Page 136 of The Girl Out of Time
“Wait here,” he said and started running down the hallway.
“Theo—”
“I’ll be back in a minute, I promise.”
Emmeline hugged her middle, leaned on the wall, and tried to keep her teeth from chattering. When she wasn’t focusing on something else, the cold gripping her feet became much more noticeable. She could barely feel her toes now; the ice was penetrating into her bones, spreading up her legs, whispering into her heart—the ship is going down, and all of you with it.
She shouldn’t have sent Theo into this doom. Perhaps she shouldn’t have come back, either, but she couldn’t leave now, not with her family here, possibly also struggling for their survival. She wasn’t leaving this ship without them or Theo.
Splashes sounded again as Theo returned from behind a corner, carrying with him a wrench the size of his forearm. “Watertight door in the dining room,” he explained and lodged the wrench behind the doorknob. She moved aside to leave him space for the correct grip. He pressed hard on the wrench and toward the wall, using it as leverage, and with a pop, the knob went flying off the door.
Theo nudged the door. It swung open.
“You’re a genius.” She gave him a quick kiss.
“Inside.” He let her go first. The change from the corridor was immediate—her feet met a warm, dry iron catwalk running squarely around the enclosed space. Above her, the catwalk merged into a forest of iron, the few lamps casting their shadows on the walls. But every catwalk led to a ladder, and up and up and up it went—to an exit, surely.
Theo stepped in behind her, securing her waist as he looked down, even though a simple chrome railing protected them from falling. A large metal pipe ran the length of the vent above them and dropped below into a carfuffle of machinery. Emmeline didn’t know what it all was, but there were massive levers and bolted cylinders and even more catwalks looming precariously over that machinery. What was even more terrifying, though, was the rush of water coming from below.
Much like her, Theo stared into the bowels of the ship, partially in awe, partially in fright. “I’ve never seen anything like this,” he whispered. “A ship with an engine to pull her, instead of sails. It’s outlandish.”
“Wait until you see automobiles,” she said, her mood lifting slightly now that she was in a dry, warmer space and the exit was in sight.
“What?”
“Father will explain. He makes them.” She looked at the ladder. “Shall we?”
He went over and shook it. “It’s solid. Go. I’ll be right behind.”
She stepped to the ladder. The rungs were warm, too; from the heat of the engines coming from below, perhaps. A bit slippery, but she’d watch her grip.
She grabbed the ladder, and they climbed.
Chapter 35
Will stared at the water swiveling outside the porthole above his head. He had an irrational fear the glass would break and the sea would rush through. Irrational for one because the porthole was shut tight and waterproof, and two, because the situation inside his little closet wasn’t much better. Water had been steadily pouring in through the closed door—too far away to open it and call for help—and had already reached about two feet above the floor, touching the cupboard he’d pulled himself on.
He’d tried everything with the metal cuff shackling him to the pole. It was an unusual design; no chain or lock visible, only a solid band, although he could see a tiny crack where the piece snapped together. But he couldn’t pull himself out, not even by dislocating his thumb.
His last hope, last prayer, as the icy water began to swallow his feet, was that Emmeline had found Leon, and he took care of her and got her onto a boat. He’d do that, wouldn’t he? Perhaps, if they got lucky, he could get onto a boat himself. Be there for her when Will no longer could.
He’d left his daughter angry at him, instead of hugging her, when he’d last seen her. If only he had his watch now, to travel back just for this, to tell her all would be well and that he loved her.
Something banged on the door, shaking him out of his thoughts. “Hello?”
“Will?” a feminine voice outside said. Who, still on the ship, would call him by his name?
The door splintered as the edge of a hatchet buried through it. Two, three more hits, enough to make a crack a few inches wide. A face appeared behind it. “Will!”
He blinked, unsure if he was hallucinating. “Emily?”
“Holy shit. You weren’t joking!” Her face retracted, and she hit the door with the hatchet again. “Give me a second. I can’t open it because of the water.”
This couldn’t be real. He was dead already, surely, or well on his way there because there was no chance Emily was on theTitanic.
“What are you doing here?”
“Reenacting at least two movies, apparently.” She grunted as she hit the door again, then kicked at it, until she’d made a gap large enough to squeeze through.
