Laying the Music to Rest

by Smith, Dean Wesley

  Alex, acting nonchalant, walked slowly past the other end of the corridor. I was about to signal him that I would meet them back upstairs in the lounge when I caught a glimpse of something.

  A tall, very thin man was coming down the starboard hall behind me from the same direction Marjorie had come. This guy was wearing the same type of brown pants with a light brown, long-sleeved shirt. He also had a very wide brown belt around his hip with a gun strapped to it. He looked like a walking skeleton, so tall that if the hall light fixtures had been on the ceiling instead of the walls, he would have had to duck around them.

  If I was ever going to have a heart attack, that would have been the moment. I had no idea if he had seen me peeking around the corner, or the start of my signal to Alex. I didn’t know whether to run for it down the center corridor past C-85, head back toward the grand staircase, or walk right at him as if nothing at all was out of the ordinary. I knew right off I couldn’t handle any more running for a few minutes, and the thought of walking right at this giant was more than my heart could take. So I took the easiest way. Without looking like I was running, or even in a hurry, I headed back the way I had come, any moment expecting to hear the loud thumps of his footsteps as he overtook me.

  Somehow I covered the two hundred feet of nightmarish hall and made the door. As I went out into the foyer of the grand staircase I took my first look back.

  He was nowhere to be seen.

  Alex and Craig were already in the first-class lounge when I came through the door. Craig was standing beside the bar and Alex was fixing drinks, dodging around the regular bartender like it was a child’s game. He still wore his 1909 suit and looked extremely out of place behind the Titanic’s bar.

  I waved at them and headed for the booth, weaving my way in and out of the cloth chairs and intricately carved tables. I needed to sit down. I’d had to make one stop climbing the two flights back up to the lounge and I still felt winded. On top of that I had enough adrenaline pumping through my body to last through a week of horror movies.

  As I dropped down into the booth, Marjorie came through the back entrance of the lounge. She was still barefoot, but she’d changed from her bathrobe into a pair of men’s slacks and a white button-down blouse. She said something I couldn’t hear to Craig and then both of them headed for the booth.

  “You all right?” she asked as she slid in beside me and touched my arm. Craig sat down across the table.

  “I look that bad, huh? Just a little out of breath is all. Not used to running stairs.”

  “Who is?” Craig said. I noticed he was breathing a little harder than normal, also.

  “Here we are,” Alex said, setting four glasses down on the table and then sliding in beside Craig. He placed a double scotch in front of me. “Thought you might need that.”

  “Thanks,” I said. “After that last guy, I sure do.”

  “He gave me quite a turn,” Alex said, laughing to himself.

  “What last guy?” Craig asked. “What happened? After you yelled, Marjorie and I didn’t dare look back down the corridor.”

  “Just a second.” I took a good solid drink of the scotch and let the flavor roll around my mouth and the slight burning in my throat help clear my head. It was amazing how drinks taste better when you are in stressful situations. It was as if every sense suddenly came out of a dark room into bright sunlight. After a second quick drink, I set the glass down and held it between my hands. It tasted too good to let get away.

  “They have Susan,” I said. “A man and the guard woman hauled her up the grand staircase. She saw me, but I assume she figures I’m alone. They did something to unlock C-85 and then took her inside. About thirty seconds later this skeleton-like giant came down the starboard hall. He was wearing some type of revolver. I didn’t notice guns on the other two. I don’t know what happened to the skeleton guy. I didn’t want to look back.”

  “He went inside,” Alex said. “After a moment the woman came back out and is now standing guard again.”

  “Anyone got any ideas?” I asked as I took another drink. I didn’t. And I hoped if anyone did, it would be a while. I desperately wanted to rest and sip on a few more drinks.

  After all, there were two more full hours until this damn ship started sinking again.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  Boat Deck

  Fourth Cycle

  April 14, 1912

  WITH COLD FINGERS and while walking as fast as I could toward the entrance to the grand staircase, I clicked the last cartridge into Fred’s rifle. I yanked the bolt back hard to pull a shell up into the chamber, then closed the bolt and made sure the safety was on. I was still ten feet away from the double doors.

