“Keep moving! Keep moving, people!” Bill Stallings stood, legs braced apart, hands on hips, his expression a mix of boredom and professional frustration. The look said it all. These exercises were a pain, but they were necessary. They were also timed, and Stallings was responsible for getting this particular group on that particular life craft as quickly as possible.
Unfortunately for Bill, his charges weren’t cooperating. As usual, they strolled up the gangway in random, unruly gaggles. Some complained, some laughed and made sarcastic remarks—the kind of comments people make when they think the bureaucrats in charge have nothing better to do than hassle John Q. Public. Security and safety personnel were the only ones inclined to take these drills seriously, and tonight even they seemed bored.
I, on the other hand, was terrified. My legs were weak, my hands were cold, my mouth so dry I couldn’t have licked my lips even if I had wanted to—which I didn’t, because that would be a sign of extreme nervousness, right? I kept moving toward the gangway, reminding myself to breathe normally so I wouldn’t hyperventilate before I got to the ship. As Eran and I neared Stallings, I swallowed with a dry click I was sure the man would hear. So far, I had managed—at least, I hoped I had—to keep the pulse-pounding panic off my face. I was aiming for the same expression of resigned, bored impatience I saw on everyone else. But could I pull it off? What if Bill noticed the deep, hard throb of my carotid artery? He had been trained to pick up on stuff like that, right? By the Sage, I was not cut out for this!
As I drew even with the security man, I forced myself to meet his gaze and give him a small, wry smile. “Are we having fun yet?”
He smirked a bit, but kept it official by adding a simple directive to, “Keep moving, please.”
He didn’t have to tell me twice.
“Nicely done,” Eran muttered under his breath, once we were well past Stallings. “I didn’t know you had it in you, Red.”
“Me either,” I murmured, and managed to draw my first real breath since the klaxon had sounded.
We shuffled toward the life craft in what seemed like maddening slow motion. What was the hold up, anyway? I fought the urge to crane my neck in an effort to find out … or search out familiar faces among the lines snaking toward the neighboring ships, ahead and to our left. I couldn’t see the two life craft themselves, because my view of that part of the tarmac was blocked by our ship. I knew Rune was watching the drill from up in the control room but didn’t so much as glance in that direction. All I could do now was keep moving, try to remain inconspicuous, and hope all our friends would do the same.
Suddenly, my feet were on the gangway, and we began the steep climb toward the yawning aft hatch. My legs threatened to give out on me, but I steadied myself with the handrails as, Not much farther, almost there, not much farther, almost there, cycled through my head like a mantra. I concentrated on keeping my respiration even and my movements relaxed. There was nothing I could do about my skyrocketing heart rate.
We stepped through the hatch and turned left, slowly progressing through the residential section to the forward cabin, inching our way between the rows of seats, five on each side of the aisle. There it was, row seventeen. My assigned row. I edged in sideways and took my seat next to the bulkhead, while Eran continued up the aisle to row twelve. I buckled the seatbelt, heaving a silent sigh of relief when I managed to do it without my hands shaking or fingers fumbling.
Elspeth Jaeger huffed blond bangs out of her blue eyes as she plopped down into the seat to my left. “These things are a waste of time,” she complained, glowering at the seat back in front of her.
I settled for a noncommittal, “Mm.”
“And of all the times to hold one—eleven o’clock at night! I was on my way to a mix.” The hairdresser adjusted a thick gold bangle cuffing her right wrist. “Oh, well,” she sighed, “what’s an hour, more or less?” She turned to greet the tall, slender man who sank gracefully into the seat to her left. “Dante! You look fantastic … as usual. Are you going to Damia’s mix, too?”
Turned out he was, so the two dived into some lively gossip about the other people expected to attend, mercifully cutting me out of the conversational loop. Wanting to make sure I stayed out, I leaned back my head and closed my eyes. The wait for the all-clear seemed to last forever, the cabin growing warm and stuffy as Elspeth and Dante dissected their friends, and I battled a bad case of near-claustrophobic, rapidly fraying nerves. Finally, the klaxon gave two short blasts, signaling our release.
Now came the tricky part. I opened my eyes and raised my head but stayed put, letting the others file out before I moved to perch on the arm of the aisle seat. With a little luck, anyone glancing my way would assume I was patiently waiting for the crush to peter out.
I swear, it felt like an hour before the last person passed me and Eran appeared in the aisle. His eyes met mine briefly as he gestured for me to go ahead of him so he was the last in line. Remembering Rune’s how-to lecture, I hung back a few paces as the line crawled back through the residential section in impatient, accordion-style fits and starts. Eran’s quarters were nearer the passenger cabin than mine, so he dropped off first. I didn’t hear the portal open and close, but I sensed his absence immediately, leaving me chilled, alone, and bereft. I continued toward my own quarters, barely resisting the urge to sprint for safety. Fifteen cabins between me and my sanctuary. Progress was agonizingly slow, but the portal finally closed behind me. Darting across the compact salon-slash-bedroom, I dove into the closet.
Ω
Chapter 46 coming next week!
© 2010, Kathy DiSanto, all rights reserved
