by Martha Wells
“I’ve told you how I feel about that,” Gavin said.
“We had a lifeboat,” Cyril said. “We were glad to get out of it.”
“If we provision, take warm clothes, and perhaps prepare a sail, we might have a chance,” Amelia said.
“Are you a sailor?” Cyril said.
“No, but I prefer to try something other than giving up.”
“Die here in this ship, out on the ice, or at sea, makes no difference,” Cyril said. “We’re going to die. Have you forgotten the dead sailors? Someone killed them.”
Gavin laughed. “Yeah, but not yesterday, not fifty years ago, but well over a hundred years ago. I doubt the murderer is alive and waiting on the ice, ready to sneak back on the ship and chop holes in our heads.”
“Maybe it was some kind of animal,” Cyril said. “Could be that. Like a polar bear. Another one could be around.”
“Bears bite and claw,” Duchess said. “They don’t hit you in the head with some kind of weapon, an axe perhaps.”
“One thing that would be helpful in your case, Cyril,” Gavin said, “is if you’re going to die, and constantly talk about it, go ahead and get it over with. That leaves more food for us. That gun probably wouldn’t have worked anyway. Who knows? But you can always strip and lie on the ice like you suggested. That was your idea, wasn’t it? Die on the ice? I’ve come to think that’s not a bad idea for you at all. Anything to shut your negativity up. I mean, hell, I know things are bad, and I may not want to go to sea, but I’m not ready to throw in the towel just yet, even if I’m not sure we have a towel to toss.”
The others, none of which had much to say before, and hadn’t even given their names, chimed in with agreement. “Yeah, shut up about dying all the time,” one of the older men said. “Go out and die, but shut up.”
Cyril, now that he was warm, and in spite of his words, seemed a little less inclined to follow his own suggestion. He said, “Well, I’m just saying, things aren’t looking too good.”
“You think you’re the only one that’s made that observation?” Amelia said. “What we need to do is first decide how much food is to be provided to each of us, how far we can stretch it. No midnight snacks.”
She looked around at the others. They nodded in agreement.
“Then,” she said, “we need to find fishing equipment and put some sort of fishing crew together. After that, we can think about the boat, the sail, and for those who want to stay, they can. For those who would like to leave, we can try. The boats, I saw two. That way we can have two crews.”
“Some crews we’ll be,” Carruthers said.
“I saw nautical books on board,” Gavin said. “I’m good at learning things from books, maybe I can figure something out.”
“Somehow,” Cyril said, “I doubt there will be among those nautical books one about basic sailing.”
“We can find out,” Gavin said.
Amelia and Gavin discovered the sick bay on a search of the ship, and found that the table used for patients was folded out from the wall and covered in blood. Something had happened on board besides being marooned. The dead sailors were proof of that. Their wounds didn’t seem to fit any type of available weapon. Duchess was right. Bears and other animals seemed unlikely. Did they turn on one another in claustrophobic fury? Cannibalism? There was food, so why resort to such? And here in the sick bay, had someone been wounded due to fighting? Had someone tried to help them, and if so, where were the rest of the bodies? Why weren’t they frozen on board?
The general consensus among the group was that there had been some kind of mutiny, perhaps after the ship was marooned, and a blood bath incurred. Where the survivors, if any, had ended up was unknown, but certainly the ship had sailed a crew larger than the dead men they found. Perhaps they had struck out to find what they could discover, or escape whoever, or whatever, was killing them in that head-smashing fashion.
In another part of the ship, fishing tackle was located and fishing expeditions were sent out to cast heavy lines in the cold water, using small pieces of meat for bait, and in time, the intestines from landed fish, or smaller fish, were hooked and put back in the water as bait. Fish near the ice seemed ravenous, and they successfully pulled large catches from the icy waters, cut them up, and cooked them in the great galley stove. With a reasonable supply of renewable food somewhat assured, the spirits of all involved increased.
