Authors: Amanda Lance
Chapter 8
W
hen I woke up, the feeling of confinement overtook me. I had the need to open a window or a door, but there was no way to relieve the stuffiness of the room. Everything felt stiff and recycled, like it had been dug up and buried time and time again. I needed to breathe fresh air—I needed to get out.
Of course Charlie didn’t have a clock anywhere, and I neglected to charge the laptop, so I didn’t have any sense of what time it was. However, by the sounds of silence in the hall, I guessed it was still night. I traded my soiled tank top for my clean t-shirt and put on the denim jacket Charlie had left behind. I wondered if he did it on purpose, but tried not to put too much thought into it. I decided I would only go out for a minute—just one minute, sixty seconds, then retreat to the safety of the cabin. I knelt in front of the plastic crate and looked around for something to cover my face. In the second drawer it was easy enough to find a couple of ball caps. I picked the cleanest one I could find, which seemed to be one that was never worn.
I unlocked the door and cautiously looked both ways before taking the route to the deck that Charlie had showed me the day before. The fluorescent lighting hurt my eyes at first, but I kept my head down and propped the collar of the jacket up to keep my face covered. While it was obvious I wasn’t a member of the crew, I hoped I could at least blend in a little bit should the situation call for it.
I kept my pace steady as I made it through the final stairwell to the deck. I could smell the salt of the ocean and limestone being unloaded nearby. Taking a moment to breathe it in, I never imagined I could feel so happy from such a simple combination. My pleasure was easily broken up, however, as I leaned against the deck entry door and heard laughter and the voices of people I didn’t recognize speaking something I didn’t understand. I can’t say that it didn’t scare the hell out of me—I unexpectedly couldn’t breathe. I was being a complete idiot. Did they have brigs like they did in those old war movies? Would anyone understand me when I tried to explain I was here against my will? I tried to think of the Chinese equivalent for taken or stolen and translated the verb, but my head wouldn’t work properly.
With the voices coming closer, I pushed myself onto the deck. Although it was still dark, thin tufts of pink were floating on the horizon, pushing their way upward. I must not have slept long…I felt the chill of the sea and the night instantly. It was both wonderful and overwhelming at the same time. I took a few steps forward and saw a door latch marked
Safety Equipment
in English and maybe ten other languages, marked like so many other doors with stenciled numbers and penciled lines. Inside I found an oil-stained life vest that I put on, if for nothing else than it would add to my disguise.
I couldn’t see anyone around me, although on the other side of the deck I could see welding sparks and hear more voices. When the wind blew I could smell some kind of chemicals in the air that made me gag. I closed my arms around myself and took a few steps forward. I didn’t want to be too far away from the door in case someone spotted me and I needed to make a quick getaway. But the closer I got to the sea, the more I wanted to see the morning waves. The pink in the sky gave way to shades of yellow and orange, each lovely in their own respect. They took out the dark of the night and those pearly stars like they were made of nothing.
My family had never been big beach-goers, but when we had gone, I was the one crazy for the water. Even now I watched the miniature waves collide with the side of the boat. It fascinated me that they would still be here, millions of years from now, long after we were gone and this misadventure was through. I sighed and rubbed my temples. Where would I be when all of this was said and done? Where would Charlie be?
I dismissed the image from my head, but it kept popping in there, reappearing when I least wanted it to. It was his fault I was here in the first place and that I had nearly been killed. I couldn’t justify that no matter how sweet he had been to me over the last couple of days. Even he had stated that if he’d really had to, he might very well have killed me, sparing me originally only because I was a girl. Still, I had to acknowledge the way he made me laugh and made my stomach flip-flop. I understood he was a thief and that I would probably be psychologically damaged to some extent because of him, but I couldn’t help but care about him. As long as no one else was hurt, I truly didn’t want him to be punished for abducting me.
Morning set in easily, as though the night had never been, and as much as I hated to leave, I remembered what Charlie said about the morning being one of the busiest times of the day. Sure enough, just as I was crossing over to the other side of the deck, Polo and another deckhand came around the corner.
I swore to myself and leaned against a wall with an arrow that pointed to something called
Hold 6 & 7
. I made a mental note to research ship terminology if and when I ever got the chance. Polo was laughing his Polo laugh, and I had to smile because I had the feeling that Charlie was right—I couldn’t even begin to imagine Polo hurting anyone.
“Addie, Addie, Addie, Addie!” Once I heard his voice I knew I had been caught.
“Hi, Polo.”
He jumped in front of me, bouncing on his heels. “I thought that was you!”
I shushed him. “Hey, keep it down.” I looked over his shoulder, but whoever he was with must have gone the other way.
“Oh, right!” He mimicked my whisper but continued to bounce. I was nervous his behavior might draw some very unwanted attention in my direction. I had to admit that without Charlie around, I was more than uncomfortable about my safety. However, most of the deckhands were on the other side of the deck and seemed rather preoccupied with their work, so I tried not to fret. Despite his erratic movement, I could still see the dirt and grit all over Polo’s face and clothing—it was actually kind of hard to miss.
“Um…what were you doing just now?” I reached and swiped a smear from his safety helmet. Sure enough the new dirt on my fingers smelled like Charlie when he came up from the basement the other day.
“Doing stuff in the engine room. I’m going now to make breakfast for the crew. Oh! Come with me!”
