Outside Ascension

by Amy Proebstel

  As night fell upon the deck, Amanda was still uncertain of what she would do the next day to escape. Now for the hard part, she thought, how do I distract Petre so I can get away? It won’t do me any good to jump in the water and start swimming if Petre can just fish me out. He’d probably keep me locked in the cabin if I failed the first time. I’m only going to get this one chance!

  She thought briefly of ways to kill him, but quickly dismissed the idea with revulsion. Murder was not her style! She would have to knock him out somehow, but how? He would have to be incapacitated for at least an hour, longer if possible. Thinking this hard was actually giving her a headache. I really wish I had some aspirin, she thought when the perfect plan popped into her head. Feeling happy for the first time since waking up on Petre’s boat, she picked herself up off of the sun-warmed deck and retired to the cabin to eat dinner and prepared to have a bad night’s sleep.

  As planned, Amanda slept lightly; frequently waking up and rolling over. During the middle of the night she firmly removed Petre’s hand from her breast then added a few more details to her escape plan. When morning finally arrived, she pretended to sleep with her back to Petre while he shuffled around the cabin in his normal morning routine. She ticked off the things Petre would do as he did them: stand up and stretch, pull on a pair of pants, slip on his deck loafers; inhale the scent of java when he took his first sip. He should have opened the cabin door to leave, but it did not happen this morning. Something in his routine changed; Amanda rolled over and opened her eyes in the sudden silence. She was startled to see Petre standing over the sleeping platform watching her wake up.

  “Good morning, Jesisca,” he said cheerfully. “You didn’t sleep well last night. You look terrible.”

  Amanda sat up and scowled, “Good morning to you, too! You’re full of compliments.” She swung her legs over the side of the sleeping platform and ran her fingers through her disheveled hair.

  “Just calling it like I see it!” Petre smiled back at her and asked, “Do you want me to get you a cup of java?”

  She had decided last night not to eat anything prepared by Petre today just in case he decided to drug it. Sticking with her plan, she shook her head and replied, “I don’t think my stomach is up for it this morning. Excuse me,” Amanda said as she suddenly bolted for the washroom, “I think I’m going to be sick again.”

  Amanda had just made it to the sink when she vomited what little was in her stomach. When she felt the last wave of nausea leave her, she looked at herself in the looking-glass, which was just a plate of polished metal. “Petre wasn’t kidding when he said I look terrible,” she murmured to herself as she inspected the dark circles under her brown eyes and the bird’s nest she normally called her hair.

  It brought a smile to her lips as she picked up the frayed stick used for brushing her teeth. She soaked it in the running water and then scrubbed her teeth vigorously. When her teeth felt smooth to her tongue, she cupped her hands and filled them with cool, refreshing liquid. She lowered her mouth over her hands and drank deeply. She refilled her hands several times until her thirst and the pangs of hunger had subsided. She finished by scrubbing her face with the fresh water.

  She contemplated washing her hair but decided against it since she would be swimming in the salty ocean in a few hours anyway. Instead, she took up the small comb next to the sink and started sectioning off her hair to tease out the tangles. By the time her hair was smooth and tamed, Petre had given up waiting for her in the cabin.

  Leaving the washroom, Amanda walked across the cabin to her clothing drawer. She removed her sleeping sweats and quickly pulled out the items for her escape outfit. She put on the underclothes, the shorts and t-shirt, then over the outfit she struggled into the jeans and sweatshirt. She sat down on the sleeping platform and donned her socks. Just as she put on her shoes, a shadow crossed over her. She quickly looked up and blurted, “Oh, Petre, you startled me!”

  “I think you might be overdressed,” Petre suggested as he gestured to her ensemble, “it’s looking like it’s going to be a warm day.”

  “I’ll be fine; I still feel a bit chilled,” she answered easily, trying to hide her anxiousness. “I think some fresh air will help with my nausea,” she continued as she stood up and started to walk past Petre at the doorway.