This went on for a few days, the meals alternating between the meat in the galley and the fish from the sea, and then Amelia said she wanted to explore, see if there were other things they could use from the ice-locked ships, and so after a night of high wind and blowing snow, she and Gavin started out on an expedition. The daylight sky seemed as odd as the night sky had been, though the storm had long blown out. The sunlight was somewhat green on the horizon and cool yellow above them, like a light doughy crust on the sky.
Another point of contention, which had first been addressed by Carruthers, was the fact that there was day and night. It seemed logical, considering the ice, that they might well be at a point on the globe where night reigned for long periods before giving way to daylight for equally long stretches. But that wasn’t the case here. Day came with its strange green and yellow tints and an anemic red-hazed sun that soon turned egg-yolk yellow. Day gave it up within hours to thick, blue-black darkness with a greasy moon that appeared to wobble when not being observed directly. The stars moved in great swirls, as if the earth and all the darkness and pulsing orbs were slowly traveling toward an exit by cosmic drain. None of this fit the fact that they had been crossing a calm and warm ocean the night before, but another weird factor was no one could remember ever having boarded the ship, and they could only remember vagaries of the trip, some events on board, drinks and dancing. Trying to discuss this led to a lot of quiet moments. No one remembered where they were going, or why they had chosen to be at sea, or for that matter, none could even remember if they were crossing the Atlantic or the Pacific. Atlantic seemed more likely to lead them to ice, still no one knew for sure. It was a distressing fact that could only be discussed briefly. It was like trying to remember what had happened in the womb.
Gavin carried the pistol with him, though he wasn’t sure it worked. He didn’t see any reason to need it, but it made him feel better somehow. They looked where they had dropped the body of their comrade over the side of the ship with the long-dead sailors, but no bodies were there. Something had taken them away. Polar bears? So far nothing of the sort had been seen. There were no tracks and no drag marks, but considering the constantly blowing wind and renewing ice, as well as blankets of snow, there was nothing unusual about that.
After walking for a time, they began to feel certain they were not on an iceberg at all, but a large mass of ice that stretched far to the horizon. There were ships locked into it here and there, and some of the ships were more modern. Dog sleds were found, buried in the ice, and finally they came upon a prop airplane, blood red in color. It seemed to have landed smoothly and sat there as if ready for takeoff. The exception being the wheels, which were sunk into the ice. Its nose was lifted upward, the tail was resting on the ice. In the far background, mountains, tinged puke green by the light, rose up high and misty. As they stared at them, they appeared to move, ever so slightly.
“How can that be?” Amelia said. “Moving mountains?”
“A mirage,” Gavin said. “The movement part, anyway.”
“Sure looked like it moved. It was subtle, but I saw it.”
“Me too, but mountains don’t move. Has to be a trick of the light… But the plane, it’s here. It’s an Electra. Late thirties or forties, I’m reasonably sure. My father owned one. Or one very similar. No expert, but I’m a little knowledgeable on recognizing a few of them. My dad also had models of a lot of other kinds of planes. So I was aware of certain things about them without really being highly knowledgeable.”
“Can you fly?”
“Well, unlikely it could fly. Pro
bably froze up. I only have a general idea how it’s done. You know, from listening to my dad. And it would only comfortably carry two. Of course, those two could be us. Even so, I’d probably manage, at best, to run it into the sea, or take it up and have it come down too fast and on the nose.”
Amelia let the thought of flying away with Gavin run around in her head. She owed the others nothing. Still, it seemed like a rotten thing to contemplate.
She examined the plane, saw that the hatch door was flung open. It had steps leading from the door to the ground. She walked up them and stuck her head inside.
“Jesus,” she said. “It’s warm in here. How could that be?”
Gavin climbed the steps and looked in. He stepped inside beside her. “It’s more than warm, it’s been flown. The motor has only been off a short time, that’s why it’s warm in here, even with the door open. Engine heat.”
