First Person

by Eddie McGarrity

  I took a glance over my shoulder at the passengers. They were quiet, just taking in the harbour sights. Sue caught my attention. Tears in her eyes told me that her colleague beside her had died. Unconscious the whole time, he now seemed even more at peace. His body drifted to the far side of his seat to lean on the window. She still held his hand. The former helm guy noticed this too and he gulped back what he was feeling to look out ahead. His cruise ship, Angel Rhithlun, was nowhere to be seen. I slowed the engine. Having to move my head and shift my position, I scanned about for the ship. The harbour seemed a complicated design with different berthing points, all filled with ships of varying sizes.

  Coming towards us was a large transport ship, huge even this close. Stacked on the open deck were standard containers of different colours and logos. Its high bridge, with impassive black windows, sat at the stern. Knowing, or rather guessing, the protocol was to pass to the right, I moved our boat across. There would be more than enough room for us between it and the boats lined up along the waterside.

  “Look. There.” The helm guy was pointing over to his left. We all looked over. It was the cruise ship, over at the far side of the harbour. At first I thought it was passing a wall, but a second look told me it was actually going into a building. Not fancying pulling in front of the ship coming towards us, I maintained my course. Ignoring disappointed noises from the passengers, I pulled back on the throttle, thinking we would make the manoeuvre when the container ship passed. However, another ship was following not far behind.

  Cursing my bad luck, I did see another opportunity. Two ships leaving had opened a massive mooring space. I pushed the throttle and made for the gap. The helm guy ducked outside and jumped onto the concrete quay, with the rope in his hand, just as I connected with it. He hauled us in and I cut the engine. Getting the old folk off the boat was a challenge but once they were on solid ground, each person quickly made off in the direction of the building and their cruise ship.

  Sue and the helm guy barely acknowledged me as they followed. It was only when I stood there myself that I remembered their dead friend in the back of the boat. Shocked, I looked around for someone to help. Behind me was a large metal fence and beyond that was a road and pathway. Some people walked on the path, heading towards the city itself but there was no-one around the harbour to actually help me. I shouldered my backpack and went off to find someone.

  Just as I reached a gate onto the pathway, I heard the launch starting up again. Looking across, I saw two people in white shirts untie it and pilot it away. Figuring them from the cruise ship, I decided to just leave them to it, even if I was a bit annoyed. Miffed no-one had thanked me, I left the harbour by the gate and joined the people heading into town. The main street was just a short walk up a hill and I intended to find the bus station to move onto my next destination. I was on holiday after all.

  In amongst the people, I never noticed at first that the shops lining the main street were closing their doors and pulling down shutters. It was early afternoon by this time and clouds had followed the sea fog in to replace the sunshine. What was eerie though was that everyone began to slow down and stop talking. Soon, everyone was in silence, standing around. Some were comforting companions who were crying. Others played with their phones but all were quiet. I followed suit, wondering what was happening. A few people seemed to be clutching some sort of programme but I couldn’t make out the cover.

  I was close to a large wall. People nodded apologies at me as they crowded around it and I moved to give them more room. They were making towards the wall which was covered in, of all things, doorbells. Oblong boxes with round buttons at the centre, each doorbell also displayed a symbol. Most were crucifixes, but some were crescents, as well as other religious and humanist signs. I stepped back onto the road. There was no traffic because there were so many people packed onto the street.

  The silence became quite unsettling until the town hall clock struck. Each face turned up to the tower as the sing-song chimes began. When it concluded, one solitary bell struck to tell the time. Hands reached out to the wall. Buttons were pushed and doorbells rang. As if each doorbell denoted a life, the sound rang out. People hugged. Uncomfortable amongst this display of communal grief, I recoiled. I had no way of knowing what these people were mourning. And then church bells pealed. All across the city, bells were rung. As the sound swung around the air, ships in the nearby harbour blasted out their horns. This gave the silent crowd the space to make their own noise. Relief washed over many people and smiles spread. Hands began clapping and cheering went up into the air as grief turned into celebration. It was like the sadness of someone’s passing had transformed into a salute to their life. Their responses seemed to lift the air, heavy as it had become under the clouds.

