The Cold Beneath Page 7

  And so time passed. Days tumbled into weeks, the sun set less and less, and the ship ran like veritable clockwork.

  To my surprise, the Regimen suited me well. The physicals showed a marked improvement in my weight and health. It would seem daily exercise and sensible eating agreed with me, while the vitamin injections were proving good for my system. I felt healthier, stronger, younger than I had in years. The clean air might have had a hand in my heartiness, or perhaps it was just the result of getting out after so many years of hiding away.

  Before long, I was enjoying the journey more than I thought possible. I began to take on a few odd jobs around the ship, dancing dangerously close to performing the dreaded task of manual labor. I even released Bradley from my services, allowing him to join the rest of the crew in manning the ship, something he seemed keen on from the onset. This left me to take care of myself for once, something I hadn’t done in a long time, and I think I got on rather well.

  Geraldine became bearable company, though the anxiety we shared never lightened. I suspect that’s what drove her to take me on as a patient, even though I had made it clear at the onset that I disapproved. Or maybe the tension between us had distended like a boil craving to be lanced. Either way, a month into the journey I showed up for my weekly physical, but instead of my usual male medical student, she was waiting for me.

  “I would much rather see one of the men,” I insisted when I discovered the change in routine.

  “And I would rather you stop blubbering about it,” she said. She patted the gurney, encouraging me to sit down so she could commence her work.

  “I am not blubbering. I just don’t think it’s appropriate. You’re … well, a woman.”

  She smiled, amused by my discomfort. “I’m also a doctor. Now stop being a child and sit down. I have four more after you, and I’m already behind.”

  “Then get to your other four. I can wait.”

  Without warning, Geraldine pulled me to her, then pushed me onto the gurney, ignoring my plea. “You have done nothing but complain ever since you arrived. Now hold still and let me listen to your chest.”

  I withstood her inspection, which turned out to be much less involved than those undertaken by the male students, and I winced as she administered the dreaded shot. Rubbing the site of the injection, I asked something that had been bothering me since I signed on. “Why the use of a needle?”

  She eyed me but didn’t answer.

  “Why not pills?” I asked. “Vitamins come in pills. Herbs can be encapsulated.”

  “Not these vitamins,” she said.

  “Then what kind are they? I’ve never heard of such a thing.”

  “They are …” she said, hesitating before she decided on, “special.”

  I recognized the tone in her voice. “You mean experimental?”

  Her easy smile said she had been caught. “Yes, in a way. I am trying out a very complex mix. I’m hoping it will help us cope with the cold.”

  “Just herbs and vitamins?”

  She blinked a few times, a signal that she didn’t believe what I was asking. “Of course. What else would it be?”

  I snorted as I rolled my sleeves down again. “With you? There’s no telling.”

  “What is that supposed to mean?”

  “It means you’ve lied to me before.” I regretted it as soon as I said it. I didn’t want to do this, not now, not ever. Yet it was too late. The words were out.

  She gasped, her hand fluttering over her chest in some mockery of surprise. “Lie? I never lied to you.”

  “Then am I to believe that you loved both Elijah and myself at the same time? Or should I believe that you married a man you didn’t love while your heart remained true to me the whole while? Is that it?”

  “I did love you,” she said, almost in a whisper. “You have to believe that.”

  “Oh really. And did you pine for me the last ten years while I rotted away in the shadow of your defection? Did you? Of course not! You enjoyed being the wife of a successful bio-mechanic while I lost everything. Everything!”

  Tears stood in her eyes as she stared at me. Why should she be the one to cry? I was the one who was left with a broken heart and a ruined name. But there she was, in the small room that served as her office, on the verge of tears.

  “Philip,” she started, but before she could give me what for, there was a light knock at the door.

  “Is there a problem?” Lightbridge asked as he peeped into the room.

  Geraldine wiped away her worry, sniffling as quietly as she could manage. The performance was cloying, but I had the sensation that I was the only one who thought as much. “Give us a moment; I was just finishing up.”

