Time Travel Omnibus, page 893
“You are not a prophet, Miss Weber.”
“And you are not a gentleman, Mr. Schmidt. You have shown me the future and have denied me the means of averting it. Good night. I hope you have nightmares.”
The week of the excursion finally came. The Monday before, June 13, was the day of the annual parade of the Schuetzen Bund, a German-American shooting club, and Adele went to watch the parade with her mother, despite feeling glum. At the front of the parade marched a group of men on horses, blowing trumpets, along with men playing kettledrums. Everyone was dressed in traditional costume, from their Bavarian hats down to their lederhosen. Women wore dirndls over their blouses and long flowing skirts, with their hair braided in myriad styles. And then, following behind, thousands of German immigrants and German-Americans, many brandishing rifles.
Adele searched the crowd for Mr. Schmidt, but couldn’t find him. He had chosen not to watch the parade with them, and when she pressed him, he explained that this would be his last chance to spread his nanobots before the excursion. Adele’s mother took it as a rejection of Adele, which made Adele even more listless.
Adele slept badly on both Monday and Tuesday nights. And then the morning of Wednesday, June 15, 1904, arrived. Adele awoke to sunlight streaming in the windows. She breathed in the morning air and felt a breeze caress her body. The day would clearly turn out to be beautiful; she just hoped it wouldn’t be tragic as well.
After she dressed, she knocked on Mr. Schmidt’s door, but there was no response.
“Mr. Schmidt?” she called out. “You don’t want to miss the boat.”
Again, impudence won out over propriety. Adele turned the knob, opened the door, and walked into the room, only to discover that it was completely empty of Schmidt and his possessions. All of his clothing was gone, as were his futuristic devices.
After a few minutes, she sighed and went to the kitchen to prepare breakfast and lunch for herself and her mother. When her mother finally came into the dining room, she was already dressed for the excursion in her finest Sunday outfit, a blue blouse and skirt combination topped off with a broad-brimmed hat.
“What do you think, Adele?” she asked, turning around.
“You look lovely as always, mother.”
“Will you be wearing a hat, Adele? If you don’t, you’ll catch your death of sunburn.”
“I thought I would bring a parasol. I’ve left it near the door with the blankets and towels.”
Adele’s mother nodded. “Thank you for preparing the sandwiches.”
“Of course.” She paused. “Mother, will Mr. Schmidt be joining us? I didn’t hear him in his room.”
“I spoke with him last night. He told me that he would be leaving early for the boat.” She flashed a knowing smile at Adele. “My guess is that he wishes to save two seats on the hurricane deck.”
Despite her sour mood, Adele couldn’t help but smile back. “You harbor more hopes than I do.”
“Now, child, I’m sure he will forgive you for your fantasies. I wouldn’t be surprised if he’s planned something special for you once we reach Locust Grove.”
“Or even before,” Adele said under her breath.
“What?”
“Nothing.” Adele thought for a moment about whether she should tell her mother that Mr. Schmidt had cleared his room of all his possessions. She decided not to. But she did decide one last time to express her reservations about the excursion.
“Mother, I’m still not sure if we should go on the steamboat.”
“This again?” She sighed. “Adele, you’ve already been fodder for the church gossip mill. Please stop.”
“But Mother—”
“Adele, I’m going, whether you do or not. Your uncle is expecting me. And we need to leave now. The General Slocum is scheduled to depart from the East Third Street recreation pier at a quarter to nine.”
Adele felt torn, but she wasn’t about to let her mother go on the steamboat without her. At the very least, perhaps she could save the two of them.
They stepped out onto the street, which already teemed with hundreds of people dressed in their Sunday best heading towards the Third Street pier. Some walked briskly east, while others hovered in front of tenement buildings or stood at corners, waiting for friends and family.
They stopped once when Adele heard a little girl laughing behind them. She turned around and spotted Catherine Gallagher with her family.
“Well, hello, Catherine. You seem particularly happy.”
