Hell, p.13
Hell, page 13
“You’re soaking wet, what happened?”
“I got splashed by a wave.” She replied, refusing to meet his eyes. Dobra scanned the calm horizon, raising an eyebrow, but saying no more.
Sobering up, she recalled her reason for coming here in the first place, “What can you tell me about the African man with the thick accent onboard the ship? Dressed in bright, colorful clothes.”
Dobra looked bemused, “Are you sure you’re alright?”
“Just tell me!” She yelled, quite uncharacteristically, not at all in the mood to play games.
“Well, I’d love to, Tatiana. However there is no one aboard this ship matching that description.”
She was taken aback. Of all the responses she imagined, this was not one of them.
“But, I saw him, surely you’ve seen him. He was on the deck today!” Agitation growing within her.
“Please, calm yourself child, I was present at embarkation, and I saw every one of my passengers, and no such man was among them.”
“Well, maybe he was smuggled aboard, like we were.”
“Not under my protection, he wasn’t, and that is the only way anyone gets on my ship illegally.” He looked so serious, Tat decided to abandon the issue.
“My apologies Dobra.”
“None needed, I just hope you are okay. Sea sickness affects everyone differently, I’ve even heard of elaborate hallucinations. Just in case, I’ll have my crew keep an eye out. If there is a strange man onboard, I’d like to find him too, okay?” He reached out and patted her knee reassuringly. His smile was infectious, she couldn’t help returning it.
“Okay, thank you, I’ll be going now.” As she started to rise, her unsteady knees gave out beneath her. Dobra caught her, returning her to the chair.
“Sit a while longer, until your head clears.”
He went back to steering the ship which had drifted perilously close to shore during the whole ordeal. Despite his back being turned towards her, his voice reached her in a tense whisper.
“Did you find it?”
She knew he meant the photograph, “Yes.”
“Good, keep it safely hidden and don’t lose it. If Yurgis finds it, it will cost me my life,” she touched the picture in the pocket of her robe. “I regret I cannot tell you anything about it. I made a promise I cannot break.”
“Dobra, what is going to happen to me? What is he planning?!” She pleaded, desperate for answers.
His face twisted into a confluence of conflicting emotions. For a moment she thought he might tell her. In the end fear won out.
“I am sorry Tatiana, I have reached the limits of what I am willing to do to aid you. You must fight this battle alone. Where you are going, I cannot follow.”
Though this frustrated her to no end, it was true; this was between her and Yurgis. She couldn’t ask anyone else to risk their life for her, not after all the death she’d caused.
“You’re right Dobra, it is my battle… and it’s one I intend to win.”
Why did she say that? It certainly wasn’t how she felt. Her father was an invincible opponent whose evil knew no bounds. Even though the words felt hollow, they served to ignite a fire within her, however faint, and she resolutely exited the wheelhouse.
As much as she wished to avoid it, she knew she had to make a last trip to that hateful room. If she was being forced to endure this terrible life, she would find a safer place to sleep. That necessitated fetching her gear, and perhaps a blanket.
The layout of the ship was quickly becoming familiar to her, and she was able to find her way back to their room without difficulty or incident. Though, in her heart, each step she took towards that place brought her closer to despair as her mind obsessively confronted her fragmented recollection of the last three days…
Her swollen eye, pulsating with pain, brought her back to grim reality. Compared to many of the punishments meted out by his hands, she’d gotten off relatively easy. Next time she might not be so lucky; she had to find refuge.
Approaching cautiously, she knelt and listened. Unless the situation demanded it, Yurgis was not normally a quiet man; if he was in there she would know straight away. Detecting no break in the silence, she reached up to turn the knob before noticing the door was slightly ajar, lock and door jamb damaged like it had been kicked in. Pushing gently, it swung open...
The room was in shambles. Someone had broken in and ransacked the place. It had already been trashed from the drunken debauchery of their captivity, now it was truly destroyed. All the furnishings were broken apart, the mattresses, pulled off the bunks and slit open, the lock on the foot locker that held the bulk of their possessions, smashed. They had obviously been looking for something.
Her first thought was of the Dark Man. What could she have that he would want? Was it Yurgis’ gold? That made no sense, why the effort to keep her alive if all he sought was coin?
She cautiously ventured into the room, stepping gingerly to avoid shards of broken glass. Through a hazy flash of lost time, she received a vision of Yurgis shattering an empty vodka bottle on the edge of the table, threatening her with the jagged end as she cowered naked in the corner.
Her stomach, already uneasy, twisted and rankled at the smell in the room, causing her to double over, heaving and gagging. Thankfully her guts were already quite empty. Several moments of agonized concentration and the worst of her nausea passed.
She noticed a large stain on the carpet and knelt down to examine it… blood. Her broken memory offered no explanation as to its origin. Reaching down, pressing her fingers to the stain, they came away tacky. It was fresh, not more than an hour old by her reckoning.
Something was wrong here.
Recoiling, instantly alarmed, like how prey must feel moments before the predator’s strike, she rushed to the locker in a state of severe agitation, throwing open the top. All her possessions, emptied out of her pack and strewn about the floor. Gathering up as much as could be easily found, she stuffed it all into her bag, certain that any second whoever did this would return to finish the job.