“That means someone just left it,” Amelia said.
They went outside and looked around. No sign of anyone. They prowled the outside of the plane, gently touched its underbelly. No doubt. Gavin was right. The engine was warm.
“How can that be?” Amelia said, moving her hand away from the plane.
“Just because it’s from another era doesn’t mean it hasn’t been kept in good condition, even flown recently by some plane enthusiast. But how anyone would end up way out here in a small plane like that is hard to guess.”
“Where’s the pilot?” Amelia said.
“They may have force landed here, fuel or weather reasons. A number of possibilities. Engine trouble, perhaps. They went outside to look about, trying to figure things out, same as us, or deciding to pee, when the storm hit. Remember how fast that storm came? I was looking at that crack in the ship. The sky was clear. I could see the moon. And then there was a moan of storm and a blow of snow, and the sky went white. It happened in the time it takes to blink. The pilot could have been trapped outside and unable to make it back to the plane. They might have been covered by snow, iced over. Hell, we could be standing on them. Or they stumbled off blind, walked into a snowbank or the sea. It would be easy to become lost in a storm like that.”
“Could be,” Amelia said. “Think about how we ended up here. We were fine on our ship one minute, and the next, we weren’t.”
“Warm, clear seas, and then some place full of ice,” Gavin said.
“Exactly. And we don’t even know why we were on the ship, how we got there.”
“I thought it would come back to me. Thought we were all in shock. Now, I’m not so sure. What I am sure of is things aren’t right here, Amelia. All these ships and planes. It’s as if they all went through some hole and ended up here. Maybe a hundred years ago, maybe five minutes ago.”
The wind swirled particles of snow. It seemed chill enough to freeze an open flame.
Amelia tugged her scarf tight over her mouth and the tip of her nose. “Why are we standing here? Let’s get inside the plane for a while.”
They stepped inside, closed the door against the wind and the cold. Already the warmth was dying.
Prowling the front of the plane, in a pocket by the controls, Amelia found a small revolver. It was loaded with five rounds.
“Now we’re both armed, in case we’re attacked by a seabird,” Amelia said.
“I think there’s a lot more than seabirds to fear out here,” Gavin said. “At first I didn’t think so, but now I wonder. More I think about it, the more worried I am. Maybe those ships haven’t been here as long as it seems.”
“The hole in time idea?”
“Something like that.”
“Right now I’m not ruling anything out,” Amelia said.
They looked about. There were a few clothes in the plane and a small mattress. They searched for anything usable, but found nothing other than the gun, and a sweater that Amelia took with her as they left, slipping it on and then putting her coat back on over it. It gave her a bulky appearance, but the sweater was flexible beneath the coat, and she was warmer. They found a flight manual, a couple of hardback books, but nothing else. They left it all.
At the view glass, they looked out at the sky. It had turned azure and there were strange strips of yellow and gold leaking into it, and even as they watched those gave way to blue then black. Amelia said, “The sky’s colors are always changing.”
“Nothing seems right here,” Gavin said.
The moon appeared like a blister, high and full, ready to pop. The stars were plentiful, but it was as if a hand had stirred them into new formations. They were of varying sizes, like coins and pinheads tacked to the heavens. There were large numbers of jetting streaks, shooting stars, red, blue, and green, and variations of those colors. Amelia was reminded of schools of bright darting fish in an inky pond.
They decided it was best to return. The night was bright, and in time the plane would grow cold. So out they went, carefully stepping onto the moon-glared ice.
Using ships and sleds they had passed before as their guides, they made their way back to the ship where their companions waited. The wind kicked up, and the already intense cold became nearly unbearable. Tugging the collars of their coats tight around their necks, wrapping their scarves around their heads like bandages, leaving only their eyes visible, they continued. Snow was as thick as exploded goose down blown loose from a pillow.
