Titanic, 1912 (The Symbiont Time Travel Adventures Series, Book 5): Young Adult Time Travel Adventure

by T. L. B. Wood

  “Go to sleep, Kipp,” I replied. He needed to quell his busy thoughts.

  The next morning, I awoke with the nagging thought I had to prepare for my leaving party. A long run usually worked to dissipate the anxiety, and I was happily outdoors within the hour. Kipp was at my side, holding back since he had four legs compared to my two and was naturally gifted with superior speed. Yellow clusters of daffodils were grouped in uneven patches along the rolling hills where the dead grass of winter was gray and matted. With pleasure, I felt the welcomed burn grow in my legs as I trotted easily along the edge of a seldom used country lane. The sky was filled with dark, scudding clouds, and it seemed rain might set in by late afternoon. The air felt moist and heavy; I preferred lower humidity when running. We startled a covey of doves that rose into the sky, their wings making a heavy, thumping noise against the quiescent hillsides. High above, a circling hawk seemed to be watching the doves with interest, and I could only hope they would find their way to safety. Nature was beautiful as well as breathtakingly brutal. Kipp stayed silent and exited from my mind. He seemed to understand my need to gather my thoughts before tackling the most consequential trip of my lifetime. It was with reluctance I eventually turned for home.

  Fitzhugh helped me to prepare for the leaving party, which was a traditional send off for the traveling pair or, in this case, the traveling quartet. Our shift date early in March would give us time to assemble a wardrobe and allow room for error. Time shifting inherently had an element of unpredictability and was not linear in nature, but it helped to keep our internal clocks a little more aligned when we tried to come and go in a time frame that paralleled the natural order. With that in mind, we hoped to arrive in London close to the first of March, 1912. Then we would depart from the decks of the Titanic on April 15, 1912 and time shift home. If we were fairly accurate, our personal time lines would be uninterrupted.

  I decided upon a vegetable lasagna, salad and brownies for dessert, since I knew Elani was a chocolate addict. Fitzhugh kept me company by supplying some colorful stories of when he and his symbiont, Lydea, traveled. As he chatted, I was amused to have to rethink my notions of him, since he’d obviously been somewhat of prankster himself, a quality he would heartily denounce in others. A rumble of thunder interrupted my thoughts…the rain had arrived earlier than I anticipated from my previous amateur analysis of the sky. From the view outside my kitchen windows, it didn’t look as if it was mid afternoon. Rather, it seemed as if twilight was hovering, ready to fall at any moment. It was a good thing that weather, fair or foul, didn’t compromise a traveler’s ability. Kipp’s amber eyes watched me from across the room; his head was up, his plumed tail occasionally waving in excitement. I’d wisely allowed my misgivings to be dismissed and surrendered to the general air of anxious anticipation.

  “Are you going to try and see him?” Fitzhugh asked. “After all, you’ll be in London, and he was still living at that time.”

  Of course, he meant William Harrow. I’d harbored a secret fantasy to lie in wait outside of the school that Harrow had built, hoping for a sighting of him…from a discrete distance, of course. But I didn’t want to seem like a love obsessed teenager, and there was no way I would admit to such thoughts. Kipp, knowing of the sensitivity of the subject, didn’t overtly intrude on my notions but delicately pranced around them in his attempt to try and give me some modicum of privacy.

  “Don’t be ridiculous,” I replied, trying to look indignant and irritated simultaneously. It didn’t work, however, because Fitzhugh ducked his head in an effort to hide the growing smile on his face.

  Thankfully, the first of our guests began to arrive, and within the next forty five minutes, we had a room full of friends. To create a cozy space, I kept the artificial lights at a minimum and lit candles set at strategic points around the living room where we gathered. Each time the front door opened or someone walked across the room, the flames would flicker in response, causing soft shadows to ripple across the walls. Philo was present, of course, sans Claire. I raised an eyebrow in query to only be met with a silent shake of his head. Peter and Elani were next, brimming with excitement. Peter’s mother drove them, and I was more relaxed greeting her than previously when she made me personally responsible for Peter’s safety.

  “Hello, Evelyn,” I said, embracing the petite female with a polite hug. Her pretty face, brown hair and quick, alert eyes made me think of a Carolina wren.