The relative silence of the cabin was pierced by the unmistakable sound of gunshots coming from somewhere close by, startling her so badly she nearly jumped out of her skin.
Run! Her instincts commanded.
She’d already turned towards the door before her mind had a chance to intercede. They’re shooting out there, stay here where they’ve already searched. Yurgis is obviously their target anyway!
After a moment’s hesitation, she crawled under the lower bunk, pulling her pack after her to further block herself from view.
For a tense forty minutes, she cowered, a bundle of unwavering attention. After the initial flurry of gunfire, no more shots were heard. Was Yurgis dead? Had the authorities caught up with them? Or was her father the one firing? He didn’t possess a gun as far as she knew, having left the dead lawman’s looted rifle at Dobra’s to be properly disposed of, but she had no doubt in his ability to obtain one. Or maybe it was her mysterious savior. Her mind wrestled with the possibilities.
Just as she decided to quit her hiding spot, she heard voices in the hallway.
“Check the room again, she has to be around here somewhere.”
“Yes sir!”
She froze as someone entered. All she could see was a pair of jackboots slowly pace the room. She was a sitting duck…
Please, please, please, please, she repeated in her mind, trying to wish him away. Holding her breath as he stood directly before the bed, so close she could’ve touched him…
After ten breathless seconds, the boots, shined with unmistakable military precision, moved back towards the door and she breathed a silent sigh.
“She isn’t in there sir.”
“Did you check under the bed, corporal?”
“No, sir.”
No! She’d been so close to avoiding detection.
A face appeared at the crack.
“She’s here! Hey, I got her!”
Lashing out like a wounded animal in its den, kicking savagely as the man attempted to lay hands on her. In the end it took three stout men to drag out and subdue her, forced onto her stomach, hands behind her back and handcuffed. A bony knee on the back of her neck, grinding her face into the filthy carpet as she gasped for breath.
She was forcibly escorted to a cabin on the lower decks and left there with an armed guard at the door. Before leaving they unlocked one of her cuffs, securing her to the radiator. There was no way she could escape. All there was to do was sit upon the floor, head in her hands, fearing what was to become of her.
The way she saw it, there were two scenarios as to how this could play out. Either Yurgis had been captured as well and they would be taken back to Prussia to stand trial, or she was being used as bait to lure Yurgis out; in which case he would kill them all to get to her. How had the authorities even known they were onboard?
After ten minutes the door opened and Dobra stepped in, face bearing a tense grimace. It didn’t take a genius to put two and two together.
“You betrayed us!” She emphatically accused him.
Dobra seemed flustered, “No, I betrayed him. He can’t be allowed to achieve his goals. There is a fair sight more at stake here than you realize. I made a deal, in return for my assistance in apprehending the infamous Yurgis Stannek, you are to be exonerated of any wrongdoing and released into my custody…”
“That’s only if we succeed in apprehending the infamous Yurgis Stannek,” a portly man in an officious dress-uniform swept into the room, interrupting Dobra. “If not, she hangs for certain. And that is looking increasingly likely as the man in question has eluded us quite masterfully.”
“Dammit Lieutenant, stop scaring her. He has to be somewhere on the ship, he wouldn’t leave the girl.” Dobra replied.
The officer knelt down, seizing the chain around her neck. Roughly pulling it over her head, he let it dangle before her face, the cross slowly swaying like a hypnotist’s pendulum.
“Possession of stolen goods. This alone could get you six years.”
“That wasn’t stolen!” She shot back.
The officer squeaked out a smarmy chuckle, “Nicholas the second, I believe the two of you have met, has been rather put out since this little treasure disappeared from the Summer Palace in Moscow. Seems it has been in the family for nearly a thousand years. As I recall, a substantial portion of the treasury went missing around the same time as well.” He fixed her with a hawkish glare.
Oh no.
Her lips sealed shut, any thought of reply, abandoned. Now was not the time for words, now was the time for silence and ignorance. This wasn’t at all about the murders as she’d originally suspected. Seems the police knew far more than she gave them credit for. That must’ve been what they were looking for in their cabin. The officer stuffed the chain in his pocket and stood, dusting off his white-gloved hands.
“One way or another, he will stand trial. The Czar is seeking to extradite Yurgis back to Russia for execution. Now as to where you stand, we cannot let you go. However, if you cooperate with us in the arrest and agree to testify against him, I will personally petition the court for leniency.”
Dobra stepped in, “That wasn’t our agreement, she was to be released, can’t you see she’s suffered enough? She’s a pawn in all this, without blame.”
“You are in no position to demand anything, Smuggler, you will be lucky if you get out of this without a noose around your neck as well.”
The smuggler grunted in frustration, holding his tongue.
He turned back to her, “Think it over, we have a legendary criminal to catch.” Driving Dobra before him, the pair exited the room, locking her in once again.
She cursed under her breath, they weren’t giving her much of a choice. Either hang, or testify against her father, which was as good as a death sentence anyway. Not only did she have complete confidence in his ability to elude capture, but also zero confidence in any prisons ability to hold him.