They stumbled forward, trying their best to keep an eyeline back to their ship. Now and then there was a gap in the blowing snow, and it gave them an occasional glimpse of a recognizable ice formation, but those kinds of things could change quickly, reshaped by snow and wind.
Amelia tripped over one of the dog sleds they had encountered earlier. As she was rising, the wind and blowing snow shifted, and she saw moving in the brief gap of white, a naked man wearing a strange and oversized headdress. The head gear was flapping and blowing in the wind with the frantic movements of a bird with its feet tied to the ground. It was visible for an instant, then gone.
“Did you see that?” Amelia said.
“Hardin,” Gavin said. “It was Hardin.”
“Naked? Wandering through snow? How could that be?”
“How could it be anyone?”
They tried to see Hardin again, but the snow had wrapped him up and hidden him away.
“What was he wearing on his head?” she asked.
“No idea.”
“Should we try and find him?”
Gavin shook his head. “We are lost ourselves. And remember, he didn’t want to be found. Maybe he stripped down to die quicker.”
“But he’s been out here for days now.”
“Perhaps he holed up somewhere for a while before he made his final move.”
“So he hung out, then today stripped naked, put on a weird headdress, and wandered out in the snow?”
“Hell. I don’t know, Amelia. I know what you know.”
They found themselves, without discussing it, moving away from where Hardin had been seen, heading away from the direction he had taken. Trudging on for some distance, they ran up against the wall of a ship. They immediately knew it was not their ship. Its wood was black and tarred where there had been repairs. They found it too high to access by normal means, but near the bow they discovered there was a crude ladder, and though it was slippery, they managed it, and climbed on board.
The interior of the ship was a brief respite from the blowing wind and snow.
They combed the ship. No food supplies or frozen bodies were found. The crew had obviously abandoned the sailing rig, taking whatever was edible with them, as well as stripping it of furniture and the like. Most likely to make sleds to drag their goods, or to provide firewood. The vessel seemed to be from a similar era as the ship where their group had ended up. The lifeboats had been removed, and Amelia wondered if they had made it to somewhere safe by sea, or were they dead on the ice, preserved like frozen sardines with the tops of their heads torn open? And how long ago did this ship arrive here?
“You know what’s odd,” Amelia said. “In the back of my mind I feel like I know the answer to this, or a piece of it, but I just can’t get that answer to surface.”
“I know exactly what you mean,” Gavin said.
In the back of the ship’s hold they found a mass of blankets, and they covered themselves in them, pulling them over their heads, and then they laid on others, and listened to the snow blast about outside. Cold air came through cracks in the ship and licked at them, but the stack of blankets warmed them, and they lay there reveling in the warmth.
Snuggled close together, and without suggestion, they touched noses. They lay in silence for a while, and then Amelia reached out and touched Gavin, and then Gavin touched her, and then their lips pressed together. They pulled at one another’s clothes, and for a time they were all right beneath the mass of blankets, wriggling into each other, as if trying to be absorbed by the other’s warmth.
When they were finished they lay panting beneath the blankets, as snug and comfortable as they had been since landing in the wet ocean, and then on the ice.
“Guess we needed that,” Amelia said.
“Needed and wanted,” Gavin said.
Amelia nestled into Gavin’s arms. He was strong. She could feel the muscles in his arm beneath her neck.
“The wind has stopped,” Amelia said.
“Now we’re back to living in the real world. Or the unreal world. Whatever the hell kind of world we are in. Look. I think the smartest thing would be, when the storm calms, we go back to our ship, bring rope, use one of the dog sleds to drag lumber back for firewood. You know, chop it out of this one with the axe. We can mount expeditions that can take us farther, the way you suggested. Figure out some way to make tents, devise heating vessels to take with us. Go as far as we can, using our ship as base.”
“We will need to make snowshoes to travel long distances,” Amelia said. “I think we can figure out how to do that. There’s a lot of odds and ends on board our ship. And to go back to my theme, seeing what’s out there is better than waiting to freeze, or eventually starving.”