- 14 -
Jackson Fawkes needed to believe there was at least one person on the ship who had it worse than he did. Otherwise, he would be unable to pull himself from bed each morning. Being one of the ship's firemen meant 12 hours of hard, thankless labor a day in sweltering heat and dirty air. More than enough to break any man's will. So each night he found himself selfishly praying for someone else's misfortune.
On the HEMS Colossal's second day at sea, Jackson woke up before the morning bell. The consequence of passing out early the night before. The firemen always had a few days off while the ship was anchored. Like most of his fellow workers, he spent the shore leave on booze and hired companionship. He didn't know if he had gone too wild on his days off or if he was getting old, but his first full shift back had ruined him.
Jackson scrubbed himself off in the communal wash basin, then stumbled off to the crew dining hall hoping his exhaustion was a one-night problem. Aside from the kitchen staff, he was the first person to arrive. This left him with his pick of seating and a mind-numbing wait while breakfast was prepared. Over time, more men filtered in and the food was served.
The meal itself was fantastic. The last days of a ship's journey often saw meals turn scant and repetitive as the food stores emptied. Now, in the first days of the Colossal's two-week journey to Eden, breakfast was varied and hearty. Exactly what he needed to survive 12 hours of shoveling coal.
The first few hours of Jackson's shift came easy, not that there was much to screw up. Scoop coal, turn around, add it to the fire, and repeat. He tightened his grip on the shovel's handle as he plunged it deep into the pile of coal spilling from a hatch in the wall. A cloud of black dust puffed up and joined with the byproducts of each previous shovelful to make the air thick. Jackson looked up through crisscrossing catwalks at the massive wall. It stretched up three decks high. Identical walls separated each line of boilers; hollow inside and stocked with so much coal they never ran dry, even after weeks of nonstop shoveling. He imagined what it would be like to stand inside of one while it was empty.
"You good, Fawkes?"
Jackson turned to the voice. The worker standing at the next boiler over slid a shovelful of coal into the mouth of the furnace. "You look out of it."
The man had boarded in Britannia for his first trip the day before. A fresh fireman with a young face and no arms to speak of. That would change fast. He seemed like a nice enough kid, though. Last name was Briggs; Jackson never got his first.
"Just gettin' old lad."
Jackson tossed the coal from the tip of his shovel into the flaming opening at his side. The boiler shot out a breath so hot the world twisted and distorted around it. He looked up at its massive structure. Thousands of gallons of seawater boiled away behind that black steel, all thanks to him and his fellow firemen. The ship wouldn't move an inch without them feeding the flames day and night. Jackson threw another scoop to the inferno inside.
Hungry bastard.
"Hey, Briggs."
"Yessir?"
Jackson stabbed his shovel into the black pile leaking from the wall so that it stood straight up. "I'm headed up for a few minutes. If the foreman comes round let him know I just went for a piss."
"Don't take too long. I'm still new. Don't need him chewing my ass out for letting you leave."
Jackson patted the man's shoulder as he walked past. "I'll squeeze extra hard just for you, lad."
He climbed the ladders through each layer of catwalks; three levels up to reach the bulkhead door. Stepping through into cool air he felt an instant chill on his skin where the sweat had pooled for hours. In terms of heat, the boilers gave even Hell a run for its money. He didn't look forward to heading back down. Maybe he should take his time to relieve himself. But he had made a promise to the kid, so he hurried off to the nearest gents' room.
With his bladder empty and his hands washed, Jackson headed back to work. He paused for a minute at the bulkhead door, dreading the heat he was about to step into. But when he finally made his way inside he was surprised. The heat wasn't as overbearing as he imagined. Still sweltering by any normal person's standards, but to him, it almost felt cool. Something was off.
This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.
He tried to put the strange feeling to the back of his mind, but as he made his way down the first ladder he was struck by the sound of the room. The familiar hiss of steam moving through pipes. The low roar of raging fires. But the rhythmic clink of shovels was missing entirely. His heartbeat filled the vacant space.
Jackson hurried down the remaining ladders to find the shovel line empty. The long hall between the massive boilers and the coal feed had half a dozen men hard at work when he left. Ten minutes ago, at most. Now, he was alone. There was nowhere for the men to hide down here. He knew that, yet he stepped forward as if he could find them by walking the length of the corridor.
He only made it as far as Briggs' station when his foot splashed against a puddle. Was one of the boilers leaking? He looked down to find his boot sole deep in a thick red liquid. His mind spun as he considered its origin. A large black feather floated down in front of him, distracting him from the thought. A short-lived mercy.