  Petre turned and followed her out saying, “I think I’ll walk with you.”

  “As you wish,” she replied as she crossed her arms and continued walking out the door, thinking she would rather walk on nails than have to endure his endless prattling of lies and sexual innuendo. She had plans to make for leaving today; those plans did not include walking with him on the deck for hours.

  Petre was right about the day getting warm. Afraid he might suggest she change her clothes, Amanda hoped Petre would not notice the sweat starting to bead at her hairline. As she walked closest to the edge of the deck, she kept her face turned toward the cooling breeze off of the water as much as possible.

  They had made two slow circuits of the craft when a bird, swooping in front of Amanda’s face, broke into her thoughts. Startled, she stopped and watched the swallow turn into the breeze and quickly fly away.

  Almost at the same moment, Petre exclaimed, “Ugh! A bird just crapped on my face!”

  She turned around just in time to see Petre step forward and angrily grab a deck rag from a pile of rope on top of the capped water barrel. In his haste, he grabbed the rope as well. There was a hissing sound as the rope released its hold on the auxiliary pole on the mainmast. The pole, usually used for hanging laundry to dry, landed squarely on the top of Petre’s head. He dropped like a rock to his knees as he grabbed his head and moaned.

  “Oh my!” she exclaimed as she raised her hands to cover her smile. She had to turn away to keep him from seeing her laugh. Her shoulders shaking gave her away, though.

  “Don’t laugh!” Petre barked, still holding his head and dropping to his bottom onto the deck.

  Feeling almost sorry for him, Amanda turned around, trying not to smile. She held her hands out toward him, uncertain of what she could do to help and said, “I’m sorry, it’s just...,” she paused searching for something nice to say, then blurted, “the whole thing was kind of comical. You can admit that, at least?”

  Petre looked up at her and had to squint since the sun was behind Amanda. With his face covered in bird excrement, he slowly smiled and said, “I guess it would be funny if I were in your shoes. But right now, damn, my head hurts! Do you think you could help me up?”

  Amanda took his outstretched hand and hauled him to his unsteady feet. With no other choice, she put her arm around his waist to steady him. They walked toward the cabin, and Petre continued to stumble which made Amanda wonder if he might be acting just a little too weak so she would have to touch him.

  She was glad when, back in the cabin, she was able to deposit him onto the sleeping platform. She busied herself with looking over his scalp to ascertain the injuries. Too bad you did not split your skull open, she thought wickedly, I could’ve put a wad of fabric on it, then rip your hair out by the roots like you did to me! Oh well. Immediately, she felt remorse for having such thoughts, even if he did deserve it; she was not normally so sadistic. He must be rubbing off on me, she thought. It’s a good thing today will be my last day with him!

  Stepping back from him she announced, “Nothing bleeding! I guess you’ll live.”

  “Now who has the great bedside manner? You used to like me!”

  I doubt it, she thought. Then she said out loud, “I think you should probably rest. I’m going to sit out on the deck for a while.” She turned to leave and heard rustling behind her. She looked over her shoulder and stared in amazement as Petre took her advice and lay down.

  He smiled and said, “Night, night.” He crossed his hands over his stomach and closed his eyes.

  She continued out the door without replying. Amanda walked to her spot at the front of the boat and removed her sweatshirt. She f
olded it and placed it as a cushion on the deck; she sat and looked out at the water. It’ll be a while before I see any boats...crafts, she corrected herself as she remembered Petre not knowing about the word “boat.” She closed her eyes and enjoyed the warmth of the sun on her face.

  After what seemed only moments, she opened her eyes to discover the sun had moved quite far across the sky; she must have slept for a couple of hours. Slightly panicked, she searched the horizon for any vessels. It was almost time for her usual ship to become visible on the horizon.

