A novelization of the 1996 point and click adventure game "Titanic: Adventure Out of Time" by CyberFlix. The game has been a favorite of mine since childhood and launched my lifelong fascination with the legendary ship of dreams. For years I've wanted to do a novelization, just as a little writing project. I enjoyed and partially drew inspiration from mungojerry311's novelization, but I'm also making some changes of my own that will be appearing later in the story, particurally in regard to the sinking.
Chapter 1: Forever Locked in Regret
10:55 am, April 14, 1942, London
I found myself running through a ship's corridor as water flooded in from all around me. The lights flickered and dimmed, and I heard low rumbling sounds all around me as the sinking ship began to tear itself apart.
This isn't real! I told myself. I've already lived through this! I already escaped the Titanic!
"You may have escaped the Titanic, Carlson, but you will never escape from me." said a cold voice I didn't recognize.
A man appeared before me, wearing a German military uniform. He had short brown hair and a thin mustache, and spoke with a thick German accent.
"Who are you?" I demanded.
The man sneered at me, pointing a finger at me. "I am your failure, Carlson! I haunt every moment of your wretched life!"
"Get away from me!" I shouted as I ran up a flight of stairs and onto the deck of the rapidly sinking ship.
In the next instant, I found myself immersed in the icy waters of the North Atlantic. I struggled to stay afloat in the frigid water. I spotted an overturned lifeboat and frantically swam toward it as the stern of the Titanic disappeared beneath the waves. As I reached the overturned lifeboat, the German man appeared once more, standing on top of it and grinning down at me.
"Poor fool! Not so quick, are you? " he taunted me. "I'm afraid this is the end for you, my friend. How does it feel knowing that you are responsible for the suffering and deaths of countless millions? Hmm? I'm amazed you haven't put yourself out of your misery already. Perhaps you should have just gone down with the ship!"
As I tried to grab the lifeboat, he stomped on my fingers, causing me to scream out in pain.
"Now you can die knowing that your failure was my victory." The man crowed with glee.
He placed his boot on my forehead and forced my head underwater. The next thing I knew, something had caught my foot and was dragging me downward. As I was rapidly pulled down into the sea, I realized that a cable was wrapped around my leg. I was being dragged down with the stern of the Titanic! I tried to pull myself free but it was no use. I was being dragged down into the depths of the sea. Corpses floated past me as I sank lower and lower into the crushing black depths of the North Atlantic. There were hundreds of them! Some of them I knew. Others, I did not. There was no escape. I would die along with them. Darkness closed in and engulfed me as I sank deeper and deeper into the abyss.
.
.
.
I awoke to find myself lying in bed, relieved that it had only been a dream. With a sigh, I got up and got dressed to for the day. I frowned as I looked at a piece of stucco that had been jarred loose from the ceiling during the nightly air raids. By now I had grown so accustomed to the air raids that I usually just slept through them.
This building is falling apart. I thought to myself.
The run down, single room flat of 9 Stanley Crescent had definitely seen better days, much like myself. It had been my home ever since I was fired from the Secret Service nearly thirty years ago.
April 14th… I thought to myself, as painful memories came rushing back to me.
I turned on the radio to listen to some music. I immediately heard a woman's voice delivering a news broadcast instead.
"And in today's top stories, London has endured another night of German bombing. Most damage was concentrated in the east end."
She went on to narrate all the terrible things happening in the world as the war raged on across the globe. I finally couldn't listen any longer and turned the radio off.
I made my way over to the fireplace where I had created a small shrine to the Titanic. A model of the ship was the centerpiece. On the left was a scrapbook I had put together. I took the scrapbook and turned to the first page, which depicted a newspaper headline.
"TITANIC SINKS! 1250 PERISH!"
Thirty years had passed since that fateful night. Thirty years since I had managed to scramble aboard collapsible lifeboat A after finding myself in the water. I had watched the magnificent ocean liner sink, and with it, my future. Ever since my failed mission and subsequent termination, I had struggled to get by, doing odd jobs here and there.
I looked down at the copy of the book "Futility" by Morgan Roberts, sitting on the arm of my chair. I had been reading the book and though it was written in 1898, I was stunned by how the books' events almost perfectly predicted the sinking of the Titanic. My makeshift bookmark was an old obituary from April 19th, 1912. Part of the text was visible sticking out from between the pages of the book.
"Lord and Lady Lambeth have died in the Titanic disaster. The couple have been missing since the sinking and were not among the survivors rescued by the Carpathia."
Why do I hold on to such things? I asked myself, placing the newspaper scrap back into the book.
Georgia Lambeth, daughter of the Duke of Norwick, had been a former lover of mine. Though I had cared deeply for her, my duties with the Secret Service had forced me to cut all contact with her, much to my regret. Now she was gone, just yet another of my failures. Another life I failed to save.
