Richard Brown: Titanic With ZOMBIES

http://www.richardbrownbooks.com

Copyright @ 2012 Richard Brown

For Kelly Brown.

May Hugh Jackman always keep you safe.

WARNING!

If you exhibit any of these conditions,

proceed with caution!

Pregnancy

Heart Problems

High blood pressure

Motion sickness

Weak stomach

Fear of water

Fear of dying

Fear of not dying

No sense of humor

Easily offended

“When anyone asks how I can best describe my experience in nearly 40 years at sea, I merely say, uneventful. I never saw a wreck and never have been wrecked, nor was I ever in any predicament that threatened to end in disaster of any sort. You see, I am not very good material for a story.”

- Captain Edward J. Smith

“You weren’t there at my first meeting with Ismay. To see the little red marks all over the blueprints. First thing I thought was: ‘Now here’s a man who wants me to build him a ship that’s gonna be sunk.’ We’re sending gilded egg shells out to sea.”

- Thomas Andrews

“Control your Irish passions, Thomas. I’ll not have so many little boats, as you call them, cluttering up my decks and putting fear into my passengers.”

- Bruce Ismay

“The press is calling these ships unsinkable and Ismay’s leadin’ the chorus. It’s just not true. I know this isn’t scientific, but this ship’s warning me she’s gonna die and take a lot of people with her.”

- Thomas Andrews

April 11, 1912

ELISE BRENNAN

Elise Brennan waited amongst a crowd of other passengers to board the White Star Line tender Ireland. The tender America had just left the dock at Queenstown with over sixty passengers and was en route to the RMS Titanic anchored off Roche’s Point.

Elise, a native of Westmeath, Ireland, and only seventeen-years-old, hadn’t planned on sailing across the Atlantic by herself.

Times had been tough since the death of her mother less than a year ago, and her father, a farm labourer, had purchased the third-class tickets with what little money he could spare. The last of their family, he and Elise had sold everything they owned and would make for the great city of New York in search of new opportunities, like so many other Irish immigrants before them.

But then her father had died suddenly of heart failure only three weeks ago.

Elise imagined the stress of starting over at his age had been too much for him to handle, and his heart simply gave up.

With no other choice, Elise prepared to embark on the journey to New York alone, without the love and wisdom of her father, and by way of the newest ship in town.

The papers called it, The Ship of Dreams.

The creation of Bruce Ismay (the managing director of the White Star Line) and Lord James Pirrie (a partner at Harland and Wolff), the Titanic and its sister ship, the Olympic, were said to pave a new way for big, luxurious passenger liners.

The two ships were built over the course of three years in Belfast by Harland and Wolff, under the direction of Thomas Andrews, the nephew of Lord Pirrie. The Olympic was first to launch, and conducted its maiden voyage on June 14, 1911.

Elise remembered that June well, as it was just after her mother passed away. Her mother had been a housekeeper all her adult life, and while she didn’t earn much, the loss of her income had placed immense pressure on Elise’s father to make big changes for the betterment of his daughter.

Ten months later, Elise stood on the dock in Queenstown, after a series of train rides from Westmeath, to take part in the Titanic’s maiden voyage, and in many ways, a maiden voyage of her own, but in the company of strangers.

Elise watched as port officials finished loading the last of the luggage into the Ireland.

She had said her goodbyes to the place she grew up, from the hills to the plains to the many rivers that divide them; to her friends whom she promised to write; and to her parents, who would forever remain buried in this land, yet whose memory she would carry no matter her station in life. God willing, in a week she would be an American.

One by one, port officials began checking tickets and allowing passengers to board. The crowd pushed in closer, anxious to get moving.

Elise examined the sea of faces. In front of her was a woman with three sons, the youngest maybe two-years-old, all clinging fearfully to their mother’s skirt. To her right, an older gentleman around her late father’s age, as solemn and quiet as she, presumably taking the trip alone as well. To her left, a young husband and wife with four children, the kids loud and rambunctious, playing off each other’s energy.

It was just after one of the four children, a boy around five or six, had accidently bumped into her, and she had smiled down at him with understanding eyes, that she felt the piercing sting on the nape of her neck.

Something had bit her.

She immediately massaged the sore spot with her index finger, returning a small amount of blood.

What kind of bug could possibly be out this chilly afternoon and amongst such a large an active crowd, she wondered?

A ruckus erupted behind her as a short and burly man with a bald head bullied his way backward through the crowd. Many furiously cursed his lack of manners, while Elise just stared in bewilderment. It wasn’t until the little boy beside her asked if she was okay that she understood what had happened.

She blazed through the path created by the bald man and ran under an awning used to shelter passengers from less friendly weather. Today it was mostly empty aside from a few security personnel who lumbered about. She yelled at them to help her, but they only insisted she slow down and explain herself.

Forty yards ahead, her assailant climbed over a stone ledge up on the left that led to a row of hotels and pubs.

Elise made it over the ledge and around some bushes on to the open road just as the bald man escaped out of sight in an alleyway. She stopped to catch her breath and looked back at the dock. From this vantage point, she could see the dock was nearly clear of passengers. Almost everyone was on the Ireland now, waiting for the final few to board so they could be ferried out to the Titanic.

She looked back at the alleyway.

The bald man was long gone.

As she climbed back down the ledge, she found a small needle covered in dirt, its glass barrel smashed. She didn’t dare pick it up or tell security in fear that they might not allow her on the ship. They adhered to a strict policy and would treat any potential illness very seriously. Even if her life could be in danger, she couldn’t risk being stuck here, alone and penniless. On the ship, she could at least receive free medical attention.

The crew of the Ireland waited for Elise to make her way back down the dock. She was the last passenger to board. The others eyed her with wordless irritation, as though she had purposely delayed them. She caught sight of the little boy who had most likely been the only witness. He was playing with his siblings, completely absorbed in his youth. He had obviously said nothing to his parents.

Elise rubbed her neck again. The spot where the needle had gone in no longer bled, and it no longer hurt. Most of the pain had come and gone with the initial prick, all that lingered now was a growing fear that her health and well-being could be in jeopardy. She could think of no rational explanation for what had happened, and as best she could recall, she had never seen the bald man before in her life.