  “Do you remember what I said to you last time?” she asked, a smile touching her trembling lips. “It goes double this time.”

  “Oh, Mom,” Peter began, his voice almost sounding like a whine.

  Well, she had cause to worry. This would be an unusual trip. Leaning forward, I whispered, “I’ll get him off in time, I promise.” Her grip on my forearm relaxed.

  Suzanne asked if she could bring Mark Elliot since they were a duo, and I’d reluctantly said yes. Something about him bothered me, but it seemed I was the only one in that category. Even Kipp could not find fault with him. As Mark bent forward to give me a friendly little buzz on my cheek, the cologne he wore enveloped me in a tiny cloud.

  “Hai Karate? Aqua Velva…Brut…English Leather? Maybe Old Spice?” Kipp looked up at me, his normally expressive face deadpan.

  Suddenly, I thought of Kipp’s pirate impression and began to giggle uncontrollably. Almost staggering, I walked through to the kitchen and exited out the back door, where I erupted into boisterous laughter. The door opened behind me, and I turned to see Philo standing on the narrow porch, arms crossed at his chest. We were both sheltered by the overhang which offered respite from the rain. A rumble of thunder caused the concrete beneath my feet to tremble; overhead a gust of wind threaded its way through the tree limbs which were still bare of leaves.

  “Are you finished?” He was wearing his manager’s serious expression that was making an unwelcomed appearance much too often, it seemed.

  Holding up my hands, I brushed past him and re-entered the living room where my guests waited, wondering what had sparked my rude exit.

  “It was Kipp…” I began lamely. “He does this pirate impression…” I deliberately didn’t finish my remark and everyone seemed relieved to blame Kipp for my unusual behavior.

  Leaving parties were typically quite festive with the travelers being subjected to rather humorous and sometimes vicious roasts. But this particular one was different, and everyone seemed subdued. Juno huddled close to me, her gray muzzle resting upon the top of my foot. Finally, the funereal atmosphere bothered me, and I had to remark upon it.

  “We are supposed to be having fun,” I said. Kipp, in total agreement, lifted his head and wagged his tail. “Peter, Elani, Kipp and I will be back here in a few weeks, and after that there will be another time shift at some point in the future.” I looked at Peter’s mother. “We’re going to be fine. And if someone doesn’t come up with a really terrible story to share and embarrass the heck out of me, I’m going to my room to read.” Placing my hands on my hips, I tapped my foot in mock agitation.

  “You once took a trip and were exposed, as fate would have it, to the King of Spain, as I recall,” Fitzhugh said softly. Clearing his throat, he continued. “When I say exposed, that is a literal term. It seems your, uh, undergarments had been misplaced, and when the king entered the room, you tried to curtsey but the hoops in your skirt caused it to fly up in the back. The row of supplicants to your rear viewed your rear, as I was told rather graphically. When one of the involuntary spectators gave an exclamation of surprise, you whirled around and allowed the king his turn to view your, uh, posterior.”

  Well, no one had ever had the nerve to tell that one before–and I wasn’t sure how Fitzhugh knew about it anyway—and I felt my face turn beet red. Peter choked on a carrot stick, while Mark Elliot bent his head forward trying to show good manners as he hid his perfect white smile in a napkin. Philo, on the other hand, felt no such compulsion to be restrained and threw his head back and howled.

>   “You never told me that one!” he exclaimed, wiping his eyes.

  “It made its way rather surreptitiously to my chronicles by a fellow traveler who happened to witness the, uh, exposure.” Fitzhugh remarked, using his forefinger to smooth his mustaches.

  “You are on my list,” I warned him, narrowing my eyes. “And I know who blabbed, and he’s on my list, too.” Kipp stared at me, his eyes rounded with curiosity. I avoided looking at Evelyn’s horrified face; she was, no doubt, wondering what sort of heathen was going off into the sunset with her precious boy in tow.

  The evening finally drifted to an end, and after warm goodbyes, including a lingering bear hug by Philo who almost fractured my ribs, Peter and I, supervised by Fitzhugh and Juno, began to clean the kitchen.

