Navigating Fate's Waters

Harold chuckled as he watched his friend Jose effortlessly juggle three billiard balls on top of the pool table. He took another sip of whiskey, already feeling the effects of the five shots he’d had earlier. Despite that, he didn’t want to stop now, they were on vacation, and he wanted to live it up. He signaled the bartender, who approached with a smirk on her face. He ordered a draft beer instead, deciding to pace himself for the rest of the night. The bartender swiped his room key before filling a cold mug with beer from the tap.

Jose finally finished entertaining the other bar patrons and came back over to Harold, grabbing his own beer from the bartender. He clapped Harold on the shoulder and grinned, “This cruise is sick, man. I’m so glad we pulled together the money for this.”

“Me too.” Harold took a swig of his beer. “So, glad we splurged for the unlimited drink package too.”

“Heck yeah!” he clinked his glass against Harold’s and downed half of it in one gulp.

“So, are we drinking the night away?”

“You sure can, but I have a date.”

Harold gasped. “Seriously? We’ve only been on the ship for half a day.”

“What can I say, I’m a charming guy.” Jose checked his smartwatch and said, “I should get going too. She said she’d be in her cabin around eleven.”

“Fine… Go have fun.”

Jose grinned before downing the rest of his drink. “See you tomorrow, bud.”

Jose patted his shoulder before heading off to meet up with the girl he’d met. Harold surveyed the bar, searching for someone to talk to. But he couldn’t find anyone who was alone or interested in conversation, so he had a few more beers before heading back to his cabin.

Harold stumbled out of the bar on the lido deck, searching for an elevator to take him down a few decks. He could feel the hard wood of the rail under his hands as he leaned against it, his drunken state making him feel worse with every passing second. Peering out into the dark, foggy ocean, Harold saw a massive black silhouette in the distance that seemed to be moving closer and closer. He bent his head down, closing his eyes as he tried to steady himself. When he opened them again, he was still mesmerized by the mysterious shape. As it came closer, Harold tried to make out what it was, but it was still too far away for him to make out any details.

He had no idea what it was, but he knew it was something big. He was captivated by the mystery of it, and he watched as it moved closer and closer. Before he could make out what it was, the rogue wave crashed over him, dragging him off the ship and into the sea. He was soon unconscious, helplessly surrendering to the power of the ocean and letting the sea take him wherever it wished.

***

Harold gasped as he woke up in a panic, scanning what seemed to be a room. He rubbed his eyes, trying to make sense of his surroundings. He stumbled as he stood, feeling disoriented. The room was unfamiliar, with a wooden bed and a frilly bedspread. He couldn’t remember how he got here. The last thing he could recall was being swept away by a massive wave from the cruise ship into the darkness of the ocean.

He glanced down at his attire, a white cotton shirt, and long johns, both foreign to him. He walked over to the vanity, staring at his reflection in the mirror. His curly brown hair, green eyes, and freckles were all unchanged, but he couldn’t understand how he had made it here. He checked his body for injuries, but to his relief, there were no scratches or broken bones.

Harold sank onto the small couch across from the bed, feeling overwhelmed. The stiff and unattractive scarlet-red couch was the least of his concerns. He rubbed his face with his hands, trying to figure out where he was and how he got there. Could he have been rescued by a passing ship? But why was he dressed in these old-fashioned clothes?

He scanned the room, taking in its lavish decorations and outdated furnishings. The wallpaper, light fixtures, and other items appeared to be from the early 1900s. It was clear that he wouldn’t find any answers staying inside the room. He decided to venture out into the hall, but that decision quickly proved to be a mistake.

As he stepped out into the hall, he ran into an older woman and a young girl of his age. Both women gasped, throwing a gloved hand over their chests in shock. The older woman was the first to speak, scolding him. “Young man, put some clothes on at once. It’s highly inappropriate to walk around half-clothed.”