“I am, I am!” the little girl shouted. “I thought I wasn’t going to be able to go, but the woman at the store, she gave me a ticket!” She held her ticket up high.
“Now be careful, Catherine,” the girl’s mother said. “You don’t want to lose the ticket, now that God has smiled upon you.”
More like God has sentenced you, Adele thought.
“Have a good time,” Adele’s mother said to the Gallaghers. “We’ll see you on the boat.”
Soon enough, Adele and her mother found themselves at the gangplank, where Reverend Haas and Mary Abendschein stood welcoming parishioners and guests onto the General Slocum. “Ah, Miss Weber, Mrs. Weber,” Haas said. “I am delighted to see you both. Particularly you, Miss Weber.”
“Here, dears,” Miss Abendschein said, pressing into their left hands copies of the Journal for the Seventeenth Annual Excursion of St. Mark’s Evan. Lutheran Church.
“The program feels thicker than last year’s,” Adele’s mother said.
Abendschein preened. “We managed to get over one hundred advertisements this year.”
Adele flipped through the program. “A remarkable achievement.”
“Thank you, Adele.” She looked around. “I certainly hope you weren’t too upset with how often I kept your boarder away from home.”
“Miss Abendschein! Really!”
She laughed. “Relax. Your mother told me that he seemed to be courting you. I wouldn’t stand in the way.”
“Have you actually seen Mr. Schmidt today?” Adele asked.
“I thought I saw him boarding earlier,” Reverend Haas replied. He looked directly at Adele. “I imagine he’s looking forward to a day in the country as much as the rest of us.”
Adele grasped the unspoken point, that Schmidt would not have boarded the Slocum if Adele’s suspicions of disaster had any grounding to them. “Thank you, Reverend Haas.”
“I’ll see you on the boat.”
Adele and her mother crossed the gangplank and boarded the General Slocum, along with many happy, laughing people. Adele noticed a deckhand clicking away on a mechanical counter as people stepped off the gangplank and onto the boat. She repressed the urge to tell him to be extra careful with his count.
“Well, dear,” her mother said, “shall we go to the afterdeck?”
“I want to stay here and keep an eye out for Mr. Schmidt.”
“He’s probably already on board,” her mother replied. “I want to go listen to Professor George Maurer and his band. Your uncle said he would save us some seats. But you can stay out on the main deck, if you wish.”
Adele sighed. “Mother, I really do not wish to be separated.”
Her mother laughed. “Child! Really. Nothing’s going to happen. Okay?”
“Okay,” Adele said without enthusiasm.
“Good. I’m going to the afterdeck to hear the music. You may stay here if you wish.”
“I think I will, at least for the moment.”
Adele waved farewell to her mother and watched the gangplank as more people came onto the boat. Although the boat was scheduled to depart at 8:45 A.M., various passengers asked Reverend Haas to hold the boat for one more family member or friend, and Haas agreed. It wasn’t until almost 9:45 AM, as a young girl and her brother flew down the pier, that the deckhands finally got ready to haul up the gangplank.
As Adele watched this, still straining her eyes for some sign of Mr. Schmidt, she spotted the wife of Philip Straub and her three children. An impulse made her approach them.
“Mrs. Straub.”
“Adele Weber! How are you?”
“Mrs. Straub, you’ve always been so nice to me, I feel I must warn you.” Adele paused for a moment, then said, “I’ve been having dreams, dark dreams of today’s excursion.”
Mrs. Straub’s face turned pale. “So I’m not the only one,” she whispered.
Adele watched as Mrs. Straub turned to a man next to her and said something. Immediately, that man grabbed his wife and five children and ran towards the gangplank. Right behind him, Straub and her three children followed. They tumbled off the boat and landed on the pier, gasping for breath.
Praise to the heavens, thought Adele. At least I’ve managed to save someone.
The gangplank disappeared, the crew began to cast off, shouts went up to the pilothouse, and the twin paddle wheels began to turn.
