Carpathia

by Matt Forbeck

  Lucy gasped. She knew that Quin and Abe had survived, of course, but she felt the echo of the terror they'd endured.

  "That wasn't the worst of it. Mr Lightoller, the Titanic's second officer, was atop the boat with us, and he knew how to handle that trouble. He showed us how to move back and forth on the boat to adjust for the waves as they came. I can't tell you how long we spent going to and fro like that, each time worrying that this might be the wave that finally capsized us for good."

  "How did you have room to do that?" Lucy looked at both Quin and Abe. "I thought you said the boat was almost too crowded for you to get on it."

  "That had been true at the time," Quin said. "But some of the men there succumbed to the cold. They collapsed right there on the boat, and nothing we did could revive them. When the waves came, many of them slipped overboard before anyone had a chance to grab them, and they disappeared into the sea."

  Abe rubbed the stubble on his chin. "Maybe that's what brought the shark back. Or maybe it was a different shark. I couldn't say for sure. We never saw it."

  "Then how do you know it came back?" Lucy felt afraid to ask, but she had to know.

  "It bumped the boat again, just when we were moving about it to avoid an incoming wave. It hit hard. Hard enough to knock me off the boat."

  Lucy stared at him and then at Quin. "But you're fine, while Quin here's the one who's hurt."

  Quin demurred. "It's only a touch of frostbite, the doctor says."

  She narrowed her eyes at him. "The point stands, I think."

  Abe gestured toward Quin. "He went in after me."

  Quin busied himself with inspecting his thawing foot. Lucy squeezed his hand in gratitude and pride.

  "You'd have done the same," Quin said. "I saw you go in, I went to help you back up."

  "And that's when the shark attacked," said Abe. "It grabbed Quin by the foot and pulled him under."

  Lucy stared down at Quin's foot. Other than a bit of paleness to the skin, it seemed unharmed.

  "It's still there," Quin said. "The beast had a good grip on my sole, but I kicked out at him and pushed as hard as I could to get free. I got my wish when my foot slipped out of my boot."

  "And you managed to scramble back onto the boat?"

  Quin inclined his head toward Abe. "He was there to help me up."

  "And the shark never came back?"

  Abe shook his head. "Old Quin here must have kicked some sense into the beast. I'd say thank God for that, too, but we all thanked Quin instead."

  "I just got lucky," Quin said. He squeezed Lucy's hand once more. "We all did. We're every one of us fortunate to be alive."

  Lucy leaned over and kissed Quin on the cheek, which felt warmer now. "I'm just glad those troubles are finally over – at least for us."

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  Quin slept most of the day. He awoke to find the sun slanting in through the porthole of the cramped but very welcome cabin the stewards had assigned to him and Abe, and for a moment he could pretend to himself that they were still aboard the Titanic. The Carpathia wasn't nearly as well appointed a ship, but if he kept his eyes on the ceiling and the porthole, he could almost manage to convince himself it was real.

  "Almost seems like it could all have been nothing more than a nightmare, doesn't it?" Abe said.

  Quin looked over to see his friend getting dressed in a suit with a distinctly American cut to it, nothing like what he'd been wearing the day before. "Where did you get the fresh clothes?" Quin lay under his sheets in nothing but his underwear, and he felt the lack of his own clothes sharply.

  "Some of the passengers and crew pitched in their spares," Abe said. "Damn kind of them, don't you think?"

  Although he'd paid it no notice at the time, Quin's clothes had been torn and ruined last night, as had Abe's. When the steward had taken their garments to dry them out, Quin had assumed he would have to wear them for the remainder of the voyage and be grateful for it. He'd never expected anything else.

  "Very," said Quin. He slipped out of his bed and found another set of clean clothes waiting for him, hanging in the wardrobe. He took them out and held them up to his shoulders.

  "They're even my size."

  "The steward checked the labels in the clothes we gave him." Abe tapped his temple. "Sharp folks, these."

  Quin glanced around and spotted a clock. It showed the time to be a quarter to five. "It's time for dinner already?"

  "That's what happens when you sleep away the bulk of the day."

  Quin started to object to the implication that he was lazy, but Abe put up a hand to stop him. "It was the longest night of our lives. You more than earned it. I'd have been happy to let you sleep all the way until tomorrow morning."

  Quin began getting dressed. After having spent so long in icy rags, it felt wonderful to slip into clean and dry clothes. "Can I join you for dinner?"

  Abe laughed at Quin's formality. "Could I stop you?"

  "Not if Lucy's going to be there."

  Abe arched an eyebrow at that. "Do you have plans for our young lady tonight?"

  Quin faltered. He'd been about to talk to Abe about his feelings for Lucy back on the Titanic, but somehow he'd never gotten around to it. They'd been far too busy trying to stay alive instead.

  "Abe," Quin said. "I tried to tell you this back on the Promenade Deck, but I…" His voice trailed off. How could he do this to his friend? To the fellow with whom he'd been through so much?

