The Cold Beneath Page 10

  And so I found myself surrounded by the very flames of Hell, the shrieking alarm ringing in my ears, thick smoke choking my lungs and bringing me to tears. But I was stalwart, the product of a healthy Regimen, strong of body and able of mind. I tore through the burning debris, avoiding falling cinders and scorching wreckage as I did, searching for my single-minded goal. Through the black plumes and red flames, I came upon the bodies of so many crew members, yet all men, and I made a silent, selfish sigh of relief each time I discovered that a blackened corpse was not that of my Geraldine.

  Lightbridge nearly mowed me down in the fog of smoke. He bore a sizable gash in his forehead, from which poured an impressive amount of blood, but he seemed no worse for the wear.

  He shouted at me, “Where is Albert?”

  I motioned somewhere behind me, unconcerned for anyone but my prize.

  Lightbridge pushed past me, his bare metal feet clanging against the wooden deck as he ran to help the others.

  I heard her then, shouting my name in between the pulsing wails of the alarm and the screams of dying men. It took a few moments to pinpoint her location, but the second I spied her amongst the ruins, I sprang to her side. She was pinned beneath a fallen crossbeam, trapped but alive. I moved the heavy beam, thanking the heavens that the thing was not ablaze. How it had missed catching flame when the world around the arid beam crackled into ash, I will never understand. Perhaps it was some small blessing, some miracle, though it would be the last of such things to which I would bear witness.

  Geraldine was able to stand, though I could see her wincing as she got to her feet. I lent her support, helping her hobble from the burning wreckage in the only direction available to us at the moment—deeper into the bowels of the ship. It might seem a great folly to trap ourselves deeper in the belly of the burning beast, but considering the only other option was a sharp drop of several thousand feet into the bank of snow below, well, we decided to take our chances with the devil we knew.

  With Lightbridge barking orders, Albert and the other men worked quickly behind us to stop the fire. I stayed in the background, my arm slung about Geraldine’s waist as we watched through the door. It was the first time in a very long time I had been so close to her. Under the sharp bite of burning chemicals and charred flesh, I caught the occasional waft of her scent, and pulled it into my raw lungs in greedy gulps. I am once again ashamed to say that I could have released her, could have made sure she was well and left her on her own as I returned to the flames and lent a hand.

  Yet I didn’t. I held her, clung to her and reveled in her proximity, all to the chorus of a dozen dying men while the ship burned about us. I am not proud of this fact, but it is a fact none the less. They say confession is good for the soul. I suppose if I am to confess some measure of what happened, I should confess all.

  As it turned out, the men didn’t need my help. No sooner had I settled into the background of the disaster with my Geraldine than a second blast sounded. It wasn’t quiet the earsplitting report of the first, but the effect was much grander. The airbag, while fire-retardant, could no longer resist the flames that licked her belly.

  The seams of the bag gave way with a loud burst, which in turn released a steady flow of thousands of pounds of helium directly onto the fire beneath. I should explain to those not scientifically minded that helium is not only fire-resistant, it is also a dampener. As a result, it doused every burning flame in a constant airy blow. For a moment we were filled with a palpable relief, but just for a moment, because on its heels came the realization that the same airbag that had saved our precious ship from burning to cinders was also the one that had kept us aloft.

  Now it was deflating.

  The ship began its descent at once. With several miles between us and the snow-covered ground, we were doomed to split like an egg upon impact. All about us, objects as well as bodies rose into the air. Anything not tied down threatened to float away in the long fall.

  “Grab hold of something!” Albert shouted above the whistling wind.

  The command was well heeded, as I had already seized the doorframe behind us, with Geraldine hanging on for dear life across from me. A high-pitched whine raced through the ship as we hurtled toward the ground below us. Although such was not my wont, I sent a small prayer skyward, begging God himself to spare those who survived the fires from further pain on impact, and for my own selfish protection. As well as that of my sweet Geraldine.

