The Explorer's Apprentice

77:Wherever You Will Go

I don't own anyone but Marley.

Marley Faulkner

“Come on, Rose!”

Marley remembers the first time she’d ever heard of Titanic. A stunning heat had filled her Floridian city and sunlight stroaked her back. The 1998 summer air had smelt wonderful. Her cousin’s eyes—bright brown eyes that Marley will miss but will keep in her heart forever— had glittered as she breathed out the words ‘expedition’. Marley remembers trying to mask disappointment. Disappointment. She remembers wishing for pirates and wooden ships like in the Treasure Island movie. It’s amazing to think how naïve she had been then, and how much she’s gown as a person in only the past few days—how much Titanic, and truly experiencing it for herself, live and uninterrupted, has changed her.

As Marley steps out onto the decks of the great ship, passengers run amok.  People come spiraling at her from every direction. The sea consumes the steel ship quickly, having already submerged the head of Titanic like a great cancer. Marley isn’t sure of what would be worse. Either way, she wouldn’t have much time.

She looks to her left, then to her right, her relentless search enough to distract her from the cold that whips at her bare skin like lashes. Come on…come on….She feels as if she’s looking through one of those ‘eye-spy’ books, and she’s always been good at those. So when Marley doesn’t find what she’s looking for, she’s forced to face the obvious, unforgiving truth. “The boats are gone!” Every last one. It’s as if they were never even there. The realization of this feel like little pins being dropped in her chest—one by one, so that they add up after a while and get very heavy.

Jack lets go of her hand and sprints towards the side of the boat— the same side where he had taught her to spit, and where they had shared hopes and dreams of adventure, just a day before. It’s funny how many moments a single location can be filled with—joyous ones, sad ones, uncertain ones—you never know what to expect.

“Maybe towards the back?” Abby suggests. She emerges from the small door Marley and Jack had skipped out of just moments before. Tommy and Fabrizio follow, their feet antsy.

Marley is so greatful for her friend—one who remembers, just as she does. Just seeing Abby is enough to make Marley’s insides jump with joy. Of course, she never doubted her memories of 1998, but somehow having Abby present makes it official. She's solid proof.

Jack thrusts his torso over and strains to look down into the raising ocean, squinting at the small, healthy boats bobbing away. Marley wonders if the passengers huddle for warmth in their little safe haven. She wonders what they’re thinking as they drift away from death—knowing that there are still so many others they’re leaving behind. She wonders if they feel anything.

He stumbles back to her and grabs her hand, and Marley matches her pace with his own. The others follow quickly behind. They get about two feet when she spots the eyes of a familiar face, one whom she’s seen only during stuffy dinners in the dining hall and never really paid attention to, but one whom she feels could really help her now.

“Colonel!” She cries. Five pairs of teenage feet come to an abrupt stop, but she can feel her own itch to get moving once more. “Are there any more boats at the back?”

He raises a shaky, elderly finger and points ahead of them. “No, miss, but there are a few over there.” The man is so calm it’s unbelievable. His eyes are glazed over with absolute stability, as if he’s only taking the old woman beside him out for an afternoon stroll. “Come along, now, I’ll guide you!” But Jack, Rose, Abby, Fabrizio, and Tommy are already off, rocketing up the wooden deck—the distant sounds of warning gunfire, shot by panicky guards shouting directions, the anxious screams of confused passengers, and the persistent plucking of violinists sounding off in the distance.