The General Slocum was underway.
For the next few minutes, Adele wandered the decks, looking for some sign of either Mr. Schmidt or a way off the steamboat. Children of all ages ran around, playing various games. She spotted Lillie Pfeifer, a friend who was but a year older and yet already married. Lillie and she had spent many previous excursions dancing with other teenagers on the boat, but Adele knew that things would be different today, as Lillie had to spend the day in the company of other married ladies, no matter their age. In truth, Adele felt relieved that she didn’t have to fawn over Lillie and be excited for her new marriage.
Adele turned a corner to keep Lillie from spotting her, and found herself face to face with Mr. Schmidt. His shocked expression showed that he was just as surprised to see her as she was to see him. “Mr. Schmidt? What are you doing here? I thought you would be long gone by now.”
“I should ask you the same question, Miss Weber. What are you doing here, knowing what you know?”
“My mother refused to heed my warnings, and I would not let her come on the excursion alone. I am hoping to save her.”
“Ah.” He looked down at his feet.
“Nor could I let the rest of my community go into this tragedy alone. Perhaps I could help them. What about you?” She frowned. “Didn’t you plant all the recorders you needed?” she asked with coldness in her voice. “Isn’t it time you went back to where you came from?”
“That’s just it, Miss Weber. I’m not sure if I can.”
“Oh? And why not?”
A few women bumped into Schmidt as they came around the corner. After a few hurried words of “Pardon me” and “Excuse me,” Schmidt pulled Adele over to the railing. He leaned forward and whispered in her ear.
“I stopped the disaster.”
Adele felt a lump in her throat. “What do you mean?”
“I went to the lamp room well before the fire would have started. I found a lit cigarette sitting on the floor, and I stamped it out.”
“The lamp room?”
Schmidt gave her a curious look. “Just how much of the book did you manage to read?”
“Not that much.”
He nodded. “Well, the fire started in the lamp room, just below the main deck. That is, it would have started there. But I put it out.”
“You’re not lying?”
The glum look on his face said it all. “No, I’m not. Otherwise, I wouldn’t be on the boat. I’d have stayed safely away.”
“What about all that warning about changing the future?”
Schmidt leaned back on the railing, and looked around. Adele followed his gaze. In one corner, a group of older women were deeply engaged in conversation. In another, a few children were playing a game of hide-and-seek.
Schmidt’s eyes stopped wandering, and he looked back at Adele. “I got to know everyone,” he said.
“Pardon?”
“The German-Americans of the Lower East Side. It may be a shrinking community, but it’s still a vibrant one, full of life and joy. I couldn’t bear to see it destroyed the way it once was.”
Slowly, Adele nodded. “You came to see the world through my eyes, then.”
Schmidt took a deep breath and exhaled it. “Sadly, yes. I decided it would be best if the future didn’t have a tragedy to remember.”
“Sadly, you say?”
“I’ll get in trouble if the future finds out.”
“But you changed the future.”
“Not enough, apparently. I’m still here, which means my future still exists, in some form or other. That means I’ll have to take responsibility for changing history.” He paused. “But it’s worth it all, just to see you happy.”
Adele moved closer to Mr. Schmidt. She knew it would appear unseemly, but she could only think of one way to express her gratitude—
—when suddenly, she noticed a new odor mixing with that of the salt water and sea air. An odor of burning wood.
“Lucas?” she asked, sniffing the air.
Schmidt’s eyes widened with horror. “I smell it too.”
A young boy ran past, shouting, “The boat is on fire, the boat is on fire!”
Schmidt tugged on his watch fob, brought his pocket watch up to his face, opened the case, and glanced at the time. “I’m too late.”
“What is it?”
“It’s the fire. I couldn’t stop it. The Law of Conservation of Reality kicked in.”
“What are you saying?”
