by Suzanne Weyn
Jessica held her cell phone up in front of her like someone in a movie using garlic or a cross to ward off a vampire. “I have my parents on speed dial,” she warned. “If you come any closer, I’ll press the button.”
The woman tossed her head back, nearly unsettling her big hat, screaming with laughter. “I got you! I so got you! You should see your faces!”
“W-what?” Samantha stuttered.
“Our faces?” Jessica cried. “What happened to your face? You look like a ghost!”
“That’s exactly what I’m supposed to be. A ghost!” The woman was laughing so hard tears streamed from her eyes. “I didn’t know if the white makeup would be too much, but I guess it worked. You two fell for it hook, line and sinker. Hilarious!”
“Okay! Okay! You got us,” Samantha admitted, starting to smile. It was pretty funny that they’d been so easy to scare. “Great costume.”
The woman slowed her laughter, wiping tears from her eyes. “Thanks. I’ve been planning this all year, and you were the first ones I’ve tested it on. I’d say it was a success.”
“Is this supposed to be a haunted cruise?” Samantha asked. She knew the cruise was going to re-create the experience of being on the Titanic, but she hadn’t heard anything about it being a ghostship.
“Not really,” the woman said, waving her hand dismissively. “Though some of the crew are dressed as passengers from the original Titanic, so, in a way, they’re sort of ghostly.”
“Are you supposed to be someone famous?” Jessica asked.
“I’m glad you asked. Yes! I’m Molly Brown. She was a wealthy woman who was traveling back home from Europe. Reportedly she was very brave in the lifeboat and insisted that the oarsman pick up more people from the water than he thought the lifeboat could hold. She saved their lives!”
“Is that your job, to dress up and be Molly Brown?” Samantha inquired.
“I wish it was, but I have other duties. I’m Ashley Holmes, one of your cruise directors. It’s my job to think of fun things to keep the passengers amused, like a costume room you’ll be able to visit. We’ll get you all done up as if you were really on the Titanic back in nineteen twelve. You’ll love it.”
“Ooh … fun!” Jessica crooned with a shiver of excitement.
“Wait — what were you saying about alive or dead?” Samantha reminded the cruise director.
“I almost forgot!” Ashley Holmes opened the green velvet bag that hung on her wrist and dug out two slips of paper. She handed one to each girl.
A name was written on each slip. “Alice Littlefield,” Samantha read. Looking over at Jessica’s slip, she read: “Matilda Littlefield.”
“They were passengers on the Titanic,” Ashley Holmes told them. “Every passenger gets one. I picked those especially for you girls because they were twins, too.”
“We’re not twins,” Samantha told her.
A puzzled expression appeared on Ashley Holmes’s face. “Really? I saw copies of your passport pictures and just assumed …”
“You didn’t read our birth dates,” Samantha told her. “We’re a year and a half apart.”
“It doesn’t matter. You two look enough alike to be twins.”
“Well, we’re not,” Jessica insisted.
“So anyway, girls,” the cruise director said more seriously. “Let me tell you what these slips are for. There’s a number on each slip that corresponds to a real passenger on the original Titanic voyage. If your number is the same as the number of a dead passenger, then you’re dead. If the person whose number you are holding lived, then you’ve survived the journey.”
“When will we find out?” Jessica asked.
“Hold on to your slip until the end of the voyage. We’ll let you know your fate — or your passenger’s fate.” The smile faded from the cruise director’s face. “As you leave the Titanic, we will tell you if your person was saved or drowned.”
“Weren’t all the women and children saved?” Samantha asked, recalling what she’d read online about the famous disaster. The women and children were put on the lifeboats first. When it was time for the men to go, there weren’t any lifeboats left for most of them.
“Not all the women and children were saved, especially not those in the bottom of the ship, in third class. Many of them went down with the ship. Some women in first and second class chose to stay behind with their husbands,” Ashley Holmes told them. “Is there anything further I can do for you?”
“We heard some kind of scratching behind that wall. Do you have any idea what it could be?”
