The Dystopian Diaries
Page 33
It was at that moment that I realized these people weren’t just looking for safe harbor for their sick aboard our ship.
The first man on the ladder had made it up to the lower balcony and disappeared from view as he hauled himself over its railing. A second later, we heard what sounded like the “booms” of shotgun blasts.
While all this was going on, several other small boats had caught up with the bow of our ship where they were attempting similar maneuvers. The bow of our vessel is lower, so it was apparently a more attractive spot to attempt a boarding.
At this point, alarms began to sound around the ship. These were followed by an alert for passengers to return to their cabins immediately and lock their doors. At about the same time, cruise ship crew members began swarming the decks. Some of these personnel were bearing firearms – mostly the officers from what I could tell as Jeremy hustled me along off the deck back toward our cabin. Something in me wanted to stay, wanted to see what happened. But I went with him, my new husband, my love.
We hurried down the stairs back to our deck, praying we didn’t encounter any of the armed men boarding our ship along the way. Behind us, we could hear the popping of gunfire.
Once we got back to our cabin, we barricaded ourselves inside. But curiosity eventually got the best of me, so I decided to venture a peek out our balcony windows. Jeremy kept urging me to stay back, fearing an errant bullet, or that one of the “pirates” as he referred to them would see me from the water. Ignoring Jeremy’s pleadings to stay safe, I instead headed out onto the balcony, which I think just about gave my poor husband a heart attack. He quickly followed me outside.
There, we could see that our ship was really moving. We could feel the rocking while we were inside our cabin, but outside we could see just HOW fast we were going. It was not the leisurely pace we had become accustomed to during the rest of our cruising. The ship must have been traveling at or very close to full speed.
By leaning over our balcony railing and looking behind us, I could see St. Marteen. Most of the tiny boats that had harassed us in port had faded to tiny specks. Still, several of the faster boats were trying to keep pace. One in particular was very close, but due to the wake our ship was creating by traveling at such speed, it was making it difficult for the smaller craft to get close. Every time it began to close, it would hit a set of larger waves created by our own vessel that would force it to slow. In one instance, a wave that struck it at a very odd angle knocked one of its crew off its deck and into the turquoise water.
Still, the small boat continued to follow ours for several more minutes before breaking off the chase and turning around. I wondered if it would go back and pick up the man who had gone overboard. I suppose I’ll never know his fate.
Now we’re back inside, awaiting the all clear. I hope it comes soon. What if the “pirates” gain control of the ship? What will they do with all the passengers? Will they make us walk the plank? God, the thought of being abandoned in open water terrifies me. Drowning, sharks…ugh, I don’t even want to think about it. Maybe they’ll just force us into lifeboats. That would be much better, I guess. Or would it? What then? Return to St. Marteen? I don’t think they’d be real thrilled to see us. They might just turn us around and force us back out to sea.
10:11 a.m.
The “all clear” notice was just given. Thank god!!!
We’re going up to the Vista Deck to try to get some information.
11:38 a.m.
We just got back to our cabin and have ordered lunch in. While we were out, we spoke briefly to one of the crew. He was busy and didn’t have much to say, but he assured us that everything was under control. He said that the ship had been searched thoroughly and had been cleared of any “trespassers” as he put it.
We decided to take a brief walk around the ship, just to see what we could see.
At one point, at a spot right below the bridge, we saw bullet holes and dents in one wall of the ship. There was also blood spatter on the wall’s white paint and a pool of congealed blood below it, but no body. I don’t know if the person who was injured there was crew or pirate or whether they were killed or survived the attack. All I know is that someone was seriously injured there…maybe even worse.
We talked briefly to an officer as he passed, but he was in a hurry and didn’t offer much more in the way of information than what we already had.
As we made our way around to the back of the ship – the “stern” I guess it’s called – we saw something far more disturbing than just bullet holes and blood. Since no one was around, we snuck down to an open-air deck portion at the very rear of the ship that’s typically off limits to passengers.
There were bodies there – LOTS of bodies. They were wrapped in white sheets. There were far more of them than I would have thought islanders made it aboard ship. There were piles of them. I think they were passengers. I told Jeremy this, but he disagreed. He said I was being silly, that they wouldn’t be killing passengers. But I told them I didn’t think they were KILLING passengers. I think that passengers are DYING from whatever sickness has over taken the islands, and has apparently over taken the ship as well.
We watched from the cover of our concealed position as a group of crew members wearing surgical masks and gloves began dumping the sheet-wrapped bodies, weights from the fitness center attached with ropes around their ankles, off the back of the ship.
We watched and counted as they dumped 23 bodies overboard. There is no way in the world that many islanders got aboard this ship. I’m willing to accept that some of them were islanders, but not ALL of them. Jeremy says I need to calm down, that I’m overreacting, but I don’t think so.
I think that whatever this sickness is, it is NOT the norovirus or the regular flu. Or if it was, it has mutated into something far more dangerous. And they haven’t told us a DARN THING!!!
WHAT IS GOING ON! This is crazy!
And THIS is definitely NOT the honeymoon cruise I signed up for.
1:42 p.m.
St. Marteen has faded into nothingness behind us. We are on the open sea again. Our ship has slowed noticeably now that we aren’t being pursued by desperate islanders.
I can’t imagine any illness so bad that people would go to that extent to get away from it. But apparently, whatever this is, it IS that bad. If the urgency of the islanders didn’t illustrate that fact, the bodies being dumped off the back of the ship sure as heck did.
There’s been a notice posted on the ship’s directory channel, as well as one slipped under our cabin door stating that due to a flu outbreak onboard, our itinerary may be subject to change. Yeah, no kidding! I think that became obvious when we high-tailed it out of St. Marteen. But our next two days were supposed to be spent at sea anyway, so I can’t imagine much of a change to our overall itinerary other than a lot of cancelled onboard activities.