  “I’m glad it won’t disturb you if I just stay quietly in my room while you make your exit,” Fitzhugh said. “I’ll keep Lily under control, I promise.”

  “Well, we’ve jelled as a team, and I think there are fewer exterior distractions that can challenge our concentration at this point. There better not be, or we may have trouble getting off of a sinking ship.” I made my remarks while Peter walked outside, accompanied by Kipp and Elani. The rain had finally ceased, and the lupines were restless.

  “Petra, you are very skilled, and we know that Kipp is exceptional. I have full confidence that all will be well.” Juno was the voice of sober reason and her counsel was valued. Just hearing her calm words helped me to feel better despite the mountain of misgivings I had erected over the time shift. Leaning forward, I kissed the warm top of her furry head. She wagged her tail in response.

  “So, I guess I’ll be seeing you in about six weeks?” Fitzhugh looked up at me.

  “Yep,” I replied, smiling at him.

  “You promise?”

  “Yes, I promise.” Walking over to him, I leaned forward and pressed my cheek against the top of his head. “You and Juno need to go on now, and let me get Peter and the lupines situated.”

  Fitzhugh lifted up his hand to grasp mine with a squeeze that almost caused pain but not quite. Without looking back, he rose and left the kitchen to disappear down the hallway. Juno followed, but she glanced at me over her shoulder, slowly closing one eye.

  “I’ll take care of him,” she said softly.

  “You promise?” I asked.

  “Yes, I promise.”

  Chapter 14

  There are aspects of symbiont, uh, physics, that remain a mystery. For example, we just don’t materialize inside objects, in the tops of trees or under water. Also, we almost always land in a place where there are few human obstacles, too. I guess the nearest natural comparison might be flocks of birds or large gatherings of fish that can swim and turn but don’t collide with one another. There are obviously some inherent safety mechanisms in our nature that helps us to land safely. But there are hard landings and soft landings, and I’d had some of both. It was nice that this particular landing was soft.

  After the time shift, which felt as if one dived off of a shapeless precipice to fall into a dark, bottomless pit, I opened my eyes to find myself sitting in what appeared to be a small flower garden located at the side of a large, red brick house. It was daylight, and I quickly turned my head to see if any human was nearby, watching…horrified to see two humanoids and two lupines appear out of nowhere to sprawl inelegantly in a colorful patch of hyacinths and tulips. After a moment of dullness, I noted that the type of blooming flowers indicated it must be early spring–wherever we were. When traveling to a new location, there was typically a great deal of preparation work to nail the locale as well as appropriate time frame. But London was familiar to both me and Kipp, and he led our quartet effortlessly to what we hoped was the desired landing spot. Kipp licked my face, his tongue harsh and raspy against my flesh, assuring me he was okay. A short distance away, Peter blinked his eyes, his hand automatically reaching for Elani, who was yawning. She, with the exception being Kipp, was the easiest going traveler I’d ever seen. The sound of a door opening broke the early morning quiet, and I scrambled to my feet, indicating we needed to beat a hasty retreat. In a moment, we were on the sidewalk, attempting to get our bearings and assess each other for injury.

  Even though it seemed by the angle of the sun—which barely peeked over the eastern rooftops—to be early, the streets were already busy with horse drawn carts delivering food, coal and other necessities. The clatter of hooves on pavement was grounding, somehow, and I gave a silent prayer of thanks. Peter and I paused to give one another a visual check to make certain our clothes were not torn or too mussed, while the lupines shook themselves vigorously to settle their fur. Peter reached out to adjust my hat which had become a bit askew during my flight back in time.

  “I feel like I’m wearing a bucket on my head,” I grumbled. The hat, although lightweight, was larger than my preference, and I felt like the Mad Hatter.

  “It looks good, really,” Peter assured me. His brown eyes assessed Suzanne’s creation, which had a brim that extended out about four inches; the crown was large, projecting up, almost like a short, fat stovepipe. She’d covered the hat in decorative twists of lace and a taupe grosgrain ribbon encircled the crown.