She quickly took the young girl’s hand and dragged her away, but not before the girl looked back at Harold and gave him a playful giggle and delicate wave. Harold went back into the room, searching for something to wear. He found a wooden wardrobe and opened it to reveal a dapper all-black suit, vest, and tie, with a top hat to complete the outfit. He couldn’t help but grumble, “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

Reluctantly, Harold put on the clothes, feeling self-conscious in the fancy attire. He stood in front of the vanity, trying to tie the bowtie. He couldn’t help but laugh at his reflection, finding the situation absurd. Finally, he finished getting ready and ventured out once again in search of answers.

As Harold made his way through the ship, he couldn’t help but be struck by the antique design of the vessel. Its Edwardian style was more elegant than any ship he had been on before. As he approached the more crowded areas of the ship, he was surrounded by men in luxurious suits smoking cigars and pipes. Meanwhile, the women were dressed in elegant gowns and fashionable sunhats and gloves, gathered together in groups. Harold was confused as he watched the guests interact, wondering if he had stumbled upon a historical reenactment or cosplay event.

In his distraction, Harold collided with a portly older gentleman, causing his cocktail to spill. “Good heavens, young man! Watch where you’re going!”

“I’m sorry,” Harold apologized, placing a hand on the man’s arm. “Can you tell me what ship I’m on?”

The older man let out a deep chuckle. “Why, this is the Titanic, of course.”

Harold’s heart skipped a beat and he felt his breathing quicken. “The Titanic?”

“Yes,” the man said, furrowing his brows as he rubbed his thick brown beard with his hand. “Are you a stowaway?”

Harold shook his head, still in disbelief. His mind was a jumbled mess of questions, and he couldn’t begin to understand what was happening. Muttering to himself, he said, “But the Titanic sank in 1912.”

The man looked at Harold with disbelief. “Sank? That’s absurd. This ship is unsinkable.”

Harold didn’t realize the man signaling for a security guard as he was lost in his thoughts. The guard approached, dressed in a standard uniform of a navy-blue jacket, white shirt, black tie, black trousers, and black shoes. He looked down at Harold and asked, “Is there a problem here, sir?”

Harold stepped back nervously from the guard and tried to smile politely. “I’m fine, I think I just had a strange dream.”

The guard leaned in, whispering firmly in Harold’s ear, “This ship will not sink, and if I hear you scaring any more of the passengers, I’ll have you thrown in the brig. Do you understand?”

“Yes, sir,” Harold replied, swallowing hard. “I won’t bother any more guests.”

The guard straightened up. “I suggest you return to your cabin and calm down. Good day.”

The guard walked away, and Harold left the Titanic’s interior and leaned against the railing outside. He was trying to figure out why a wave had brought him to this time period and if he was meant to prevent the ship from hitting the iceberg. Before he could ponder further, a delicate hand was draped on his shoulder. He turned to face the young woman who he’d seen in the hall earlier. She wore a gentle smile on her pale face, and her blond hair hung just below her shoulders.

“You were the one in his skivvies earlier,” she said, giggling.

Harold blushed and rubbed the back of his neck. “Yes, I apologize for that.”

The woman reached out her hand. “My name is Clarice McKiernan. What’s yours?”

Harold, unsure of what to do, took her hand and kissed it lightly, as he had seen in old movies. “Nice to meet you, Ms. McKiernan. I’m Harold Dimitris.”

“You seemed a bit distraught when talking to Sir Walter Blight and the guard. Are you okay?” Clarice asked as she moved to stand next to him.

Harold chuckled as he looked out at the water. “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”

“Try me.”

“I’m from the future,” he said, his tone serious.

Clarice burst into laughter, then quickly covered her mouth with her gloved hand as she tried to regain her composure. “I apologize. That was inappropriate. But you can’t be serious, right?”

“I knew you wouldn’t believe me.”

“Wait,” Clarice said, placing a hand on his shoulder. “Please, tell me. I’ll try my best to be open-minded about it.”