I thought about sitting in the cabin all day long and being stuck with my thoughts of Charlie; I shuddered. “Sure, Polo. Why not?”
Although he didn’t spell it out, I understood that the galley wasn’t supposed to be open before seven in the morning when breakfast was ready. And while the shipping company’s employees ate in the mess hall, Charlie and the rest of the unofficial crew ate in the galley. A second meal was cooked by noon and another around five in the evening. I could see that the main food supplies were stored in a large industrial freezer and refrigerator just below the galley. Next to them were rooms that served as pantries with industrial sized cans of fruit, vegetables, some dried meats, and oils for cooking.
It was explained to me, though, that if you wanted something special, you had to bring it yourself and label it or else someone would consume it in a heartbeat.
“The guys say they don’t know what I’m talking about, but I think they’re lying to me. I think they’re messing with me.” Polo was bouncing, telling me about the snack cake conspiracy that all those around him seemed to be in on.
“I’m sure they’re not eating your food on purpose.” It was taking all of my strength to hoist the huge industrial-sized skillet from a cupboard.
“I was hiding the last box of cupcakes in my room, under dirty coveralls!”
I stifled a laugh, but it was difficult and it came out more like a snort. I recalled the Twinkie outside the cabin door and laughed outright.
I tried to figure out what to do next when Polo began emptying liquid eggs in the skillet. The aluminum pan was visibly abused, scratched and dented from maltreatment.
“Hey there, Polo?”
“Yeah? Yeah? Yeah?”
“Did you cook yesterday?”
He threw his head back and forth violently. “Duh! That’s my job!”
I tried to approach the subject delicately. “Um, why don’t you take a little break and let me help you out today?”
Before he could answer, I took the skillet and dumped the contents in a mixing bowl. I then put some much needed cooking spray in the empty pan and set it to low heat.
“Ah!” He smacked himself in the head. “I always forget that part!”
I laughed. “That’s okay. At least you managed to turn on the oven. That’s further than my Dad or brother would have gotten.”
I sighed. It had been a couple of years, but maybe I could pretend this was summer camp and this was the same sort of homesickness I was feeling.
Concentrating on the egg batter, I whisked it with some salt, pepper, and milk, feeling the beginning of an idea sprout in my brain.
“Hey, Polo, are there any open cans of vegetables in the fridge?”
He ran from the room screaming, “Time me! Time me!”
Seven seconds later he came back with the two large open cans, left again, and returned in eight seconds with another can.
“How’d I do, Addie?”
I just nodded at the clock and started scooping in diced tomatoes. “Nice.”
After some broccoli, cheese, mushrooms, and cloves, I even found the lid for the skillet that Polo claimed had been M.I.A. forever so the food might stay warm without burning. It felt good to accomplish something for the first time in several days, even if it was only making eggs, and I felt revitalized enough to try something bold.
“Polo, where are we right now exactly?”
He shrugged and started whistling some loud tune. “Beats me. Ben keeps track of all of that stuff.”
The mention of Ben Walden unsettled me a little. I had gotten the impression he was a ringleader, and if what Yuri had said was true about throwing me overboard, then it was surely the logic of a leader that had promoted the idea. I struggled with several breaths when I remembered how cordial and polite he had been at our first meeting, but it was clear that Ben Walden would kill without reservation if the situation required it. It was frightening how completely different two sides of the same coin could be.
“You guys all take jobs around here, right?” I grabbed the broom and dust pan and started sweeping the floor.
Polo jumped on the table and used it as a step to get to some hanging pipes. From there he started doing pull-ups. “Yup. Yup. Yup.”
“What do Charlie and Ben do?”
“Oh! Right, Charlie works with the guys in steering. He makes maps and stuff to drive around the Coast Guard check point. He’s real good at it ‘cause he’s good at drawing. Ben does business things with the inventory, ours and other people’s. Reid is like an electrician, and Yuri is a mechanic for stuff in the engine room. I’m just a steward, but I’ve got my projects in the engine room.”
“What kind of projects, Polo?” I emptied the dust pan full of dirt and tried to remain nonchalant, but the answer to this question was important and I had a feeling it had to do with the noises I’d heard coming from the basement and the smells I couldn’t place.
He jumped from the table onto the floor and tried to skid across. “I’m not supposed to talk about it, but if Charlie says you’re okay, then you’re okay. Come on!” Without any warning he grabbed me by the hand and yanked me out the doors. The most frightening part of this was that he wasn’t as cautious as Charlie. The sudden pull on my arm hurt my shoulder immensely, though he hadn’t intended me harm.
As we descended a staircase, painted yellow for caution, I pulled back on Polo and held onto the ramp for leverage.
“Polo! Hold on a second! Stop!” I practically had to yell over his incessant whistling.
“What now?” He seemed genuinely confused and even a little hurt. I almost felt bad for my harsh tone.
“What would happen if I was caught as a stowaway, Polo?”
His foot tapped the ground impatiently. “Well, unless Ben said so, the Captain would probably have you locked in the confessional until we made port. But it’s cool because Charlie just gave everybody a pay out to make sure that doesn’t happen.”
I swallowed hard. There were so many questions I hardly knew where to begin. “Wh-what are you talking about, Polo?” I thought about the way Charlie had avoided answering my question about the consequences of being found aboard the ship, but on every other subject he had been frank and honest with me. What was so horrific about being a stowaway that he thought he couldn’t tell me about?