'Shut up, all of you,' said Albemarle. 'Now here's the thing: Obviously there's a lot that needs to be done to make this place livable, but at least it's shelter. I'm sure our hosts will be arriving shortly to address all our concerns. In the meantime, there's plenty we can do to make ourselves more comfortable, starting with finding the heat, but we can't do it if you're blocking the hall like this. I want you to go to the upper floors and set up quarters for yourselves while the men and I establish a base of operations here. Don't fool with anything mechanical until we know it won't cause a fire or a flood. Other than that, get cracking.'
Since we were under the impression that all would soon be sorted out, we gave ourselves over to exploring the building and staking out beds. Combing the place for useful items, we found a lot of moldy bedding and aluminum cookware but nothing in the way of food. A few people braved the vicious cold, going from building to building in deep snow, but every door was padlocked and appeared condemned; there was nothing to be found. After all our work loading the submarine with months of supplies, it was disheartening to find ourselves in such a state.
'They better let us loose in the commissary,' said Julian.
'Hey, survival of the fittest,' I told him.
One thing that helped keep our spirits up was the casual competence and cheer of the four Blackpudlians. The routines they had developed on the ocean liner seemed particularly well suited to our present predicament, and it wasn't long before they had ice melting in a pot for tea, which they had brought in quantity. When we praised their foresight, they shrugged, and the one named Phil said, 'Knowin' you blokes, we couldn't be sure of a good cuppa, could we?'
'Just isn't the same, coffee,' said Wally.
'Oh, coffee wouldn't do,' said Reggie. 'Wouldn't do at all.'
'Unless it was Irish coffee,' Dick said, and they all laughed.
Thus we were kept busy for several hours, doing our best to create decent quarters as rusty electric heaters slowly took the sting from the air. Eventually, there was nothing more to do and we settled in to wait.
No one came.
One by one and room by room, we all fell asleep. Late into the night I woke up under the excruciating fluorescents and had to go to the bathroom. The toilets weren't defrosted, but there were buckets and a window to dump them from. My pee steamed as if boiling hot. Finishing up as quickly as possible, I went to leave and found Hector waiting at the restroom door.
'Oh. Hi,' I said, startled.
'Hi,' he whispered. He looked very sad. 'Can I talk to you?'
'Sure. Come in here so we don't disturb anybody.' I stepped aside for him and closed the door, muting the snores beyond. 'Are you all right?'
'No.'
'What's wrong?'
'I've been thinking too much… about everything. On the boat I didn't really think, and for some reason I thought that meant I was okay. But I'm not okay, Lulu. I can't go on like this. There's nothing left, and I don't think I can keep pretending there is.'
'But there is,' I said. 'There's life. You're alive.'
'I don't feel alive. I feel like one of those things we left behind, like I'm walking around dead and just don't know it.' He sat against the sink and began to cry, saying, 'God, I'm so lonely.'
I reached out and stroked his hair. 'Hey, hey,' I said. 'It's okay. We all feel that way, which means none of us is alone.'
'I know… I just keep thinking about my dad. Not Albemarle-I mean my real father. He went away when I was about two, so I never really knew him. My mother and sister told me he was dead, so as I got older I built him up into this tragic hero, this mythological father figure. Needless to say, I preferred this phantom dad to a real stepfather. Finally, my mother admitted to me that not only was my dad still alive, but he was in prison for trying to kill her. I refused to listen to anything she said, but after our last big implosion, she took me down South to visit him.'
'Oh my God.'
'Yeah. She sent me into the visiting room alone, so it was a little scary. And-big shock-he was just this guy. Nothing special, just an old burnout with greasy hair and bad teeth. And he knew how he looked to me, too, because the only thing he said was, 'What the fuck you expect, coming here? This ain't no Hallmark card. Go home and tell that bitch she can shove her divorce up her ass.''
'That's terrible!'
'Yeah-he's a douchebag. Or was. So I guess it doesn't matter anymore. Nothing does.' Hector wept for a little while, holding the edge of my fur cape. 'It's so soft,' he sniffed.
'Yours, too,' I said, stroking his shoulder. All at once, something inside me gave way: I put my arms around him and crushed his body against mine, smothering us both in fur. For a second he recoiled, then clutched me to him, convulsing with emotion. It felt good to cry.
After a moment we relaxed, heaving chest to chest, and he looked at me searchingly. 'God, you're beautiful,' he said.
'No I'm not. If anything I'm weird-looking.'
He chuckled softly. 'No you're not. Here, I'll show you.' He took something from his pocket: a stub of grease pencil.
'What are you doing?' I said, leaning away.
'Don't worry,' he said. 'I won't bite.'
'What's that for?'
'Just a little touch-up. It'll come right off.' He made a curlicue in the air. 'I wouldn't do anything to embarrass you, Lulu. Ever.'
'Okay… just watch the cheek.' I submitted, while he made some marks on my face. It felt strange to have his face right in mine as he drew, so that I could study the tortoiseshell brown of his eyes, his every tiny mole. The pressure of the pencil and his baked-bread smell caused a ticklish heat to spread through my body. Without thinking about it, I leaned that extra few inches and kissed him.
He broke off before I did, leaning back with a grin to inspect his handiwork. Then he got up off the sink and stood me in front of the mirror. In the smeared reflection I could see a striking cat-girl, oval face framed in a fur hood, with black-tipped nose and whiskers. It was not a tragic face. It was a face that belonged to a whimsical world free of the shitty buckets and cold that defined this one. I nodded, eyes welling with tears again.
'I like it,' I said.
CHAPTER TWENTY
'This is bullshit,' said Mr. Monte the next day. It had been twenty hours since we'd been dropped off. 'We don't have a clue when they're comin' back, and they've stranded us out here with nothin'. Meanwhile, we've left them a boatload of supplies fit for a king. It ain't right.'
Everyone was awake, though it was as dark as ever. We had shared out whatever candy and snacks people had brought, and once more the Brits had made tea, but as soon as this meager breakfast was over, we were all restless. We weren't accustomed to having free time. There was nothing to do except listen to the men argue downstairs.
Albemarle was trying to remain positive: 'Hey, we have heat, we have lights. We have water. If you think about it, it hasn't really been that long-'
'Those friggin' utilities are electric-powered,' said Monte. 'They're only givin' us back a little bit of what they're gettin' in spades from the boat's reactor. It's our own juice! They ain't doin' us no favors.'
'And where's the CO? Where's Coombs?' demanded DeLuca. 'What the hell are they thinking, cutting us off like this? Now we're just fuckin' civilians again, is that it? After we been covering their asses all this time? I'm sorry, but we've earned the right to at least know what's going on. At least. I'll tell you what: I'm about ready to go
