The Titanic Locket

by Suzanne Weyn

  The girls said good night to him and sat looking at each other, exhausted. “I don’t know about you, but I’m getting tired,” Jessica said finally.

  “Me too. But I’m too scared to sleep,” Samantha admitted.

  Jessica began shoving her bed closer to Samantha’s. “Don’t go anywhere, not even to the bathroom, without waking me up,” she insisted.

  “Not even to the bathroom,” Samantha echoed. “Let’s sleep with the lights on.”

  “I don’t think I can.”

  Samantha knew this was true. Jessica always had to have complete darkness in order to fall asleep. “Try. Please?” Samantha coaxed. The idea of lying there in the dark was more than she could stand.

  “Okay, I’ll try,” Jessica agreed reluctantly.

  In bed, Samantha wrestled with her pillow until it was just right and settled down to sleep. In the bed close beside her, Jessica wiggled and thrashed as she struggled to fall asleep with the lights on, flipping onto one side and then the other. Normally Samantha might have complained about Jessica’s fidgeting, but it was a comfort to know that her sister was there. With a wide yawn, Samantha nestled deeper under the blankets and managed to drift off.

  When Samantha opened her eyes again, it was because she heard the scratching sound once more.

  This time, though, it wasn’t in the wall.

  It was coming from the door. Something outside the cabin was trying to get in.

  Glancing at her sister’s bed, she saw that Jessica was all rolled up in her blankets and snoring lightly. Samantha longed to wake her but knew how difficult it had been for her to fall asleep in the first place, and so she let her continue sleeping. She wouldn’t wake her up unless she truly needed to — and she really, really hoped she wouldn’t need to.

  Tossing back her covers, she sat up and listened. Scratch scritch-scratch. Whatever was making that sound was definitely out in the hallway.

  Samantha pulled the sheets back over herself and sunk down under them. Every part of her wished the noise would simply stop. If she went back to sleep, she hoped it would be gone in the morning. It was better to stay here in bed — the nice, cozy, warm bed, where at least she felt safe.

  Scratch scritch-scratch.

  Scratch scritch-scratch.

  Samantha covered her ears. Stop it! But the scratching kept on. What was out there? The sound was driving her crazy. How could she make it stop?

  Finally it was more than Samantha could stand. She had to see what was there. Drawing in a deep breath to steady her nerves, she slid out of bed and crept noiselessly to the door.

  Scratch scritch-scratch.

  Slowly Samantha turned the knob.

  She pulled the door toward her — just the very narrowest crack.

  Peering out, she saw that no one was there.

  Then a dog barked. It was right by her feet!

  Samantha’s eyes darted downward toward the sound. John Jacob Astor’s dog, Kitty, stood in front of her. Upon seeing her, it panted and danced excitedly, shifting its weight on all four paws. Then it barked again.

  Samantha squatted down to pet it. “Is it you who’s been scratching all this time?” She suddenly felt foolish for being so frightened by the sound. “Are you lost? Your owner is searching for you.”

  The dog yipped, looking up at her. “What is it?” she asked. “Are you trying to tell me something?”

  The dog replied with another high-pitched yip. Samantha expected people to start coming out of their cabins to complain about the barking.

  She turned sharply, staring back into her cabin. “What’s wrong?”

  Kitty jumped up on the open door, scratching and barking at something just above Samantha’s head. Turning, she looked at the door number. 299!

  She drew a sharp breath. “Two-ninety-nine,” she breathed.

  Did the dog know what it meant? Was it trying to warn her?

  Samantha turned sharply, and her eyes darted around the cabin. “Who’s here?” she called softly. “Go away!”

  Samantha realized the barking had stopped and looked for Kitty. But the dog had disappeared.

  Stepping into the hall, she looked in one direction and then quickly in the other. There was no sight of Kitty and no nearby hallway she might have turned down.

  How had Kitty disappeared so quickly?

  SAMANTHA STARED at the numbers on the door and made a decision. Tomorrow morning, they were getting out of this cabin. Even if they had to sleep on the floor of their parents’ room, it would be worth it for all the strange encounters with maids and necklaces to be over.

