James and Edward Perry, acting in unison as only brothers can, lunged for Bernice, pulling at her, but it became a tug of war when the behemoth bit down on her arm, right above the elbow. The worm pulled at the morsel.
Bernice’s screams went high-pitched and desperate with pain. It was if knives had pierced her skin; then, blades ground against her arm’s bone. Over and over, she shrieked. As she began to faint, she fell to her knees. The worm took her arm with him, and the girl went sliding head first into the slime as James and Edward pulled at her other arm.
All three slipped several yards down the hallway before Karl Behr and Charles Whitmore were able to get them to their feet and up the stairs. Whitmore carried Bernice in his arms as the ruined remains of the arm hung, dripping blood. He passed her to Stead.
The last of their group ascended, but Charles Whitmore returned to stand next to Howard and stare at the worms. Neither moved.
Whitmore was splashed with the wounded girl’s blood.
Some of the men from Third Class and the shipmen used makeshift weapons to beat on the three creatures, but many were swallowed, and when an injury was inflicted, the slippery flesh wiggled and shifted to mend the wound. Some ran away to lock themselves in the nearby rooms when that did not work.
“It can’t be real and yet it is,” Whitmore whispered.
“Our worst nightmares have come to life,” Howard agreed, “I think they are beings from another place and have always been alongside us. They do not seem very surprised to see us. But we’ve been separated by something… a gate maybe… and it’s been breached.” It was mad to stand and philosophize, but they did just that.
“It has to be closed. If we knew what opened it, we could close it. What if… I mean… the entire world could be infected,” Whitmore went on, “and what we have seen will follow us. We will never be free of them. Everywhere… monsters….”
“But maybe we won’t know or see them if the gateway is closed,” Howard tried to think, but one of the worms moved closer.
Whitmore laughed madly, “And we can live, knowing they are here, whether we see them or not? Can you go on and live your life normally whilst knowing those things are there and separated from us by a gossamer gate? The thinnest of mists?”
“How I wish we might have had this conversation somewhere else and at another time,” Howard said.
“I would rather not know. How can I cleanse this from my head?”
“Shhh.”
“They can see us, the other monsters I mean, and at any second could breach that space and be with us again. That is, if we even survive.”
“Be quiet, Whitmore.”
“You fool. They have arrived, and hell is on earth. This is damnation.”
Howard snapped, “They are worms, man! Calm yourself.”
Whitmore stepped down to the floor, “They are so old, and we have seen leviathan and behemoth. It is the end, my boy. I won’t play their games.” He pulled a silver flask from his jacket and tore off his collar until he had a wick set into the top.
“What are you about? Stop this,” Howard said. The worm came closer, and in seconds, it would swallow both men.
“The Gods were sorely displeased when Prometheus gave men fire.” With a wicked grin, Charles Whitmore lit the wick, yelled for Howard to go, and leaped into the maw of the monster.
As Howard ran, he saw Whitmore consumed, but the creature was burning slowly, its flesh sizzling. There were monsters a’plenty, but that particular one might die.
The other man had gone mad with the sights and vapors of the creatures, but he had gone down fighting.
The war had begun.
Chapter Five: Midnight on the Titanic
Scotland Road was crowded as crewmen and passengers hurried up and down the walkway, some about normal business of keeping the ship going and others with nothing else to do to keep their minds occupied. Most had no idea what was amiss, and if they did know, they were not overly concerned.
On E Deck, the group found first aid, cleaned and bandaged Lewis’ leg, and tied a better tourniquet about Bernice’s elbow. After the cleaning, a bandage, and morphine, she was drowsy and barely able to walk but begged not to be left behind in between crying with the pain and terror of her ordeal.
The stewards on E thought the stories of the injuries and creatures were some type of jest but not comical. No one believed the recollections. When finally, after much cajoling, a few of the stewards went down the stairs to see for themselves, they understood.
When the stewards came back up, pale and shaking, they locked the gates that led to below decks. The gates, heavy and black, slid together and would never reopen.
“You saw the… the behemoths?” Howard asked.
“Swimming in rising water. E Deck is flooding,” a steward reported, “how can those… things be in the ship? Did they come from below decks?”
“We should be so fortunate. We do not know where they are from. The sea? Does it matter? They are here almost upon us,” Karl told all of them. He kept a steady arm about Helen.
“What about the people below? They have locked themselves down there in rooms because of those things,” Jenny said, “we’ve got to kill the things and get everyone up to the boats.”
Some nodded in agreement but many refused to meet her face.
“What? Why are they locked behind gates? Those worms will get them or they will drown. Am I the only one with sense here?” Jenny asked. “You have locked them down there.”
Peter took his daughter’s arm, “Jenny, those people have barricaded themselves for safety. They are waiting for everyone to get aboard the boats, and then, I am sure someone will come escort them to the boats as well.”
“Then why did Mr. Daniels say there aren’t enough boats?” Maggie Brown asked. She was suspicious, too.
When all eyes turned on Daniels, he shrugged, “I’m just a steward.”
“But?”
“Mrs. Brown, really….”
William Stead huffed, “He knows. We all know. The ship was said to be unsinkable. It is the mighty Titanic. We’ve not the lifeboats aboard for everyone. That is the end-all.”
“We will double up. No doubt, ships are racing to our rescue, so it will not take long. How many boats are we short? A few?”
“Mrs. Brown….”
“Daniels?” She could be very stubborn. Her eyebrows lowered with her frown.
“By half. We are short by half,” Daniels whispered.
Everyone now understood why the gates were locked and why no one would be coming back for the many trapped below. Helen set her face against Karl’s shoulder and wept.
“They will all….” Jenny stammered, “What will we do?” The concept had not yet hit her fully.
“Make our ways to the boat decks. We have no choice and no time to waste,” Daniels said.
Peter Cavendar took Jenny’s arm, and John Morton took her other arm as they hurried up the next staircase. Jenny kept looking back at the locked gate and then at the stewards who were making ready to lock the next gate. They had sad faces.
Daniels ushered his group up another deck to D: where many sat in the First Class Reception Room, the second class gathered in their dining salon, and the third class met in their dining salon. In the fact of disaster, the classes did not mix.
Below, the water was fifty feet deep in the bow, and the quarters on E Deck were flooded at the bow.
Above, on the boat deck, Mr. Murdoch gritted his teeth. His orders were to load women and children first, but there were few waiting to board. “Come along.”
Margaret Hays felt her hat blown away by the steam, but Mr. Murdoch was right there to catch it and hand it back to her with a smile as she entered the boat, holding her Pomeranian dog wrapped in a little blanket.