Written by Chloe McPherson
Based on some situations originated by James Cameron.
"Jack. Jack!" I tried
to wake him, shaking him feebly. "A boat…there’s a boat, Jack…" I
tried. My voice was hoarse and weak. From exhaustion or cold, I did not know or
care. Again I shook him. Finally, his eyes opened, slowly, groggily, but they
opened. "A boat…" was all I said, turning to look at the boat as it
made its slow passage through the body-littered sea.
"Over here!" Jack
yelled, his voice far stronger than mine, still hoarse, but loud and strong. My
cries sounded like a kitten meowing next to his strong voice. For the first
time in a long time, I felt some real hope. We could survive this. We would
survive this. "Over here!" he yelled again, waving one arm feebly
above us. His voice was weaker, but still loud enough to catch the attention of
the officer. The crewmen rowed faster towards us. Jack stopped waving and
yelling. I levered myself up on the makeshift raft I was sitting on. I could
hear the crunch of the ice that had settled on me as I moved. It shocked me how
close to death we had both come. The boat drew alongside us and the officer
reached for Jack, but he shrugged him off. "Her. Take her first," he
said, pushing the raft closer to them.
"Jack, you have to let them
help you," I croaked.
"Don’t give up," was
all he said before he gave my hand one last squeeze and let go.
"No. Jack, no!" I
cried, feeling like my throat would tear apart. The officer stared in shock for
a moment before hauling me into the boat and draping a warm, dry blanket around
my shoulders.
"I’m sorry, Miss," he
said as we both watched the spot where Jack had disappeared. Tears burned
tracks in the ice as they fell, melting the ice where they landed.
*****
I stood on deck as we pulled into
New York, sailing past the Statue of Liberty.
"Don’t give up. Don’t let
go. You will die tucked into a warm bed, not here!" Jack’s voice ran
through my head as I reflected on the promise that was made when that statue
was unveiled for the first time.
"What about you?" I
asked quietly, fresh tears making their way down my face. To think that after
all we had been through--from him rescuing me from my suicide to me rescuing
him from dying chained to a pipe on the Titanic and eventually to both of us
fighting for our lives to reach something to keep us afloat. After all that, he
had died anyway, yet at the same time, he had saved me--again. "What about
you, Jack?"
"Name?" an officer
asked as I moved towards the gangway. I barely hesitated before answering. Jack
had saved me again, this time at the cost of his own life, and I couldn’t repay
him, but I would ensure his name lived on.
"Rose Dawson," I said,
pride entering my voice. I would gladly throw away my fine clothes and my
servants if it meant that Jack’s legacy lived on, and in my pocket I knew I
held the Heart of the Ocean. It might have been heavy, but it ensured that I
would remember Jack for the rest of my life.
*****
Now my story was out. I felt at
peace at last. Now, even when I died, Jack would be remembered. I pulled the
Heart of the Ocean from my pocket and looked at it one last time as it shone in
the sunlight, reflecting the ocean’s surface. Taking a deep breath, I threw it
overboard. It would finally be where it belonged. I watched it sink, just as I
had watched Jack sink all those years ago. This time, my thoughts were
interrupted by an outburst from behind me. Turning slowly, I saw the leader of
the expedition running at me.
"Three years! I have been
looking for that for three years and you just threw it overboard!" he
yelled at me, forcefully reminding me of Cal all those years ago when he threw
the table aside to get to me. Grabbing me, he forced me up against the railing.
I leaned back, trying to get as far away from him as possible. He kept leaning
towards me, determined to get an answer out of me. "You never were any
better than that gutter rat!" he spat. I saw in his eyes then who he was.
I understood why he was looking for the diamond. He was the grandson of Cal,
the man who had tried to kill both me and Jack as we fled, trying to find a way
into a lifeboat. A moment later, he released me. For a horrible moment, I was
reminded of when I first met Jack, as I slipped on the railing. This time,
there was no one to haul me back up, no one to save me. It didn’t matter,
though. As I fell, looking up into the clear sky above, I realized something.
Jack and I would finally be
together, as it should have been on the Titanic.
You jump, I jump, I thought to myself as I hit the water. No
one on board had noticed me fall. Either that, or no one cared. I held on,
Jack. I never gave up. I did everything we talked about and more, but I can’t
hold on anymore, Jack. I won’t die in a warm bed. Instead, I will die on the
scene of the Titanic, just like you did all those years ago–gently drifting
into the cold Atlantic Ocean, knowing I have lived life as it comes--having no
regrets. Those were my last thoughts as I drifted towards the ship of
dreams, the ship that was meant to be unsinkable.
The End.