  "It's all right, Quin." Abe spoke in a gentle voice. "I know you love Lucy."

  Quin froze with one leg in his borrowed pants. "How?"

  "Anyone who sees the way you look at her knows, my friend. There's no way to miss it."

  Quin winced and then resumed dressing. "Do you think she knows?"

  Abe shook his head. "She's probably the only one who doesn't, I'd think. She's as sharp a girl as I've ever met, but like most of us she has a blind spot when it comes to herself."

  Quin regarded his friend. "I'd like to tell her. About how I feel, I mean."

  "Of course you would."

  "Will you object?"

  Abe put his hands in his pockets. "Would it stop you if I did?"

  "I don't think so. No."

  Abe rocked on his heels for a moment, letting Quin stew. "Then what would be the point in me trying to stop it?" he finally said.

  "I don't want to do it without your blessing."

  "She's my girl, Quin. If you're going to confess your love to her, I can't give you my approval."

  Quin's face fell. "I have to do this. I don't want to lose your friendship, Abe, but I–" He stopped and reset himself.

  "When we were out there on that lifeboat, when that shark came after us, hell, throughout that whole night, we had so many times when I thought we might die. When I was sure of it. And do you know what went through my head every damn time?"

  "Get me out of this bally water?"

  Quin shook his head without a hint of a laugh. "I thought about Lucy every damn time. And I cursed myself for being such a coward about baring my heart to her."

  He pointed out of the room's porthole. "While we were out there on that overturned lifeboat, I made myself a promise. I said that if I got through that – if I survived – then I'd find Lucy and let her know what's in my heart. I'd let her know and let her decide what to do about that."

  Abe grimaced as he nodded at Quin. "I know. I understand why you have to do this. I just can't give my blessing for it. I love her too, Quin."

  "All right. That's what I expected to hear."

  "And that doesn't change your mind at all."

  "Should it?"

  Abe waited in silence as Quin finished getting dressed. Quin felt good about the conversation. He'd finally spoken about his love for Lucy out loud. To her boyfriend no less. He'd half-expected it to culminate in a fist fight.

  "No matter what happens between Lucy and me, I don't want this to end our friendship," Quin said as he buttoned his borrowed jacket.
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  "It won't. I might not be able to give you my blessing over this, but can I offer you something else?" Abe stuck out his hand.

  Quin stood tall and shook it. "What's that?"

  "My best wishes. No matter what."

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  When Quin and Abe reached the first class dining room, it had already been returned to its original purpose after having served as a makeshift hospital for most of the day. The place had not half the luxuriance of the Titanic's dining room, but it was warm and dry, and – most importantly – not sitting on the bottom of the ocean. The service was enthusiastic, and the food came hot and in large helpings.

  Lucy looked angelic in a borrowed dress that fit her like a tailored glove. The deep blue of it brought out the color in her eyes, and Quin had to think hard to find a time he remembered her appearing so lovely. This had the unfortunate effect of tying his tongue as he took the seat next to her while Abe took the one at her other side.

  "I can't tell you how happy I am to be able to sit down to a meal with you two again." Lucy spoke with a sparkle in her eye as she reached out and patted both of the young men on the hands closest to her.

  Abe grinned at this. "I don't think I'd be wrong to say that we both looked forward to this as much as you." He gave Quin a meaningful glance, but when Lucy turned toward him, the other man discovered that his lips didn't seem to want to work for him.

  "You're not usually so silent, Quin." Lucy flashed a smile that dazzled him. "Don't tell me the doctor forgot to check your tongue for frostbite too."

  Quin offered up a weak smile. "Doctor Griffiths has pronounced me in good health, all the way from my head down to my maltreated toes."

  "Wonderful!" Lucy grinned, showing her perfect teeth.

  "Yes," said Abe, "he'll be out there tripping around Manhattan in no time at all, and without a cane, no less." He turned to Quin. "Now that you've regained the use of your tongue, what plans do you have for it?"

  Quin blushed. Having made the decision to confess his love to Lucy, he wanted nothing more than to do so and throw his heart at her mercy, but he hadn't planned to do so over dinner. "I'm sure I'll find something worthy of it," he said. "In the right place and at the right time."

  Abe threw his hands wide. "But what better place than here? What better time than now? You're safe and sound and among friends once more. Why wait?"

  Quin nodded. He seemed to have annoyed his friend more than Abe cared to admit straight out. Quin would have preferred to chat with Lucy in private rather than risk making a scene in front of the entire dining room, but if Abe wanted to press the issue, then Quin wasn't about to back down.

  He turned to Lucy and took her hand in his. "Abe is a wise man."

  "I think you mean 'wise guy'," Lucy said with a smile.

  "Forgive me, lady and sirs." A steward walked up to their table and gave a little bow. "Because of our recent influx of passengers, we're a bit tighter for space than we normally are. I wonder if you might be willing to make room here for some of our other passengers?"

