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Now then, you, the person who's been reading this the entire time and has never left a review, you know who you are... I want to hear from you too! I really don't bite... most of the time...
Note: The chapters may be getting shorter in the near future.
Disclaimer: I own nothing.
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Twenty-Third Waking.
It is cold, and I am sore. We've hiked quite far this waking. We are doing very wide switchbacks.
I was describing the sleds we made. We each carry two. Or we drag them behind us. One for our supplies and one to sleep on. We kept the lashings short, so the front ends would stay above the mud and not get stuck. And we secured our sleeping-boards directly behind our supply-boards, so they overlap like shingles. That's how we sleep, too, with the head-end of the sleeping-board propped up on part of the supply-board. But even set up like that, the board still sinks under your weight when you sleep. It was hard to get going when we started this waking. You have to pry them out.
At least it is cold enough. For the meat. For a while.
I'm tired of this.
I wish it was not mud. It makes it seem so slow. And in the dark it only seems as if we are marching back and forth, back and forth, sinking down all the while, and never making progress.
Greys said think positive. Why do I write that?
To make me remember.
We do make progress. We only use the lantern when we stop to eat and rest, and if we focus the beam and shine it down the slope we can see our tracks. We do make progress.
But it seems so slow sometimes.
It's a dismal place, and I am not looking forward to sleeping here again. It is probably well that I was so exhausted after my last entry. Elsewise I doubt I could have slept if I tried. Not in this limbo. But I did sleep. Right on the mud. Did that prospect not once terrify me? Sleeping out of the ship? But you can sleep anywhere if you are tired enough. Anywhere. Maybe that's what death is. No matter where you are, your body just gets so tired of everything that it stops, and you sleep forever.
Greys said think positive. I write it again?
Am I crazy?
I eat my friends for breakfast. That's crazy.
What's wrong with me?
My core aches, something inside of me. It makes me sick and hurts my chest. My heart.
I can sleep here. We have stopped for the day, and there is nothing else, nothing for it, so I must sleep here. I must, therefore I can.
I like the sound of that. I must, therefore I can.
It makes me feel... stronger. It is only mud. It is only the bottom of Deep Sky, and there is nothing to be afraid of. Ha! And I laugh and laugh! There is nothing to be afraid of at the bottom of Deep Sky! How can it be? I laugh.
And Greys looks at me. I laugh again, smaller, quieter in embarrassment. Maybe I am going crazy.
He asked what was so funny. And I told him: It's only the bottom of Deep Sky. Nothing to be afraid of. Literally. He laughed too.
Wait, we talk.
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Thank you for letting me read your log, Mr. Reyes. And thank you for letting me record my own say. I am sorry that this voyage did not turn out for the better. But I am glad that you have found solace in your writing. You keep a better log than I ever did, and I believe it has helped you a great deal in overcoming our situations. I have seen you grow in these pages, and for whatever it is worth, I am proud of you.
I am taking your suggestion to write what is too great to say aloud. It is true what you said about poison. It festers inside, and I can carry mine no longer.
What happened to our crew was my doing. I knew from the beginning that the ship could never be repaired. I thought we would be able to survive longer if we had some hope to go on, even a false hope. That is why I led you and Dhalan to believe early on that we could salvage the engine.
But I did not want to be alone in my deception. I wanted someone to help me share that burden. I confided in Mr. Porter about the true state of our ship. I believe this is what caused him to react the way he did. I realize now that perhaps if I had kept the knowledge to myself, things may have gone differently. In looking for my own solace, I took away Mr. Porter's hope from the beginning. And so I feel responsible for what he did. It was I who drove him into madness, and caused him to kill Dhalan and Shanda. And though I value your life very highly, I find little redemption at having saved you from the same fate. I feel as if I have destroyed the last shreds of what crew we had, and I beg for your forgiveness.
All of that is my last secret. And I have written it for you, and for whoever else may read it, because secrets like this should not be taken to the grave.
Mr. Reyes, know that I consider you one of the finer sailors I have put out to sky with. If I was glad of your level-headed company aboard the Zephyrus, I am gladder of it still here on the mountain. You asked who the leaders turn to for surety. The last time I confided in someone it proved to be a terrible mistake. But I do not think it is a mistake to confide in you. I will always consider you my friend, and I would hope that you would think the same of me.
Moons light your way.
Samuel Greys