11:39

by Holly Hook

  I stumble over something lying in the middle of the hallway. It reminds me of a white pillow with straps on it for shoulders.

  I’ve seen these before.

  It’s a life vest.

  My heart seizes. I stop. Swallow.

  There’s more of them scattered around the hallway. Hardly anyone’s wearing them, probably due to the heat. Most are on the floor or being sat on by children.

  There's a gentle swaying feeling under my feet.

  God.

  I’m on a ship. Isabel put me on a ship.

  A spike of panic rises through me, running up my spine and tightening my chest. I have to get out of here. I can’t stay. I turn to see if the rift has come back, but the back wall stays as solid as ever. I’m stuck here. I’ll have to find another one or wait until someone gets me out of here. I can't open a rift by myself. I've never done that before.

  I stare at my shoes, an ugly brown hair that stick out from the edge of my gray skirt.

  I’ve got to get it together. I can’t die, no matter what happens. I have to find Isabel’s family. And watch—

  This ship is going to sink. It's going to take all these people with it. All these kids.

  Why else would Time have rescued Isabel from this?

  I’m staggering through the crowd now. I hurry under a speaker that’s playing what sounds like some big band music. I'm faint. My heart won’t stop pounding. I peek into all the rooms, no, cabins—for any sign of Isabel’s mane of long blond hair. Families cram into those, too. There’s a lot of blond girls here, but none of them are her.

  I struggle up a stairwell, past people who are sitting on the steps. This ship is filled way over capacity. There’s too many people here, period. It’s got to be breaking some kind of regulation. I focus on my breathing and the music while I go up to the next deck.

  I don’t want to be on the lower levels. I just can’t. I need air.

  I’m on a ship. A ship…

  Keep going.

  I tell myself that, over and over.

  A man in a brown military uniform looks up at me and manages a smile as I pass. I grab the rail and rush around him. Something about his uniform screams at me and makes my stomach tie in knots, and I don’t know why.

  Find Isabel's family. I can ask her the questions later.

  The next deck is no better. There’s just as many people crammed into the hallways and the cabins here. It’s like a whole stadium has crammed into a cruise ship. I can’t help but wonder if they’re fleeing from something. Something terrifying. Why else would people cram in like this?

  It’s not quite as hot up here, and the music’s a little more clear. I walk past a woman who has a little girl sleeping on her shoulder. Why are there so many kids here? Is this some kind of evacuation?

  There’s a door leading outside up ahead. The air’s colder here, and everyone’s huddling away from it. There’s a sailor standing nearby, but he’s got his back turned to me.

  I slip out the door and into January.

  My heart leaps into my chest. It’s freezing out here. I’m in an enclosed promenade deck, and a few stray flakes fly past the windows. My breath curls in front of me and I shiver.

  This is too much. It's just like that night in 1912. Isabel should have warned me. Now I know why Simon didn't want me to come here.

  Melvin.

  I need to do this for him. I’ve got to go back in there and fulfill my mission. I need to save Isabel's family from this and I have no idea how.

  I turn to escape the cold. For the first time, I notice a life preserver hanging on the wall, ropes dangling and messy. It’s got the name of the ship in Gothic black lettering. I turn my head to read it upside-down.

  M.V. Wilhelm Gustloff.

  I’ve never heard the name of this ship before. I don't recall seeing any books about it on Nancy's bookshelf. But it doesn’t matter. I know what’s going to happen. And I know what Isabel wants me to do.

  She wants me to save her family before this ship goes down. In return, she’ll save mine.

  But why hasn't Simon done this already?

  I dart back inside, which is no easy feat with the crowds. One of the sailors says something after me, but I ignore it. I know nothing about this ship or how it’s going to sink, or how much longer I have until it happens. I don’t know how to warn the captain and stop it. I don't speak whatever this language is. How can I?

