The report is swallowed, disappears in the din.
When I remove the headset, I hear a sharp intake of breath from behind me.
There, standing just outside the half-opened door, Ephraim. Lips drawn tight. Expression inscrutable.
7
“CAN WE TRADE TEETH?” Caleb asks, placing his spoon down beside his mess kit.
“Why bother?” St. John asks. “We surely only have days left before we deliver the Last Judgment. What good will such earthly goods be to us?”
Caleb falls silent, looks down to his murky broth.
“You need not sour his spirits so,” I say. “He’s scared.”
“He should be rejoicing,” St. John says, that haughty, superior tone. “At last, our service will be rewarded.”
“Regardless,” I say, unable to keep quiet, looking at Caleb’s pale face. “It might be a… frightening time to some.”
Ephraim glances up at me. Normally, he would step in, particularly when Caleb is involved.
I tried reasoning with Ephraim after he found me in the radio room, hooking him by the arm before he could scurry off down the corridor.
“It was nothing,” I told him.
But he wouldn’t look at me. As though I was diseased, as though, just by proximity, he himself was damned.
How much had he seen?
“I was listening to music,” I said. “I had never listened before. And Brother Callum fell asleep…”
“Remy…” he said, pulling his arm away. “I don’t know what you’re up to… . I don’t want to know… but St. John does. And if he finds out, you’ll be… you’ll be in so much trouble. You know Caplain Marston… and if he finds out I knew and didn’t say anything…”
“I won’t get caught. And even if I did, the caplain won’t find out about you. Not from me,” I said, laying a hand at the center of his chest. “Promise.”
He swallowed. Finally, he looked up. Such young eyes, fearful eyes, even though he is at least three years older than me. I’d never noticed before then.
His whole body shook.
“Do you trust me?” I asked him.
And he nodded, taking in a breath.
“Things are happening. About to happen. I can’t tell you any more than that. Just… please keep trusting me. Please?”
He nodded again.
But he has remained cool toward me, even two days later. Not glancing up, and speaking little, if at all, during meals. Our usual silence punctuated somehow by a greater silence.
St. John has noticed. Of course he has.
He grins into his bowl. I can almost see the acerbic retort taking shape in his mind.
“You’ve been quiet, Ephraim,” St. John says. “I know Remy must be so tired from his nightly excursions—but you are normally not so staid.”
That grin. Sly. Devious.
I set down my spoon.
Ephraim’s eyes go wide.
St. John says, “I thought Caplain Marston was as… taken with you as old Caplain Amita, but that isn’t the case after all.”
He leaves no room for response.
“When I told him about Lazlo, about what I heard you two talking about in the balneary, he was taken aback. Dangerous ideas, Remy. I confessed to the caplain that I did fear dear Lazlo had… already corrupted your soul. He asked me to keep a close watch on you. To search for the signs of corruption.”
I fight the urge to jump across the table, to wipe the smirk from St. John’s face. I fight it with all my being.
“You two should take heed,” St. John says, nodding to Ephraim and Caleb, both of whom have been watching in tense silence. “After all, look at poor Lazlo… look where his association with Remy got him.”
How much does St. John know?
“Please, you don’t care anything about their souls,” I say. “You just care about position. You only removed Lazlo because you don’t have half his talent.”
“Jealous of that little worm,” he snaps, sitting up straight. Gives a fake, shrill laugh. But I know I’ve struck a nerve. I shouldn’t be risking an altercation. Shouldn’t risk being found out. Not so close to our final days. But I can’t help myself.
“Envious of his voice—of his position. And mine as well,” I say.
This does it.
He springs to his feet. Everyone in the mess has fallen silent. All eyes on St. John. “What I care about are the rules… and you’ve got away with breaking them too long. You think you’re special. That you’re above them. But you aren’t. I know Caplain agrees. Better keep your eyes about you, yeah? Because I think you’ve got a secret… and I’m going to find it out!”
He whispers these last, fuming words, but they are still loud enough for all in earshot to hear.
Now I’m the one who stands. The table remains between us. Everyone watching.
“Remy,” Ephraim whispers, nervous.
I brace myself, ready to fight if I need to. Ready to throw a fist, until the compartment pitches suddenly downward.
I must latch on to Ephraim’s arm to keep my balance..
We are diving. Fast.
The red bulb on the bulkhead above the hatchway begins flashing. No alarm. A flashing light means we are running silent.
“We’re being hunted,” Ephraim whispers.
Brother Aegis slides down the ladder from the main deck, rushing aft, toward the chapel. Brother Dumas follows.
“What’s going on?” St. John asks.
“Enemy vessel,” he grunts with urgency. “Think it might be a sub.”
“I thought all the subs were destroyed,” Caleb says.
“That’s what I heard Ex-Oh Goines say,” Brother Aegis says, bracing himself against the bulkhead as the downward pitch grows steeper. Ephraim and I must do the same, to keep our balance. St. John and Caleb cling onto the table as dishes and cutlery spill to the deck in an enormous clang and clatter.
“What are you waiting for? All to their stations!” the brother commands, breaking all from our stupor. The mess erupts in a quick scramble—each of the brothers rushing away. Brother Dumas has ordered Ephraim to help Brother Ernesto secure the air system. St. John is sent to the lower deck of the chapel, to check for leaks.
Then a screaming, metallic shrieking wails past the hull. A few seconds later, an explosion. The deck lurches out from beneath me. I lose my legs. Am slammed hard onto the deck face-first, rolling, sliding down the steep decline, coming to a painful stop as my shoulder jams into the forward bulkhead. Electric pain lances down my arm. Breath knocked from my lungs. Taste blood. Squiggly points of light dance before my eyes. I feel my forehead. My fingers are slick.
It’s Ephraim who lifts me up. When the ringing in my ears stops, I hear spraying water. Smell acrid fume.
He says words that I can’t seem to hear. Not at first. I read his lips.
“The pumps. Take Caleb with you!”
I nod, am already breaking away, running up the tilt, despite my blurry vision, my uncertain feet. I move against the flow of the other brothers darting to their stations. I find Caleb hiding beneath one of the tables, clinging to one of the bolted-down legs.
The pitch of the deck has leveled somewhat. Easier to walk.
I snatch up his hand and drag him along with me.
One of the mains just above us has burst, jetting a torrent of water into the compartment. Brother Aaron is already trying to patch it.
Another passing shriek in the water outside the hull. A muffled explosion, much farther away than the last. The Leviathan still resonates. Rattles. Groans.