The Titanic Paradox

By R. L. Corn

In 2022, Dan Hunt and his wife drive to Pigeon Forge, Tennessee, to visit the Titanic Museum for a weekend get-away. Instead of the vacation that he had planned, Dan finds himself pulled into a situation well beyond his control and understanding.

Dan awakes on April 13, 1912, in the middle of the North Atlantic Ocean with his new wife on their honeymoon. With no grasp as to why or how he got there, Dan must try to pass himself off as John Franklin, an employee of Harland and Wolff and one of the architects of the Titanic.

Hosted in the body of John Franklin, Dan has John’s memories as well as his own. He will only have a couple of days to save the ship, or at a minimum, save himself and his new wife. With the remembrances of his previous life slowly fading from his memory, his plight is complicated. If he just knew why he had been sent back to the Titanic.

Meanwhile John Franklin finds himself catapulted into the twenty first century where things have changed for the worse, due to Dan’s interference 110 years earlier. Begrudgingly Dan and John will have to work together to resolve the The Titanic Paradox.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Archway Publishing
• Release date: Jun 28, 2022
• ISBN: 9781665724968

R. L. Corn

R. L. Corn has penned over twenty short stories, is the author of several magazine articles, and recently co-authored a novel (Always Thaddeus: The Resurrection) with his wife. He enjoys restoring MGs, collecting and playing vintage guitars. Corn co-owns an antique store in Banner Elk, North Carolina.

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Copyright © 2022 R. L. Corn.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means,

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except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, names, incidents,

organizations, and dialogue in this novel are either the products

of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

Archway Publishing

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ISBN: 978-1-6657-2495-1 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-6657-2496-8 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2022910641

Archway Publishing rev. date: 6/28/2022

DISCLAIMER

The Titanic Paradox is a fictional story using one of history’s most well-known tragedies as a backdrop. While the story attempts to accurately depict many of the facts of the days leading up to April 15, 1912, the purpose of the novel is to entertain.

The sources of information that are available dealing with this event are not always in agreement, and new discoveries are being made every year. I make no claim that any of the details of the ship, crew, passengers, or collision are completely factual.

In some cases, the names of actual crew members and passengers are used on occasion, but the words attributed to them are entirely made up for the purpose of storytelling. They are not intended to reflect on the character and personality of the individual. The only words that are taken from the historical record are the radio transmissions between the Titanic and other ships in the area on the night of April 14 – 15, 1912.

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

I would like to express my gratitude to the many people who have supported me in this effort and whose input was invaluable in improving every aspect of this novel.

The Titanic Museum in Pigeon Forge, Tennessee, was the first to capture my imagination and start this project rolling. The Museum has done a masterful job in telling the story of the Titanic. They accurately chronicled the details of the ship, the passengers, the crew, and the time in which this story took place. I believe that they did their best to treat each aspect of this tragedy with the respect, dignity, and honor that it deserves without sensationalizing the disaster itself.

Jill Corley has read every novel, short story, and novella that my wife and I have ever written and edited many of them. Jill Corley is always my first choice and go-to beta reader. Her constant encouragement kept me going long past the point that I had lost interest. Her input is always constructive and improves every project in which she is involved.

Christina Goebel edited The Titanic Paradox (TTP) and taught me so much about dialogue, plot development, and the need for description. She was also the one who (very sweetly) pointed out the mistakes and sections that needed to be re-written (and all that other stuff that people won’t tell you). Without her input, TTP would have been a short story.

Hanne Holten, a writer of historical fiction, was kind enough to read the novel and made significant suggestions to keep the narrative moving (and to eliminate so many of those annoying adjectives and adverbs.)

I was especially lucky to have Beth McCord read the early stages of the manuscript and provide invaluable input into the historical details of the ship, passengers, and the damage caused from the collision. Ms. McCord is a member of the Titanic Historical Society and was a wealth of information.

I am blessed to have such great friends that read TTP and each one made great suggestions that all went into changing the plot, pace, and clarity of the story. My sincere thanks to: Mary Beth Poor, Amy Freels, Honey Denson, and especially my two sisters who have read every word I have written and been encouraging whether the writing was worthy or not: Linda Homesley and Kathie Denson.