  The radio’s changed now. There’s a man speaking over it in a harsh, sharp voice that I know I’ve heard before, but I can’t place it now. I can't understand the words. Children stir and wake from naps. One boy’s sitting there with his hands over his face like he’s going to vomit from seasickness. I feel the same.

  When I do find Isabel’s family, how on earth do I pull them out of here?

  “Isabel?” I ask, searching around the hallways. The man on the radio speaks louder now, and broken, hypnotic cheering punctuates his sentences. She’s got to be around here somewhere. I turn a corner and go underneath another speaker. “Isabel?”

  I peek in a cabin. And another, and another. Look over countless, tired families. The speech drags out over my head. It almost sounds like—

  I glance into a tiny cabin.

  There’s Isabel.

  She stands by porthole, watching the night. She’s got her back to me, but that long mane of hair is recognizable anywhere. The past, human Isabel wears a blue and white dress with a matching bandanna tied around the top of her head. There’s a woman sitting on the bed with a younger girl, both in matching dresses. It's her mother and sister. Her family. The ones I need to save.

  “Is--” I start to step into the room, but stop.

  A tall, graying man steps into my view and up to a mirror on the wall. He wrinkles his brow. He’s in some black military uniform with silver badges. There’s a black police hat in one hand. He also has a pistol hanging from his hip. He turns and says something to his wife, who runs her hand through her younger daughter’s hair and says something back. Why can’t the Timeless just understand every language ever? It would be a cool ability.

  Isabel’s father has the same pointed face that she does, the same dusty blond hair, the same proud stance. He walks across the room while I watch, pacing like he’s on guard. I get a closer look at his hat and my guts squirm in discomfort. There’s a silver skull and crossbones sewn on the front. I can’t stop staring until I spot a flash of red on the man’s uniform.

  It’s an arm band. With a bold, black swastika staring at me.

  I recoil out of the doorway and flatten against the wall. It’s like someone’s kicked me in the stomach. The breath’s been knocked right out of me and I understand what this all means. Isabel’s sent me to World War Two. The guy doing the speech over the radio is Hitler. Isabel's father is a Nazi.

  Now I know why Simon wouldn’t do this. Why Isabel wouldn't face me back in the Hub.

  I close my eyes. The speech gets bigger and bigger in my head. Someone did a presentation about how evil Hitler and the Nazis were in Independent Study this last year. It's the only reason I know about them. God, I can’t do this.

  But Melvin’s there, struggling in the water, screaming for me. Isabel's got the keys to him and she knows it. I have to save her family. I’m fine with dragging her mother and her sister out of here, but her father…

  What horrible things has he done? I can’t think about it now.

  The radio goes silent, and I’m glad for the relief. The music comes back on, bright and cheerful. It makes me a little less sick.

  Two whispering women brush past me, and I open my eyes. I peek back into the room. Her father’s standing at the mirror again, angled towards me enough to make out the silver letters on his collar. A pair of jagged S’s. They shine in the light, so sharp, so…evil. He’s not just a member of the military.

  He’s an SS officer. One of the worst monsters of the war.

  Isabel’s watching him now as he picks at his cheek, and her gaze lands on m
e for a split second before she looks away. I’m just another face here, another refugee on this cramped ship.

  The thought of even approaching her father makes a bad taste rise in my throat. Maybe I can just take back her mother and sister. They probably have never murdered anyone. If I mark them both with Isabel’s blood, they’ll get sucked into the Hub when the rift opens to save Isabel, just like it did with me and Simon. We'll figure out what to do after that. She’ll be happy that her mom and sister are safe, at least. I can make an excuse why I couldn’t do the same for her father. She might understand.

  She will. She has to. Isabel didn't sound too happy about me finding out about this. Somehow, I don't think she's proud of what her father's done.

  I reach into my pocket for something that can cut. I have to pull off the attack somehow. Her father’s got a gun. That's going to complicate things.

  I wrap my hands around a set of fingernail clippers and a napkin. Fantastic.