  As she was searching, something seemed different, but she could not quite place it. Suddenly she realized the twinkling haze which usually obscured part of her vision was barely a noticeable ripple around the boat. It would stand to reason if Petre were responsible for the shimmering around the vessel, then it would be lessened while he was asleep. Petre must really be knocked out to let the shield down so far, she thought. Even as she had this thought, the haze began to strengthen until it looked as it usually did. Forewarned to Petre waking up, Amanda pulled the sweatshirt from underneath her and put it back on.

  Deciding it was time to put her plan in action, she stood up, stretched, inhaled deeply and walked back toward the cabin. She walked through the doorway just as Petre was getting out of the sleeping platform. “Did you have a good nap?” she asked innocently.

  “Yeah, I slept like the dead. I’m starting to wish I was dead with this headache!” he complained.

  “Maybe we should eat something. I haven’t eaten yet today, and I’m starving!” she announced cheerfully.

  “Yeah, I’m hungry too. Any suggestions? I can’t seem to think straight,” he replied.

  “Hmm, let’s see,” she pretended to think about it, then snapped her fingers, “how about foxl soup with lots of barley?”

  “Sure,” he replied and turned around to concentrate on forming it onto the counter. It took longer than usual, but a single bowl of the requested soup appeared on the counter. Petre picked it up and handed it to Jesisca saying, “Here you go, one soup made to order!”

  She took the bowl and asked, “Aren’t you going to have some, too?”

  “No,” he replied, “I’m too tired to create another. I’ll finish whatever you don’t end up eating.”

  “Okay,” she said sullenly, “but you know I don’t like to eat alone.” She sat down with the warm bowl. She leaned over the bowl and inhaled, pretending to savor the smell. “It smells wonderful,” she lied.

  She took the spoon Petre handed her and daintily dipped it into the soup. She sipped and rolled her eyes in feigned delight. She quickly spooned a bigger bite, then another, pretending to be ravenous. “Could I have some water, please?” she asked.

  Petre filled a cup from the bathroom and set it on the table next to her. He sat down, rested his elbows on the table and covered his eyes with both hands.

  This plan is working better than I thought, Amanda said to herself. Normally Petre watched her so closely she would not be able to pull this off so easily. She gulped down the water and then filled the cup with soup. She shot out of her seat with her cup in hand and announced, “I think I’m going to be sick!” while racing into the washroom. She slammed the door behind her, quickly tossed the contents of the cup into the toilet and flushed. She made loud retching noises into the sink; then to complete her performance she ran the water to rinse the cup and dampen her face. She slowly opened the door, leaning on it as though it helped her to stand in her weakened state.

  Petre rushed to her side and asked, “Are you okay? Can I get you anything?” He helped her to sit back down.

  “Could I please have some of your special foxl broth, please? Just like I had while I was sick with my head injury?” she asked quietly. “I feel so queasy I think I should probably try to get some sleep.”

  “It sounds like a good idea,” Petre replied as he concentrated on getting the requested contents of another cup ready. Petre doubled her usual dose of epeny hoping she would get some in her before she threw up again. He handed her the cup saying, “Here you go. Anything else, while I’m up?”

  Looking sheepishly up she asked quietly, “Could I please have another cup of water? This one’s all gone.” She held out the empty cup to him.

  Sighing and trying to keep from moving his aching head, he took the cup and walked slowly into the washroom.

  Amanda immediately dumped the drugged foxl broth into the foxl soup bowl. She pretended to finish the contents of the cup just as Petre was returning with the requested water. She put the empty cup down on the table clumsily. “I guess you’ll get to eat my soup after all,” she said around a stifled yawn. She let her eyelids droop as he pulled the soup over to his side of the table. She laid down on the sleeping platform and brought her legs up to curl into the fetal position.

  “Waste not, want not!” Petre said and smiled at her as he started eating the foxl soup.

  “Hear, hear,” she mumbled. She sighed and pretended to fall asleep.

  She stayed “asleep” until she heard Petre’s spoon clatter to the floor. She peeked through her long lashes to check on his progress before she opened her eyes wide enough for him to see them open should he not really be sleeping. Even as she watched, his head drooped forward until his forehead touched down onto the table. When he started to snore loudly, she knew it was safe to get up. She checked the contents of the bowl; there were only a couple of bites left.