  Returning to her cabin, Samantha crawled beneath her covers. Jessica was still sleeping heavily, but Samantha vowed to stay awake until dawn to keep watch. Despite her fear, though, exhaustion soon overcame her and her eyes drifted shut.

  Restless dreams started right away, and in her sleep Samantha ran down an endless corridor of the ship, pursued by shrieking passengers who fled a rushing wave behind them. Just as the water was about to overtake them all, Samantha’s eyes snapped open.

  Someone was shaking her arm.

  The room was dark and she was staring up into Jessica’s moonlit face. Samantha shook her head, struggling to come awake. “What’s going on?”

  “Come with me,” Jessica said. “I have to show you something.”

  “Where are we going?” Why were the lights off?

  “Come on,” Jessica insisted, taking hold of Samantha’s hand.

  “Your hand is ice-cold,” Samantha said.

  “Just come on,” Jessica repeated.

  “Wait, Jess, I want to get dressed.”

  “There’s no time. Let’s go.”

  “All right,” Samantha agreed. Swinging her legs out of bed, she allowed her sister to pull her toward the door. Holding it open, she stepped out into the hallway. “Wait, Jess! My feet are really cold.” Looking back inside the cabin, she used the light from the hall to help her search for flip-flops, sneakers, or even socks to warm her feet.

  What she saw in the cabin made her breath catch in her throat.

  Jessica was still in her bed! The covers rose and fell in time with the familiar, steady rhythms of her breath.

  If that was Jessica … who was standing beside her?

  Suddenly icy with fear, Samantha whirled toward her companion and stared into the nearly colorless eyes of the ghost maid.

  A scream froze in Samantha’s throat as, with lightning speed, the ghost maid clamped a viselike grip around it, choking off any sound. The hallway spun and the last sight Samantha saw were the numbers 299 on the cabin door before she fell backward into blackness.

  The next thing Samantha knew, she was standing on the Grand Staircase leading down into the first-class lounge. Looking up, she gazed at the huge, illuminated glass dome ceiling above. In front of her, ornately carved wooden railings encased spiraling ironwork that flanked both sides of the staircase leading into the ballroom. At the beginning and end of each railing were carved pineapples. In the center, a third, beautiful wooden railing cut the staircase into a right and left entrance and ended with a carved wooden cherub that held an illuminated electric torch. A ticking noise made Samantha turn to look at an elegant clock set into more carved paneling. It was the most gorgeous place Samantha had ever seen.

  Still dressed in her pajamas and with bare feet, she felt completely out of place gazing at the richly dressed people below her who glided across the dance floor to the music of a waltz.

  Was she dreaming? That had to be it! Wake up! You’re in a dream. Wake up!

  It didn’t work. She bit hard on her thumb to check. Ow! The pain was real enough.

  How had she gotten there?

  Remembering, she looked around sharply for the ghost maid but didn’t see her. Well, that was a relief, at least.

  Turning to leave, Samantha spied a door to the right of the stairway. When she went to pull the handle, though, it was locked. Trying the door on the other side of the stairway, she discov
ered that she couldn’t open it, either.

  A tall, severe-looking butler appeared. “Follow me, Miss Littlefield,” he said somberly.

  Miss Littlefield?

  “How did you …” Samantha’s voice trailed off as the butler proceeded down the stairs ahead of her. Did the staff here really know who everyone was supposed to be? She didn’t have a name tag or anything. How could he possibly have known she had been assigned the passenger Alice Littlefield?

  Hurrying down the steps, she caught up with the butler, grabbing his sleeve to stop him. “Excuse me, but I really just need to get out of here and —”

  “Why would you want to miss this lovely ball?”

  “You can see that I’m not dressed for —” Samantha stopped herself as she realized that she now wore a gleaming sapphire-blue evening gown that swirled to the floor. Her hair was swept up elegantly on the top of her head — and the silver locket was around her throat.

  Samantha’s hands flew to it.

  No!