  Peter adjusted his own hat, which was a derby style with a flat brim. Quite honestly, I envied him that conservative hat which I privately coveted…so much simpler than the silly, impractical thing I wore. His facial hair had filled in nicely, aging him by at least five years. He had a full mustache that drooped off either side of his mouth to meet and merge with a short cropped beard.

  “That looks like a lot of trouble,” I remarked, thinking of the trimming required.

  “I finally mastered a straight razor, and it’s kind of interesting to use,” he said, trying to sound nonchalant but failing. The pride of his accomplishment was clear in his voice.

  A seemingly vacant four wheeler had turned the corner and was approaching; Peter threw up his arm to hail the driver. We always began our time shifts by establishing a home base, so to speak. A man’s face peered down to us from the carriage box; there was a broad smile across his ruddy flesh, obviously glad for a fare so early in the morning.

  “Where to?” he asked.

  As he spoke I noticed the fog in the air from his exhaled breath. I must have had the heart of a child at that moment, because the excitement I’d felt had made me immune to the fact it was chilly and damp in London that early in the season. At least I thought it was early based upon the flower bed upon which I’d landed. Until we verified the date, we wouldn’t know if we’d made a colossal time shift blunder. Unconsciously, I pulled my traveling jacket a little closer around my body. The driver squinted slightly at our backpacks, which we usually converted to a traveling valise by the time we made our appearance, but we’d rushed from the garden without the opportunity.

  “We are travelers from America visiting London for the first time,” Peter cleverly responded, so we would get verification that we’d hit our correct target location.

  As he spoke, I saw the man’s face relax. Yes, we were foreigners, and that would explain our odd backpacks as well as the huge dogs at our sides. There was no accounting for Americans who often acted in strange and unexpected ways.

  “We need you to take us to a nice establishment where we can take rooms for a few weeks. Of course, it will have to accommodate our pets,” Peter said, adding a smile to his request.

  We clambered into the four wheeler, and after a sharp command from the driver to the unenthusiastic horse, the vehicle jerked into motion. Kipp stuck his big head out of the window, barely able to contain his excitement. Draping my arm around him, I snuggled closer, returning Peter’s smile as he did the same with Elani. In addition to the chill, the palpable moisture in the air added to the discomfort I felt, and Kipp’s body felt good nestled beside me. I’d probably add some type of woolen undergarments to my shopping list. Elani glanced at me and barked softly, giving me some support from the female quarter.

 
; The carriage only traveled a short distance but far enough so that I could easily see the changes in London, comparing 1888 to whatever year we’d snagged in our current travel. I could only hope we’d arrived in 1912. Although horses were the predominant method for travel as well as still widely in use pulling wagons and carriages, cars had made their noisy, coughing presence known. One rumbled past us, honking rudely, the noise causing our carriage horse to flatten her ears and swerve away from the unexpected sound. After a few lurches and stops as we waited our turn behind other contraptions, the four wheeler pulled up in front of a nondescript four story building made of dark brick. Someone had the foresight to paint the entrance door bright red, making it both inviting and cheerful. We opened the carriage door and hopped out, Peter giving me the gentleman’s assist, before digging in his pocket for the correct currency.

  “And where are we exactly?” Peter asked, as he handed the driver the coin.

  “You’re in Marylebone,” the man replied. “This hotel is small and caters to, uh, out of town folks. I believe the proprietor will accommodate you as well as your doggies.” With a tip of his hat, he nudged the horse and rolled away, the wheels of the carriage rattling loudly on the hard pavement.

  “Well, here we go,” Peter announced, as he tried to sound casual but managing a poor job of camouflaging his excitement. I was comfortable to let him take the lead. In any case, at that time in history, he most likely would be acting in a more dominant role since he appeared to be a human male.

  The lobby was small and comfortably cozy from my point of view. Soft colors were put to clever use to offset the size of the room. It was evident that an industrious worker had recently polished all the furniture; the wood surfaces gleamed as the early morning sunlight broke through the windows, and the pungent scent of lemon wafted through the air. A man was hunched over the front desk reading the morning paper, which was spread out to almost cover the desk top. As he looked up at our entourage, I was gratified we were not met with a frown over the lupines, who were larger than the typical dog. The desk man’s thoughts were curious but not negative as he carefully collected his paper.