  “Nicely done,” Alex said. “Would you like to try one more time?”

  I shook my head and handed the rifle to him. “I can do it.”

  But I didn’t like it. All I really wanted to do was get in out of the cold.

  After an hour of talking in the lounge, we had formed a plan. We would again try to beat the Lomax, assuming that was who was holding Susan, to room C-85. Using Fred’s rifle and a crewman’s pistol, we would surprise them at the corner of the starboard hall and the central corridor. With a little luck, we would free Susan.

  Simple really, only no way in hell was I going to go pointing a gun at anyone. Not that I didn’t know how. The Navy had taught me how to do it in boot camp. Somehow, I had been lucky enough to get through that. I had never fired a shot since. I even hated the thought of hunting. But Craig and Alex didn’t seem to have the same trouble. Therefore, the plan was that I was to load the rifle on my way down, then give the rifle to Alex in front of the grand staircase on C deck. He would do any pointing that was necessary.

  I had practiced digging the bullets out of the pack and loading the rifle on the run three times. After my first practice loading, Alex had blown some pretty good-sized holes in a row of wooden deck chairs. He said he wanted to get used to how the gun handled. I felt ready. Alex said he was ready. I just didn’t like what we were doing.

  As far as I was concerned, we didn’t have enough information to go attacking anyone. I wanted to wait and continue to watch. But both Craig and Alex had argued that there was a large chance that they might kill Susan and that the sooner we acted, the better chance she would have. Besides, they said, there wouldn’t be any shooting. We would surprise them and do it without a shot.

  I argued that if the Lomax hadn’t killed Susan yet, they weren’t going to. That had sounded lame the minute I had said it. Yet I could think of no reason why they hadn’t killed her. Nor could Craig or Alex. And the big question was how they kept capturing her every cycle. It made no sense. Of course, that was nothing new on the Titanic.

  Alex laid the rifle down on the pack and we headed inside. No matter how many times I walked up and down that staircase, I would never get used to its incredible beauty. The oak rail and wrought-iron balustrades, the carved wood panels on the walls, the carved stone statues at every turn, the glass dome over it all. It made me want to stop and stare.

  At the first landing I glanced up at the wall clock. I suddenly remembered the name of that famous clock. “Honor and Glory Crowing Time.” It read 11:30. Ten minutes until the ship hit the iceberg. Two hours and forty minutes until the next cycle. A long time and not damn long enough.

  Craig and Marjorie stood at the end of the bar, talking and sipping drinks. Craig had gone down to see how long it would take him to get to the crewman’s gun. Marjorie had walked C deck to see if anything had changed. I glanced around the lounge. Except for two waiters, the bartender, and two passengers, the lounge was empty and felt cold.

  “Any trouble?” Craig asked as we worked our way across the luxurious room, around the empty tables toward them.

  “None,” Alex said. “Doc had no problem finding the shells and loading the rifle. We shouldn’t be slowed down by more than a few seconds over last time.”

  Craig nodded. “Good. I will take maybe
ten seconds longer, but I think I can make up a few of those seconds by coming up the stern first-class stairway instead of the second-class stairway. It might even turn out to be slightly faster.”

  I went around Marjorie and behind the bar to fix myself a drink. If this kept up, I was going to start enjoying drinking again.

  “Alex?” I indicated the well.

  “Yes. Thank you,” he said.

  “Any change?” I asked Marjorie.

  “Not that I could tell. The guard is still in the same place.” Marjorie looked down into her brandy and swirled the golden liquid around and around in her glass. “I had a thought. If we capture these people, what are we going to do with them next cycle? They’d be prepared for us a second time. And if they keep capturing Susan every time, won’t they do it again next time?”

  I nodded and so did Craig. The same question had crossed my mind. I hoped Susan would have the answer. I didn’t want to face what we might have to do if she didn’t. I supposed a ship that size had a lot of hiding places.

