Follow Josephine - Tumblr Posts

Follow Josephine, Pt. 2

Two AM found them in front of the enormous, slick doors of the lighthouse. To Angelina, they were the most beautiful doors in the world, shining a rich gold color, even in the bleaching light of the moon. She ran her fingers over the decorative waves and grooves just before her father opened one of them up.

 It was just as cold inside as out, but the family hardly noticed as they took in the welcoming banner overhead. Over the rich, red fabric, gold letters proclaimed: NO GODS OR KINGS, ONLY MAN.

 “Oy!” Mama gasped, like she was about to cry.

Papa moved to hold her, whispering to her. In the huge, stone space, his words reverberated. “We won’t tell anyone, alright? The whole point of the place is so’s they’ll leave us alone. They don’t gotta ask any more questions.”

“This place will be just like anywhere else,” she moaned. She seemed to be sagging in her husband’s grip. “This place will be just like anywhere else, Abraham.”

Angelina stared at them, shivering a little in her coat, dampened by the sea spray. She pulled her eyes away to stare up into the eyes of the man holding the red banner. They were angry and golden. There was a golden plaque, and gold circles in the walls, and big spotlights illuminating the golden man from below. When she looked up, the ceiling was so high above, it was almost a sky scraper. The walls were pale and shining up like a beacon.

No matter what Mama said, this place was like nothing Angelina had ever seen before.

After a few moments, they started moving towards the stairs. Down and down they went, and it got colder and quieter. The waves sounded less like water and more like a pulse, and then finally, like nothing at all. “Papa,” she murmured. “It’s scary.”

“I know, Gellie. Almost there.”

Soon the gentle lapping sound of water returned, and they were looking at a small, round vessel that bobbed in a lake of water. Inside, there were leather seats, wood paneling, and warm light. Music drifted from a radio inside.

They all paused, looking in at it. Angelina had never been in a room like it, much less a car or boat or whatever this was. Papa’s breathing was high and tight. Mama seemed to be muttering to herself, too quiet for either of them.

The radio crackled to life. “I am Andrew Ryan and I am here to ask you a question.” Mama glanced at Papa, eyes wide.

“Didn’t I tell ya, Bubbala?” He was grinning so wide, Angelina barely recognized him. “Didn’t I tell ya?”

Mama shushed him as Andrew Ryan kept speaking. Angelina had trouble focusing on his words, however, when she spotted an enormous eye out of the window of the boat-shaped thing. As Andrew Ryan spoke, the tiny ship had descended and appeared to sail through the ocean, past fish, reefs, and—Angelina gasped—even whales! “Mama!” she squealed, pointing at a long, sharp-toothed eel, and then at slug-like creatures that pulsed red like hearts against the dark sand.

“Hush, Angel,” Mama whispered. But Angelina barely heard her. She pressed her face against the glass, unable to resist making faces at the fish beyond.

She screamed when a shark bumped into the little sub.

“I chose Rapture,” he was saying.

Ahead, lights shone in the gloom. Angelina thought she saw buildings, like skyscrapers. Lit-up signs, ads for food and music, and men walking around in the sand, eight eyes shining like headlights. Angelina felt herself freeze. Her fingertips were numb from touching the glass.

Mama and Papa were silent, too. Nobody moved until Angelina heard a strange noise and turned to see Papa with his face in his hands. “Didn’t I tell ya?” he was moaning, rocking in his seat.

“Papa? Are you okay—eep!” The tiny bathysphere hitched against something and shuddered to a halt. Water sloshed and sucked against the windows. Angelina fought a whimper, unsure of where to turn. Were they drowning?

Mama was gripping Papa’s hand tightly when the door opened.

Outside, talk echoed off the high ceiling and walls. Footsteps, like the thrum of the city, met Angelina’s ears, like an old lullaby. “Mr. Fischer?”

Papa was helping Mama out of the bathysphere when the man in the suit walked up to them. Angelina couldn’t stop staring. She had never seen someone so clean, so happy. He had a hop in his step, and a shiny watch with a leather band. His young face was mustachioed, and he inclined his head politely at Mama. “Pleasure to meet ya, Fischers. The name’s Aidan. I’ll show ya to yer rooms.”