  “Philip!” Geraldine shouted. Her voice almost didn’t reach me behind the loud scream of the tearing wind.

  I lifted my tearing eyes to her.

  “I love you!” she shouted. “I never stopped loving you!”

  The news was like a double-fisted blow to my heart. If the wind hadn’t already taken my breath, her words would have left me gasping for air. I was unable to answer her. I nodded, but wasn’t sure if she could see.

  Even with all that has occurred, I would like to believe that at that moment, in that instance she spoke her true heart. All horror aside, I will die with the knowledge—maybe false, maybe not—that at some point in time, perhaps even right up to the end, she loved me. As she said earlier, only fools and madmen are blessed with requited love. Considering the tale I have yet to tell, you may find me, like Lightbridge, to be a bit of both.

  I am unsure what happened those first few moments following our arrival upon the ground, for the impact knocked me clean out of my wits. In my concussed state, I experienced fantastic visions, all involving Geraldine and those three words she confessed as we fell to our deaths. I will not relate them, as they are of a most personal nature; just know they were beautiful and serene. I do not know how long I was blacked out, but I came around to the image of Geraldine stooping over me, her damp tears wetting my sooty cheeks.

  “Philip?” she asked.

  “Geraldine,” I whispered as I looked up at her.

  For a brief moment, there were only the two of us. Geraldine and me, joined again after all of these years. But soon the sounds of calamity returned, and with them came the rising wail of the injured, as well as the moans of the dying. I scrambled to my feet, with her help, and took in the devastation before us, numb with disbelief.

  A fog of smoke billowed from the cinders, rising in black ribbons to the sky, a hazy offering to an angry pagan god. The medical bay appeared to be the source of the disaster, for its outer wall was completely gone, as was the roof above, with most of the medical equipment either ruined or missing. Geraldine’s quarters and the quarters of her medical students were destroyed. The bridge was but a gutted, black shell. The fire stopped short at Lightbridge’s quarters, leaving them intact. That put most of the forefront of the ship as either ruined or gone altogether.

  But this devastation was nothing compared to the loss of men.

  Men lay strewn about the charred remains of the bridge, some dead, some dying, some but blackened skeletal remains. Almost everyone suffered from the initial jolting explosion, and as a result of the fire and the impact, every living person sustained some injury. A knot the size of a goose egg rose on my scalp, and I was covered with a variety of bruises and lacerations, but such pains were minimal when compared to the way some of those brave souls died. I have spent many a sleepless hour remembering the terrified shrieks of those unfortunates who burned alive.

  I had found Geraldine pinned in the far side of the medical bay, and learned later that she was on her way back to her quarters after spending a mindless hour with the pedometrics, trying to forget the incident with Morrow. If she hadn’t been away when the explosion occurred, then she might have been lost forever. The magnitude of her brush with death, as well as the fact that her entire medical team and most of her equipment were gone, hit her with a heavy blow. She turned her head to my chest and began to weep. I held her to me, stroking her soft hair, cooing words of consolation as I watched the remaining staff gather the dead, tend to the dying and bind the wounds of the survivors.

  It occurred to
me then that we must be losing a fantastic amount of heat through the gap in the bow. I thought at the time that perhaps we didn’t feel the effects because of our heightened levels of adrenaline. Or the fact that the ship was still warm from the flames.

  I would learn the terrible truth soon enough.

  ****

  back to toc

  ****

  Fifteen

  Where to Go from Here

  I have decided to forgo describing the cleanup and initial repairs. Most of it is gruesome, and considering the horrific manner in which some of the men died, I will spare myself and any unfortunate reader the grisly details. Instead I shall relate the state of the ruined ship and how we came to form three parties.

  Though Lightbridge’s airbag design was sound, and all possible safety precautions were taken, the chance of a powerful explosion was unimagined, and thus the well-constructed airbag collapsed. We were lucky on some level. The helium dampened the flames rather than igniting and blowing us all to kingdom come. Yet, I do believe that had we all perished in a great ball of flame, we would have died a far more fortunate crew than we became in the end.

