Chapter 7: The DantenoraDante sat in his library, mumbling to himself. Spread out on the table in front of him were maps, diagrams and transcripts of conversations. He sighed. It would be a few more weeks before the plan could be put into action, but as of now things were running smoothly. He looked at the picture on his desk, his motivation for all this hard work. Antenora, perched on a stuffed tiger and wearing a long cape, looked back at him. He sighed again and began to type an email.
“My darling Antenora,
The time has come. I must pack my belongings and begin my journey. Others may see it as a fool’s errand but I love you dearly, Antenora. There is no doubt in my mind that I will find you. I may not know how but I know that I must. It is indeed a perilous course that I have set myself but the ends justify the means tenfold. If, however, I have not arrived within 100 days of your receipt of this email you may consider me dead and you must move on with your life. Now, now, Antenora, I can hear your gasp from this side of the Atlantic. You need to be brave during these horrendous times. I need you to be brave for me.
Until we finally meet, I remain yours truly.
With all due respect,
Dante.”
He sent the email and gathered up his resources.
***
A week later, Dante found himself wandering around Bristol. He had hitched his way down from Stoke-on-Trent in the back of a vegetable lorry. His plan from here was to either cross the Atlantic or get a flight to America from continental Europe… somehow.
Over the next couple of days he made his way to the Shirehampton Docks. He was surprised with what he saw. There must have been some kind of naval training going on during the Event because there were military ships scattered across the water, not far from the coast. Dante sat into a dinghy that was washed up on the shore and made his way out to the boats. Just before he reached the nearest one, he saw something sticking out of the water. It seemed to be a periscope and, sure enough, as he got close he felt the underside of the dinghy scrape along a submarine.
***
He had affectionately renamed his vessel
The Dantenora and had been at sea for five weeks now. He had stopped for a short while in Venezuela to stock up on food and buy a rare Spanish edition of
The Grim Grotto that was missing from his collection. Now he was approaching the Panama Canal and judging by his calculations he should reach California within a fortnight. At that precise moment, however, his radar short-circuited and the lights went out.
Dante fumbled around in the dark. It had taken him so long to figure out how to work the submarine that he hadn’t even considered what he would need to do if anything went wrong.
The Dantenora lurched to the left and Dante hit the floor. He tried to crawl towards the controls but looking through a porthole he saw that he was headed straight for a coral reef. Knowing that he had no other option, he grabbed his picture of Antenora and threw on his diving suit. He swam through the escape hatch just in time to see his submarine crash into the reef and fall slowly, with all his belongings, to the bottom of the ocean.
He made his way to the surface so that he could remove his helmet. There was water in every direction, no land to be seen. He grabbed onto a floating piece of debris and wondered what to do next. Having considered the possibilities for over two hours, Dante gave up and began to cry.
***
He woke up the following morning to the sound of shouting. He opened his eyes and saw a dozen men standing around him. Dante scrabbled backwards but hit his head against a short wooden stick that seemed to be connected to one of the men’s legs.
“Looks like he ain’t dead, then,” the peg-legged man said to which the others whooped, cheered and drank some rum.
“Excuse me, gentlemen,” Dante said, “although I am very grateful for your rescue, I must ask a favour. You see, I need to make my way to California in order to meet my beloved Antenora. And if it isn’t too much trouble I need to borrow some clothes.”
The pirates looked at each other and laughed. Some drunkenly toppled onto the deck, which only made the situation funnier to them.
“I don’t think you understand the situation, boy,” the captain said. “This ain’t no pleasure cruise. We’ve taken you aboard so you can earn your keep. You’re gonna be scrubbin’ decks until we can dock in Mexico. Hopefully then we can sell you for a few gold pieces.”
Dante was distraught. Of all the dangers he had prepared for, being enslaved by pirates was not one of them. He watched in horror as one of them removed his glass eye, washed it in rum and slid it back under his eyepatch. Dante clutched his picture of Antenora and wished he was with her.
He spent the next three months on the pirate ship, working harder than he had ever worked before. The idiocy of these buffoons never ceased to amaze him, and it gave him an idea. One day, as they were approaching the coast of Mexico, he stole an empty bottle of rum from one of the unconscious pirates hands after he had passed out. Sneaking to the back of the ship, he finally found himself putting his verbatim Lemony Snicket knowledge to good use. Using the scientific principles of the refraction and convergence of light, Dante set the ship’s deck alight. He swam ashore and revelled in watching the ship burn down. It took a few moments for the impact of what he had just done to hit him. He had just killed a dozen men by setting fire to their home. He was no better than Count Olaf. He realised that he was an arsonist lost in Mexico with no way to find his love, and so he vomited on the beach.
***
Dante sat at the back of the bus, trying to think of anything but the inevitable. He had told Antenora that it would only take him 100 days to reach her, and that point in time had passed months ago. It was not worth considering what she might have done when he hadn’t shown up.
When they reached California, Dante knew exactly where he was heading. Running like a madman, he saw the house in the distance. Despite what he had been through he still held a faded, crumpled photograph in his hands. He burst through the door and shouted her name. There was no reply. He ran through every room, screaming louder with each open door. The silence was physically crushing him. After an hour of searching every crevice in the house, he gave up. He collapsed in a heap on the floor and sobbed. He stopped suddenly and realised he hadn’t checked the backyard.
As he walked out he caught sight of something sprawled on the ground. He ran over to Antenora’s body and grabbed her close. Looking up, he saw an overhanging balcony. Dante weeped and kissed her softly. There was nothing else he could do. He walked slowly up to the balcony and jumped.
***
Antenora woke up. She must have dozed off while she was sunbathing. As she was about to get up, she rubbed her eyes, not believing what she could see. No matter how many times she blinked he was still there, laying dead on the ground with a broken back, her picture clenched in his fist. She screamed a horrible, sad wail. After all this time he had arrived like he had promised. Months ago he left home to find her and when he did she was fast asleep. Her heart heavy with guilt and her head a foggy wreck, Antenora kissed her beloved and walked up to the balcony.
***
The sun began to set. Dante and Antenora, two legendary 667ers, lay still in the grass. They were together at last.