," he explained, and Mac managed a smile. However, that smile quickly faded when she saw the water rushing towards them.

"Oh, no!" she gasped, and Sam peered down at Callista, who was finding it quite difficult to work the lock with her shaking hands.

"Hurry up!" he cried, and Callista looked over her shoulder as she felt something lapping at her heels.

"I’m trying!" she yelled back. With one last grunt, she managed to pop the lock and tossed the pin aside. With Sam’s help, the two of them wrenched the gate apart, making a wake with the water. Mac screeched as the ice cold ocean wrapped around her legs. Fabrizio picked her up again, and, holding onto her for dear life, he followed the rest of the group up the several flights of stairs that awaited them.

"Do you think there’ll be any lifeboats left?" Mac asked, watching as Tommy limped behind them.

"Well, we’ll certainly hope there are!" Sam snarled.

"But it’s been almost an hour since we let Anastasia go," she said. "What if…"

"A ship this size is supposed to have enough boats to accommodate over two thousand passengers," Callista explained. "I’m quite certain they did that. Mr. Andrews seemed like a perfectly responsible man, and I’m sure he…" They stopped in front of the second class smoking lounge and found the ship’s designer to be standing in front of the fireplace, his hands behind his back.

"Sir?" Sam called. "You do know the ship’s sinking, right?" he asked, and Callista nudged his arm, walking into the room. "Mr. Andrews?" she asked quietly, and the man turned to her, his expression very sad. "Aren’t—aren’t you even going to try to get out?"

"I’ve failed them all," he told her, and Callista raised her eyes.

"But—we’ll all be saved, surely, in time!"

Mr. Andrews didn’t respond. Instead, he went over to a chair by the window and picked up two extra lifebelts. He handed one to her, as well as handing one to Sam, and gave them a nod. "Good luck to you," he replied, and Callista started to say something else, but another loud creak filled the eerie silence.

"Come on," Sam said, taking her arm. "We have to get out of here." He glanced at Mr. Andrews one more time and pulled Callista away. Mac’s eyes never left the ship’s builder, and when she last saw him, she saw that he opened the face of the clock and fiddled with the hands.

"What does he mean by he failed?" Callista asked herself out loud.

"He meant he failed because he thought he built an unsinkable ship," Sam told her. "And, well, his word’s been shot to hell."

"That’s so sad that he’s just going to let himself die!" Mac cried. "Doesn’t he have a family at home?"

"I don’t know," Callista told her softly. At last, they could hear the sounds of screaming and feet pounding along the deck when they reached the first class section of the ship. They burst through the main area that contained the Grand Staircase and saw water rising there, too. A man and his valet sat by the wall, unprotected by lifebelts and holding glasses of brandy. Their expressions were of great shock; clearly they hadn’t expected this, of all things, to happen.

"Stop gaping and get out!" Sam yelled at them, watching as a spurt of water burst through one of the tiny porthole windows. "Fabrizio, take Mac. Get her to a lifeboat!"

Fabrizio nodded and looked at Tommy, whose eyes were dark. "Go. I’ll catch up then," he said, and Mac buried her face in Fabrizio’s shoulder, trying to block out the sounds of the terrified passengers. They ran for the deck and Mac felt her breath being taken away by the icy cold air. Fabrizio frantically turned this way and that, trying to find an officer or someone he could ask to get help. "Are there anymore lifeboats on the ship?" he called to a well-dressed man, who pointed to the starboard side.

"I think there is one more, sir, but it’s getting ready to leave."

"Grazie," Fabrizio replied gratefully, and continued to run. They turned a corner, hearing the soft sound of music playing. Fabrizio couldn’t believe his eyes; a band stood at the rail, each dressed in their finest and holding a miniature concert. No one, of course, was stopping to listen, but the band seemed in no hurry to give up.

Tommy, who ran out onto the deck behind Callista and Sam, growled angrily. "Music to drown by. Now I know I’m in first class."

Fabrizio reached the last lifeboat, which was only filled with five or six passengers. Several seats inside of the boat were broken, and fights were breaking out amongst those trying to get in it. The officers were panicking, holding guns at the mob, and Fabrizio sneaked behind one, offering Mac.