  “I’ll be out here if you should need me.” He ducked into the hallway, leaving us alone.

  In the silence, I finished dressing, wondering what I could say, or rather if I wanted to say anything at all. Before I left, I settled on a contrite air, but a removed one. “I’m sorry if I spoke out of turn.”

  From behind her desk, she gave a wordless nod.

  I met Lightbridge in the hallway. He looked none too pleased.

  “Mr. Syntax,” he said as I slipped out of the office.

  “Sir,” I answered. I floundered for a moment, unsure how to explain what had transpired between Geraldine and me. “When you are done with your physical, I can look at your legs, if you like.”

  “My legs are fine,” he snapped. “Unlike my doctor, it would seem.”

  “Yes, about that …”

  “What happened in there?”

  Again I floundered. There was no easy way to explain.

  Lightbridge drew close to me, lowering his voice to a hoarse whisper as he scolded me like a child. “I know you two have a past, and I can appreciate the bad blood that has passed between the pair of you, but you are under my employ and aboard my ship. I expect you to act civilized and speak civilized and be civilized. Do you understand?”

  I was appalled. I had been nothing but civilized to that woman since my first day in her presence. It wasn’t my fault that she dredged up the past. Or had I? It all happened so quickly. Looking back on it, I’m still unsure. “Yes, sir.”

  “Good man.” Lightbridge patted my shoulder. He then pulled me even closer to him, and as he held me, his gruff demeanor dropped, replaced by his usual kind smile. “You know, I must say that I’m glad to see you doing so well. I mean, on your own and all.”

  “Thank you, sir?” I was confused by the sudden change of subject.

  “It must be very hard to adjust to life onboard. But you’re doing a splendid job. I understand you’ve allowed Bradley to join the men in maintaining the ship.”

  “Yes, he seemed rather keen on it.”

  “I suppose he might like a turn at maintaining something else for once, yes?”

  I shrugged, unsure of what he was driving at. “I suppose so. Better he bother the other men than me.”

  He barked a sharp laugh. “Splendid to hear,” he said, then turned to the door.

  I caught him by the elbow before he could open it. “Gideon.”

  Lightbridge turned back to face me again.

  “I warn you,” I whispered. “She’s not to be trusted.”

  He narrowed his eyes.

  “She’s a liar,” I said. “And a thief. She will rob you blind and tell you she’s fond of you the whole while.”

  “Considering your history with her,” he said, “I will take your accusations to heart. But you must understand how such a thing sounds, coming from you.”

  “I know. I sound bitter and broken. But you have to believe me. She is up to something. I can feel it.”

  “I’ll keep an eye on her. Don’t let it worry you. And I’m sorry I was so harsh. I just hate to see a woman in tears.”

  “She knows that and will use it to her advantage.”

  Lightbridge smiled and shrugged. “Then she will have the advantage.”

  I could hear her crying as he c
losed the door behind him. Lightbridge was a soft touch, easily manipulated by a pretty smile. He was lost to me in her favor. I knew as much, but still hoped for the best.

  But I got better than the best.

  I got a surprise visit, and a lecture I would never forget.

  ****

  back to toc

  ****

  Twelve

  Fast Friends

  Later that evening, as I lay in a stupor upon my bed contemplating the selfishness of the world scrolling slowly beneath our ship, there arose a light knock upon my chamber door. I supposed it was Bradley, checking in on me as he did every so often. But it wasn’t my manservant at all. It was Lightbridge, with Albert in tow. The two were ruddy in the cheeks and bright in the eyes, with wide smiles suggesting they shared some happy secret. A strong scent of whiskey wafted freely from the pair, proclaiming the reason for their apparent joy. I was surprised, to say the least. Was this tipsy man before me the very same father of the dreaded Regimen? Yes it was. The same borderline teetotaler who forbade his men even the occasional ale was swaying on his unsteady feet in the low light of the hallway.

  “You’re drunk?” It was as much a declaration as a question.