  She thought about trying to move him onto the sleeping platform but decided against making the effort. She rushed out the door and checked for any ships coming near. Her chosen vessel was right on time and just tacking across the horizon heading directly for them. She estimated about twenty minutes until it would be close enough for her to jump into the ocean. Thinking about the obscuring haze, she thought she would need to swim at least thirty feet from Petre’s boat to make sure the haze did not obscure her as well from her rescue ship.

  Twitching with anxiety, the twenty-minute wait seemed an eternity. She checked on Petre no less than fifteen times; he continued to snore without moving. The rescue vessel inched closer with each passing minute. Time’s up, she thought. With one last check on Petre, she walked to the edge of the boat, jumped feet-first into the water, and started swimming.

  Amanda could not believe her luck; the passing ship picked her up out of the sea as though it were a common occurrence. They did not even ask her any questions which would have been awkward to answer.

  The crewmen gave her a small yet serviceable room to freshen up in and informed her they would be going ashore in just a few minutes! She felt her anger rising in her knowing all this time she had been close to land and unable to see it because of Petre’s ability to make her believe a lie. She could have saved so much time and energy had she known she could simply swim to safety as soon as he had fallen asleep. “Oh well,” she thought, “I can’t undo the past, but I can certainly have my say about my future here!”

  She was pleased when she discovered her room had its own bathroom. She immediately removed all of her clothing and dumped them in the bathtub. She luxuriated in shampooing her hair and washing her body free of the salt residue. Bending down, she picked up each item of clothing and rinsed them out in clean water. She wrung them all out and placed them on the side of the tub.

  Amanda stepped out of the tub and dried her body off with the plush towel provided next to the tub; then used the towel to wrap up her hair. She laid the other towel on the floor and arranged her wrung-out clothing on top. She carefully rolled the towel and clothing tightly to wick out as much water as possible.

  Although her clothing was damp and much wrinkled, she had to put it all back on. She struggled a little with the damp clothes sticking to each other; she managed to get dressed again quickly. She was unable to style her hair because it was wet, but she managed to comb it smooth.

  Deciding there was not anything else she could improve, she left her room to try to find the captain. She wanted to find out as much as
she could about living accommodations and possible jobs before they made landfall.

  She walked down the narrow, dark hallway and she found the captain in the first room in which she looked. This must be what she would call the wheelhouse, but for the fact they there was not a wheel, just the captain sitting in an easy chair, staring intently out the window. He looked like a typical captain with a lean build dressed all in white. He even wore a special white hat with a black stripe around it. His salt and pepper hair was trimmed as neatly as was his equally brown and gray beard. She paused in the doorway, not wanting to interrupt his thinking.

  The captain must have heard the creaking floor from her footsteps because he turned toward her and smiled while beckoning her to enter the room. “So, yuz mus’ be da swimmer we picked up. My name’s Captain Issyn. I see yuz gotten cleaned up.”

  She took a moment, thinking fast, as she settled into the offered seat. “Yes, thank you. It’s nice to meet you. My name’s Amanda Covington.” Even though she had his attention, she did not know what to ask him without sounding incredibly stupid. “So,” she said to fill the lull in the conversation, “Do you have cargo to drop off or pick up at this port?”

  “We’s gonna drop off important cargo for Telepod Engineerin’ Company. We’s was told the big shot hisself was coming over from Durseni to get it. Luckily for him it’s only a few minutes from the Port O’Plenty; otherwise, we’d’ve had to arrange for land portage which can be plenty o’ trouble for usens. We’s gonna take a long break here at the Port O’Plenty, probly shack up at da tavern and gets us some bruskins and some fine women to keep us warm at night!” He laughed and winked at Amanda, “Where’s you headin’ ‘lil miss?”

  Amanda shrugged and asked, “Where’s a good place to look for work?”