  “We’ll decide that after we see what’s inside that room,” Craig said. “Everyone agree?”

  No one said a word.

  Craig nodded. “All right, let’s find a seat and make sure we’ve got this plan straight.”

  We were halfway to the booth when a faint rumbling shook the tables and lightly tinkled the crystal glasses behind the bar. My stomach again clamped up like I’d been hit with a solid right. My three friends didn’t even seem to notice, but I was getting damn tired of this ship sinking.

  An hour and a half later I talked Marjorie into going with me up on the boat deck to listen to the last few songs of the band. For some reason, it made me feel better to be out in the open, even though I refrained from madly wrapping deck chairs together.

  For three songs, we stood, arm in arm, leaning against the rail, listening to the fantastic music of those brave men. Marjorie felt solid and warm against my side. I wished we had the time to sit and talk and laugh and learn about each other. But we didn’t, so we didn’t talk. We just stood and leaned against each other and listened. Considering what we were about to try, listening to the band on the Titanic seemed somehow very appropriate.

  My fifth sunset didn’t look anywhere near as good to me as the first four. This time my hands were shaking so badly, I almost couldn’t get the pack off. I dropped two shells and it took me until the landing above A deck to get the rifle loaded. From there, to make up for being late, I took the rest of the stairs two at a time all the way down. I reached C deck completely winded, panting, and with my heart pounding like it was trying to hammer out a rock tune on a set of drums.

  Alex bounded up the stairs before I even had a chance to slow to a walk. I handed him the rifle and the box of shells as we crossed. He was going to go down the port-side hall and then be in the central corridor when the Lomax holding Susan came around the corner. I was to be near the central corridor and walk back past them so I would be behind them. Craig was to come from the stern along the starboard corridor. That way we’d have them completely surrounded if they came up the same way as last cycle. A good-sized if. All bets were off if they didn’t.

  Marjorie was to stay over in the port hallway and stand watch in case they came up that way. Or in case we weren’t successful. If we weren’t, she was to go and tell other prisoners what had happened and try to enlist their aid. That was Craig’s idea. I didn’t really want to think about what not being successful would possibly mean.

  “Loaded?” Alex asked. He didn’t even seem out of breath.

  “Safety’s on,” I managed to gasp out. “Be careful.”

  “You too,” he said.

  Twenty seconds later I was leaning against the wall at the intersection of the center corridor and the starboard hall, desperately trying to get some air into my lungs. Without warning the door from the grand staircase opened and the two Lomax with Susan between them came through.

  Alex was in place in the center corridor, Fred’s rifle ready. Craig would reach the ambush corner at exactly the right time. Acting as nonchalant as the lack of air in my lungs would let me, I ambled down the hall directly at them, keeping my gaze locked on the carpet and the line where it met the oak panels on the right side of the hall. I kept telling myself I wasn’t frightened. And I kept not believing it.

  I met Susan’s group halfway between the door and the central hallway. I moved against the right wall to let them pass and I purposefully avoided looking at Susan, but did glance up and catch the guard woman’s glance. She nodded a slight hello and I found myself nodding back, as if we were simply meeting on a park sidewalk.

  The moment they were past me, I stopped and pretended to be checking a cabin door on the left of the hall. At the moment I figured they would be reaching the corner, I turned around and headed toward them. Damned if I knew what I was going to do to help, especially against guns, but I figured I might as well be close.

  As the two Lomax and Susan started to turn the corner, I heard Alex shout “Halt!” Craig, who was within a dozen feet of them in the main hallway, pulled his gun out of the back of his pants, dropped into a combat firing stance, and pointed it at the guard woman.

  Everything froze, as if someone had turned the world down to ultraslow motion. Nothing more would have happened if everyone had stayed put as Alex had ordered. That was the plan and for an instant it seemed it was going to work.

  But we didn’t count on Susan.

