OP-DEC: Operation Deceit

Chapter 15

Claire sat on her bag. Her head rested on her arm, which was draped across the tiny table. Beside her, Aunt lay stretched out along the captain's bunk. She had slept so for a very long time. Claire yawned and lifted her head. Her neck hurt and her head ached fiercely. Searching for her wristwatch, she hoped it would be late, very late, and that the first day of their long trial at sea would be over. Claire found her wrist starkly bare and realized she'd left without her timepiece the previous evening.

Claire's eyes scanned their tiny prison. The paneling was a cozy reminder of better spaces in the low light. Pictures decorated the space above where she rested-one of a woman, another of men on the deck of some boat. Papers written in German were stacked and pressed to the wall, some hung here and there. More random gadgets and dials poked from the bulkhead. The view from a narrow part in the curtain lead into the sinister dark beyond the hatch, like the basement of some ancient hotel. Sailors scuffled back and forth in the dark while others manned stations. Carsten appeared to be asleep, propped against the bulkhead between the curtain and hatch. She smelled the cigarettes he liked to smoke lingering in the air.

The atmosphere of the sub grew thicker. The boat listed, making Claire nauseated. She stood, too anxious to suffer in stillness. Her legs cramped and she needed to move before she screamed. She paced the pair of steps and turned and paced and turned. The engine noise beat her brain. She placed a hand on her head and squeezed her eyes shut. She struggled to fathom surviving nearly two weeks like this.

"Is there something I can get you?" His voice disrupted the whir of the engines.

Claire snapped her chin around. Her wary gaze found Carsten contemplating her movements. She clasped her hands together.

"Any chance this tub has a restroom?" she asked. She forgot the last time she'd emptied her bladder.

"Come with me," he instructed.

Carsten escorted her through the control room, another hatch, and what stood in for a kitchen, all under the scrutiny of the crew. They muttered words she didn't understand and feared their meaning. Claire rubbed her arms and assessed the surroundings with concern and disgust. Muddy water streamed along the floor grates, swirling and rolling back the way it came with the motion of the boat. Her heart thumped.

"Here you are," Carsten said. He noticed her glimpse the water under the floor grates. "Just bilge. We are not sinking."

"Small consolation," Claire mumbled.

Claire studied the dim passage before her. She hardly believed she and her aunt rode inside this tin hulk, living as captives, like some fantastic movie. She snickered, wondering who the hero was, as her mind suggested the man before her. The idea was laughable. However, things might turn out quite differently than she surmised. Even the horrendous smells had become less noticeable as they adjusted to their environment.

Carsten took no notice of her humor. He was focused on guiding her to the toilet through a throng of interested sailors. The space was tight. Paneled bunk beds and cabinets lined the bulkheads. Someone leaned between them, smoking. Perishable supplies hung along the pipes among various unidentifiable items. Then she made out the shape of a torpedo hanging above one of the few sleeping crewman. The reminder of war sent a shiver up her spine and did wonders to remind her that Carsten Reiniger was no hero. She imagined the straps letting go.

Carsten opened the door to the toilet.

"Knock when you're finished," Carsten instructed.

Claire entered as he shut the door for her. A glass porthole allowed them to see one another. He grinned at her helplessness. Beyond Carsten's shoulder, the galley cook also grinned devilishly at his steaming pots. Carsten took off his jacket and hung it over the glass, blotting out the view as curious crewmen drew nearer. Claire hurriedly did what she needed to do. Straightening her dress back over her legs, Claire noticed a small shaving mirror over the sink. She took the first glimpse of herself since the night before. Her makeup had all but rubbed off and her hair was disheveled where it hadn't gone completely flat. A small frown curled the corners of her mouth down. Besides that, her new hat was missing and the once beautiful dress she wore badly needed restoration. She exhaled and tried to dismiss her despair at being in such a state. Claire gave up on the mirror and lifted her fist to bang on the iron door.