Someone pounding on the door caught my attention, and I already knew who it was. Before I could say anything the door flew open and there stood my hideous hag of a landlady, Miss Belby, in all her horrid glory. With her ratty, faded grey hair, hooked nose, and several missing teeth, she certainly wasn't a pleasing sight to see standing in one's doorway.
"Bout time you're awake! You're two weeks late with the rent!" she screeched at me.
"I'm sorry, Miss Belby. I'll get you the money." I replied, though I knew it was an empty promise.
"War or no war, a tenant in arrears is not a tenant I'll put up with! You don't pay by today, it's the street! I promise!"
"Alright, I'll get your money." I calmly assured her once more, but she just scowled at me and threw my newspaper on the floor, along with what looked like an envelope.
"They said you was important! Not now!" she scowled at me with her soulless grey eyes.
"Now you're just old! Old and broke!"
With that, she slammed the door, shaking the entire flat and jarring another piece of stucco loose from the ceiling.
"Hag!" I muttered as I went to retrieve my newspaper.
I gazed at the headline. "NAZI BOMBERS HIT CITY. HEAVY DAMAGE IN DOCKLANDS."
Accompanying the headline was a picture of the damage. I sighed, wondering if this was all just another consequence of my failure.
I picked up the envelope that Miss Belby had thrown on the floor and I was surprised to find that it contained something round and heavy.
"I wonder what this could be?" I pondered, examining the envelope.
"Frank Carlson, 9 Stanley Crescent, London, W11, England."
No return address.
"Strange." I whispered as I walked over to my desk to retrieve my letter opener.
As I dug through one of the desk drawers, I saw a ticket to the airship Hindenburg. I briefly picked it up and examined it, frowning once more.
I had worked as a private investigator from time to time, and the last job I was hired for involved tailing a wealthy woman's husband as he traveled around Europe. He was scheduled to fly on the doomed airship, but cancelled his trip at the last minute, as did I. Though I was paid for my work, I never recovered the money I spent on the ticket, significantly reducing my profits from that job.
As I continued to dig around in the drawer, I found an old letter. I picked it up and frowned as I read it.
"10 August, 1914. His Majesty's Government regrets to inform you that your services in the Office of the Secret Service are no longer needed. Termination to be effective immediately. With regrets, Commander T.S.D. Hipple."
I tossed the letter back into the drawer, again asking myself why I kept such things. Finally I found my letter opener and opened my new envelope. I reached inside and was stunned as I retrieved an old gold pocket watch.
"Impossible!" I uttered, staring at the gold watch.
It had been gifted to me on the day I was accepted into the Secret Service. I opened the watch and a folded piece of paper fell onto my desk. I ignored it and stared at the rusty face of the watch, its hands stopped at 2:20 am, the exact time that the Titanic sank. It had been immersed in the water as I swam to collapsible A, and though I had always intended to repair it, I instead discarded it when the Service fired me.
Who could have mailed me this? Is this someone's idea of a cruel prank? I thought as I stared at the broken watch. I heard Commander Hipple's voice in my head.
"See here, this isn't about your dedication! Pringle certainly attests to your loyalty. No, your dismissal stems from the Titanic mission. That failure can no longer be ignored, especially now. I am sorry, but someone must shoulder the blame. The Service, you understand. We can't be held responsible."
And shoulder the blame I did. Failing my mission onboard the Titanic had far-reaching consequences, not only for myself, but for the entire civilized world. Wars, death, chaos… It was why the Service had fired me. Or perhaps they just needed a convenient scapegoat. Either way, I felt responsible. I tossed the watch onto the desk and picked up the piece of paper than had been folded inside of it. I unfolded it and saw words written on the paper.
"The past, forever locked in regret. But what if the past could be changed?"
"What is this nonsense?" I exclaimed out loud.
My thoughts were interrupted as an air raid siren suddenly sounded outside. Though my first instinct was to run for shelter, I just sighed and hung my head. I had no more reason to run.
This is the end, I suppose. I thought to myself as I heard aircraft engines overhead.
The bomb must have exploded right outside my flat. The wall exploded inward and I was thrown onto my back amidst the debris of my home. My whole body went numb and I saw flames engulfing the room around me. The building was beginning to crumble. I glanced over and saw my old watch lying beside me. But much to my surprise, the hands were moving once more. They were rapidly spinning counterclockwise. Then everything faded to black as I lost consciousness.
Surrounded by darkness, I heard my own voice speaking to me.
"The past, forever locked in regret. But what if the past could be changed? Thirty years have come and gone since the night that saw the end of the world: my world. The Service needed someone on the Titanic. They chose me. I was to wait for a signal from my contact, so I remained in my cabin. I left only once. Georgia was on board. And that's when it came. There'd be no second chance. It was Sunday, April 14. Too late you see, for the Titanic. For me. What if I had met with my contact, preventing disaster? What if the past could be changed? What then?"
To be continued...