Richard Brown - Titanic With ZOMBIES

O’Loughlin stayed with his assistant surgeon for a minute and then finally left the room, closing the door behind him.

“I’m sorry,” said Smith.

“It’s okay. Sometimes all you can do is just step aside. Only God can save them all.”

“There are still other passengers on this ship in need of your services. There is no need to hang around here. But I do thank you, all of you, for bringing this to my attention. This hospital will remain closed and locked for the remainder of the trip, and under no circumstances should any of the patients leave this room, or should you speak of this to anyone. Do I have your word?”

The group nodded and said a collective, “Yes, sir.”

“Goodnight, gentlemen.”

DR. WILLIAM O’LOUGHLIN

Not more than thirty minutes later, when he was sure the coast was clear, O’Loughlin quietly returned to the third-class hospital. He unlocked the door and stepped inside, immediately struck with the realization that his worst fear had already materialized.

Thirty minutes longer. That’s all it took.

Perhaps an hour in total from the initial contraction of the virus.

So much for a slow incubation period.

O’Loughlin placed his hand on the door of which his friends and colleagues remained imprisoned behind, and then lowered his head.

“Please God forgive me.”

His friends responded by continuously thrashing their bodies against the door, trying to break free so they could tear him limb from limb.

While moaning... moaning.

“And forgive them.”

BROWN

Eight hours later Margaret Brown wandered around the ship searching for Thomas Andrews.

It had been a long night. After the ordeal in the third-class hospital, sleep had not come easy. She had stayed up late worrying about the young woman named Elise Brennan.

Would she live?

Would she die?

Could the virus that had sent Elise into a coma be contagious? Could it be traveling silently through Margaret’s own blood, as she lay awake in bed pondering these terrible things?

She had no answers.

It was only after reading for a good while that her eyes became heavy and her restless mind finally released its grip.

When morning came, however, her thoughts went right back to where they left off. She declined an invitation by the Astor’s to attend prayer service, and further declined breakfast in the dining saloon. She was on a mission for answers, and the only people who could provide them would be the doctors from the previous night, Second Officer Lightoller, or Thomas Andrews. One of which would hopefully ease her mind. None of which she could find.

She had begun her search at the third-class hospital, but the door was locked and no one answered to her knocks. The larger hospital down D-deck was open although she didn’t recognize any of the staff currently on duty. Margaret asked a nurse named Evelyn Marsden if she had seen Dr. O’Loughlin or Simpson.

Evelyn had replied, “Not since yesterday.”

“Do you know anything about a patient by the name of Elise Brennan?”

“Sorry, there is no patient here by that name.”

Moving on, Margaret then went up to the boat deck and asked around for Second Officer Lightoller. A quartermaster referred her to Captain Edward Smith, who upon learning her name, pulled her aside and told her the bad news.

Elise Brennan was dead.

According to the captain, Elise had never come out of the coma and simply died during the night.

Margaret was reluctant to let it go at that, probing for answers about the virus, but the captain assured her of passenger safety and insisted there was no more to the story. There was nothing left to contain because there was nothing left. It was over. He concluded by asking her to please keep the conversation between them private.

Margaret agreed.

If he could lie, she could too.

The captain was hiding something. She didn’t doubt he had the best of intentions and was at heart an authentically honest man, all the best qualities of a lousy liar. Why would he ask her to keep the conversation between them if there was no story to tell—if it was over—if there was nothing to worry about?

The captain’s words ended up having the opposite effect he intended.

She was more worried now than ever.

She didn’t bother searching for Lightoller anymore, who she thought was sleeping, and who would likely prove even more difficult to break than the captain, and instead searched out her new friend Thomas Andrews. If anyone would tell her the truth, it would be him.

Up in his room at the top of the aft first-class staircase, a steward was in the process of cleaning and gathering together used plates and silverware. He met Margaret in the doorway and introduced himself as Henry Etches. He then told her that Andrews had met with a few of his associates this morning to tour the ship. He didn’t know when they would be back, but told her she could leave a message.

Margaret politely declined the offer and continued her search across the ship, checking the dining saloon, the lounge, the Café Parisien, the reading and writing room.

Everywhere.

As is often the case, it was only after she gave up that she finally found him. He was on the boat deck in front of the gymnasium, not far from where she had spoken with Captain Smith. Two men flanked him on each side examining one of the lifeboats. They never saw Margaret until she was upon them.

“Planning on going for a ride?”

All five men turned their attention to Margaret. Andrews looked surprised to see her, and not in a good way.

“Well, I certainly hope not,” one of the men in a leather cap replied.

“Margaret, it’s good to see you,” said Andrews. “Gentlemen, may I introduce you to Mrs. Margaret Brown. We just met last night.”

“Nice to meet you all. Mr. Andrews, you feeling all right? You look a little—I don’t know—wishy-washy.”

Andrews frowned. “I feel fine.”

“Oh, thank goodness. I was afraid you might have come down with something.”

“If you’ll excuse me for a moment,” Andrews said to his associates, and then led Margaret around the corner of the gym to a spot out of sight.

“Was I not subtle enough?” Margaret asked. “I’ve never been too good at that.”

“Listen, Margaret, I can’t—”

“Who are those men?”

“Members of my design team. They came along to assist me.”

“Oh, how nice. Trained problem spotters.”

“Sort of.”

“They didn’t see me coming. What’s wrong with the lifeboats?”

“Nothing. Margaret, please, I really must go. Can we talk another time?”

“Not until you tell me what happened to Elise Brennan? I know she’s not dead.”

Andrews’s fidgety demeanor confirmed her suspicions before he even said a word. He looked back around the corner of the gym to make sure no one was within earshot. His associates were talking and laughing amongst themselves.

“Who did you talk to?”

“The captain.”

“The captain told you she’s not dead?” Andrews sighed. “Of all people.”

“No, he was the one I talked to. He told me she was dead. You told me she wasn’t.”

“I’m confused.”

“So am I,” Margaret replied. “So are you gonna tell me what happened after I left last night or what?”

“You know, I shouldn’t keep them waiting.”

“Come on, I promise I won’t tell nobody.”

“There’s been a lot of promising going on,” Andrews whispered. “Look, I can’t talk about this right now. Come to my room later this afternoon. I’ll tell you everything.”