Prologue
April 15th, 1912
The middle of the North Atlantic
2:20 a.m.
Marty had followed the rest of the ill-fated passengers to the top of the stern. He looked around as it bobbled. People had jumped off of the stern and into the freezing water below. Screaming was heard all around him. Beside him, Sherilyn kept her eyes shut and shook as another cold breeze hit her. It picked up a little more, the coldness of it biting at Marty's hands, face, and neck. His breath hovered in front of him in little white puffs, as if someone was smoking, and he shook just a little. He looked at Sherilyn who was gripping the rail so hard her knuckles had turned white. Another shiver ran through his body, and Marty did all he could to not let go.
"God damn it, Doc." He muttered under his breath. "Where are you when I need you?"