"Take her, please," he begged, and one of the officers without a gun in his hand stared.

Mac gulped, feeling sick. "All right. Give her to me, then." Mac gasped as she was pulled from Fabrizio’s arms and reached out for him.

"I will see you in America, then, eh?" Fabrizio told her, trying to sound confident, but Mac could tell he was lying.

"No!" She grabbed onto his hand, wanting to touch her friend one last time, but was only able to hold onto him for a second. The officer continued to hold Mac while shouting orders to the rest of the crew to get the boat as close to the rail as they could. The ship was a good part out of the water now, and the lights were flickering.

Everything that happened in the next twenty minutes or so were a blur for Mac. She clung to the officer, watching as the men dragged the lifeboat to the edge of the ship as ordered. They got it hooked tight to the side, and anyone who was able to make it in time climbed in. The last thing Mac could remember was the officer setting her in the lifeboat, patting her on the head, and wishing her luck before she blacked out.

*****

Meanwhile, the other lifeboats continued to drift through the ink-black water; no one was in any hurry to go back. The sailor in charge of Rose’s lifeboat had spotted another coming up quickly, and Anastasia, who happened to be in the other boat, gasped and nudged Michael’s arm. She and Cal had long since given up staring at each other; they’d now taken to trying their best to stay warm, just like everyone else.

"What?" Michael practically croaked, swallowing and trying to wet his sandpaper dry throat.

"I think I recognize someone in the other boat. I can almost see…" Anastasia squinted, shielding her eyes. "Oh, oh, it is!" She had to restrain herself from letting out a shout of joy. She leaned closer to Michael and whispered into his ear. "It’s Rose! And she’s holding onto someone, so clearly she has Jack with her!"

Michael couldn’t see from where he was sitting, and he was too stiff from the cold to turn his body around. "I’ll take your word for it," he said, hearing the officer in the second boat suggesting that they pull the two together and have the people fill up one as much as they could. "We have to go back," the officer in charge of their boat shouted to the other. "We’ve only got ten here."

"Are you mad? Do you realize how bloody strong the suction is? We’ll all be pulled under by it if we go back!"

Anastasia bit her lip and lowered her head. "Those people…they’re are all going to die, then," she suddenly whispered. "Anyone who’s left on the ship is going to die."

Michael hugged her. "If you’re thinking Mac will be one of them, I wouldn’t be so hasty."

"But I don’t know if she’s gotten out!" Anastasia sobbed. "They weren’t letting anymore people up after we escaped. What if…"

"Mac isn’t dead," Michael insisted. "Trust me." He blew out his breath, making little white puffs with it. "Trust me."

Anastasia closed her eyes, wishing she could believe him.

*****

Back on the ship, Sam led Callista, Tommy, and Fabrizio up the deck. It was becoming more and more difficult to walk anywhere; water was flooding over the rails and the ship was tilting backwards. Tommy, who was practically crawling on the deck with pain, eventually clung to the closest rail. "What are you doing?" Sam asked.

"I’m not goin’ to make it, Sam," Tommy replied softly. "I can’t go any further. Go without me, then."

Fabrizio watched as Sam and Callista each gripped the metal rail and Callista choked on sobs. "Tommy, you can’t just give up like that!"

"With a broken leg I have every right to give up," he told her. "I can’t climb any higher. You three go as high as ya can and forget about me!"

"Tommy…" Fabrizio started, and looked at Callista and Sam. "You two need to go. I’m staying here."

Sam tugged Callista’s arm. "We do have to fight as much as we can, Callista. We have to get back home."

Callista lowered her head and managed to lean down close enough to kiss both of her friends on the cheek. "God be with you," she breathed, and felt Sam pull her upward. Burst of electrical sparks flew from the half-broken windows, and the ship’s lights dimmed dangerously again. Sam and Callista struggled to keep up with the rising of the deck, grabbing onto what ever still objects they could. They passed a priest who was saying the rosary with a group of passengers. "Holy Mary, mother of God," he was saying, "pray for us sinners, now and at the hour of our death, Amen…"

The ship was rising faster and faster. "Oh, Sam," Callista gasped, and they fought their way over to the side rail.

