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.