  I’ll run in. Stab Isabel in the arm or something, just enough to draw some blood. Then I’ll use this napkin to rub it on her mom and sister. It's a horrible plan, but I’m lost for what else to do.

  I take a breath when there’s a deafening boom and the entire ship jumps. Screams echo through the air and I fall to the floor. Around me, others do the same and a baby starts crying. I hear Isabel’s father cursing inside the cabin. At least, I think it’s cursing.

  The sinking of the Wilhelm Gustloff has begun.

  Chapter Ten

  There’s nothing but alarmed screams and cries around me. I stagger to my feet and forget where I am for a second.

  I’m in the hallway of the ship and Isabel’s family is in the cabin next to me. But the crowd’s so thick and panicked now that I can’t see anything besides heads, faces, dresses. People ask each other questions. Even though I can’t understand it, I can guess: what exploded? What hit us?

  I push forward, hands around the fingernail clippers. I might be able to cut Isabel in all this chaos. She might not notice, and better yet, her father might not notice. But I can’t push through to her cabin. The door’s feet away from me now. In panic, the crowd’s pushing towards the stairway and sweeping me along with it.

  There’s a second deafening boom and the ship lurches again. I stagger as everything seems to rise and fall a few feet. People go down. The radio crackles. Shrieks rise over it.

  Someone’s firing at a ship full of kids. Kids. I grab the wall and hot rage boils through me. There’s crying everywhere. It’s Melvin, terrified and about to die all over again.

  A mom squeezes past me, a crying boy in her arms. There’s another boy pushed against the opposite wall, pale. He must only be four.

  And I can’t save them all.

  Isabel’s room. If I inch against the wall, I can get there. The crowd’s moving against me, a slow river of people trying to squeeze up the stairs. It’s not working. There’s a barricade of bodies stuck there while people try to get up to the decks. A pair of legs stick out from underneath the throng, hanging out from under the rails. Anyone who falls won't make it.

  I inch along the wall, pushing against the throng. It’s almost impossible. There’s no room to move. An older man shouts something at me as I move past him. Complete panic has taken over. I grab onto the door frame of Isabel’s cabin.

  A third boom shakes the whole ship, and the lights go out.

  It’s pitch dark. My heart goes on a runaway course. I’m in a grave full of moving, panicked bodies. And there’s another noise, cutting over everything.

  Rushing water. If I’m right, from somewhere below.

  And is the floor tilting?

  I lose it. I stand against the wall, hyperventilating. I can’t move. Terror paralyzes me. There’s more screams echoing from below, from those trapped in the rising water. A few gunshots. Murders…or mercy killings. People are already dying. Anyone below us isn’t going to make it up fast enough in these crowds. They’re going to drown in darkness, pressed against so many others.

  The world blazes red past my eyelids. It does something to break the panic in me. I open them. Dull emergency lights now shine between cabins, illuminating all faces in a ghostly yellow. The crowd makes a new push towards the stairwell, a more frenzied push.

  And this time, they’re taking me with them.

  There’s no fighting back. I’m trapped in a stream of people, growing closer and closer to the stairs. Everyone’s scrambling for the decks and the lifeboats. I’m getting carried upstream. Over the still figure of a woman sprawled on the stairs. I’m leaving Isabel and her family behind in that cabin, a room they’re probably trapped in.

  “No!” I shout. There’s no point in blowing my cover now. I swing at a sailor huffing his way up behind an older couple. “Let me back down!”

  He takes my blow and keeps going. It’s like I haven’t even hit him.

  But my voice is lost in the screams of everyone else. I stagger and catch my footing. If I fall here, I won't get back up. Ever. I can't die but I can go into the depths with this ship. I might never find a rift and get out.

  The crowd drags me out to the glass promenade deck. The enclosed deck. Windows block the way outside. Women beat against them, trying to break them, while children watch and cry. There’s no way out over here. I slide forward, towards the glass. The ship's definitely tilting to one side. The bombs or torpedoes or whatever must have all hit on one side of the ship.