  I found myself smiling. A lump in my throat stopped me from actually laughing. With no idea what this massive crowd of people were marking, I couldn’t help but feel what they were feeling. It was euphoria released from sadness. Some people started to move about. The ships went quiet and the church bells faded away. Only a few people continued to ring doorbells, and even these were doing so with smiles on their faces. A woman squeezed between two people and smiled at me as she passed. As she did so, she dropped her programme. I picked it up to hand back but lost sight of her in the throng of people.

  I looked at the programme and a small shudder crept across my back. Between my fingers, the stiffer cover opened up to a couple of pages showing the order of service. I could feel my legs seize up as a cold shiver settled through me. Inside, the programme listed the gathering of people, the silent vigil, followed by the bells at one o’clock. But on the cover was a picture of a familiar cruise ship. Sympathetic lettering said: On the passing of the Angel Rhithlun.

  I managed to look at the faces around me. Previously crying, a woman was now chatting with her companion, her sadness relieved by this process of public healing. Someone reached up for a very specific doorbell and ran his fingers across its shape without pressing. He pulled his hand back, kissed the fingers, and touched the box again, before retreating into the crowd. I continued to hold the programme between my hands. It was curled slightly from being clutched by the woman and it was grubby from being on the ground but its message was clear to me. These people were holding a remembrance event for a ship I had just seen mooring in the harbour.

  Without speaking to anyone, I quickly made off down the hill, back to the harbour, making my way to the building where the cruise ship was berthed. The crowd was breaking up, and a few cars started to move. It was difficult to progress at first but I made it back to the gate and onto the quayside. I stumbled alongside newly berthed vessels in the space I had previously parked the launch. Finally, I made it to the far side of the harbour, deep into its architecture, far from the road behind me, and found the building.

  A massive brick structure, it concealed anything kept inside. The quayside was empty of people. I had to round a corner before finding a single wooden door. I turned the handle and entered a stone clad corridor. Grey walls with a granite feel to them were rippled with white streaks. They led in a straight line away from the door. I don’t know what drove me, but I kept going, eventually turning corners and going further in search of the Angel Rhithlun. The floor was made of the same stone and light came from pale circles in the ceiling. I turned a corner and found steps down. Following them led me to a dead end.

  I stood there at the blank grey wall. It was as if I looked at it long enough, it would change to be a through way. A voice spoke, startling me. “This way please, sir.”

  I turned around. It was Sue, the female crew member from the small boat. She had changed into a fresh uniform of black skirt and white blouse with dark epaulets on her shoulders. Her hair had been done and she was immaculately made up. Smiling as if she had not been awake all night tending to a dying crewmate, she was holding her right hand out. She meant me to follow her back the way I came. I said to her, “Sue, it’s me. From the small boat ear
lier. Don’t you recognise me?”

  She blinked once but maintained her smile. “Of course I do. We met today. This way please, sir.”

  I took one last look at the blank wall before taking the few steps up to reach her. Sue led me back through the single corridor I had followed. We made a few turns. There had been no doors or alternative routes so I hadn’t memorised my route in. However, I got the sense we were taking a different route from my entry. Three steps upwards I had not seen before confirmed this. “Sue, where are we going?”

  Walking primly beside me, she smiled warmly. Her eyes sparkled in conspiracy. “To the ship, of course. Don’t you want to see her?”

  I stopped. Sue walked a few steps before doing the same. I said, “I’m not sure I do.”

  “Of course you do. But it is your decision.” Her smile was meant to reassure me. She waited for a few moments before pulling me towards her with a gesture.