“Oh, sound travels all over this ship. The walls are paper-thin. You can hear everything. Don’t pay any attention to it,” the cruise director said with a smile. “And watch what you say because everyone can hear you as well.”
SAMANTHA AND Jessica waved as Ashley Holmes left. “There’s a woman who loves her work,” Jessica commented with wry amusement.
Samantha laughed lightly. “No kidding.”
The scratching returned to the room. “Listen, Jess! Hear that?”
Joining Samantha, Jessica pressed her ear to the wall to listen. Whatever was behind there began to pant heavily.
Then, suddenly, the sounds stopped completely.
“It’s gone,” Jessica observed.
“Isn’t that odd?” Samantha said.
“Very odd,” Jessica agreed. “Let’s just hope it doesn’t come back.”
Samantha nodded. Maybe the sound would just go away.
She glanced down at the numbered paper in her hand. The idea was really sort of clever, she decided. Who would live and who would die? It reminded her of the saying: When your number’s up, it’s up. But in this case, there was an actual number attached to it.
“I wonder if we live or die,” Jessica mused, almost as though reading Samantha’s mind.
“Not we, them!” Samantha reminded her. “The Littlefields. We’re not really going to die.”
“I suppose,” Jessica agreed. “Still … I feel like we are them now.”
“Well, we’re not,” Samantha insisted. “We’re not them, it’s not nineteen twelve, and we’re not going to maybe drown when the ship sinks — which it’s not going to!” She didn’t like this whole idea. There was nothing appealing about taking on the character of someone who might meet her doom in a freak accident in the middle of the Atlantic Ocean. Besides, it all happened more than a hundred years in the past. “What do you like about all this?” she asked her sister.
Jessica shrugged. “It’s kind of cool to feel like I’m back in time and on this famous ship. We get to dress up.”
“But we’re on a ship where people died,” Samantha protested.
“You’re taking it too seriously,” Jessica advised. “This isn’t the real Titanic. No one really died here.”
“I suppose.”
“Anyway, I’m hungry,” Jessica announced. “I’m going to go find something to eat.”
Samantha stretched and yawned. “Mind if I don’t come with you? I’m not hungry, and we got up so early. I’d rather take a nap.”
Jessica smiled happily. “Oh, that’s great!”
Samantha shot her a puzzled expression. “Great?”
“Of course! Isn’t it great to be on this cruise where we can nap whenever we feel tired, without Mom and Dad nagging us to do something else?” Jessica said, already backing toward the door as if she couldn’t wait to get away.
What was Jessica up to? Samantha had never known her to be so enthusiastic about napping before.
“What was that?” Jessica asked, bending her head down. “Oops! It’s my stomach grumbling. I’d better go. Want anything?”
Samantha locked Jessica in a suspicious gaze as she shook her head. “Have fun,” she murmured.
Instantly, Jessica was gone from the room.
Samantha lay down on the bed, letting her feet dangle over the side. What was going on with Jessica? What could she be —
Samantha leaped to her feet as she realized what h
er sister had in mind. There was no way she was really hungry. They’d eaten less than an hour before. She wanted to go off by herself to find the cute boy from the Haunted Museum!
“Jess, you little sneak,” Samantha grumbled. It didn’t matter that she’d intended on doing the exact same thing. Samantha was annoyed that Jessica had beaten her to it.
Once more, scratching sounds came from behind the wall. Samantha knelt on the bed, pressing her ear to the wall. The scratching stopped and was replaced with whimpering, like that of a hurt child.
Had someone left a child alone in the cabin next door? As much as she wanted to chase after Jessica and the boy, if a child was in trouble, she had to do something.
Alarmed, Samantha went out into the hall to check. There was no cabin next door — only a wall with an air vent near the floor. As she stepped outside, she noticed that the number on the cabin door read 299.
“Two ninety-nine?” she questioned quietly. She’d been sure they were in 266.
Before she could give this further thought, a high-pitched whine filled the air.
