Darkness pressed in around them and moonlight shone through the open window. Sarah held a candle and flickering light danced on the walls. Milly sat on her bed of woven palm fronds, and her mother sat next to her.
“Congratulations on becoming a fire guard. Now you can lead Respite into the future,” Sarah said.
Milly wiped a tear from her cheek. Her stomach burned, her mind spinning through a wine induced haze. She didn’t want to lead Respite, and she didn’t want to disappoint her mother.
“You came of age today, and you deserve to know how we came to Respite. You’ve been told pieces of the story. Dramatizations in front of the Perpetual Flame, but now it’s time for you to hear how you became my daughter,” Sarah said.
Milly wiped another tear from her face and growled. She didn’t like anyone seeing her get emotional, even her mother. Sometimes, especially her mother.
“It was June 2nd, 2031, and we were off the coast of Alaska, in the North Pacific Sea,” Sarah said. “The world was dying, and I sat on the bridge of the Oceanic Eco, biting my nails and trying to keep my hands from shaking. Corpses lay in the streets and diseased virals ravaged what little remained.
“There was no home to go to, and Captain Shaw was in shock, so it was up to me to inform the passengers, most of whom had family back on shore. I’d set a new course away from Seattle, which was in total chaos. Then I lost communication with cruise ship operations, and I gave the order to cut the boat’s internet signal and jam the limited cell phone service. I had the only legal gun aboard, the Glock 19 I taught you to clean when you were a young girl.”
Milly nodded, transfixed by her mother’s story. Much of this was new to her.
“The pandemic started in Asia and spread across the world like wildfire. What caused it, and where patient zero had been, is unknown. The plague hadn’t reached the United States when we’d cast off, but ninety-nine percent of the U.S. population became infected within two weeks.
“The passengers and most of the crew were blissfully ignorant of the severity of the situation, but an announcement had to be made. I ordered the food stores secured, and locked down critical areas of the ship. I was worried the passengers would revolt and force the ship back to Seattle, so I issued all security and senior staff stun guns,” Sarah said. “That’s when I met Tye Rantic. He said he was a military man. Had a SAT phone that could get a signal anywhere on Earth.”
“My friend Tye?” Milly said.
“One and the same,” Sarah said. Candlelight danced across her face, and Milly’s head swam with new revelations as her mother’s words wove a tapestry.
Sarah paced around the bridge of the Oceanic Eco, her gaze straying to a display carrying BBC news via the ship’s high gain antenna. The camera panned across a deserted Paris, the entrance to the Eiffel Tower in the background. The face of a man in a biohazard suit flashed across the screen and then the camera settled on a pile of bodies. They were stacked ten high; arms, legs, hair and blood intertwined like a car that’s gone through a trash compactor. Sarah threw up in her mouth; it burned her throat and she coughed. Many of the corpses looked bullet-ridden and torn up.
“Did Rantic tell anyone?” Sarah asked Petty Officer Janus.
“He claims no, but we’ve got bigger problems. People are complaining about their room service orders being denied, and several passengers have noted our new course.”
Sarah knew when the passengers learned they weren’t going back to port, and why, their stages of grief would turn the Oceanic Eco into a turbulent sea of emotions and desperation. “Assemble senior staff and Rantic in the captain’s conference room for a briefing. I’ll show him what we’re dealing with and he can spread the word,” she said. “The days ahead will require many adjustments, not the least of which is developing a new understanding of the difference between needs and wants.”
“And the Captain, Ma’am?” PO Janus said.
Sarah ran her fingers through her hair. The captain had checked out, and his wife was barely hanging on, but he was still captain. “Yes. Help him attend. Get it done ASAP.”
“Aye, Ma’am.”
Everyone except Captain Shaw rose when Tye Rantic entered the conference room.
“Hi, I’m Staff Captain Sarah Hendricks. At the head of the table is Captain Shaw and his wife, Jean Marie. He is ill, but we wanted him to sit in.”
Captain Shaw’s mouth hung open, his eyes glassy nothingness, his posture that of a deflated balloon. Mrs. Shaw waved, but didn’t speak.
“Shall I start, Captain?” Captain Shaw showed no sign he’d heard, but she doggedly plowed forward. “Yes, sir,” she said. “I’ve called you here to explain why I’ve… why the captain has given the order to ration food and not head back to Seattle. I have a duty to protect the passengers of this ship and take any action I deem necessary to preserve your safety.” Sarah lifted a remote and turned on a wall mounted TV, which displayed four stations on its divided screen.
Tye Rantic fell back in his seat and let out a low whistle. Sarah knew he was military, and he looked the part; tight crewcut, clean shaven, good posture. A thin sheen of perspiration covered his dark skin, and his brown eyes blazed.
Suffering and pain drove the wheels of civilization, but it didn’t look like the world would recover from this. One quarter of the screen showed BBC news, which had a tagline running on the bottom that gave emergency broadcast information because they didn’t expect to be on the air