Finally, I must thank my wife. Marcee taught me everything I know about writing. My style is her style. She read the manuscript many more times than any other sane person would agree to. She was there to encourage me when my lack of confidence stopped me in my tracks. This book is dedicated to Marcee Lee Corn. I love you, Marcee.

CONTENTS

Disclaimer

Acknowledgements

PART I

THE CHAOS THEORY

CHAPTER 1     Premonitions

CHAPTER 2     The Newlyweds

CHAPTER 3     The Museum

CHAPTER 4     Another Wife

CHAPTER 5     Breakfast With Friends

CHAPTER 6     The Plan

CHAPTER 7     Losing Friends

CHAPTER 8     Spy Games

CHAPTER 9     First Sighting

CHAPTER 10   The Confrontation

CHAPTER 11   Contingency Plans

CHAPTER 12   Master-At-Arms

CHAPTER 13   The Countdown

CHAPTER 14   Obligations

CHAPTER 15   Cat And Mouse

CHAPTER 16   Assessing Damage

CHAPTER 17   The Final Moments

CHAPTER 18   Questions

CHAPTER 19   Death Throes

CHAPTER 20   Answers

CHAPTER 21   Aftermath

CHAPTER 22   The Carpathia

CHAPTER 23   East Tennessee

CHAPTER 24   Awake

PART II

THE BUTTERFLY EFFECT

CHAPTER 25   World History

CHAPTER 26   Nightmares

CHAPTER 27   First Date

CHAPTER 28   The Honeymoon

CHAPTER 29   The Fortune Teller

CHAPTER 30   The Diary

CHAPTER 31   The Diner

CHAPTER 32   The Swing Set

CHAPTER 33   What Now?

PART III

THE GRANDFATHER PARADOX

CHAPTER 34   Beth Porter

CHAPTER 35   Another Bed

CHAPTER 36   Remembering

CHAPTER 37   21st Century

CHAPTER 38   Beth’s Horse

CHAPTER 39   Next Steps

CHAPTER 40   Mr. Wizard

CHAPTER 41   The Meeting

CHAPTER 42   Puzzle Pieces

CHAPTER 43   Science Vs. Reality

CHAPTER 44   The Museum - Again

CHAPTER 45   The Door

PART IV

TIME TRAVEL

CHAPTER 46   Starting Over

CHAPTER 47   Breakfast With Friends

CHAPTER 48   The Plan

CHAPTER 49   Last Date

CHAPTER 50   The Countdown

CHAPTER 51   The Andersons

CHAPTER 52   The Race

CHAPTER 53   The Reset

CHAPTER 54   Course Correction

EPILOGUE

The Letter

Beginnings

The Photograph

PART I

THE CHAOS THEORY

There are at least three theoretical principles used by scholars to understand how the universe maintains balance: the Chaos Theory, the Butterfly Effect, and Paradoxes.

The Chaos Theory, simply put, is that while the universe may appear random, it is controlled by patterns, interconnectedness, loops, and self-organization—all working to achieve symmetry.

CHAPTER 1

PREMONITIONS

APRIL 11, 1912

T he second boiler exploded as it slid beneath the water. The concussive force knocked John off his feet throwing him once again onto the deck littered with debris. With new cuts and abrasions, John fought to regain his footing on the ice-covered surface. With the bow sinking rapidly, he held tightly to anything not hurtling down the promenade and into the ocean.

Just moments before the boiler exploded, the interior pressure building inside the ship had blown the glass panes out from the window in the first-class dining room. Razor-sharp shrapnel was propelled across the deck killing some passengers and injuring others. John had been one of the lucky ones. But now, he was paralyzed by the cold. Blood ran down his face from one of the lacerations above his left eye.

Frantically he scanned the deck for Lizzy, who had been next to him only moments before. In the chaos, he had lost his grip on her hand, and she had vanished.

John!

It was almost impossible to hear above the screams of passengers and the creaking iron of the ship in its death throes. But he heard it.

John, I’m down here!