  Without warning, she shoved the guard woman hard with her elbow, then tried to yank away from the other Lomax. The guard woman hit the side wall, rolled toward Craig, and came up with a gun in her hand. Craig never stood a chance. Her low, muffled shot opened a wide gash across his chest. He jerked backward against a door and dropped with a hard thud to the carpet.

  A moment later, a deafening explosion filled the hall as Alex fired Fred’s deer rifle. The Lomax who had been struggling with Susan spun twice and smashed hard into the wall, then crumpled. He was facing me and I could see the life leave his body as his open, shocked eyes clouded and became frozen in a death stare.

  The high-powered rifle bullet had passed through the Lomax and slammed Susan backward. Her head cracked hard against the oak paneling and she slumped to the carpet. Blood pumped from the large hole in her stomach, soaking her blouse and pants.

  “Don’t!” the guard woman shouted in very clear, very understandable English. She was lying on the carpet in firing position, her gun pointing down the central corridor at Alex. I couldn’t see Alex, but I doubted if he had had time to pull another shell up into the chamber of the rifle. I also knew she would not hesitate in killing him if he tried.

  “Drop the rifle!” Her command didn’t allow room for argument.

  I heard a dull thump as Alex dropped the rifle to the carpet.

  “Back up,” the woman ordered Alex. Then she glanced my way. I had taken a half-dozen steps toward the fight and then stopped. “Come down here.” She motioned with her gun where she wanted me to be as she slowly got to her feet.

  I moved down the hall toward the bloodstained carpet and wall. Alex’s shot had sent both Susan and the man spinning and their blood had covered the walls and carpet like a splatter painting at the fair. I had to walk right through the middle of that painting.

  A large, brown stain was forming under Craig’s body. From the way his body lay, twisted unnaturally, he too was obviously dead.

  It was everything I could do not to gag. The huge lunch Constance had fed me wanted to climb back up my throat. The copper smell of the blood mixed with the thick odor of gunpowder made me dizzy. I forced my attention on keeping the contents of my stomach in place as I neared the corridor intersection. Somehow I made it through the blood but I felt numb. My hands were tingling.

  The guard woman backed up enough to let me into the central corridor. Alex was standing there, his face completely drained of color, his hands in the air. He was staring at the bodies of Susan and the man he had killed.r />
  The rifle was lying off to the right side of the corridor. I went and stood beside him and she motioned for us to move on toward C-85. We hadn’t taken more than a few steps when the tall skeleton man came around the corner from the port hallway pushing Marjorie in front of him. He held a small gun in his right hand and looked upset.

  Marjorie was still in her bathrobe and seemed unhurt. Her eyes were wide with fear. As she got closer, she looked past us to the bodies and the blood-covered walls. For a moment I thought she was going to do what I almost had done. I could see her choking, fighting to regain control. Finally, she closed her eyes and let out a deep, shuddering sigh. I moved forward to support her, but she was holding her own. I put my arm around her shoulder and her arm went around my waist. I wasn’t sure who was holding up whom.

  “What happened?” the skeleton man demanded of the guard woman.

  “They attacked us. Lawrence is dead,” she said. “The Lomax is dead. I hit one of their members. He is around the corner to the right.” She motioned back down the hall without taking her eyes off of us.

  “Craig?” Marjorie asked. Her weight against my arm suddenly got heavier.

  I hugged her arm and could feel her shudder as she tried to hold together. In all the last few hours of planning, we had not considered it could possibly turn out like this. I had felt there was a chance someone might get hurt or killed, but when I thought that, I didn’t have a full realization of what it meant. It’s one thing to see death all the time inside a nineteen-inch box sitting in your living room. It is quite another to smell the blood and feel the responsibility as a person dies.

  I didn’t want to watch, but I made myself as the skeleton man went down the hall and checked out first his own named Lawrence, then Susan, and then finally out of sight down the hall to look at Craig.

  It was as we were standing there waiting that what the guard woman had said finally sunk through the fog in my mind. She had called Susan a Lomax. I had been assuming they were the Lomax.