by Alex Scarrow
ALEX SCARROW used to be a graphic artist, then he decided to be a computer games designer. Finally, he grew up and became an author. He has written a number of successful thrillers and several screenplays, but it’s YA fiction that has allowed him to really have fun with the ideas and concepts he was playing around with when designing games.
He lives in Norwich with his son, Jacob, his wife, Frances, and two very fat rats.
Become a TimeRider at www.time-riders.co.uk
PUFFIN BOOKS
Published by the Penguin Group
Penguin Books Ltd, 80 Strand, London WC2R 0rl, England
Penguin Group (USA) Inc., 375 Hudson Street, New York, New York 10014, USA
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Penguin Books Ltd, Registered Offices: 80 Strand, London WC2R 0RL, England
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First published 2010
Copyright © Alex Scarrow, 2010
All rights reserved
The moral right of the author has been asserted
Except in the United States of America, this book is sold subject to the condition that it shall not, by way of trade or otherwise, be lent, re-sold, hired out, or otherwise circulated without the publisher’s prior consent in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition including this condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser
British Library Cataloguing in Publication Data
A CIP catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library
ISBN: 978-0-141-94637-5
To Jacob, my proofreader.
And in memory of Bullseye… a wonderful rat.
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Chapter 46
Chapter 47
Chapter 48
Chapter 49
Chapter 50
Chapter 51
Chapter 52
Chapter 53
Chapter 54
Chapter 55
Chapter 56
Chapter 57
Chapter 58
Chapter 59
Chapter 60
Chapter 61
Chapter 62
Chapter 63
Chapter 64
Chapter 65
Chapter 66
Chapter 67
Chapter 68
Chapter 69
Chapter 70
Chapter 71
Chapter 72
Chapter 73
Chapter 74
Chapter 75
Chapter 76
Chapter 77
Chapter 78
Chapter 79
Chapter 80
Chapter 81
Chapter 82
Chapter 83
Chapter 84
Chapter 85
Chapter 86
Chapter 87
Chapter 88
Chapter 89
Chapter 90
Chapter 91
Chapter 92
Chapter 93
CHAPTER 1
1912, Atlantic Ocean
‘Anyone left here on deck E?’ cried Liam O’Connor. His voice echoed down the narrow passageway, bouncing off the metal walls. ‘Anyone down here?’
It was silent save for the muffled cries and clatter of hasty footsteps coming from the deck above and the deep mournful creak of the ship’s hull, stressing and stretching as the bow end of the ship slowly dipped below the ocean’s surface.
Liam braced himself against the gradually steepening angle of the floor, holding on to the doorframe of the cabin beside him. The chief steward’s instructions had been clear – to ensure every cabin at this end of the deck was empty before coming up and joining him.
He wasn’t sure he wanted to; the screaming and wailing of women and children that he could hear coming down the stairwell from above sounded shrill and terrifying. At least here on deck E, amid the second-class cabins, there was an eerie sense of peace. Not quite silent, though. Far away, he could hear a deep rumble and knew it was the sound of the freezing ocean cascading into the stricken ship, roaring through open bulkheads, gradually pulling her down.
‘Last call!’ he cried out again.
A few minutes ago he had roused a young mother and her daughter cowering in one of the cabins wearing their life jackets. The woman was paralysed with fear, trembling on her bed with her daughter wrapped in her arms. Liam ushered them out and led them to the stairs to deck D. The little girl had quickly kissed his cheek and wished him luck as they parted on the stairwell, as if – unlike her confused mother – she understood they were all doomed.
He could feel the angle of the floor increasing beneath his unsteady feet. From the top of the passage he heard the crash of crockery tumbling from shelves in the steward’s room.
She’ll be going under soon.
Liam uttered a quick, whispered prayer and craned his neck into one last cabin. Empty.
A loud groan rippled through the floor; it vibrated like the song of a giant whale – he felt it more than heard it. His eyes were drawn to something flashing past the cabin’s small porthole. He saw nothing but darkness, then the fleeting quicksilver flutter of bubbles racing past.
Deck E’s below the water line.
‘Sod this,’ he muttered. ‘I’m done here.’
He stepped back out into the passageway and saw at the end a ripple of water only an inch or two deep, gently lapping up along the carpeted floor towards him.
‘Oh no.’
The lower end of the passage was his only way out.
You stayed too long, Liam, you fool. You stayed too long.
He realized now the girl and her mother had been his fateful warning to get out. He should have left with them.
The ice-cold water met his feet, trickled into his shoes and rolled effortlessly past him. He took several steps forward, wading deeper into the water
, feeling its freezing embrace around his ankles, his shins, his knees. Up ahead, round the bend at the end of the passage, was the stairwell he should’ve been climbing five minutes ago. He pressed forward, whimpering with agony as the icy water rose round his waist and soaked through his white steward’s tunic. His breath puffed past chattering teeth in clouds of vapour as he struggled forward.
‘Ah J-Jayzzzusss an’ Holy Mary… I d-don’t want to drown!’ he hissed, his voice no longer the recently broken timbre of a sixteen-year-old, but the strangled whimper of a frightened child.
It was getting too deep to wade now. Ahead of him, where the passage turned right for the stairwell, the water had reached the wall lights, causing them to spark and flicker.
The stairwell’s probably flooded.
He realized that round the corner the water had to be lapping the ceiling and at least one flight of the stairs would be completely submerged by now. His only way out would be to hold his breath and hope it would last long enough for him to fumble his way up that first flight to the landing.
‘Ah J-J-Jay-zus!’ His blue lips trembled at the thought of floundering in the darkness, beneath the surface – losing his way, feeling the growing desperation and then finally sucking churning seawater into his lungs.
It was then he heard it – the sound of movement from behind him.