  There’s a lifeboat lowering on the other side of the glass, half-empty. People beat harder on the glass, begging to be saved, but the boat lowers out of sight and into the inky water below. I can’t breathe. So many bodies push against me. I’m trapped.

  There has to be another way out of here. Isabel and her family might head up to the decks. Her dad’s a military guy. He’d probably know better than the crowd in this area.

  It’s getting hard to stand. The tilt’s getting worse by the minute. I turn, which is no easy feat. A few others are going with me. If it weren’t for that, I wouldn’t be moving at all.

  It’s no better out in the hallway. There’s still a steady flow of people coming up from below. I smell ocean now. It's frigid death and cold. The ship’s filling. People—children—are drowning below us or getting trampled to death. There’s no way I’m going to get back to that cabin now.

  Wait.

  There.

  I spot a flash of red on black heading up to the next deck. Isabel’s father.

  And next to him is Isabel and her mother. Her mother has the younger daughter in her arms. They’re going right past the promenade death trap and outside.

  I rejoin the river of panic. “Isabel!” She can’t hear me, of course. Her mane of hair disappears up the stairwell.

  People push at me from behind. Cold air hits me. We're headed outside. We pass another passenger deck and stop while more terrified people cram onto the stairway. I get pushed against the wall and hold my breath until enough people pass where I can move again. I have to hurry. If I don’t get topside fast enough, Isabel won’t be anywhere to be found.

  More people are leaning against the wall now. A sailor falls against it. The ship’s tilting to the side so badly that soon, it will be impossible to get above decks. Everyone still below isn’t going to make it.

  Somehow, I burst onto the deck outside. The sky’s a featureless black. The screaming is even louder out here, more desperate. It’s not as packed up here and I can move, but Isabel’s nowhere to be found. Her family’s already run somewhere else. Where are the lifeboats? They’d go for those.

  Bitter cold air wraps around me. It’s just like the Titanic. Just as cold and deadly, only there are a lot more people here. I slip and catch my footing. The deck’s icy. A woman near me goes down and slides down the ship towards the black expanse of the water below. There are no lights. Most of the ship is dark. People gather at the railings, either stuck there by the tilt or desperate to get on the other side. I spot one lifeboat out in the water, a dark shape
that’s drifting away. Isabel wouldn’t be on that one. Time only claims people who would otherwise die.

  I stagger towards the boat deck, or what I think is the boat deck. Climb over a rail. There’s people gathered around one, they’re beating on the frozen ropes of one of the boats with their bare hands. There aren’t any sailors around, lowering them. The whole place is chaos.

  One of the lifeboats clunks down to the deck, and everyone rushes it. I spot Isabel’s hair. Her father’s black uniform. They scramble in.

  I run faster. I’m going to lose them.

  My feet slip out from under me and I’m sliding. Sliding towards the boat…and the water. Isabel’s sitting inside next to her parents. The boat’s crashing into the water and drifting alongside the ship.

  I crash into the railing and grab on, only to keep myself from going in. Others do the same. I can’t go any farther. If I stand, I’m going into the sea. Into that icy agony that I already know too well. There are already people sliding in. Splashes everywhere. Screams of pain. Life jackets bobbing up and down in the water.

  I’ve failed to reach Isabel’s family. They’re already drifting away. She sent me on an impossible mission. All I can do is hold onto this railing, cold and helpless.

  But wait—they’re in a lifeboat. Maybe I don’t need to save them.

  A horrible grinding noise sounds to my left. I crane my neck to look up.

  There’s something massive sliding down the ship. A huge cannon. It’s broken free of whatever bolted it down and it’s plunging to the water.

  To where Isabel’s family is trying to escape.

  More screams erupt all around me as the huge cannon topples over the railing.

  I barely catch the golden light enveloping Isabel and disappearing before it crashes down on the entire boat, exploding wooden splinters and worse.