  How had this happened? Trembling, Samantha fumbled with the clasp, but her hands were shaking so badly that she couldn’t grasp it. “Please,” she begged, turning her back to the butler. “Help me get this off. Please!”

  The butler shook his head and raised his palms defensively. “There’s no reason to take off that lovely locket. It looks elegant on you. Rest assured that you’re perfectly dressed, miss,” the butler insisted.

  “I just want this locket off!” Samantha wailed as she trailed him on his way down the rest of the stairs.

  “You look lovely,” the butler insisted as he disappeared around the dancers.

  The classical music swelled as the dancers spun around the immense dance floor, moving together as one. It would have been breathtaking had she not been so confused and frightened. Not knowing what else to do, Samantha found an ornately carved golden chair with red velvet cushioning and sat to calm her racing pulse.

  “Caviar, miss?” A waitress dressed in a black dress under a white apron offered the contents of her tray.

  Samantha had never tried fish eggs, and she wasn’t going to pick this moment to be adventurous. “No, thank you,” she declined.

  The waitress leaned in closer. “Sally Kelly is out to get you tonight. You’d best be careful,” she hissed her warning.

  “Sally Kelly?” Samantha questioned.

  With a subtle tilt of her head, the waitress gestured toward a spot across the room. The ghost maid stood glaring at Samantha with hate-filled eyes.

  “Why?” Samantha asked the waitress.

  The waitress laughed scornfully. “You don’t know?”

  “But I don’t!” Samantha told the waitress. “Please, tell me.”

  The waitress laughed again as she moved away. “I’m sure you know exactly why.”

  Where was Sally Kelly now? Samantha’s eyes darted around the room searching for her. Was she gone? Samantha decided she had to get as far away as possible from the spot where she’d last spied the ghost maid. To do that, she’d have to cut across the dance floor.

  Samantha entered the densely packed dance floor, stumbling among the serenely swirling dancers. They bumped into her, indifferent to her presence, caught up in the dance. One man stepped on her hem, and Samantha heard it tear.

  Wake up! she commanded herself. Get out of this dream now!

  Samantha weaved and dodged blindly through the crowd. If she stayed within the dancers, Sally Kelly might not find her. But where was the ghost maid? Samantha worked her way toward the sidelines of the dancing crowd, straining to locate the ghost maid. Suddenly she tripped over the feet of a man in a tuxedo. Her arms windmilling, she fought to keep her balance but crashed into the back of another maid with a tray who stood off to the side of the dance floor. Small tea sandwiches slid across the floor as her tray clattered to the ground.

  When the maid looked down at Samantha, it was Sally Kelly, her hate-filled eyes burning. “This is no dream, Alice Littlefield,” she snarled. “No dream at all!”

  Samantha bolted up and ran back into the crowd, hoping to escape this horrible creature. There had to be a way to escape, but for now, all she could hope to do was hide.

  SAMANTHA PRESSED up against a pillar at the back of the dance floor, trying to make herself as small and unnoticeable as possible. She had lost sight of Sally Kelly, but it didn’t make her feel much better. That creature might pop up again when she least expected her.

  As she caught her breath, she took the time to work once more on removing the locket from her neck. To her delight, the clasp opened easily. Filled with horror at the thing, she bent forward and flung the locket along the floor. Hopefully the dancers would crush it beneath their feet.

  Something licked Samantha’s hand. Startled, she pulled it back, but a second look made her smile. “Kitty!” she cried, delighted. Descending into a squat position, she drew the dog to her. “You’re freezing,” she noted, ruffling her tightly coiled fur to warm it. “Have you found your owners? They must be here somewhere.”

  Kitty yelped in response and Samantha laid her hand over the dog’s muzzle to quiet it. She didn’t want to attract attention to herself. “Sh-sh,” she soothed. “How did you get so cold? Were you out on deck?”

  Kitty barked sharply, panting with agitation. Following the dog’s gaze, Samantha saw Sally Kelly heading in her direction. Samantha wasn’t sure if the ghostly creature had spied her yet, but she would very shortly if Samantha didn’t leave this hiding spot and find another.