"Grab on and inch your way to the stern," Sam told her. "We’ll go under a lot less roughly if we follow the ship down."

Callista gasped as the ship suddenly tilted at a dangerously high angle. It was creaking under its own weight, and both guards had a sickening feeling about what was coming.

"Move," he ordered her, and they pulled themselves up just before the wood they’d been standing on began to split violently.

"What exactly are we planning to do?" she yelled over the loud cracking of wood and electrical shocks. She nearly slipped, but Sam managed to grab onto her just in time and hoisted her up with him onto the rail. "We really would have been better off just jumping from where Tommy and Fabrizio were."

Sam rolled his eyes. "Personally, I’d rather wait this out. If we go down holding onto the stern rail, at least we can avoid being hit with falling debris. If I’m thinking correctly, the ship should be standing right, or at least, this half…" He stopped as a great electrical flash came from underneath the wood, and the ship’s electricity went out completely. Now they bobbed like an eerie ghost-like figure, the sound of metal and wood scraping together. Sam pulled her at last to the stern’s rail, and he helped her climb over top, so they were peering down at what was going on.

Passengers who were not so lucky to make it up this high were falling and smacking hard into things as they made their way towards the water. Callista found herself facing another steerage passenger—a young blonde woman whose face was filled with terror. Callista wanted more than anything to say something to comfort her, but no words would come out. Barely a minute later, the girl shrieked as her hands slipped from the bars, and Callista watched in horror as she bounced like a rubber ball down, down, down.

"Okay. Just as I thought," Sam told Callista, holding tightly onto her as they bobbed upright, but every tiny swaying motion it made, Callista felt. She was surprised she didn’t lose consciousness from being so high up, as well as being half frozen. Water began shooting through the wooden sections of the deck, making its way towards them. "Right .The suction from the other half of the ship is going to pull us down vertically. We should really try holding onto each other as tightly as possible, but if we get separated…well…"

"You’re so optimistic." Callista shivered, her teeth chattering and her heart pounding. They were indeed moving downwards; soon they would all be thrashing about in the sea.

Sam chose not to respond to her comment and thought carefully about his next move. They were literally ten feet away from the ocean’s surface now—people were flying every which way from the water pressure. "Take a deep breath when I give you the signal, okay?" he asked her. "Try not to let go of me." Callista took his hand automatically, telling herself this was the last ship assignment she’d ever take if she could help it. She could feel the icy chill coming from the water; her own breath came out in white puffs.

"I can’t believe we’re doing this," she breathed; the ocean was now five feet away. She began praying to God in Russian, waiting for Sam to give her the signal for taking a deep breath.

"Not yet…" he told her. The screams of those still attached to the ship were deafening. "Not yet…"

They were now two feet away. "Three…two…one…go!"

Callista took as deep of a breath as she could muster and felt the ice cold water engulfing her entire body. The salt of the ocean stung her eyes when she accidentally opened them; she could barely make out the words Titanic Liverpool as the final half of the ship shot quickly towards the ocean’s bottom. Sam was clinging to her waist, but the suction coming from the ship was too strong to keep a decent grip. He was soon forced to let go of her, and she felt a wave of panic rush through her.

She reached out desperately, hoping to catch his hand again, but all she felt was water. Her lungs were burning from lack of oxygen now; she had to get to the surface. Kicking violently, Callista fought her way to the surface, and the sweet air was heavenly when she took her first breath of it. She reached under the water with her hands, fumbling for the laces on her shoes; without them, it would be much easier to swim.

"Sam?" she choked, trying to move out of the way of a group of thrashing passengers. One shoe was off; she let it go. If only it weren’t so damned cold, she would remove her dress, too; her clothing was weighing her down. "Sam!" Her second shoe was off, and she could kick her feet a little more easily. She swam furiously towards a free spot, wondering how on earth he was going to find her in this enormous crowd. "Sam!" she shrieked, grateful for the swimming lessons she’d taken as a child. I’ll bet half of these people can’t swim at all, she thought, watching as most of them were dog-paddling.