The feather landed in the puddle. Deep black against the bright red liquid. Jackson's mind brought images of ravens. Or maybe crows; he never could tell the difference. Except neither could be the source. He was deep below deck on an ocean liner out to sea. There were no birds here.
Jackson swallowed hard, then looked up. A black shadow rushed down at him from above. He tried to jump back but the dark shape crashed into his legs. He hit the deck hard. A throbbing spread from the back of his head followed shortly by a sharp pain in his left thigh. He leaned forward to find a scaled foot, like that of a bird, resting on his leg. Its talons pierced deep into his flesh.
His eyes traced up across the creature pinning him in place. Six, maybe seven feet tall and shrouded in black feathers. Its body a cheap bastardization of the human form. Feathered arms ended in the same sharp claws as its legs. Massive wings at the beast's back beat against the air sending a cooling wind at his prone body.
Panic gripped Jackson as he faced an infinite array of the unknown. What was this thing? Where did it come from? How would he get away? He didn't know. All he was sure of was this thing would kill him if he didn't fight, so he began to struggle.
The creature reared its head and drove its beak down at Jackson. He rolled his torso to the side and the beak passed behind his back to plink against the metal floor. Jackson brought his arm back down, landing his elbow across the back of the bird's neck. The strike dazed the youkai enough that he was able to grab its foot, still buried deep in his thigh, and lift it away. Rolling the creature off of him, he tried to think of an escape plan. His mind screamed a single word over and over.
Run!
Jackson burst forward, grasping for the ladder to the catwalks, but the first step on his bad leg sent him crashing to the ground. His thigh had been reduced to mince meat wrapped around bone. There was no chance he could outrun a monster in this state. His only option was to fight. Inch by inch, he crawled forward. If he could only reach his station. Reach the shovel he had pierced into the coal pile. He stretched his hand out, fingers tantalizingly close to the handle. Just a little further and he could...
Jackson recoiled as the creature landed hard on his back. He was pinned down. Any movement would cut long gashes in his back as he pulled against the razor-sharp talons buried deep within him.
But if you're going to die anyway.
Jackson lunged forward. His back turned warm and wet but he was able to wrap his hand around the shovel. With every ounce of strength he could muster, he swung the flat end at the youkai above him.
A dull thud echoed and the wooden handle shattered raining splinters down on him. The blade of the shovel struck the beast across the skull and it slumped to the side. He dragged himself from its grip and struggled toward the ladder.
Jackson suspected one of his lungs had collapsed. It was getting harder to pull air by the second. The heat and the coal dust already made breathing difficult enough. Was the climb to the top even possible in this condition? It didn't matter. Staying here would be a death sentence.
He pulled himself up one rung at a time, pausing after each one to collect strength for the next effort. As he reached the first catwalk he could hear the monster stirring. He was running out of time but no amount of fear could will his body to move faster. He was at his limit. When he reached the second catwalk the click of talons on steel caught his ear. The sinister beating of wings sent his body trembling; a waste of his dwindling strength. Before he reached the final catwalk the youkai flew up and perched on the railing.
The bird's head twitched to the side and it looked down at him in curiosity. He returned the gaze, hoping that the creature had played with him enough and gotten bored. Prayed that it might just let him pass. He pulled himself up onto the catwalk and tried to crawl to the bulkhead door.
Talons dug into his shoulder and dragged him to his feet. With the flapping of demon wings, the creature took off, lifting him into the air with it. They hovered above the massive boilers that pushed the ship forward. From above he could see the way their tops tapered at 45 degrees toward the exhaust stacks. Years of stoking the flames and this was the first time he had noticed the shape.
Jackson laughed.
The creature held his body out and let go. He crashed hard into the boiler back first. The searing hot metal cooked his flesh on contact. His skin peeled away as he began to slide, revealing fresh meat to be cooked and ripped away. Picking up speed, Jackson whipped off the end of the boiler and fell, crashing chest first into a catwalk, then sliding off to the floor below.
Pain coursed through every inch of his body; his flesh melted, his muscles torn, and his bones broken. Fighting anymore would be pointless. It was over. All he could do was lay there and wait for the end. As he watched the youkai fly back down and perch atop him a dark thought crossed his mind. In his exhaustion, he had fallen asleep the night before without praying that someone's life was worse than his. It was a coincidence, of course. He knew that wasn't why all of this had happened. But as the youkai drove its beak through his heart, Jackson Fawkes found himself praying that someone, anyone, would have it worse than he did.