  The steward stepped aside to reveal a handsome older man and his gorgeous young companion. He was dressed in a black tuxedo in a classic cut, while she wore a dress of shimmering red that Quin thought might have been more appropriate for a nightclub than dinner aboard a trans-Atlantic liner. They each wore a thin smile that showed none of their teeth.

  "Only if they're willing to forgive us for causing them so much trouble," Abe said. "After all, we didn't pay for our passage aboard the Carpathia."

  "You have to admit, though," Lucy said, "they do treat their stowaways awfully well."

  "Please." Quin had given up on talking with Lucy for now. He gestured to the open chairs across the table from them. "Join us. We would be most delighted."

  "You have our gratitude," the man said, as he pulled one of the chairs out for the woman. Once she was seated, he introduced them both. "My name is Dushko Dragomir, and my lovely companion here is Miss Elisabetta Ecsed."

  "Charmed." Elisabetta spoke in a forced tone that made Quin wonder just how much of an imposition she and the rest of the passengers on the ship must see the survivors of the Titanic. Her accent matched that of Dushko, which Quin placed as being influenced by some Slavic tongue.

  "I am Abe Holmwood, and my friends here are Lucy Seward and Quin Harker." As Abe spoke, a wine steward supplied each of them with a glass of merlot.

  "We really must apologize to you," Lucy said. "I'm sure this disaster has disrupted your travel plans dreadfully."

  "Not nearly as much as yours, I am sure," said Dushko. "And our lives have not been in peril for the entire voyage so far."

  "I understand the Carpathia made such good time to reach us that it might not delay you too much in the end," Quin said.

  "That would be true, I'm sure," said Elisabetta, "had the captain not ordered the boat turned around and headed back for New York."

  "Seriously?" Quin hadn't heard news of this yet. Looking back, he probably should have realized from the sun's position on the port side of the ship that they were heading west, but he'd been too tired and distracted to make the connection. "I thought they would bring us back to England to start over again rather than complete our trip for us."

  "Do not worry yourself about it," Dushko said. "It is a small inconvenience to us compared to the horrible event that has befallen you."

  "We were among the fortunate ones on the Titanic," Quin said. "It's hard to believe that we deserve any more luck in our lives."

  Elisabetta picked up her wine glass and raised it for a toast. "Then here's to the survivors of the Titanic," she said. "May they never need any more luck until their dying days."

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  Brody hadn't wanted to get back on board the Carpathia, but he didn't see as how he had a choice. Fergus had watched Dushko destroy Trevor, and after he'd reported the event, Brody had realized just how much trouble he was in. If Dushko was willing to administer the true death to someone like Trevor, who'd only become caught up in Brody's plot to gorge himself on the Titanic's victims, how much worse would it be for the man who'd instigated the scheme in the first place?

  The alternative, though, would be to hole up on a lonely iceberg somewhere nearby and hope that another ship would pass by close enough that he could reach it. He might have been able to manage it. It would take a lot for him to starve to death, he knew, but he disliked hunger more than risking any threats from Dushko, so he had to get back on the ship.

  It was then that he came up with the idea of sneaking back onto the ship by posing as a survivor of the wreck of the Titanic. All he had to do was wait for someone to rescue him, and that lifeboat full of women had come along before his joints had frozen too stiff for him to move. There was nothing he enjoyed more than taking advantage of the kindness of strangers.

  He'd given the stewards a fake name once he'd gotten on board, and he'd managed to avoid the doctor altogether. The last thing he needed was for some nosy physician in a white coat using a stethoscope to try to find a beat in a heart that hadn't budged for years. Fortunately, the man had been too busy with the real survivors to worry about him.

  Brody had spent the rest of the day hiding out in his private cabin. Now that the sun had set, he found himself getting anxious and – worse yet – hungry. He fought his urges for as long as he could, but eventually they became too great for him to ignore.

  He slipped out of his cabin and tried to decide which way to go. The only part of the ship he knew well was the cargo hold, where Dushko had tried to keep him and the others cooped up for the entire voyage. If he returned there, though, chances were good that Dushko – or someone loyal to him, which would be just as bad – might spot him and try to take him down.

  After the night he'd had, Brody wasn't in the mood for a fight. He rubbed his forehead and felt the edge of the flap of skin that had come off when that desperate young man had kicked him in the face. That wouldn't have put him off most nights, but he'd bee
n so gorged on blood already that he had to let it go rather than slaughtering the man on the spot just to prove a point.

  Having ruled out the lower decks, Brody decided to move upward instead. He soon found himself up on the Shelter Deck. He moved to the aftmost part of the ship, where nothing more than a railing separated him from the blackness beyond, and he gazed out at the darkened sea and took the night air deep into his lungs. It didn't do him any physical good any longer, but he liked the way it smelled.