So cold . . .
***
There was a moment, a moment that seemed frozen in time, in which Mary didn't move and her art supplies hung in the air. In this moment, the ship stopped advancing towards the iceberg, which lay straight ahead. And then the moment passed, with the clattering of the supplies as they hit the deck. Oh, so slowly, the massive ship began to turn towards the left.
Mary, her mouth in the shape of an "O", wrestled with thoughts. Would the ship make it? Would it turn in time? What would happen if it didn't? The safest ship in the world . . . Mary pressed herself against a wall, fighting a sudden urge to be sick. Slowly, tantalizingly, the ship continued its spin.
Glancing from the ship to the tower of ice, Mary tried to calculate if the turning would be enough. Her analysis didn't matter, however, as the ship sped towards doom. At the last moment, Mary closed her eyes and turned away.
A horrid screeching, an intense grinding, an inhuman noise filled Mary's ears. The impact rocked her forward, and she landed roughly on her hands and knees, her eyes still welded shut. The noise continued, along with several nearby thunks as many items hit the wooden deck.
The noise halted, and an eerie silence fell. Mary rose to her feet and ran to the railing on the edge of the ship. Chunks of ice littered her path.
She clutched the bar of the railing. She leaned over and looked back at the iceberg, her hair flying in the wind. The iceberg disappeared into the dark night. Trembling, she vomited into the ocean.
Mary sprinted inside, scooping up her art supplies as she past them.
In a frenzied state, Mary walked the halls up and down, faces blurring as she went. Her breathes came in gasps and her eyes darted every which way. She needed to get Aunt Ellen, where was Aunt Ellen? In her room, surely. What would they do after that? Wait, Aunt Ellen wouldn't be in the room at this hour! She would be talking to her friends. Mary altered her course mid-step, walking faster with each step. Step, step, breath, breath. Mary switched into full on panic mode.
Mary forced herself to stop and sit in a chair. Mary had never been calm in a bad situation. She needed to think.
The first step was to find Aunt Ellen. The time was - Mary glanced at the clock - nearly midnight. Aunt Ellen would be in the cabin, perhaps asleep. Mary set off, now in the correct direction.
She burst into the room, which was still brightly lit, despite the late hour. "Child, where have you been?" cried Aunt Ellen. "I have been worried sick!"
"Aunt Ellen, we have to go!? gasped Mary. She seemed to have trouble forming words. "There was an iceberg. The ship hit it. It was turning but it still hit it. I don't know what's going on. We have to find out!"
Aunt Ellen gaped at her for a moment, but before she could respond, a sharp knock was heard from the door.
"Best get your lifebelts on, Misses. We are all to meet on the deck. Nothing bad, just a drill." The friendly official at the door showed them where their lifebelts were, all the while assuring them there was no need for panic.
"See?" said Aunt Ellen, shutting the door behind the man. "Nothing to worry about. We will need coats to go up on deck. I'm telling you, I am not excited, it's deathly cold . . ."
"I think the man was just trying to keep us from panicking," Mary said cautiously.
"Nonsense," said Aunt Ellen, tossing Mary her coat. "Now let's go."
Back on deck, Mary noticed instantly that the ship had come to a complete standstill. The engine was silent, but the din of all the people made up for it.
Another ship's officer was calling for quiet, still assuring everyone there was no need for panic. With a start, Mary recognized the man as the person who had saved her from the bars early that day.
". . . and we need to start sending off the lifeboats, so if woman and children would step forward now, please . . ." he was shouting. There was more than one groan of disagreement, and Mary could see they had a point; while the ship was warm, lit, and inviting, the ocean was cold and hostile.
"If you're right," muttered Aunt Ellen to Mary, "then I want to get on a lifeboat right now." She stepped forward willingly. "We will get on," she announced, placing her arm around Mary.
Aunt Ellen stepped onto the boat with care, making sure the boat didn't tip. But Mary froze. A thought suddenly hit her. All of her precious paintings, all of her artwork . . . back in the room. She dashed off.
"Where are you going?" called Aunt Ellen desperately. But Mary had already disappeared into the crowd, winding her way in between the bodies.
But once back in the room, her portfolio of art safely in her hands, something was still missing. What had she forgotten? She knew something was not right. And then it hit her.
Jane. Her first and only friend. She was in third class. Surely the third class wouldn't be let onto the lifeboats until very last. Even if getting on the lifeboats was just a precaution, she needed to help Jane.
Mary found her staircase and raced down it, her feet pounding on the metal stairs while her heart pounded against her chest. A race against time. Yanking the door open that was at the bottom of the stairs, Mary saw something that made her head whirl.
It wasn't a precaution.
The carpet was soaked.
The water was already ankle deep.