"Sam!" She swam into the crowd again, which was a mistake. A young man grabbed onto her in his panicked state; his fingers were clawing her skin. "Let go of me!" Callista snapped, attempting to fight him off. "Stop it!" She couldn’t reach him, or she would have slugged him across the jaw. He was practically choking her now; she needed some spare piece of debris to smack over his head, but nothing was in sight. She managed to unclench his fingers, and with a grunt, kicked him in the groin with the heel of her foot. She felt him back away in shock, and, though she knew it wasn’t the proper time, managed a slight grin of pleasure.

"Callista!"

Callista’s ears perked up as she heard her name, but everyone’s faces seemed the same; she could barely make out who was who. "Sam!" she cried, and then he was two inches from her. "Oh, God, I thought I wouldn’t be able to find you." She shuddered, but he took her arm. Already, she could tell that icicles were forming in his dark hair, and his lips were turning blue with the cold.

"W-we’ve got to f-find some k-kind of d-debris." He shivered.

"My legs are so tired," Callista gasped, and she felt a strong desire to just let herself sink.

"Keep swimming," Sam ordered. "C-come on. I think I s-saw s-some d-debris this way." He dragged her along behind him, and she did her best to dog-paddle. Swimming lessons were almost useless in this water temperature. She felt sick as she passed the body of a dead child—a little girl. "Oh…" She recognized the little one. It was Cora Cartmell; she was clutching her doll, and her eyes were closed. "Cora!"

"She’s gone," Sam told Callista as she attempted to upright the little girl.

"I can’t let her just lay there!" Though Callista hadn’t come in contact very much with Cora, she’d seen her playing happily with her father and she’d been a playmate of Mac and Anastasia’s.

"Let her go, Callista! It’s not worth it! It’s every man for himself!" Sam dragged Callista away from Cora’s body. "Dammit, pull yourself together, Callista! You’ve seen death more times than you can count!"

"She’s a child!" Callista sobbed, knowing her tears would turn to ice within moments of hitting her skin. Sam grabbed her around the waist, kicking his way through the water.

"Most of these people are going to die, Callista," Sam told her as they neared an abundance of debris. "Including us, if we don’t get onto something. There! I see a door or something! Come on!"

Callista felt weak and helpless as she clung to Sam; her eyes were still focused on the spot where Cora’s frozen little body now bobbed.

Sure enough, the piece of debris Sam spotted was a door. He grabbed onto it, grateful that it was out of the way from most of the mob. "Get on!" He half-pushed and she half-climbed onto the debris. Callista was so cold her legs and her feet were numb. "Why did you remove your shoes?" he added, noticing her stocking-clad feet. "Are you insane?"

"I couldn’t swim with them on," she gulped, lying horizontal on the board. She blinked. "Sam, I don’t think this is going to fit both of us. We may have to split up," she said, and he lowered his head, fingering the wood.

"Split up, or I’ll stay here in the water," he suggested.

"You’ll die!" Callista snapped. "If you think I’m letting that happen, you’re out of your mind! I love you, Sam, but it’s i-important th-that we b-both r-return." Her teeth were chattering again. "I th-think it’ll be easier for us t-to take care of ourselves now."

Sam at last agreed, nodding slowly. "All right." He squeezed her hands. "Stay here. D-don’t move."

Callista managed a weak smile. "D-don’t think I c-can," she croaked, and he grinned as well.

"I love you," he told her. "You have to hold on for me if anything. You’re really more important—you’re more experienced. I won’t be missed too much if I’m dead."

"Don’t!" Callista sobbed, and he nodded.

"Just remember that I’ll love you no matter where I end up." He swam away from the door. "I would kiss you good-bye, but I think our lips would stick together from the ice."

Callista rolled her eyes; leave it to Sam to crack a joke at a time like this. "T-take c-care." She shivered and he saluted her. Her eyes followed him as he disappeared into the crowd, and she carefully turned to her side, so she was able to stare up at the sky. It was cloudless and full of stars. God help us all, she prayed.

Chapter Thirty-Five
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