  I took a long look behind me at the endless stone corridor. Considering I had come so far, I decided to continue. After all, I had just been to the memorial service for the Angel Rhithlun. Now I had to see her. I followed Sue. She took me further along. We turned another corner and a short walk along the final stretch astounded me where it led.

  The stone corridor opened onto a balcony of the same grey granite streaked with white material. It was lined with a low hand rail of the same material. We were in a massive covered dock, seemingly carved out of this stone. In the middle of this dock was a middle-sized cruise ship. Black lettering on the side said: Angel Rhithlun. This was it, the ship I had seen on the sea, and followed into this harbour. I had seen it, from the wheel of a passenger launch, enter this building. I had been to its memorial service but it was here all along, in this building. The ship was sitting on a series of stone struts, chiselled to the shape of its hull. All the water had been drained. Far below me, on the floor of the dock, two men tended to a section of the hull,. Aware of Sue’s patience beside me, I still wanted to see everything. Looking along the ship’s deck, there were elderly passengers promenading, or sitting on deck chairs as if the sun was out rather than obscured by a stone roof.

  I turned back to Sue. “What’s happening here?”

  Her face was relaxed, free of the smile. “These people have chosen. Time for you to choose.”

  With that, she turned on her heel. I had to trot to keep up. “What do you mean by that?”

  We arrived at a covered metal gangway, leading from the balcony to the ship. Sue made her way quickly up the small incline without a pause. I followed, still clutching my bag over my shoulder. On reaching the deck, a tall man in an all-white navy type uniform smiled and held out his hand. “Good morning, sir. Thank you for choosing Angel Rhithlun.”

  I took his hand and looked around. Everything seemed very normal. Sue stood next to this man, smiling professionally at me. The man in the white uniform said to me. “Can we take your bag, sir? Your cabin is ready.”

  He held out his hand but I kept a grip of my bag. I can’t say I felt uneasy. If I felt anything, it was of preference for staying, rather than leaving. The man in the white uniform seemed a bit troubled by my lack of engagement with him. He looked to Sue. With her hands held at her back she smiled reassurance at her officer. He said to me, “It won’t be long, sir. Would you like to see?”

  For some reason I nodded. He gestured me to follow him to the far side of the deck. He greeted passengers as he went. An older couple with tall colourful drinks waved at him and he gave a mock-salute back. At the open-air deck, the man in the white uniform pointed to the bottom of the dry dock. “Look there,” he said. “It’s just about to start.”

  My eyes followed his lead. Inside the building, this ship sat on stone struts, dry-docked. The two men I had seen tending the hull disappeared through a doorway. In the far corner at the base of the dock, a yellow light began to flash and an alarm sounded. Water swept in, filling the space, ready to float the medium-sized cruise ship, the Angel Rhithlun.

  October Dreams

  I’M INSIDE A long tunnel of trees which, after a long summer, are now dried out in cold air. Leaves are all around me, falling from the branches of tall trees, covering the trunks and roots of this forest path, coating the ground beneath me. Swirling around me it gives a giddy feeling of vertigo as the world turns upside down. This burrow is filled with light, diffused by the spiralling leaves and at either end is darkness where daylight should shine in. I can smell warmed turnip and candle wax; familiar from hollowed-out turnip lanterns I made as a boy.

  A chill shudders through me and pulls my head back. I close my eyes. Like the leaves themselves, I’m drifting through the air, falling endlessly. It’s impossible to tell which way is up. When I think I will land softly on the ground, everything rolls over. I have to twist in mid-air as the tunnel of trees spins and I fall all over again. It’s elegant, almost, the way I never hit the bottom. Endlessly living in this moment is where I want to be. I swallow and my throat is dry, thankfully dry. My hands are open and leaves flutter through my fingers. And I fall and fall and fall.