He looked in the direction of the sinking bow and saw his new wife, Lizzy. She was holding on to one of the deck rails. She had lost her shoes and the coat she had worn earlier in the evening. Her borrowed dress was stained with blood from the cuts she had received from an explosion.

Hang on! he yelled above the other shouts and screams. I’m coming!

John tried to find handholds as he inched his way down the deck toward Lizzy. He dodged the debris and people that were falling around him. The horror on the passengers’ faces as they flew past him would live with him for the rest of his life—if he survived. But he knew that if he were hit by any of them, he would join them in their descent into the ocean’s blackness.

He could see Lizzy in the distance. As he moved toward her, it seemed to John as if she were moving away from him. He was losing her.

Please hurry, John! I can’t feel my hands. I don’t think that I can hold on much longer.

He would have to move more aggressively if he were going to reach her in time. It seemed to John that the distance between him and Lizzy was growing even though he tried to make his way toward her. She seemed to be moving further away with each effort he made. As she moved out of his sight, her voice grew louder.

The ship was shaking now, and he could feel hands on his shoulders. It is just a nightmare John—just a nightmare. You’re safe. I’m right here, said Lizzy.

John’s face and clothes were soaked through with perspiration, and he was struggling to find his bearings. This is the second night in a row, he said. What is wrong with me? I can’t seem to shake these nightmares! I helped design this ship. I know what she is capable of, but I can’t shake these damned nightmares.

Lizzy held John tightly as his nerves calmed and his shaking slowly subsided. It was just a nightmare John. Just a silly nightmare. Catch your breath and let me help you forget all about your nightmares, Lizzy said in her voice that dripped with humor and the promise of things to come.

Lizzy was always convincing, and she would take his mind off his nightmares, but he feared that there was more to his dreams. He had helped design the Titanic. No ship would ever be unsinkable, but the Titanic came close. So why was this nagging thought invading his subconscious and coming out in his nightmares.

CHAPTER 2

THE NEWLYWEDS

11:00 P.M. - APRIL 11, 1912

W ealth has its privileges, John thought as he leaned against the brass railing of the promenade deck. John Franklin was neither privileged nor wealthy, but with the help of a few friends who were, this honeymoon had been made possible.

Everything was new. The handrails gleamed with fresh white paint. The decks smelled of yellow pine and glistened through multiple layers of varnish. The sounds of New Orleans ragtime music drifted lazily in the cold North Atlantic air as Wallace Hartley’s band performed an after-dinner concert.

Lizzy had been right, of course. It had been another beautiful day on the ocean after he had put the nightmare from the previous evening behind him. They had finished another gourmet meal, and he was waiting for Lizzy to join him.

John stared at the endless, ink-black ocean. The stars in the night sky showed off like children seeking approval from their parents. Together they created a glowing path from horizon to horizon as the Milky Way was the star of this night-time attraction. John realized he had never seen anything as beautiful in his entire life, until a tall, thin woman approached him from the bow of the ship. Her long, auburn hair blew gently in the breeze. It was cold, but her ankle-length coat was sufficient for the evening. Her gray, almost black, wool coat buttoned up the front behind a wide belt that turned a rather pedestrian garment into high fashion. The coat’s rabbit fur collar completed her outfit. She was as practical as she was beautiful.

She pulled the brim of her matching dark gray hat low until it almost covered her eyes. She did this as much for warmth as she did to look the part of a spy making a secret encounter. He could always count on his wife to be flirtatious—and mischievous. John was beginning to realize that Lizzy was also the answer to his life’s unspoken dream.

John Franklin had met Elizabeth Murray at Harland & Wolff where they both worked. Harland & Wolff, a major shipyard in Belfast, had just finished designing two ships that were to be the new jewels in the crown of the White Star Line.

John courted Elizabeth for two months, and after a short engagement, they married. Several friends at the firm had chipped in for a honeymoon cruise on this new queen of the ocean. Though John had spent his entire career as a ship designer, he had never been a passenger until now. This would be a first in many ways for John. He would have never admitted it, but he was almost as excited to be on this ship as he was to be married.

John and Lizzy traveled by train from Liverpool and arrived early at the docks in Southampton. They did not want to miss the historic, maiden voyage of the largest ship on the planet—the Titanic.

