Harold Lowe has managed to claw his way up the career ladder of the British merchant marines, rising from a ship's boy to a master mariner with one of the world's elite passenger lines. Along the way, he's learned to master not only his craft, but...
In this chapter, although Corrine's heartache continues, she finally decides to take matters into her own hands...
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Corrine was chasing Harry through the clouds, bounding in giant leaps as she sought to overtake him. She could hear his laugh trailing out behind him as he flew just in front of her, effortlessly avoiding her grasp. He was tantalizingly close, just out of her reach... if she could only make her leaden body move faster, she could catch him at last. But she felt as if she were running in slow motion through molasses, and try as she might, she couldn't quite touch him.
Just as she was about to give up, he finally turned around to face her - and her blood turned to ice in her veins. His eyes were bright red, lit by flames that burned from within. He sneered, and she could see the outline of sharp, elongated canines in his mouth as he drew closer.
'It's over, Corrine..." he taunted her, and then laughed maniacally as his mouth opened wider to swallow her whole...
She sat bolt upright in bed, gasping for air.
The room around her was still quiet. A gray dawn crept through the windows of the hospital, the light barely touching the shiny tile floor. Slowly, she let her gaze travel up and down the rows of beds and their occupants, reassuring herself of their solidity, their permanence. Even the antiseptic smell in the air was a godsend. It meant that she was in the world of reality, and not in that nightmare landscape she had just fled.
Shuddering uncontrollably, she pulled her knees up to her chest and wrapped her arms around them. She couldn't get the image of Harry's hate-filled eyes out of her mind. She wondered briefly if her dream meant that she was afraid of him, but quickly dismissed the idea as ridiculous. No, it was her grief that threatened to devour her, not Harry. And it was his cruel dismissal of her, that phrase echoing over and over in her head, that haunted her waking and sleeping mind.
Taking deep breaths, she was gradually able to get her trembling body under control, although the effort left her feeling hollow and weak. She lay back down again, but forced her eyes to stay open - she didn't want to risk falling back to sleep and possibly reliving that horror. As the room slowly came to life around her, she stared at the ceiling and indulged in yet another childish fantasy: a wish for a magic potion that would take away her pain and make her forget everything.
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Her gloomy reverie was interrupted right after morning rounds by a middle-aged woman with a warm smile who looked Corrine over with a practiced eye. "Oh, you're tiny!" she exclaimed by way of greeting. "Hold on - I'll be right back." Mildly curious despite herself, Corrine waited, wondering what she was about.
The woman returned after a few minutes, carrying a small suitcase. "I'm from the Red Cross. We're distributing necessities to all the steerage survivors, and I wanted to make sure I chose the right sizes for you," she explained. She opened the suitcase, showing Corrine two brand new dresses, a pair of shoes, a hat, and several toiletry items. She then handed her a small envelope. "There's also a hundred dollars, to help you get settled."