CHAPTER 2
1912, Atlantic Ocean
He turned to look up the passageway and saw a man standing ankle-deep in the water, holding on to a wall rail to prevent himself tumbling down the passage towards him.
‘Liam O’Connor!’
‘We’re s-stuck!’ Liam replied. ‘There’s no… there’s no way out!’ His voice sounded shrill.
‘Liam O’Connor,’ the man said again, his voice calm.
‘What?’
‘I know who you are, lad.’
‘Whuh?… We need to –’
The man smiled. ‘Listen, Liam.’ He looked at his watch. ‘You have just under two minutes left to live.’ The man looked around at the vanilla-coloured metal bulkheads of deck E. ‘This ship’s spine will snap in about ninety seconds. She’ll break two thirds of the way along. The bow end, the larger section, the bit you and I are in, will sink first – like a stone. The stern will bob for another minute and follow us down, one and a half miles to the bottom of the ocean.’
‘Ah, p-please no. No, no, no,’ Liam whimpered, realizing that he was crying.
‘As we sink, the water pressure will quickly mount. The hull will buckle under it. The air pressure will burst your eardrums. The rivets in these walls,’ he said, running his hand over a row of them, ‘will fire out of the bulkheads like bullets. This passage will instantly fill with water and you’ll be crushed before you can drown. That’s at least a small mercy.’
‘Oh Jay-zus, no… H-help us.’
‘You’ll die, Liam.’ The man smiled again. ‘And that makes you perfect.’
‘P-perfect?’
The man took several steps forward, wading waist-deep into the water towards Liam.
‘Tell me, do you want to live?’
‘What?… Is th-there another w-way out?’
The lights in the passageway flickered out in unison. Then a moment later came back on.
‘Sixty seconds until she buckles, Liam. Not long now.’
‘Is th-there another w-way out of –?’
‘If you come with me, Liam,’ he said, holding out a hand, ‘there is another way. You’ll live an invisible life. You’ll exist as a phantom, never quite in this world of ours. Never able to make new friends, never able to find love.’ The man softened that with a sympathetic smile. ‘You’ll learn about things that… well… that can ultimately lead to madness if you let it mess with your mind. Some people choose death.’
‘I w-want to live!’
‘I must warn you… I’m not offering you your life, Liam. I’m offering you a way out, that’s all.’
Liam grabbed hold of the candelabra of a flickering wall light and pulled himself backwards up the slanting passage, his feet finding the floor once more. A shuddering groan rippled around them – deafening.
‘She’s dying, Liam. The Titanic’s back is going to break in just a few seconds. If you believe in God, you might wish to join him now. If you stay here, I assure you, it’ll all be over very quickly for you.’
Drowning. It was Liam’s worst nightmare – for as far back as he could remember. He’d never learned to swim because of his terrible fear of water.
Liam looked up at the man, looking at his face for the first time: deep sad eyes surrounded by wrinkles of age. And then a thought occurred to him.
‘Are you… are y-you an a-angel?’
He smiled. ‘No. I’m just an old man.’ His hand remained steady, outstretched towards Liam. ‘I’d understand if you chose to stay and die. Not everyone decides they want to come.’
Liam felt a shudder. The floor beneath his feet convulsed and the air around them was filled with the shriek of tearing sheet metal, the pop of unbuckling seams, as deck after deck above them began to give way one after the other.
‘Here it is, Liam. We’ve arrived at decision time.’
Liam pulled himself forward, up out of the water, desperately reaching out for the old man’s proffered hand. If there was time, if his mind wasn’t in a free fall of panic, he might have wondered who this man was, and how exactly he intended to save them both. Instead, right now, he could think only one thing.
I don’t want to die. I don’t want to die.
The lights suddenly winked out, leaving them in complete darkness.
Liam flailed with his arm blindly. ‘Where’s your hand? Please! I don’t want to drown!’
His fingers brushed the old man’s. The old man caught it and held on.
‘Say goodbye to your life, Liam,’ he shouted above the thunderous din of the ship splitting in two.
The last sensation that Liam was aware of was the vibrating metal floor of the passageway beneath his feet giving way, and falling… falling through darkness.
CHAPTER 3
2001, New York
Falling, falling… falling.
Liam jerked awake, his legs kicking out. His eyes still clamped shut, he felt with his hands – material, dry and warm covering him. It was quiet, almost silent, except for the soft rustle of breathing next to him, and a distant muted rumble somewhere far above him. He knew that he was mysteriously somewhere else – that much was obvious.
He was on a bed or a cot. He opened his eyes to see an arched ceiling of crumbling bricks above him, whitewashed long ago with paint that was now flaking off like dandruff. From the top of the arched ceiling a single flickering light bulb dangled from a dusty flex of cable.
He lifted himself up on to his elbows.
He was in a brick alcove, somewhere underground, perhaps. Beyond the pool of light coming from the bulb above, a damp concrete floor spread out from the alcove into darkness.
Where am I?
He sat up, feeling groggy and light-headed, and found himself looking across a gap of three feet at a bunk bed. In the lower bunk, he could see a girl a few years older than him stirring in an uneasy sleep. He guessed she might be eighteen, perhaps nineteen. More a young woman than a girl.
Her eyes rolled beneath the lids; her voice whimpered pathetically. Her legs twitched and kicked, making the bunk squeak and rattle with every lurched movement.
Where the hell am I? he silently asked himself again.
CHAPTER 4
2010, somewhere above America
Maddy Carter reached round awkwardly and hit the flush button. The toilet hissed with a vicious suction and for a moment she wondered whether a person unlucky enough to accidentally snag the button while still sitting on the seat might be sucked down the u-bend and blasted out at forty thousand feet to free fall amid a shower of turds.
