My Trip To Davy Jones’ Locker

It is the 28th March 1912 and I’m officially a retired hit woman. I’ve spent the last 30 years killing marks for money and last week was my final kill. I’m done — getting way too old for this line of work.

It’s a beautiful sultry day and I’m enjoying the sunshine out on the back porch, when I hear a knock at the door. Whoever is disturbing my peace of mind is lucky I’m retired or they would become my final mark.

Reluctantly, I head inside and open the front door, to find a telegraph employee, delivering a telegram. Now who on earth would be sending me a telegram?

I thanked the young man and closed the front door.

Back out on the porch, I study the telegram, terrified to open it as they are usually nothing but bad news.

I eventually get up the courage to open and read what is written inside.

“Hello my dear, I know you’ve told me you are officially retired, but I have one more mark for you, before you end your career. You are going to want to complete this task, I promise. Signed, do this and I’ll leave you alone.”

Damn, this means one final dead letter drop, to see who is now a living dead man!

I head on out, thankful that I can walk to the usual dead letter drop. Fifteen minutes later I have the mark’s name and they were correct, I do want to assassinate this particular mark.

Who is it you ask? Well it just so happens to be my ex-husband. Not sure who he annoyed, but life for him is now very limited. I have a bullet with his name on it and I have been waiting a long, long time for this approval.

Now I just need to find him, as I have not seen him for twenty odd years. If I’m not mistaken, I believe he remarried a few years ago.

Whoa, hang on, my instructions state that he has purchased tickets to travel on the new ocean liner, the RMS Titanic. Well it looks like I’m going cruising.

This is the RMS Titanic’s maiden voyage and it’s a pretty classy ship. I’m looking forward to this job.

I’ve got a week or so to do my research, to learn as much as I can about the voyage, the layout of the ship and the dates of travel etc.

Unfortunately, I have been asked to make this kill look like an accident. Such a shame, as I literally do have a bullet with my ex-husband’s name written on it. But they want an accident, they will get an accident. Either way he will no longer be of this world.

Day of boarding arrives and I’m curious if my ex-husband, known as A-hole, will recognise me after all these years.

I board and one of the staff directs me to my cabin. After I have unpacked, I head out to wander the decks, familiarising myself with the layout. No surprises as it’s exactly as my research had shown me.

It’s a dull, grey day that we leave port and head on out to the North Atlantic Ocean.

It’s the 10th April 1912 and I have a few days to lay low and relax before setting my plan in motion. We need to be a few days out of port, so there’s no chance of a rescue. A-hole needs to die and this is my last chance.

I use the time to go over my plan and make sure there are no flaws. I also study the ocean currents and the sites of any known obstacles on the planned travel path of the RMS Titanic.

On 14th April, I approach a staff member and ask him how I can gain an attendance with the Captain, as I have important information to impart. Thankfully, the staff member advises that at this time of the day, the Captain is usually in his cabin writing up the ship’s log for the last 24 hours. He then gives me directions on how to find the Captain’s cabin.

It couldn’t be more perfect if I had planned it this way.

As I knock on the cabin door, I can hear movement inside. As the door begins to open, I slam my foot against the door, causing the Captain to stumble backwards. Before he could right himself, I was inside and the door was closed.

As the Captain steadies himself, I hit him on the side of his head with my fist, not once but twice, in quick succession and he falls to the floor unconscious.

I pull out the rope and cloth from my bag and tie his hands behind his back, his feet together and gag his mouth so he cannot raise the alarm when he comes too.

As I wait, I sit reading the ship’s log of the journey to date. It’s a shame that no one else is ever going to read this log book.

Finally, the Captain is awake and I crouch down on my haunches and try to calm him down. I explain that as long as he does as he is told, I will not hurt him and he nods his head to say he understands.

I remove the gag from his mouth and explain what I need him to do. He agrees, as he does not understand the consequences of what I am asking and that is okay with me.

I untie his feet and help him up so that he is sitting in his Captain’s chair. I hold the radio microphone close to his mouth as he starts to call up to the Bridge with my instructions.

“Captain to Bridge, come in please, over.”

“Bridge to Captain, over.”

“Captain to Bridge, please chart a course with these new co-ordinates and change to that course as soon as possible, over.”

“Bridge to Captain, changing course now, over.”

After that confirmation I hang up the microphone and re-gag the Captain. I also re-tie his feet together and then tie him to the chair. I leave him there as he is of no use to me any longer.

I leave the cabin and head on up to the bow of the ship, to keep an eye out for the icebergs that I know should now be in our path. It is the dark of the night, almost midnight and there’s no moon tonight. This will ensure the Bridge does not see the iceberg in time.

Sure enough, it is not long before I can make out, in the distance, a large iceberg and I can only see it because I am looking for it. The Bridge will be totally unaware.

I head down to deck three, where I know A-hole’s cabin is situated and as I am drawing near, I feel the ship move under my feet. I hear a loud screeching sound and know it as the sound of metal screaming as it is torn asunder. The ship starts to slow gradually until it’s sitting dead in the water.

Staff are running frantically, trying to work out how we hit an iceberg and trying to establish what damage has been done.

I know there is no hope for the ship but nobody else has come to that realisation as yet.

I head to the nearest cabin door and knock hard, in such a way as to relay the urgency of my knock. The door flies open and I come face to face with a shocked A-hole, of course he recognises me.

Before he can react, I pull my knife from its sheath and hold it to his neck, as the colour drains from his face.

“Hello dear, it is time — your time in fact. This is your last night — ever.”

I pull him out of the cabin just as the ship starts to wallow and the realisation on his face that the ship is sinking, is precious to me.

I keep the knife to his throat as I lead him up two decks and head towards the stern of the boat. The entire time he is begging me to spare him. I laugh in his face — as I’ve wanted to do for years.

“Sorry honey, there’s no sparing you this night. Can you not feel the yawning of the ship as it is beginning to sink? Even if I was to spare you, which I won’t, you’ll more than likely go down with the ship anyway.”

We are alone up here but the rest of the decks are frantically trying to herd guests to their life raft stations. There’s pandemonium everywhere you look except where we are, as the stern is sinking lower and lower into the dark water.

I know I’m meant to make this look like an accident and I’ve done that by ensuring the ship hit that iceberg, but I want the privilege of taking this one last life. So much so that I am prepared to sacrifice my own life to watch it happen.

As this pathetic excuse of a man stands there blubbering away at me, I slide the knife lightly across his throat. Not enough to pierce an artery but enough that he will slowly bleed out. Enough that it will put the scent of blood in the water, to attract any sharks in the area. I do not want this kill to be quick and clean!

As I am sure he is bleeding enough and as the ship starts to tilt more dramatically, I push my ex-husband into the sea and saviour the screams I can hear, until he finally hits the blackened sea.

I quietly whisper to the sharks, “dinner is served.”

With that final task, my life is now complete and I leave the deck to find a comfortable cabin, to lay and wait.

I know that my life is also forfeit and I stay in that cabin, laying on a plush sofa, until the Titanic takes me down to Davy Jones’ Locker, where I too become fodder, for the creatures of the sea.

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