The Voyage

Broken

Damn this chapter's shorter than I thought it would be, yet somehow ends up being the one I take ages to write (maybe I shouldn't have pissed away my weekend on omegle...). And it didn't even turn out relatively well written... Sorry about that. God I'm actually embarrassed by it...

Warning for pretty graphic descriptions of gore and blood. Well, not really gore and blood, more injuries and things, but it's pretty graphic.

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9:55

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It turned out that Alin didn't have the strength to detach himself from Érzsebét, so they ended up entering the dining saloon together, Alin covering his face with a hand. Érzsebét considered doing the same thing, but decided against it; she wanted to keep her eyes peeled. Roderich and Franz were somewhere in here. She couldn't miss them!

No one noticed them in the crowd of a hundred or so steerage passengers gathered in the dining saloon, some waiting to see the one doctor whilst others looked for loved ones and yet more huddled on chairs and the floor, trying to warm up or come to terms with their loss. A few cried softly to themselves, others were in hysterics but most stood or sat in numb shock.

Érzsebét sat Alin down on the carpeted floor, then tried to grab the attention of the doctor. By now, most of the survivors had been seen to, so she didn't have too long to wait.

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After Érzsebét herself had been seen to, and declared perfectly healthy, if a little on the chilly side, the doctor turned his attention to Alin, and whatever on earth was wrong with his lower legs.

He removed Alin's shoes and socks, and Érzsebét recoiled in horror at the smell of blood and the red, bleeding blisters covering Alin's feet, the skin itself also red and bloated. As the doctor rolled up Alin's trousers, more swollen, discoloured skin was revealed.

"It burns," Alin whimpered, clutching the doctor's shoulder. Érzsebét leaned in closer to find his toes had turned black, and when she reached out and touched his shin, the skin was hard and waxy. And absolutely freezing. He whimpered at the contact, trying to shuffle away.

"We need to get some cold water on you immediately." The doctor stood up straight, turning to Érzsebét. "Don't worry, your husband is in good hands."

"Husband?" they both cried at the same time, horrified at the thought. But the man was already gone.

In the moments that followed, Érzsebét and Alin mentally clawed at their brains, desperately trying to find something they could use to break the awful silence.

"I'm so sorry," Érzsebét finally whispered; "I should have listened..."

"What reason would you have to listen to me?" Alin wrinkled his nose; "besides, I wanted everyone to be alive just as desperately as you did."

"They'll still be alive," Érzsebét stated automatically. Alin just sighed.

Érzsebét sat down beside him, staring at his thin socks and worn shoes lying on the floor, both riddled with tiny holes. Under normal circumstances, she would've mocked him for his threadbare clothes, but it was all too clear that Alin understood the consequences of his ragged attire. The fact that he was dangerously thin would have done him no favours in the water either. This was probably the first time in his life that his legs had been this thick.

She forced herself to look at said legs again, stretched out on the carpet and oozing blood and pus. Luckily it was the carpet in the third class dining saloon, not the first class one, otherwise someone would be sure to complain. Though when Érzsebét recalled the kindness and compassion the Carpathia's passengers had shown to the destitute, broken survivors, she had to admit they would probably not raise any objections, at the very least out of politeness.