Anachronistic: Endless Masquerade

14 | On The Wings Of Darkness

- 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."