Voyagers: Tunnels of despair and tracks of hope
Chapter 4
When Phineas awoke, the pains subsided but his body was stiff. The long sleep did wonders. He and Jeffrey had been running on pure adrenaline the last few voyages since they'd nearly captured Voyager Drake in London. He worried the sinister Voyager was behind the bombing Dominic mentioned. It was almost too easy, frustratingly so–but not impossible considering that ruining history was Drake's goal in life.
"Another bombing." Although the butcher was pleasant, Phineas saw deep-rooted grief in him. It was a tragedy that struck him hard.
He put his arms behind his head and stared out the window. The sun ebbed toward the horizon, and he judged the time to be around four pm. He was right. Hunger gnawed him, and the spaghetti and meatball dinner to come sounded very appetizing. He willed himself to sit up and tried to contain the moans and groans from the aches that made him feel in his eighties rather than his twenties. Right now he wouldn't have minded if he had strings attached to his arms and legs and a grand puppeteer controlling him. He felt that weak. He sighed and rubbed his face and eyes.
All Voyagers are puppets, tossed here and there and shaken around to keep the show going. He thought, as the odd image of himself as a Pinocchio type character passed before him.
"All the world's a stage." He mumbled.
He walked toward Jeffrey. The boy slept soundly, though uncomfortably, with his head lowered into his neck and his body scrunched up in the chair. It looked as if he'd read through two Jules Verne novels. Phineas picked him up and carried him to the bed and removed his sneakers. They weren't staying far from the Little Italy section that Jeffrey seemed to fond of. There was still time for him to sleep. The hotel was fairly quiet, it was an unobtrusive place for drifters and immigrants with meager salaries that needed a temporary roof over their heads.
After washing up, Phineas scrawled Jeffrey a note on the hotel stationery and left it on the desk beside the bed. He laughed at it. His giant, loopy script veered lopsided and he realized the paper was upside down.
I really need to go back to school…any school! He thought. He gazed once more at Jeff, his eyes and nose were red-rimmed and he'd cried himself to sleep. Phineas brushed hair from Jeffrey's eyes and drew the covers over him. He quietly left to find the front desk manager.
The manager looked up bug-eyed. "Are you all right, Sir? I thought you'd sleep the night away when I saw your condition. I heard what happened at the river! Praise be the Lord for ya safety, the whole lot of ya!"
"Thanks. They told me the job was dangerous, but I really had no idea." Phineas took a seat across in the small lounge. "I'm new in town ya see, and I didn't know that the Subway project was on its way out the door. What happened to make the entire city lose interest?"
The manager eagerly leaned over the desk, glad to take a break from reorganizing keys and counting receipts. "I can only tell ya what I read from the papers of course. I was there too, just far back, thank the Lord! The entire city practically turned out for the event, people were having subway parties for weeks before hand. It was like a Mardi Gras in New York, I tell ya. We were relieved they were finally putting subways underground. Those elevated lines are horrible, spewing soot and ash all over the place, ruining food and women's dresses, our suits and hats! No matter how much ya clean your house and windows, if you live near an El, forget about it! It was always a mess to mop up."
After an interesting twenty-minute conversation, Phineas thanked the manager and went back to his room. The cause of the red light was gravely clear to him, but he wondered about a few loose ends that possibly involved Dominic. In an era where corruption reigned supreme and embittered the people, it wouldn't be an easy fix. He found Jeffrey sitting up and reading the note, he was glad it put a smile on his face.
"What do you mean you decided to go on vacation in Hawaii and leave me to sleep?"
Phineas stretched his arms and laughed. "It was great, all the pineapple I could eat. Luaus at night, tanned beauties in grass skirts. You were sleeping so soundly I didn't wanna bother ya."
"Yeah right, Bogg! How do you really feel?" Jeffrey looked at him concerned.
"Like I was blasted through mud and shot out of a thirty-foot geyser, but the aches will pass. It's amazing to be a couple hundred years old and still feel and look twenty-six!"
"Aww, Bogg, you're still counting voyages for your lifespan…never mind! You look happier, where did you really go?"
"I spoke to the manager and he clued me in to what's going down with the subway, I got names and dates."
Jeffrey stood up and doused water on his face from the cleaning bowl. "Wait! We're not leaving yet? You promised we could have dinner with Dominic. I'm starving."
Phineas put an arm around him. "You think I'm foolish enough to pass up a fine meal like that? There's more than meets the eye with this but I'll clue you in as we go along."
"Okay, because I heard something earlier that wasn't right. About a subway bombing."
"Then we're both on the right page."
As they left the hotel, Jeffrey stopped him. "Hold on, Bogg. Let's be good guests. I saw a neat bakery on Mulberry. My grandmother always used to get annoyed if she guests showed up for dinner without some kind of offering. It was only good manners." Jeffrey comically raised his hand with clasped fingers to the sky.
"He-a no good! He no bringa the cake!"
Phineas laughed loudly. "Well in that case, we betta bringa something! I will not be humiliated before all of Dominic's descendants as they pass along the story of the Norsky Weegie who no bringa dessert!"
"Norsky Weegy? What the heck is that?"
"You know how it is in this era, every foreigner has a derogatory term. That's mine for being a Norwegian."
~Oo~
As the Voyagers gazed over the confections, Phineas decided on the Torta di Castagne, or Chocolate Salami cake. It looked rich and filling. The plump and pretty middle-aged woman behind the counter complimented their choice and wrapped it for them.
"You wanta cream with that? For a topping." She asked in broken English.
Jeffrey told her 'yes' in Italian and Phineas looked at him amazed as the two began a pleasant conversation. He'd never heard Jeffrey literally speak another language. The omni usually did the job for them and it always came out as English to his ears. He wondered if he could still remember the Norwegian language, it was too long since he last used it.
Phineas wandered around the bakery and took a deep, calm breath. There was no time to reminisce on his life and he preferred it that way. He approached a photograph wall. In the center was a sepia family portrait, with the bakery owner a little younger and seated, and a short, but strong, mustached man behind her–most likely her husband. He stared at the young woman sitting beside her mother. Despite the standard of minimal facial expressions in old-time photographs, she managed to have a tiny, sensuous grin playing across her lips. He could tell her almond eyes were light-colored and her black hair was styled in curls that hung long over her right shoulder.
"Francesca…what a beauty." He murmured, noticing the names of the family members.
Jeffrey tugged on his sleeve. "Hey Bogg, you ready? What are ya looking at?"
Phineas grinned sheepishly. "Oh, just some family photos here."
"Signora Cardinelli is a widow, her husband died in 1903 and her daughter died last year." Jeffrey whispered. "We should go, I think talking about them just now got her upset."
Jeffrey gazed at the woman sympathetically, understanding that after only two years, the intense pain of her losses were still very fresh. He felt the same for his parents.
Phineas agreed. He smiled at the woman as they left. "Have a lovely evening, Signora Cardinelli."
"Thank you, boys. Enjoy your dinner with Dominic. He's such a good soul." She smiled wanly and turned back to kneading dough.