Harold looked around to make sure no one was listening, especially the security guard. “The ship is going to sink tonight.”

“Poppycock!” She gasped. “The Titanic can’t sink. It’s unsinkable.”

“Evidently, they were wrong.”

“So, we’re going to sink tonight?” Clarice asked, wiping away a tear. “Am I going to die?”

Harold wrapped an arm around her to comfort her. “I don’t know who dies. All I know is that 1,500 passengers perished out of the 2,240. I did a short paper on it when I was twelve, but that was it.”

“My goodness, that’s so many,” Clarice said, her hand covering her mouth again.

“But maybe I can stop it.”

“How?”

“I’m not sure,” Harold said, his voice filled with hesitation. “I was considering taking hold of the ship’s wheel tonight and charting a different course.”

“But that would be a big risk,” she warned. “You could get into serious trouble and end up in the brig.”

“Yes, I’m aware of that,” he replied, determination etched on his face. “But it’s a risk I’m willing to take. If I succeed, I’ll be able to save more than a thousand lives.”

“Do you think you’ll ever make it back home?” she asked, her eyes filled with concern.

Harold gazed out at the endless expanse of water and sighed. “I’m not sure. I was swept off a cruise ship by a massive wave. For all I know, I might not even be alive anymore, and this is some weird form of purgatory.”

“I have faith that you’ll find your way back,” she said, a reassuring smile on her face.

Harold and Clarice spent the rest of the day in each other’s company, sharing stories about their lives and learning about the world around them. Despite coming from different times, they found a connection and felt surprisingly at ease with one another.

As night descended, they went their separate ways, but not before Harold warned Clarice to be cautious and stay close to a lifeboat in case things didn’t go according to plan.

Most of the passengers were fast asleep, leaving only a few drunken revelers and smokers milling about. Harold tried to keep a low profile, carefully observing the movements of the crew. He made his way to the steering gear room located on C deck, a remote and discreet location beneath the poop deck. He thought it would be the smartest move to take control of the ship from this location, rather than attempting to negotiate with the captain on the bridge.

With no one else around, Harold saw it as the ideal opportunity to put his plan into action. He quickly set to work adjusting the mechanisms in the steering gear room, determined to steer the ship in a safer direction.

Just as he finished, the door flew open, and two crew members appeared. The shorter one pounced on Harold, shouting, “What do you think you’re doing?”

The taller crew member examined the machinery and asked Harold, “Did you touch any of these?”

Feeling nervous, Harold shrugged and stammered, “Uh, maybe a few.”

“Are you crazy?” the taller crew member exclaimed as he tried to undo Harold’s changes. “You’re going to get us all killed!”

“Listen to me,” Harold pleaded, trying to break free from the shorter crew member’s grasp. “We’re heading straight for an iceberg. If we don’t change our course, more than half of the passengers on this ship will die.”

“Nonsense!” the crew member holding him growled as he started pulling Harold towards the door. “Mathew, fix what he’s done. I’ll take him up to the bridge to talk to the captain and security.”

The crew mate led Harold to the bridge where everyone was gathered, including Captain Smith and two security guards who had followed them. Harold tried to explain the situation, but everyone looked at him skeptically, including the captain.

Captain Smith tugged on his white beard as he regarded Harold for a long moment before speaking. “This is absurd. There is no threat to our ship. A minor scratch won’t sink us.”

Harold struggled as the security guards grabbed him by the arms. “Listen to me! The ship is going to sink. We have to take action!”

But no one paid attention to his pleas. They all dismissed his warning and continued with their duties, trying to get back on schedule after Harold’s meddling. The security guards took Harold to the brig in the hospital wing, locked him inside, and left him there.