  Aside from the destroyed portions, the rest of the ship was in surprisingly good repair, considering she survived a fall several miles to the ground. The bag lost its air in a steady release rather than a single gust, so instead of dropping like a stone, we sank in a somewhat easy plummet, though at the time it seemed chaotic enough. We touched down in a snow bank, which served to soften the blow of our fall, coming to rest at an angle, a gentle slope from aft to bow. This made cleanup and repairs a bit more difficult, with all the hiking up and down, but we still counted ourselves lucky.

  Though the multitude of windows served as our eyes to the passing countryside during the journey, they became points of extreme danger in the crash by shattering on impact. Thankfully the incident occurred at ‘night,’ when all of the metal shutters were closed. When the ship landed, her frame bent, warping the shutters on the portholes and doors to a permanent seal. This kept the snow and wind from ripping through our vessel, but it also kept us in perpetual darkness, as well as limiting egress from the ship should emergency arise. Our first duty was to plug the large breach at the bow and then cover any additional openings along the ship, which were small and few. Albert instructed us to shred the remains of the balloon and use the sturdy canvas to cover the holes. The men did so with an air of sorrow, and soon the ruined balloon served a new purpose of keeping the chill at bay.

  “Things are not as bad as they seem,” Lightbridge declared.

  The remainder of the crew gathered in the ruins of the bridge. Everyone was anxious, harried and exhausted. The last forty-eight hours were a mad rush of makeshift repairs and corpse retrieval. I had slept perhaps five hours at the most, and I am sure most of the men slept even less. I imagine hauling about the charred remains of their friends left them with a certain level of insomnia.

  “Albert,” our fearless captain said.

  Albert cleared his throat as he began to explain the situation. “Three fourths of the bow is gone. We’ve managed to clamp off all of the loose ended pipes and diverted most of the steam through secondary sources, though some of you on the port side might need to bunk with those on the starboard until we can finish the process. The windows are gone, but all of the holes are capped either by canvas or shutters. The frame is warped, sealing the windows and doors, but we should be able at the very least to dig ourselves out to the surface by that flap.” He paused to point at a section left loose in the plug. “We are losing a great deal of heat through the open seam, but the exit is needed if we are to maintain access to a supply of water from the snow. Speaking of water, we cannot stoke the boilers higher than twenty percent of their usual output due to the angle of the ship. This will give us heat enough and allow us a few other luxuries, but the coal won’t last forever.”

  “We won’t be here forever,” Lightbridge added.

  “What of the pedometrics?” I asked, trying my best to appear useful.

  “Most of the pedometrics are in good repair,” Albert said. “But it doesn’t matter, because the secondary engine was destroyed on impact. If we can route the output to the main engine, we might be able to augment the power sources, but it wouldn’t be by much.”

  Lightbridge grunted his assent, then turned to Geraldine, who was almost the weariest among us. “Doctor?”

  She swallowed, hard and audible. Her report was most dreadful, yet she didn’t need to deliver it. We all knew the numbers. The loss. “Three men are unaccounted for, ten more are deceased, and another six are down with life-threatening injuries. We’ve set up a temporary infirmary in the mess hall, because it’s the easiest place to heat. So please keep this in mind when you’re fetching your rations, and be sure to take your meals either as quietly as you can in the kitchen or in your room from now on.”

  “How bad off are the injured men?” Lightbridge asked. For a moment, his brave façade slipped, and the true worry he felt for those under his charge revealed itself.

  Geraldine took on an equally concerned look as she elaborated, “Five of them endured the worst of the flames, with burns so great I wonder what keeps them alive at all. The sixth is also burned, but in addition, he has taken a blow to the skull and has yet to awaken. I was able to salvage enough equipment and supplies from the ruins of the medical lab to keep all of the men sedated, but it’s only enough for a few weeks at the most. After that, they will come around, and when they do …” she paused here, lowering her head as she finished with, “they will suffer most terribly.”