  “Shhh!” Albert warned me, placing a thick finger over his pursed lips as he did. “No need to tell the whole crew, laddie.” He raised a half empty bottle of some amber liquid and stared at the swishing contents. “We’ve only got the one bottle.”

  “And you owe me a dollar,” Lightbridge said, then chuckled. “Bert here said you wouldn’t be able to tell. But I told him. I knew you could spot a souse!”

  Albert grumbled as he dug about in his trousers. “I left my wallet in my other ship.” He giggled at his inebriated wit, and soon Lightbridge was laughing with him.

  I, however, was not laughing. “Can I help you?” My voice was clipped and angry, as I was still moody from my morning run in with Geraldine.

  “Nay, lad,” Albert said. “‘Tis we who’ve come to help you.”

  The pair of men all but rushed me, pushing me into the room and slamming the door behind them. I fell onto my bed with a gasp, unsure what in the world was happening. You can imagine from my narrative thus far that I never had the pleasure of close friends. True enough, Bradley took care of me, getting as close to me as his professional position allowed, but when it came to real companionship, close connections, I had none. I was truly alone in the world.

  And I didn’t know how lonely I was until that night.

  Lightbridge looked about my quarters for a moment, blinking in that sleepy manner that accompanies strong drink. With a grunt, he passed judgment on my small room, proclaiming, “What a drab little hole you have here, Philip.”

  “Excuse me?” I asked, unsure I had heard him correctly.

  “‘Tis true,” Albert added as he made himself at home in front of my desk. “I would have expected more from a man with your creative spark. But this? This is … is … is just sad.”

  I eyed my quarters and found them quite acceptable. Granted I had little in the way of possessions—I was never a man for trinkets or baubles— but everything was in its place. Neat and orderly, just like my mind. “I don’t know what you mean.”

  “I know you don’t,” Lightbridge said. He lumbered toward me, his arm raised and hand extended, and for a brief moment I thought he was going to strike. Instead he waved at me and said, “Move over. Give this old bag of bones a place to park his ample rump.”

  I did as asked, scooting to the far side of my small bed, but he had no plans of allowing me to escape so easily. Lightbridge wrapped his arm about my shoulder and pulled me to him, holding me there as he detailed exactly what he thought of my room, as well as my life.

  “Look about you, son,” he started. “Here is the room of a lonely man. It’s lifeless, like its owner. There is no joy here, Philip. No wonder you are always in such a foul mood, my boy. You’re living in a bleak house. You need some sunshine.”

  With that said, Lightbridge passed me the bottle. I held my hand up in denial, to which Albert snorted a short laugh.

  “I told you he wouldn’t drink with us,” Albert said.

  “Sure he will,” Lightbridge said. “As his captain, I command him to.”

  I looked to the ceiling, as if heaven might be interested in helping me get rid of these two drunken asses. “You can’t command me to drink. And, Albert, it’s not that I don’t want to, I just … don’t like it.”

  “Why on earth not?” Lightbridge asked. “I don’t hold to it much, but my grandfather used to say that every man, on occasion, should have a good old fashioned drunk. It resets the senses and retunes the mind. Go on, son. Have a go.” He held the bottle out again.

  I shook my head. “If resetting the senses comes at the cost of dehydration and loose bowels, then no thank you. I think I prefer to keep my senses just where they are. Drinking seems to me the equivalent of a month’s worth of influenza narrowed into a few hours of downing some bitter toxin that leaves you cringing at each swallow. I have never had a use for it.”

  “That’s ‘cause you have the constitution of a woman,” Albert said, then laughed.

  Uncontrollably, I gasped at the accusation, high pitched and feminine as was my nature, which of course only fueled his laughter.

  “Bert!” Lightbridge snapped. “That’s just rude.”

  I was surprised that the drunken captain would take my side over his lifelong companion. But once again I was wrong. Nothing new there.

  “He’s no woman,” Lightbridge continued. “At best he’s a little girl!”