Despite her reticence, she had to admit it would be liberating to play a part in bringing him to justice. If she could overcome her shame and take the stand, looking squarely in the eyes of the man who had brutalized her more times than she could count. Condemning him to death with her detailed testimony of his heinous crimes…
Suddenly, something was wrong. It came upon her with frightening speed, like a fog over her senses. Her heart rate rapidly increased for no apparent reason, making her light headed. Her first thought was that they’d drugged her somehow. She couldn’t get enough air into her lungs, the edges of her vision darkening as she seemed to retreat down a long tunnel. In the end she could fight it no longer, forced to capitulate unto the abyss of unconsciousness…
A darkened room, lit by a fire from a massive hearth. Seated directly before her at a heavy work table sat a woman Tat immediately recognized. In their previous encounter, she’d been richly attired and immaculately clean, the consummate artist; now dressed in grimy work clothes, red hair restrained in a severe braid, pale skin streaked with grease as she tinkered with a complex-looking piece of machinery.
As if realizing that she wasn’t alone, she abruptly stopped, raising her head and looking about, vibrant green eyes coming to rest on Tat.
“You’re not supposed to be here, my dear.”
To her surprise, she found herself answering, “I don’t even know where here is.”
Instead of replying, the Red Woman raised her hand and in a swirling rush of light they were transported to the shore of a vast inland sea, a tiny dock jutted out into the murky water to which a little rowboat was moored.
“Where are we?”
“The lower astral plane, where all dreaming minds go.”
“So I am dreaming then?”
“Dreams can be useful tools, but when they consume a life, one becomes trapped in a prison of their own devising. In the end all that is required is to wake up.”
“What?”
“Wake up…”
Tat snapped back to reality, nearly stumbling in the act of taking a step…
She was in the hallway.
Looking down she could see one remaining cuff still on her wrist. The chain had been violently snapped, one warped and broken link still dangling. How in the world did she get out here? Moments before she’d been chained up in a locked and guarded room.
She uncurled the painfully clenched fingers of her other hand, bewildered at the sight of the silver crucifix and chain. She slipped it over her head, tucking it into her cassock with a profound sigh of relief. When it touched her skin she could’ve sworn it hummed with a barely perceivable warmth...
Peering out of a porthole and judging by the water level, she reckoned she was on one of the lower decks. Though what truly surprised her was the approaching sunset; several hours had passed! Unsettled, she turned back, hoping to retrace her steps. Venturing down the hall, paying close attention, searching for any clue as to what was going on.
Rounding the first corner, she nearly tripped over the officious lieutenant who had threatened her. His head was twisted nearly all the way around, neck, horrifically broken. She cried out, recoiling with such force that she fell backwards onto the ground. Could she have done this? In her heart of hearts she didn’t think it possible, although her possession of the silver crucifix seemed sufficiently damning evidence. She doubled over, fighting off a wave of nausea.
A scuffling sound behind caused Tat to whirl, stealing a glimpse of colorful fabric disappearing around a corner.
It was him, the Dark Man...
She took off running in the direction he went, intent on tracking him down. Rounding corner after corner, catching only the barest hint of his shadow. After several more blind turns, it became obvious that she’d lost the trail. How was he so fast?
Judging by the intensifying rumble and vibration, she guessed that the engine room was close by. She emerged through a port into a central corridor, discovering four more dead bodies. They hadn’t been dead long, the flies just beginning to discover them. Their harsh buzzing set her nerves on edge. Spent bullet casings littered the deck, but each of the officer’s throats were cut. This had to be Yurgis’ doing.
She stepped lightly to avoid disturbing the dead, extreme shock managing to hold her chaotic emotional equilibrium in check. So much blood, its iron-tinged scent triggering another bout of nausea; it was amazing how much of the ruddy ichor a body contained. Looking upon their faces, frozen in time into grim death masks, she thought of their families. The people waiting for them to come home. Wives and children, doomed to wait forever. Such overwhelming sadness at seeing their pathetic shells vacated, all potential lost.
A troubling feeling washed over her, resembling deja vu at first, then intensifying dramatically...
She’d been here before.
Well, not here exactly, more of a mirror image, a situation, from a forgotten nightmare. Her ears began buzzing, vision blurring as the hallway faded altogether. In its place, a cave tunnel, torch lit, strewn with dead. All appeared empirically real, down to the damp smell of underworld lichen.
Highly disoriented, she continued down the hall, uncontrollably slipping back and forth between what she assumed was reality, and these hallucinatory visions. The only constant being the sense of dread that hung over her. A small, nagging voice that asserted that she already knew how this story ended, and it would not be happily ever after…
This was it. After all these years, the fear, stress and anxiety had finally broken her mind, she was going insane. First, she blacked out without even having a drink, now she was seeing visions. Squeezing her eyes shut, hoping against hope that she could will herself back to sanity, that she could force these uncomfortable feelings back down into the depths of herself.
She opened her eyes, cautiously optimistic as normality appeared to be restored. It was strange to be considering a hallway full of corpses normal, but at the moment she had to cling to whatever she could. Continuing down the hall, stepping over the body of a young man, his face tranquil in death…