“History doesn’t record exactly what started the fire. I thought it was the cigarette, but it could have been a smoldering match.” He hit the railing in frustration. “Damn. I should have stayed down there, not let anyone near the lamp room.”
“If the fire is starting, we must get to safety.”
“Yes, but—”
A man ran past them, shouting, “Quick! Grab a life preserver! Get to the boats!”
A crowd of people began running towards the boats. Adele tried to join them, but Schmidt gripped her arm tightly. “No. It won’t do us any good.”
“Why not?”
“The cork in the life preservers has become cork dust. If you jumped overboard wearing one, you would sink like a stone.”
“What about the lifeboats?”
“Held down with wire,” Schmidt responded. “They’ll never get one loose in time.”
“You knew all this?”
“Yes, I did.” He paused. “It’s part of history.”
She glared. “It was all in that book, wasn’t it?”
He nodded. “Yes, it was.”
“Mein Gott! My mother! I must find my mother!” She tried to pull her arm out of Schmidt’s grip, but failed. “Let me go!”
“No, Adele. It’s too dangerous. You’ll find yourself rushing into a wall of flame.”
Tears began to come to her eyes, as passengers jostled around them, running towards the lifeboats. “You must let me go save my mother!”
Schmidt grabbed her other arm and swung her around. “Adele, listen to me! We can’t save everyone. It’s too late. History must play itself out. But we can save ourselves, and your mother as well, if you will calm down and follow my instructions.”
Adele nodded. “What do we do?”
“I’m a time traveler. I can take us out of phase with the timeline. Then I can leave you suspended outside of time while I go search for your mother.”
“You intend to leave me in safety while you risk yourself to find my mother?”
“Using my time machine is the only way I can attempt to save both of you.”
Adele took a deep breath. “Swear to the Lord that you are not lying to me.”
“Adele, I swear to the heavens above that I am not lying. May I use my time machine to save us?”
“Do it.”
Schmidt unbuttoned his jacket. Underneath he wore an odd belt with metal buttons. He took Adele’s hand in his and wrapped it around his belt, making sure she had a firm grip.
“The belt is your time machine?” she asked.
“Yes. Now hold on.”
He pushed a button, and the world around them seemed to fade into nonexistence.
Panic embraced the hearts and souls of the women, children, and men on board the General Slocum. Some people ran to find their children. Others ran for the life preservers; the few who managed to put them on and jump into the water drowned almost immediately.
People died in fire. People died in water.
And Adele Weber, floating outside of time like an insubstantial ghost, had a front-row seat for the entire disaster.
She watched as a man started swimming towards land. Three or four women—she couldn’t tell because of the way they flailed about in the water—grabbed at the man, desperate for some way to stay afloat. He screamed at them and tried to push them away, but it was no use. The women grabbed onto the man, and without meaning to, dragged him under the water.
She watched as Captain Van Schiack ordered his pilot, Van Wart, to beach the wooden steamboat on North Brother Island—a full mile away, nowhere near as close as the Bronx docks or the Queens shore.
She watched as fire and smoke flew from the front of the vessel to the stern, filling the decks. The flame swept higher and higher, devouring the boat like an insatiable monster. Sparks and embers jumped onto people, who screamed as the air filled with the sickening odor of their burning, shriveling flesh.
She watched as strangers picked up children that were not their own and threw them overboard. The children shouted for their parents as they fell into the darkness of the cold water, most never to emerge.
She watched as George Heins, only one year younger than Adele, ran to grab a small girl, but was too late as she disappeared into a sudden wall of flame.
She watched as people crushed each other against the rails, forcing others overboard, where they quickly drowned.
She watched as Lucas Schmidt dove into and out of time, trying to locate and rescue her mother.
She watched until she could not bear to watch anymore, but her eyes refused to close, until finally, the steamboat, engulfed with fire, had made it to North Brother Island.
And then she lost consciousness.
Adele awoke on a bed in a strange room, with Schmidt sitting in a chair next to her.
“Lucas?” she called out. “Where am I?”