  We all fell to silence. Even though we knew the details, it was a dreadful thing to hear them said aloud. I was doubly saddened by the announcement, because an unfortunate fact had come to light within hours of the crash.

  Bradley, my loyal manservant, was counted among the deceased. We found his body in the midst of the debris of the bridge. What he was doing there, I have no idea. He hadn’t reported to me for many weeks, so his actions were not in my control. I will always regret not forcing him to remain by my side. For if I had, perhaps he would still be alive, or rather, he would have lasted longer than he did. Considering all that has happened, maybe it is best he died when he did and was spared the worst of it.

  “The prospect is dim,” Lightbridge said. “And I take full responsibility for every man’s death, as well as the wreck of the Fancy.”

  Albert leapt to his captain’s defense, saying, “Now see here, Lightbridge. We knew the danger when we signed on—”

  Lightbridge held his hand up, asking for his first mate’s silence. “I appreciate your devotion, but this is my transgression to bear, not yours.” Yet, in spite of the weight of his previous words, the man gave a weak smile. “But I ask that you do not fear, for your captain has a solution at hand.”

  “And what would be your solution?” I asked. “Send up signal flares and hope for the best?”

  “Yes, actually.”

  I snorted, not amused by his pedantic logic. “And how will that happen? Thanks to your relentless need for secrecy, almost no one even knows what we are up to here. We are completely unprepared for this kind of disaster.”

  Lightbridge lost the grin, but not the arrogance. “That’s where you’re wrong, young man. While I was unable to pack a second airbag, or the means to produce more helium, I did have the foresight to prepare for even the very worst.” Lightbridge eyed Albert, who seemed reluctant to explain.

  “We’ve been followed,” he finally said.

  A murmur broke across the men as they tried to fathom his meaning.

  “By ground,” Albert continued, “by sea, almost mile for mile we have been watched and tracked. At least up to the point where we entered the Arctic itself.” He paused, as if weighing his next words with caution. “Because the ship is experimental, we decided it would be best to rely on a backup crew, in case of disaster.”

  “The point being,” Lightbridge interjected, “a ship is w
aiting for us at the edge of the ice. Rescue is eminent. Just keep yourselves alive until they arrive; that is all I can ask of you.”

  The men cheered, lightened by this news. I, however, remained doubtful. Perhaps it is just in my nature to suspect things, but I felt something must be amiss in all of this. As the men broke into smaller groups, the four of us old friends took to Lightbridge’s room for a more intimate discussion of events.

  “How long?” I asked as I closed the door behind us.

  “Until help arrives?” Lightbridge asked.

  I nodded, settling onto a small couch with Geraldine. Lightbridge took to his desk, while Albert made himself at home on the bed, stretching out with a grunt.

  “Depends,” Lightbridge said. “They expect us to be gone for at least a month’s time but will give us a longer window considering the elements we are facing.”

  “The question is can we last here longer than a month?” I asked.

  “We are well stocked, both in fuel and food, but we won’t have to wait. That explosion was sure to be witnessed. Our ground crew was instructed to watch for such calamity and send a party to meet us in case of such an event.”

  In his explanation was that ‘something’ I sought. I almost stumbled over my demand for more reasoning, when I was cut short by a suggestion from Albert.

  “I don’t think we should wait, Cap.”

  Lightbridge eyed his first mate. “You don’t.”

  “No, sir.” He rolled over to face us, propping himself on his elbow as he explained. “I think we should form a group and fetch them. It could be longer than a few months’ time before they reach us. But if I took a few men, we could move more quickly than that, track our path from the Fancy, meet the fresh crew and lead their party to the wreckage.”

  We three stared at Albert, I in skepticism, but the others with obvious relief.

  “I agree,” Geraldine said. “The wounded will not last more than a few weeks, much less a few months. We need to get them out of here as soon as possible.”