The radiant heat of the morning sun filtered through the porthole, flooding Lewis’ cabin with a piercing yellow glow. Dust floated lazily through the air, illuminated by the invasion of day. Lewis basked in the light, letting it warm his body, the soothing sensation of heat rushing through his veins. He laid back down in his shabby cot, ignoring the painful, lumpy mattress and letting himself enjoy the sun’s rays.
The small, cramped confines of Lewis’ cabin were quiet, save for the rhythmic hum of the airship’s massive engines below. A musty scent permeated the air, accompanied by the slightest hint of metal and rust. The wooden, worn-out floor was practically unrecognizable, hidden under piles of parchment, maps and books. To the average passerby, the room seemed a complete mess; to Lewis, it was perfect.
Lewis, his ragged brown hair dishevelled and his nightwear ragged and unkempt, begrudgingly sat up and focused his attention to the porthole. His view was restricted by the grimy, smeared glass, but he was still able to discern puffs of gleaming white clouds surrounding the airship. Judging by the relative size of the snow-capped mountains thousands of feet below, Lewis estimated that they had to be at least fifteen thousand feet in the air. A knot formed in his stomach, a nauseous sensation that rippled through his body and made the hairs on his skin stand up on end. Lewis had never truly been comfortable with the thought of being up so high. Trying desperately to distract himself, he stood up and shifted his attention instead to what needed to be done for the day.
There was a knock at the door, a clear and purposeful rapping that easily shattered the silence. A voice rang out from behind, a voice that was simultaneously steady and anxious, resolute yet distressed. “Lewis, hurry and get out here.” it announced with a trace of hysteria. “There’s a problem in the engine room.”
Lewis swung open the door, and immediately met the eyes of the speaker. He was dressed from head to toe in formal attire, complete with a buttoned up brown blazer, dainty white SOMETHING gloves and a black cap, embellished with golden embroidery and The Expedient’s insignia. It was the ship’s captain. “I’ll take you to the engine room,” he asstered, and started to walk down the long, narrow corridor that ran through the airship. Lewis went with him.
He followed the captain down the hallway, its lacquered brown sides feeling more oppressive and daunting than ever. It wasn’t long before Lewis noticed a pungent odour penetrating his nostrils, a powerful stinging stench that seemed almost to occupy every nook and cranny on the ship. As they approached the bowels of the ship, the air began to cloud, a hazy grey cloud that penetrated his eyes and forced him to tear up. He could hardly breathe, trying desperately not to inhale the foul gas and the putrid taste on his tongue, a repulsive concoction of burning rubber and rotting corpses. His senses were overwhelmed, and the fumes’ intensity only grew as he and the captain finally came upon the entrance to the engine room. The captain, coughing and struggling to see straight, fumbled for the brass door knob that opened the stout entrance. He hesitated for a moment, then opened the door.
It was fire.