Chapter Sixteen

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

SOMETHING WAS OFF with the crew.

I noticed it at breakfast.

Not the passengers—they were the same. Laughing. Gossiping. Slowly sipping their way through endless tea and luxury.
But the staff? The ones in uniform?

They were tired.

Not just “long shift” tired. Not just “early morning” tired.
They looked like they hadn’t slept in days.

Eyes sunken. Movements stiff. Forced smiles that felt more like stretched masks than expressions. And I know I hadn’t seen them look like this before. I knew I hadn’t.

I asked for coffee.

The man behind the cart didn’t blink. Just poured it, slow, like molasses in winter.
When I looked down at the cup, there was a hairline crack down the side of the porcelain.

A crack that hadn’t been there yesterday.

Evelyn found me before I finished it.

She grabbed my hand—fast. Tight.

“I need you to see something,” she said. No smile. Just urgency.

We moved through the decks like we were being followed. Maybe we were. I kept glancing back. Nothing there. But that didn’t stop my spine from screaming.

She led me to a storage room tucked behind the kitchen. Locked, of course.

But she had the key.

Inside: darkness. Dust. Stale air.

She flicked on a lantern and pulled me toward a pile of crates.

“I overheard them,” she whispered. “Last night. The officers. Talking in low voices, like the ship was listening.”

She reached behind a stack and pulled out a box. Flat. Unlabeled.

Inside?

Maps.

Not just any maps. Icefield routes.

Marked in red. Circled in ink. Notations in messy handwriting.

“Dense ice. Adjust course?”
“Message ignored.”
“Pressure building. Tell no one.”

I looked at her.

“They know,” she said. “They’ve known. And they’re not changing course.”

We stared at the map together in the flickering lantern light.

I wanted to say something brave. Something smart.

But all I could say was:

“…Shit.”

She laughed, despite herself.

Then, quieter:

“We’re not safe, are we?”

I looked at her hand still holding mine.

“No. We’re not.”

And that was the moment the ship groaned.

Loud. Deep. A sound like the belly of a beast shifting in its sleep.