Lenora stood, fists on her hips, staring at the roaring coal burner. Sweat dripped from the ends of the curls at her temples. There was plenty of water in large brass canisters for the steam kettle above the burners. Was there a way to siphon some off and fill the cooling tanks with it?
That would help some with the heat problem, but would we then run out of steam before we could reach Quebec?
“Hah! Run out of steam. That’s a good one.” She muttered to herself.
An odd thump and the shuffle of footsteps sounded behind her.
“Oh good, James, you’re back.” She gestured at the huge water tanks. “Do you know if there’s a way to bleed some water, oh that’s a poor turn of phrase, don’t you think?”
When her only answer was breathing. She started to turn, but the back of her head exploded in pain and everything went dark. The last thing she heard was Pepe growling low in her chest.
She awoke with a blinding headache. Keeping her eyes closed, she listened intently. What had happened? Where was she? But she heard nothing, not even Pepe. Sudden worry for her poor doggie made her open her eyes. The light from her cabin room’s windows seemed to scratch at her brain with razor claws forcing her eyes to water.
A face suddenly popped into view, too close to her, and she jumped, pain throbbing at the movement.
“Good, you’re awake.” The doctor’s dry tones were oddly comforting, until she remembered the hold.
“Where is Pepe? And how did I get here?”
“That horrible little mutt you take everywhere? I have no idea, but good riddance.”
“Mutt?” She struggled to sit, but the room swirled around her and she fell back.
“Careful, or you’ll have another fainting spell.”
“Fainting? I never faint.” She grimaced as she remembered the radio room yesterday morning.
The doctor nodded absently as he packed up his tools.
“Of course you do. You were found just down the hall and it’s clear that you fainted and hit your head on the railing. Fortunately, aside from a little swelling and a bit of a headache, you are unhurt.”
“A bit of a headache?” That was taking the habit of understatements a bit far. Her head was splitting.
“Wait! Where is James?”
The doctor looked surprised. “James who, madam?”
“James Patrick, the engineer. Where is he?”
“How should I know, and what would an engineer have to do with your fainting spell?”
And he was out the door without ever answering her question about James. Or Pepe.
Lenora remained in bed only until the room ceased its rocking with every movement. Then she tried to stand up, but slipped to the floor as her knees gave out. She was so dizzy!
But Pepe and James needed her and she must get ice or water to the hold instantly. So she crawled to the bathroom to splash some water on her face.
“Buck up, girlie. You’ve been through worse.” If only her stomach would listen to her. The dizziness was causing the worst case of nausea she ever had.
She was still trying to get her rebellious stomach under control when she heard the door open in the next room. Glancing around, she had nothing that would work as a weapon in the tiny bathroom. Finally, she grabbed a large towel and shook it out. Maybe she could wrap it around the killer’s head and then crush him beneath her as she fell into the room.
Okay, she was desperate and nearly out of ideas.
James woke up with his head splitting and with freezing cold numbing his hands and face. It was pitch black. He blew on his fingers trying to bring back some feeling and then reached out to see what he was lying on.
Ice! But that meant that he was in the icebox. He sat up to push the lid open and immediately wished he hadn’t. Even in total darkness, the world spun around him. He moved one shaky hand to prod the back of his head. There was a lump the size of his fist.
But the ice was helping both to clear his head and to ease the pain. Slowly, he reached up and pushed on the lid of the icebox. It didn’t move.
I will not be locked in a bloody icebox like a pound of sausages. He shifted onto his knees, ignored the renewed pain in his head, and pushed harder against the lid. It was no use, it was locked. And me poor wee Lenora needs me. Not to mention the burners needing this ice.
He sat back, momentarily defeated, and his hand hit something cold and stiff. Feeling around, he felt the stiff fabric of a uniform jacket. It was Timothy.
He jumped away from the headless corpse and banged his head on the wall. Through the renewed ringing in his ears he heard…scratching. Rats? Did the rats suspect how helpless he was in here?
But if they have a way in, I can have a way out. And he stayed still, waiting to see if any ventured into what he was beginning to suspect was his coffin.
As she was picked up and tossed ungently onto the bed again, Lenora thought Well, I tried. Poor James and Sarah. Poor Pepe. I will never see them again.
But as the masked man grabbed her arms and began to tie her wrists, she had another thought. Two actually.
He’s not ready to kill me yet. I am not lying down and letting this happen. Sir John A. is counting on me.
Suddenly, she threw her head forward, catching the man as he bent down to check the knot in the rope, and broke his nose. She was rewarded with a rather rude word and a gush of blood.
As he fell back clutching his face and cursing, Lenora leaped to her feet, stumbled to the door and flung it open, yelling as loud as she could. She could hear him stumbling after her, so she doubled her efforts and was rewarded with a large number of passengers opening their doors to stare at her.
The man ran the opposite way and disappeared into the small crew door.
“Well don’t just stand there gawking like a bunch of children, untie me!”
“My word, you’re covered in blood!”
“I am?” She peered down at her dirtied, torn, and bloodied blouse. “Drat, that’s the third time today.”
One of the ladies fainted.