In the dimly lit, firmly padded room, Harold banged on the solid door, crying out for someone to listen. But his pleas fell on deaf ears. Eventually, he dropped to the floor, tears streaming down his face. He wasn’t sure if he could steer them clear of the iceberg, but he wondered where fate would take him now. Would he be stuck in 1912 if the Titanic made its voyage? Or would he drown here, sharing the same fate from 2023? He had no answer until a loud crash echoed through the room. It sounded like metal scraping and a loud bang. People were screaming from somewhere nearby, and panic had set in.

He grabbed his hair in his hands, pulling at the strands as he desperately tried to think of something. But there was nothing he could do. He doubted anyone would come to save him.

Seconds later, he heard water trickling into the room. It started small, then increased until it was buckets full. He backed himself into a corner of the room as the water filled up, reaching his knees. The light above him flickered on and off as the Titanic sank. He was scared. It was one thing to see it in a movie and to hear about it, but to live through it was surreal.

The water kept rising, soon reaching his neck. He knew his air pocket would be gone soon, so he just floated in the water, awaiting his fate. He didn’t have to wait long as the water fully submerged him, and his air ran out.

***

Harold’s eyes slowly opened as the sound of machines beeping filled the room. He gazed around the bright surroundings, trying to sit up but wincing in pain as he could only manage a slight movement. A doctor entered, chart in hand, and smiled at Harold warmly.

“Welcome back,” she said, examining him closely. “How are you feeling?”

“Like I was smashed against a brick wall,” Harold groaned, sinking back onto the bed.

“Well, not quite,” the doctor chuckled. “You were thrown into the ocean from your cruise ship by a rogue wave. You’re lucky to be alive with only minor bruises and no broken bones.”

“Really?” Harold asked in surprise.

“Yes, indeed,” the doctor confirmed, nodding. “Most people wouldn’t have survived a fall like that, let alone escape with minor injuries. Someone was definitely watching over you out there.”

“I guess I got lucky then,” Harold said, grateful.

She nodded, closing the chart. “Yes, you were.”

Harold squinted at the doctor’s name tag, reading her name. “Dr. McKiernan?”

“Yes, that’s me,” she said, pointing to her tag. “What can I help you with?”

“Are you related to Clarice McKiernan?” Harold asked, intrigued.

The doctor’s eyes narrowed in confusion. “She was my great-great-grandaunt. She was on the Titanic and even wrote a book about her experience. I didn’t think many people still read it.”

“She survived,” Harold whispered to himself. Eager to learn more, Harold asked, “What happened to the Titanic?”

“The Titanic collided with a cargo ship after a madman took control of the vessel,” she explained, shaking her head in disbelief. “It resulted in the loss of over 1500 passengers on the Titanic and all 30 crew members on the cargo ship.”

Harold’s eyes widened in horror as he realized he had made the tragedy even worse by causing the loss of 30 more lives. Despite this, he was grateful that Clarice had survived and lived a life she may not have otherwise.

Dr. McKiernan looked at the chart once more and chuckled. “It’s funny, your name is the same as the man my great-great-grandaunt wrote about in her book. She said he saved her life and helped create a bright future for her family.”

“That’s quite strange,” Harold said, eyebrows raised in surprise.

“Who knows, maybe you’re related,” she said with a grin. “It could be some strange twist of fate.”

“Like a past life?”

“You never know,” Dr, McKiernan said with a shrug. She placed the chart at the foot of his bed and turned to him. “Your friend Jose is here to see you. He’s been coming in every day to check on you. Would you like me to send him in?”

“Yes, please,” Harold said with a nod.

“I’ll send him in then,” she said, turning to leave. “By the way, I’m glad you’re okay, Mr. Dimitris.”

“I’m glad to be here,” Harold said.

“I’ll come back to check on you in a few hours,” Dr. McKiernan said with a nod, before leaving the room.

As Harold lay in the hospital bed, waiting for Jose, he couldn’t help but think about his strange time-travel adventure. He wasn’t sure how or why it had happened, or what its purpose was. But he couldn’t help but feel grateful that it had brought him to a woman who could potentially be his soulmate.