  The men fell into gales of laughter, slapping their respective knees and bordering on tears at my expense. I tried to hide my fury, but the day had worn on me too much already. My tender nerves snapped, leaving me shaking with rage and indignation.

  “Sirs!” I shouted. “Please collect yourselves.”

  This only drove them into even more wild laughter. Lightbridge tipped to one side, grabbing his shaking gut with his free hand while the bottle sloshed whatever demonic drink they had brought with them all over my floor.

  “If all you have come here to do is laugh at me,” I said, “then you can do so from the other side of my door.”

  I made to stand, but before I could move, Lightbridge was upon me again and Albert leapt to my other side. They hemmed me in, not allowing me more than a small breadth of movement. All at once the laughter stopped and the men took on a much more sober tone.

  “Philip,” Lightbridge said. “We only came here to perk up your spirits. Don’t be such a spoilsport.”

  “It’s true, lad,” Albert said. “We’ve been discussing you for the last few hours, and it didn’t seem right to talk about you without you being there.”

  I was confused, as well as heart-stricken. “Me? Why would you want to talk about me?” Then I was struck by his meaning. They had been gossiping about me behind my back, and in their drunken states they had come to rub verbal salt into my aged wounds. “I see. Am I such a subject of levity that you can’t just mock me in privacy, but must come here to do so in person? Are you enjoying yourselves? Maybe we can talk about my parents’ death or Goode absconding with my work. Would that amuse you further?”

  I had much, much more to say on the matter, but I was silenced by Albert’s meaty hand closing over my moving mouth. My eyes went wide. What fresh hell was this? What on earth did this drunken duo want with me?

  “Laddie,” Albert said. “You mistake us. We only came to spend some time with you. You are on your own too much for one man’s good. We want to share our spirit and our laughter. We didn’t come to insult. We came to relieve. Understand?”

  I grunted a noncommittal noise.

  “Philip,” Lightbridge said. “The truth is you are the brightest young man I have met in a very long time.”

  I blinked at his kind words. It was all I could do with that monstrous paw wrapped about my face.

  Lightbridge amended his compliment. “But y
ou are also dreadfully boring.”

  Unable to argue, I furrowed my brow and gave a little squeak of surprise.

  “Boring, lad,” Albert insisted. “Sometimes listening to you prattle on makes a lecture on quantum mechanics seem like a sunny day at the park.”

  “You are so interested in facts and figures,” Lightbridge said, “when a young man of your age should be interested in other kinds of figures. Aye, Bert?”

  Albert nodded, grinning as wide as his huge mouth would allow.

  In that gleaming leer, I understood what all of this was about. Geraldine. They had gotten soused and spent the last hour or so talking about my avoidance of her. I realized that by some unhappy twist of fate, I was giving off all of the signals of a man deeply in love but too shy to approach the subject, when the opposite was true.

  Or at least I thought it was.

  As if hearing my thoughts, Lightbridge said, “You seem awfully timid around the young lady. I wonder why that is?” He waggled his eyebrows in a most inappropriate manner.

  I mumbled a muffled response, to which Albert finally released my mouth. After drawing a much-needed breath I asked, “You mean she didn’t tell you?”

  The men stared at me blankly. They had no idea. I felt duly guilty for assuming their mockery was meant with ill will. They just didn’t know. They weren’t aware of how she ruined me not only professionally, but emotionally.

  So, after a burning swallow of the devil drink, I told them.

  For the first, as well as the last time in my short life, I bared my soul to another human being, dealing a detailed description of exactly what that woman did to me. Between bouts of near weeping and swigs from the burning drink, I explained how we met in school and within months were due to be wed, though we decided to wait until school was done first. Of how she became the only family remaining to me after my parents’ untimely demise. Of how Goode stole my life’s work, then how she took what little self-respect I had left and squashed it beneath her heel. Most of all, I explained that my avoidance of her was the result of years of unrequited love, which still burned despite my intense hatred for the very sight of her. The tale was terrible, but the drink strengthened me, and I saw it to the bitter end.