As she approached John that evening on the promenade deck Lizzy said, It’s so beautiful out here!

It’s beautiful, but the night cannot compete with you. The brilliance of this night sky is nothing compared to what I see in your eyes. Every time I look into them, I will remember tonight.

Not ready to be serious yet, she added, So sailor, do you come around here often? Lizzy continued her ruse. I am new to these parts, and I’m looking for someone who I can trust, she said with innocent eyes.

Who’s to say that I can be trusted? John shot back, playing along.

Lizzy turned to face her new husband and gave him a long, deep kiss. I guess I’ll have to take my chances. I’m a pretty good judge of character, she said.

Turning serious, John said, "I will always remember tonight. Whether you are a spy or the queen of Sheba, I will love you forever, Lizzy Franklin."

"Then let’s make sure that you’ll always remember tonight. Take me back to the room, John," she said taking both his hands in hers.

E53 on the E deck was much larger and more elegant than the second-class cabins on other ships of that time. The room included running water and a porcelain wash basin built into a mahogany vanity. There was a desk, a two-door wardrobe, and even a small red velvet couch. The floor was covered with a luxuriously patterned cream and burgundy carpet. To John’s disappointment, the cabin had two single bunk beds like the ones he and his brother had shared as boys. But John was resourceful, and the small inconvenience of bunk beds would in no way spoil his honeymoon. If this is the way the rich lived, he liked it—bunk beds or not. Maybe the nightmares would not come tonight.

CHAPTER 3

THE MUSEUM

9:00 A.M. - SEPTEMBER 2026

D an Hunt casually glanced at the glowing blue numbers on the white plastic cube perched on the nightstand before the panic set in. 9:00 a.m.! We’re late! he screamed, waking Sandra out of her deep sleep.

His voice set off an explosion of sheets, blankets, and slippers as their feet hit the floor within milliseconds. Their bedroom reflected their life—disheveled, disjointed, and unorganized. Their clothes from the night before lay on the floor next to their clothed that had been deposited there from the previous night. What some might call shabby chic, others call mismatched. The bed came from Dan’s college days. The vanity was a hand-me-down from Sandra’s parents. Dan’s office in the corner of the room was furnished with a desk and chair that came straight from a garage sale three doors down the street from their house. It wasn’t that they didn’t care about their surroundings; it was just that there were things in their life that demanded more attention than keeping their bedroom tidy.

How could you oversleep? Sandra demanded. Her curly red hair and wide eyes seemed to emphasize her frustration.

"Me—why me, Sandra? Why didn’t you wake me up?"

"Our reservations are for 11:00 a.m., and it takes an hour to get there—if there’s no traffic! Move!" she barked. Sandra had all the makings of a drill sergeant—a skill she’d learned as a teacher at the Maryville Middle School. They’d always planned to go to the Titanic Museum, but life had invariably made other plans. But now their time had come, and they had overslept. As tragedies go, this was a minor one, and they both knew they could make it if they hurried.

As a sixth-grade science teacher, Sandra had always held a fascination for the Titanic. She had developed a part of her school curriculum around the maritime disaster and the iceberg that sank the unsinkable ship. Her rapid-fire presentation, punctuated with waving hands and vivid descriptions of the ship, never failed to capture the imaginations of her wide-eyed students. She was thrilled about what she might learn today at the attraction if they could just make it in time.

Dan pretended that he was going on today’s trip to show that he was a loving husband and to possibly reap the benefits of his gesture later that evening. Their relationship was a classic example of an attraction between opposites. Dan was calm and slow to excitement, while Sandy was an ever-churning ball of enthusiasm.

The truth was that Dan was as fascinated by the hundred-year-old tragedy as his wife was. His enthusiasm was less intense than Sandra’s, but it was there, nevertheless.

They jumped in the car with Sandra putting on make-up and Dan tying his shoes. Not since the days of running moonshine had speed records been set in the east Tennessee Mountains, but that did not keep the Hunts from trying. They made the trip to Pigeon Forge in record time. Dan saw the museum ahead on his left and calculated the speed required to cut in front of the on-coming traffic. Accelerating just a