The water was rising fast throughout the aisle as Jack Eason walked slowly gathering pictures and recording everything he possibly could into his recorder. The sound of rushing water was parlayed into an eerie silence as he moved about looking one way and then turning his head trying to comprehend what these people were going through at this moment. He looked down at the water, realizing for the first time how cold it really was as it reached his knees. He touched a few buttons on his chronometer and then checked it‘s readings.
“Twenty-eight degrees,” he said into his recorder. “Exactly what was reported this night.”
He continued walking until he felt the ship lurch forward. He stumbled a bit and grimaced as he felt his ankle turn. He bent down and rubbed his sore ankle, resting a bit as he thought out what he would do next. He knew it was almost time to leave because the ship would be sinking soon. He still wanted to get to the top deck and gauge the reaction of the people waiting to get into the lifeboats. He also wanted to see what really happened to the captain.
Out of the corner of his left eye, he saw a young couple running down the adjoining aisle. He silently followed, hoping they would lead him to the top deck. Within a few minutes he reached the promenade on A Deck. He stopped and gazed at the magnificent grand staircase with a mesmerized look on his face. He took out his small pocket camera and took several pictures of it with a sly grin. He knew no other photo of it existed of the staircase and this one would be priceless to collectors. He gave a small chuckle and then sighed deeply. He would never consider selling it because he knew where it belonged and he would make sure it would stay there.
Jack stood for a few more seconds to marvel at it and then walked out into the cold April night, passing by Thomas Andrews, one of the ship‘s builders, staring at a clock, waiting for the inevitable. Jack felt pity for the man. To build such a grand ship and then see it sink, to him it would drive anyone to the brink. He shook his head and then walked out into the night.
It was colder than he imagined it was. He shivered silently as he trudged up toward the bridge. He could feel the despair, sadness, and panic that hung in the air all around him as he looked into the faces of those he knew were doomed. They would be dead in an hour or two. This was part of the job that he hated. To not be able to help really hit him hard, but there was nothing he could do. The rules of time travel forbid the interference of any timewalker. With sadness in his eyes he moved on looking for the bridge and Captain Smith.
He again felt the ship lurch and right away knew what was happening. The bow of the ship had already gone under pulling the ship up into the night sky. It would soon break and go all the way under. He hurried and finally caught a glimpse of the bridge. He pulled out his camera but a great rush of furious water smashed into the bridge knocking the windows out in a tremendous explosion. Jack fell back from the force of the blast and hit his head on the door of the bridge as he fell to the deck. He momentarily lost conciousness but the cold, salty seawater quickly revived him. He shook his head and lightly tapped it to bring his focus back in.
“Wow, what a doozy,” he muttered as he picked himself up. He used the door bridge to steady himself as he reached into the inside flap of his jacket pocket and pulled out a small, metallic device. “Time to go.”
He flipped it open and pushed a button. He stared out at the rest of the ship as it began tilting downward toward the ocean. His body tingled as it faded out in a flashing white light. A pair of small blue eyes caught his as he disappeared and was thrown into the time stream.