Passage

Because it was real. She had tried to tell him. She had said she saw colors, heard sounds, felt staircase railings under her hand, had tried to describe the reality of the ship, but he had been convinced it was a hallucination, that it was something happening in long-term memory and the temporal lobe, even when she’d tried to tell him, even when she’d said, “It’s a real place.”

I should have listened to her, he thought, looking for a stairway, or a door to the outside. I should have told her where I was going. I shouldn’t have turned off my pager.

All the doors were shut, locked. “Hey!” he shouted, banging on them, rattling the old-fashioned knobs. “Anybody there?”

The third door opened under his hand. Inside, a man wearing headphones was sitting bent over a wireless key, listening. Dot-dash-dot-dot, he wrote on a pad. “Hey!” Richard said. “How do I get to C Deck?”

The man didn’t look up.

“C Deck,” Richard said, coming to stand over him. “Which deck is this I’m on now?”

The man went on writing, his face intent on the key, dash-dash-dot-dash-dot-dot-dot—

SOS, Richard thought. Of course. He’s calling for help. When had they sent the first SOS? Not until after midnight.

“What time is it?” Richard asked him loudly. “How long have you been sending?”

A gray-haired woman appeared in the door, in a high-collared blouse and a long black skirt. “You’re not supposed to be here,” she said, her hand on the doorjamb.

“I’m looking for—”

“How did you get in here?” she interrupted sternly. “Unauthorized persons are not allowed in this part of—”

“I’m looking for Joanna Lander,” he said. “I have to find her.”

“Yes, sir, I know, sir,” she said, leading him out of the wireless room, “but this part of—”

“You don’t understand. It’s urgent. She’s in danger. She’d be on C Deck. Or on the Boat Deck—”

“I know, sir,” she said, and her voice had, surprisingly, softened. “If you’ll just come with me, sir.” She led him back down the passage the way they’d come, her hand gently on his arm.

“Her passage is on C Deck,” he said. “It opens onto the deck.”

“Yes, sir.” She opened a door and led him down a flight of stairs.

“She’s about five foot six,” he said. “Brown hair, glasses. She was wearing a cardigan sweater and — ” He stopped. He didn’t know what else. A skirt? Pants? He tried to envision the heap of clothes at the end of the table, but he couldn’t tell what they were for the blood, the blood. “I have to find her immediately.”

“Yes, sir,” she said, and continued to walk slowly, sedately down the corridor.

“You don’t understand!” he said. “It’s urgent! She—”

“I understand that you’re upset, sir,” she said, but didn’t quicken her pace.

“She’s in danger!”

The woman nodded and walked him slowly down the hall and around a corner.

Bong! He looked up, alarmed. It was a clock, a large wooden wall clock with Roman numerals and a pendulum. A quarter to two. And the Titanic had gone down at 2:20.

“You don’t understand!” he said, clutching the woman’s arms and shaking her. “There’s no time! I have to find her and get her off. Just tell me how to get to C Deck!”

Her eyes widened and filled with tears. “If you’ll just come this way, sir,” she said pleadingly. “Please, sir.”

“There’s no time!” he said. “I’ll find her myself!” and ran down the passage and through the door at the end of it. And into a mass of jostling, gesturing people.

The Boat Deck, he thought, but this was an inside room, too, with large double doors along one side. Everyone was pushing toward those doors. The Boat Deck must lie beyond them, and they were waiting here for their chance to board. He stretched his neck, trying to see over the top hats of the men, the feathered hats of the women, looking for Joanna’s bare head. He couldn’t see her.

Joanna had said the passengers out on the deck had had no idea what was happening, but these people obviously did. They looked frightened, the men’s faces strained and worried, the women’s eyes rimmed with red. A young girl clung to an elderly man, sobbing helplessly into a black-edged handkerchief. “There, there,” the old man said. “We must not give up hope.” Did that mean all the boats were already gone? When had they launched the last one? Not until the very end, Joanna had said, but it couldn’t be the very end. The deck wasn’t slanting at all.

If he could get through the crowd. He pushed forward, looking for Joanna, craning his neck, trying to see over the sea of hats, trying to move forward, but the crowd was packed in tightly, and as he tried to push in, they blocked his way.

“Excuse me,” he said, shoving past a young man in a brown coat and hat. He had a newspaper under his arm. At a time like this, Richard thought. “I have to get through. I’m looking for someone.”

“What was her name?” the young man asked, taking a leather notebook out of his pocket. “Was she traveling first class?”

“She’s on C Deck.”

“C Deck,” the young man said, jotting it down. “Traveling alone?”

“Yes,” Richard said. “Traveling alone.”

“Name?” he asked, taking more notes.