Where could it be coming from?
Kneeling, Samantha peered into the swirling scrollwork covering the vents near the floor, but could see nothing but darkness. “Hello?” she called softly. “Who’s in there? Are you all right?”
There was no response, so she tried again. “Anyone in there?”
“Looking for something?”
Samantha gazed up at Joe Rodgers, the steward from earlier. “I heard a noise in there,” she told him.
“Probably just the heat coming up from the boiler. These April nights still get chilly.”
“No,” she disagreed. “I heard scratching and a child crying.”
“A child crying?” he echoed. He squatted beside the vent and put his ear to it. “I don’t hear anything,” Joe said as he straightened. “There’s no way anyone could be in there. It’s completely sealed.”
“But I heard it in my cabin,” Samantha insisted.
“What cabin is that?”
“Two-ninety-nine, right behind me.”
“You mean two-sixty-six.”
Samantha turned toward the door. “No, two-nine …” Her words trailed off as she saw that the numbers on her door did, in fact, say 266. She felt completely disoriented. Where was she? But the moment passed. She had just come out that door.
“I remember you from earlier,” Joe Rodgers said. “That’s your cabin and it’s two-sixty-six.”
Joe Rodgers went into the cabin, looking around. “Where did the sound come from?”
Samantha stood in the doorway and pointed. “Over there, from the wall behind the beds.”
While Joe Rodgers listened, occasionally tapping the wall, Samantha investigated the numbers fastened to the door. They didn’t wiggle or budge. What was going on?
“I’m sure it was only the pipes you heard,” Joe Rodgers confirmed. “Sometimes the air gets in them and they whistle a little. It might sound like crying to someone with an active imagination.”
“Okay. Thanks for checking,” Samantha said as the ship steward left. Closing the door behind her, she sighed. Of course it sounded unbelievable, but still … she’d heard it. She was sure. Placing the side of her head to the wall once again, she listened.
Silence.
Whatever it had been, it had gone away. She stood listening for several minutes more just to be certain, but the scratching and whimpering didn’t return.
SAMANTHA LEFT her cabin and followed the signs pointing toward the Promenade Deck. It struck her that for such a luxurious ship, the white halls were plain and unadorned with paintings or posters of any kind. Overall, the feeling was one of functional simplicity.
The Promenade Deck was on the same level as her cabin. When she pushed open the heavy door, a warm, wet ocean breeze whipped her hair. Deck chairs lined the inside walls away from the ocean side of the deck. Some of the reclining chairs were already filled by people snuggled under blankets, reading or chatting with one another. A field of blue sky dotted with high, billowy clouds dominated the scene, and seagulls screamed in the distance.
With her raised palm, Samantha shielded her eyes from the sun’s glare.
“Oh my gosh!” she murmured as the people walking the deck came into clearer view. It was as though she’d gone back in time. Women dressed in lovely dresses, some ankle-length and others to the ground. Samantha loved their oversize hats trimmed with feathers, fake flowers, and ribbons. Many of them strolled the deck on the arms of men in top hats and old-fashioned suits, carrying walking canes.
Mesmerized by the sight, Samantha stepped out onto the deck. Jessica had been right. This Titanic cruise was really awesome.
“Pretty amazing, isn’t it?”
Samantha turned around toward the young male voice that had spoken to her, and her eyes went wide with delight.
There he was — the boy from the gift shop!
Up close he was even better-looking than she’d thought. He wore a blue denim shirt, black pants, and boots. The ocean breeze stirred his thick hair. Samantha noticed that his nose had an attractive slope, and she liked the slight upward tilt of his strong chin.
So adorable!
“Yeah, the ship is really beautiful,” Samantha replied, gazing into his vivid blue eyes.
“I’m John,” he said, reaching out to shake her hand.
“I’m Sam. Samantha.”
“I like Samantha better. Sam sounds too boyish for a pretty girl like you.”
A pretty girl like me! For a second, Samantha was too stunned to breathe. A pretty girl like me!