  “I’ve got to go, Kitty,” Samantha said urgently, releasing the Airedale from her grasp as she stood. At any second, Sally Kelly would see her.

  Before Samantha could move, though, someone tapped her sharply on her shoulder. It was John, dressed in a tuxedo. “You dropped this, I think,” he said, presenting her with the locket.

  “I don’t want it. Throw it away!” Samantha said in a breathless whisper.

  He unclasped the two sides. This time the photos were clear. On one side was a picture of John — and on the other was Samantha’s picture.

  “Then I am the one you like,” Samantha said with a quiet smile, gazing happily up at him.

  “It’s always been you,” he confirmed. “Let me hold this for you,” he suggested, dropping the locket into his pocket. “Might I have the favor of this dance, Miss Littlefield?”

  All the fear and terror was washed away at once as Samantha basked in the warmth of his tender smile. How handsome he was! What beautiful eyes! As he put his arms around her waist, she melted into him and marveled at his strength.

  Samantha had learned the basics of a waltz in gym class and did her best to stay in step with her partner. Effortlessly spinning away in John’s arms might be the perfect way to make her escape unnoticed. Hopefully he could also tell her something that might help her figure out what was going on. “Why did you call me Miss Littlefield just before?” Samantha asked as they glided across the ballroom dance floor.

  “Surely everyone here knows Alice Littlefield.”

  “They do?” Samantha asked, surprised. “Why?”

  “You and your sister are so charming and beautiful.”

  “Wait! Are you talking about Jess and me or about Alice Littlefield and her sister?”

  Before John could reply, a terrible cracking arose and he pulled her close. “It’s that time again,” John whispered ominously in her ear.

  A line of broken wood shot across the dance floor like jagged lightning. Looking down, Samantha saw the planks rip apart, revealing the room below them.

  What was happening? Samantha looked back at John for his reaction and gasped, her entire body going rigid with shock.

  Half of John’s face had turned a putrid green, his teeth yellow and rotted. One of his eyes was red-rimmed and bulging; the other was out of its socket entirely. His skull peeked through the place where a patch of scalp had come off.

  “It’s that time again,” he repeated, blowing foul breath into her face.

 
; Samantha broke free from his grip. Turning in a circle of horrified amazement, she saw that the once elegant group of dancing passengers had now all become grotesque rotting corpses like her dance partner. They continued to dance, but the waltz was now sped up. Despite the accelerated tempo, the decaying dancers dragged each other across the dance floor in slow motion.

  Samantha held her head as the room began to spin. Gathering up her gown, she staggered toward the Grand Staircase. The door out remained locked but, just the same, she strained on the crystal knob with all her strength.

  The butler pulled himself up the Grand Staircase. His uniform now seemed frayed and torn, his flesh rotted. “I’m afraid you’re not permitted to leave, Miss Littlefield. No one can.”

  The ship abruptly lurched to one side. Samantha was thrown onto the stairway’s iron rail just as the door cracked off its hinges. Rushing through the opening, Samantha tossed away her low-heeled pumps and raced barefoot into the darkened hallways, running desperately.

  It didn’t seem that anyone was following, but Samantha didn’t slow down until she finally found her way back to room 266.

  266! She heaved a sigh of relief, happy that she’d left the door open since she had no key.

  Opening the door, she took a second reassuring glance at the numbers. 266 meant she was safe. And then — as she smiled up at the numbers … they jumped.

  299!

  As if an invisible hand was pushing her, Samantha stumbled into the dark room. The door slammed shut, and immediately the lock clicked, the double bolt sliding into the locked position.

  “Who’s there?” Samantha shouted. “Who is in here with us?”

  No one answered. Samantha turned to her sister’s bed. The moon shone from the porthole onto the rumpled empty blankets. Jessica wasn’t in her bed!

  “Jess! Jess!” Samantha called in the darkness.

  Jessica suddenly appeared in the bathroom doorway.

  Samantha rushed to Jessica, hugging her. “The most horrible thing just happened,” she cried. “It wasn’t a dream, either. Look, I’m still in this strange dress.”