The Cold Beneath (9 page)
When the day arrived for us to depart, I once again found myself filled with worry. The airship, the entire huge ship, had been built inside of an enclosure. While this wasn’t unusual—seabound vessels are sometimes moored in warehouses for repair—I noticed something striking on the morning of our scheduled departure. Something of which I had failed to take notice for the whole week.
The greenhouse doors weren’t large enough to accommodate the ship.
How would we get her out?
No one else seemed to notice; they loaded the ship right there in the greenhouse as if it were standing free in some open field. I asked several of the workers what the plan was, but each one shrugged me off or directed my questions to Albert or Lightbridge. And considering how many questions I had asked the pair already, I kept my mouth shut for fear of looking as foolish as I felt.
Of course the solution was simple, and revealed itself upon inspection of the greenhouse itself. What I assumed were leftover clockworks in the corner of the building were instead the mechanisms of a skylight. The entire ceiling folded away with the pull of a crank, which provided the ship just enough clearance to escape.
The single thing I dreaded more than the bitter cold into which we were throwing ourselves was the publicity sure to be aroused by our venture. With a personality like Lightbridge, I was convinced the place would be swarming with journalists and glory seekers alike, all eager for a piece of the history our crew was destined to create. Yet as it turned out, there was no big send off. No media storm to see us on our way.
I was relieved, but I must admit I was also a little disappointed.
The whole affair was simple. As soon as the Fancy was finished, one short week after my arrival, the men packed her tight and prepared to shove off. Or rather up, as it were. Those who worked on the ship became her crew, with Albert shifting from foreman to first mate, losing none of his stride along the way. If anything, he was more unyielding than before, accepting only perfection from his readymade sailors.
And so the hour arrived, and we were ready to embark upon our life-changing journey. No one, aside from Lightbridge’s household staff, bore witness to our exodus.
“Why the lack of fuss?” I asked.
“What do you mean?” Lightbridge asked.
“Don’t get me wrong, I’m no fan of the media, but I am curious why a man who wants to leave a mark on history refuses to make a bigger deal of it.”
“The world will hear of our success. And only our success.”
He wouldn’t say more on the matter. I suppose that is why I feel compelled to relate this story in written form, so that the world will know just what happened. Even as I write this, I wonder if anyone will ever find us.
For the sake of all humanity, I pray it will never be so.
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The Journey
Despite my reservations, the bulk of the journey itself was quite humdrum. From the moment the Fancy drifted out of the greenhouse and into the warm spring air, the trip was smooth and almost carefree. I say
almost
because, due to our close quarters and part of the Regimen, I had to deal with Geraldine more directly than I cared for.
The ship ran with a blinding efficiency. Routines were the bread and butter of the whole crew, with rosters and work chits posted all over the ship informing any passing crew member where he was supposed to be almost every hour of the day. Even I was given a schedule, though it was mostly blank save for my required time on the pedometrics, my daily vitamin injection, my weekly physical and a bimonthly checkup of Lightbridge’s legs. I filled the rest of my time reading, or lending a hand when some small mechanical thing went awry, or watching the scenery roll beneath us from the sun-drenched windows of the bridge.
This last bit was illuminating to say the least. My entire exile to America had seen me as a veritable hermit of sorts. In fact, my previous experience of treading upon American soil consisted of hustling from the port of my arrival into an estate purchased sight-unseen by arrangement of my family barrister, and then refusing to venture beyond my domain unless absolutely necessary. As a result I had viewed little of the country herself, and never from such a fantastic bird’s-eye view. Even those native to the land were in awe of the passing scenery, oohing and ahhing as if witnessing the beauty of their own countryside for the first time.
Though I could hardly fault them. Witnessing the majesty of America from such a high and peaceful outlook left me just as moved. The patchwork blankets of vast farmlands, segmented by years of sharecropping; the peaks and valleys of the scrolling geography still pocked with the scars of battles long since passed; the contrasting grays of the bustling industrialized cities as opposed to the natural hues of the tranquil villages; small veins of creeks leading to wide arteries of rivers, which themselves emptied into the heart of the endless ocean; and at last the coastline teeming with tall ships and schooners and masses of travelers all seeking a new life in a new world.
The hardest thing to get used to was the increasing daylight hours. With the spring came eternal sunshine in the Arctic, and the closer we drew to True North, the less darkness we had to deal with. By the time we would reach the Arctic Circle, the sun would circle the sky in an endless chase, rolling about the horizon but never setting. It would always be sunny, at least for the months we planned on being there. I found the prospect almost maddening.
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?”