Samantha beamed at him. “So, are you a passenger on this cruise?”
“I work here,” he replied.
“Doing what?”
John smiled, and his teeth reminded Samantha of perfect white pearls. “I do whatever they need me to do. I’m the jack-of-all-trades.”
Samantha was about to ask him if those were his real clothes or if he was playing a role. It was hard to tell. But she didn’t want to take the chance of sounding rude, so she said nothing.
Still, her mind raced, scrambling to think of something to say to keep the conversation going on. The last thing she wanted was for him to wander off.
“The clothing is really interesting, isn’t it?” Samantha remarked, at last.
“There’s a room where they have costumes for cruise guests to wear — did you want to go find something?” John suggested.
“I guess …” She didn’t want to leave him, though. “Will you be here when I get back?”
“Definitely,” he assured her.
“I’ll be right back, then,” Samantha said as she turned to leave. “Right back!”
“I’ll be here.” John flashed his beautiful smile.
Samantha hesitated, hating to leave now that she’d found the one person she’d been looking for. What if Jessica came across him while she was gone?
Samantha went back inside and descended the nearest staircase she found, blinded by thoughts of John’s deep blue eyes. She’d have to find a great costume, one that made her look older and more sophisticated. Something that Jessica would choose. Her sister had good taste in clothing. Better than Samantha’s. Before meeting John, Samantha had never cared much about clothing, preferring comfort. But now it was important to look as attractive as possible.
Samantha suddenly stopped. She had no idea where she was going!
The bottom level apparently wasn’t marked as clearly as the second-class section had been. There wasn’t even anyone around to ask where to find the costumes. They all seemed to be out on the upper decks. “Hello?” Samantha called. “Anyone here?”
Samantha hurried down corridors, rounded corners, retraced her steps, and went down other hallways — until she was even more confused.
All this wasted time! She should never have come down here. John would probably have given up waiting for her and she’d never see him again.
“Ugh.” Samantha groa
ned at that thought just as she neared a staircase that led to an upper floor. She thought it looked familiar and decided she could find her way back to John from her cabin.
When she finally got back to her cabin it was marked 299.
What was going on?
Samantha checked the door to the right: 267. The door to the left was marked 265.
Someone was clearly playing a joke on them, but it wasn’t funny anymore. Taking her phone from her pocket she took a picture of her door. There! That proved it. It said 299!
As she pulled out her key, Samantha noticed that the door was slightly ajar, though she was pretty sure she’d shut it before leaving. “Jess?” Samantha called softly, opening the door wider.
JESSICA’S BACK was turned toward Samantha as she searched through the cabin, combing through each of the still-empty dresser drawers.
“Oh, good. You’re here,” Samantha said. If Jessica was here, it meant she wasn’t on the deck with John. “I got so lost trying to find the costume room, but maybe you can help me?”
Samantha stepped inside and saw that Jessica was wearing a black maid’s uniform with a white apron and ruffled mop cap. Black stockings and ankle-high boots completed the outfit. Of all the costumes she could have selected, why would she decide to be a maid? It wasn’t like Jessica to pick such an unfashionable costume.
“What are you looking for?” Samantha asked as she stepped farther into the cabin.
“The locket! I have to find it!”
Samantha froze. The voice she’d just heard was high and raspy. It wasn’t her sister’s voice.
The figure turned.
It definitely wasn’t Jessica.
Gaping, Samantha stared at the girl she had mistaken for her sister. No more than fifteen, the girl was thin and pretty but with pale skin and deep shadows beneath her dark, burning eyes. Her lips were dry and her hands trembled ever so slightly. Her dark hair hung lifelessly at the sides of her gaunt face.
Samantha couldn’t stop staring.
“The locket — you stole it from me.”
“What?” Samantha asked. “I didn’t steal a locket from anyone. I don’t know what you mean.” She didn’t like being around this girl. Samantha hoped she would leave right away. “Honestly, there’s no locket here.”