  Chimes woke me. I had a good sleep but I lay there for a few moments more between clammy sheets to think of falling leaves and dry cold air. Reminder chimes told me I had to move. I pulled the sheets back and got up for my morning shower. There was no shortage of water, of course, and I took my time. As usual, I planned to skimp on breakfast time for this indulgence. Drying in the air, I tidied my pod so that it would be ship-shape for my return after the shift. I had kept the shower room door closed while I showered and the air-con had done a pretty good job of keeping the room cool and dry.

  I stripped the bed and dumped the sheets in the chute before retrieving a fresh coverall and socks. It was easy to take for granted how everything was cleaned every day; so unlike home. I didn’t bother getting fresh sheets. I would do that later. Dressed, I slipped into rubber shoes and padded down to breakfast. Off-world news muttered from the TV screens in the dining room while I came to with yoghurt and coffee. Cynthia, as ever, tried to talk to me, but I just smiled at her stories of outrage and disappointment as if she was trying to be funny. It took the heat out of it.

  She touched me on the arm as we parted. “Good luck today,” she said. Her hand was warm and dry on my exposed skin. “Make it work so we can all go home.” She locked eyes on me and I knew she meant it, like she was insisting and not asking. I was suddenly fully alert.

  Suited up in the Raincoat, I moved towards the airlock along with Iris and George. They were dressed the same as me, in a dark waterproof one-piece which we had stepped into, minus the rubber shoes but still wearing our coveralls. The Raincoat, as it was called, was moulded into a pair of boots and the whole thing was sealed with a cone of clear laminate placed over our heads to protect us from the deluge. It would keep us dry at least.

  “Comm check,” I said, looking at Iris. “You receiving?”

  “Roger, Team Leader,” said Iris, blinking in approximation of a bow. Dark eyes fluttered back at me.

  Our comms were voice activated and simple Bluetooth into our in-ear ‘phones. In between us speaking they emitted a low-level frequency to cancel out the rain. Teeming rain on a laminated helmet is pretty loud and the headphones did a lot to help. George gave me a silent thumbs up to let me know he had heard us both talk. I looked at him and cocked my head slightly. “Lemme hear you, George.”

  George swallowed. “Hearing you five by five.”

  I nodded at him and we got our gear together. Iris gave me a sly smile through heavy eyelids. She picked up her case and handed me mine. George punched the airlock door button and out we went to the Buggy with the door closing behind us. Up at the window, I saw the tech guy in his hard hat and coverall watch us leave. Iris drove. The Buggy was electric powered and had room for four and our gear. Under its canopy, it looked like a wide golf kart with an exaggerated suspension system.

  We left the group of interconnected modules we called the dome, driving along a cleared
track. Balloon tyres on the vehicle rolled over the mud. Already the jungle was beginning to encroach onto the swampy road. And the rain came down as always. Nothing can compare to the rain here and nothing can prepare you for it either. I’m a meteorologist by training, and had prepped and delivered the crew briefing on the journey out, but nothing got me ready for how much and how relentless it was.

  This planet, then as now, has one massive continent in an otherwise watery world. There are other small outcrops of islands, but they’re just rocks. At over twelve million square kilometres, it stretches from close to the equator to near the arctic zone. Vast storms hammer the planet but because an ancient asteroid impact carved out a massive bowl in the ground, this jungle was shielded from the worst of the wind. However, the terrain made masses of rain. A ten thousand kilometres high mountain range to the west acts like a massive barrier to typhoons, while the ranges in the other directions lift up clouds to deposit millions of litres of rainfall. Why this tropical bowl didn’t just fill up with water was being investigated by geologists in the south.

  “Wake up, George,” I said and tapped him on the knee. He stirred and smiled and stretched as he got out from where he was sitting. I could never sleep in this downpour.

  Iris had turned the buggy around to face the dome again but we were at the end of the track. I had to steel myself before getting out from under the canopy. I felt the ’phones kick in my ear as I stepped into the rain. By the end of the day, I knew each drop would be like a hammer on the Raincoat. The headphones cancelled the worst of the noise but we still felt it under the suit.