Speaking of which, that’s another thing to add to the list – meals in the dining rooms have been cancelled starting with dinner this evening. All meals will be prepared in advance and delivered directly to the cabins. The notices we’ve receive have also recommended (although it is up to the passengers’ discretion) that passengers remain in their cabins until we return to Miami.
I think that after what we’ve seen today, we’ll have no problem abiding by that request.
Hold on, they’re making an announcement through the ship’s intercom system.
2:16 p.m.
That was the ship’s captain making a direct announcement to the passengers. He explained that a virus has spread across the ship and he was now confining passengers to their cabins for their own safety. No one is to leave their cabin without a crew escort, and an escort would only be assigned in the event of an emergency. He also announced that room cleaning and room service would both temporarily be halted. Guess we won’t be seeing Loretto or Corazon again anytime soon. The captain apologized for the inconvenience and said passengers will be receiving a travel voucher discount for a yet to b
e determined amount for their inconvenience upon disembarkation.
Oh well, we were planning to be in our cabin anyway. Not like there is much going on around the rest of the ship. I’d say that the only thing I’d really like to do is go lounge by the pool…that and eat in the dining room. I was kind of becoming accustomed to being waited on each evening. That was really nice, something quite different from our regular lives. But we can still enjoy ourselves here in our cabin and on our balcony.
Still, I wonder just what this “virus” the captain mentioned is. I’d like to know more about it and how severe it is. I mean, if those bodies we saw on the back of the ship (something the captain failed to note in his report) are indeed related to the virus, it must be REALLY bad. But it would be nice to know what the symptoms are, how it’s transmitted, what the treatment is, whether there is a shot you can get to prevent it or at least reduce the symptoms. We get our flu shots annually, but that’s usually around October, so we haven’t gotten this year’s inoculation. Now I wish we had gotten them early. Too late now, I guess.
We found two checklist-style menus hanging on the front of our cabin door. We had the option between chicken and fish, baked potato or green beans, cookie or piece of pie. This will be served with bottled water. Jeremy and I each ordered the opposite of the other so we had a variety of different food to share with one another.
We also had menus for tomorrow’s breakfast. Our options weren’t as fancy, but they aren’t that bad either. We can either order a cheese omelet (with choice of mushrooms, ham, green pepper, and/or onions) or waffles, bacon or sausage, fruit bowl or cereal.
Again, we split the difference between us, one taking one set of options, the other person taking the opposite set. At least they’re still feeding us!
5:54 p.m.
It’s weird being stuck here in our cabin. I mean, when it was our own choice to be here, it was one thing. Now that we’re being held here somewhat against our will, it’s another.
I’m feeling a little claustrophobic. Even with the balcony to sit on, our cabin walls feel as though they’re pressing in against us, and this place is becoming smaller by the hour. I can’t imagine being in this situation in an interior cabin with no balcony or even a porthole.
I really can’t wait to get home. I’m glad we’ll be back in Miami soon. Even just being on good old terra firma again will be nice.
I’m so nervous now. If this virus is spread through the air, god only knows what we’re breathing in. Could people be sick around us? Could we be breathing infected air from the cabins next to us? Even on the balcony, could we be inhaling pre-breathed air from other passengers out on their balconies?
Ugh! Thinking about all this stuff is making me crazy. I just want to get back to our apartment, our work, our fish. Three or four days ago, I was saying the exact opposite. Who would have thought things would have changed so dramatically so quickly?
Speaking of which, I wonder how things are at home. Probably a lot better than they are on this ship. Although, if they’re experiencing whatever this thing is at home too, what will we do? God, we could go from being stuck on a cruise ship full of sick people to being stuck on an airplane? That’s a horrible thought. That would be even worse than a ship! There’s nowhere to hide on a plane. And worse yet, we’re ALL breathing the same air.
7:15 p.m.
Dinner was okay – a little cold, but still flavorful, and the portion sizes were decent. I feel like I’m in prison, although I have no true idea of what prison is ACTUALLY like. And I’m sure our food here is far better than what they’re served behind bars.
There was a small card that came with our food. It instructed us to leave our trays with our dirty dishes out in the hall to be picked up once we’re finished. Our desserts (cookies and pie) came pre-wrapped so I stashed them away as a snack for later if we get hungry. There were also some saltine crackers that came with our meal that I stashed too. I don’t know why exactly, but I don’t like being without options in a place where we have so little control over our situation.
When we put our dirty trays in the hall, I saw that several of the neighboring cabins had put theirs out with desserts and crackers unopened. I was tempted to take theirs as well, but the thought that these people might be carrying the sickness that has invaded our ship kept me from doing so.
The ship has slowed to a snail’s pace. And the captain just announced a change in plans. We’re supposed to dock in Miami tomorrow morning rather than having another full day at sea and then arriving the following morning. According to the map on the ship’s directory channel, we’re around the outer perimeter of the Bahamas, probably a hundred miles or so from Miami. We’re creeping along probably waiting for room to open up at the port. There are only so many places for ships this size to dock. Not like we can just pull up on the beach and start offloading passengers like a World War Two landing craft or something.
The captain apologized and said that he realizes the inconvenience to passengers planning to fly home. He said that those who are unable to adjust their travel arrangements will be allowed to stay onboard the ship for another night once we dock. That’s good since I doubt we’ll be able to change our flight back home. Even if we wanted to make the attempt at this last-minute juncture, we didn’t bring our phones; and the only internet access sites aboard ship are outside our cabin, so we couldn’t reach them anyway without an escort.
I…JUST…WANT…TO…GO…HOME!
11:11 p.m.
I tried to sleep but couldn’t. I’m too nervous. Jeremy seems to have no problem. I don’t know how he does it. I’m sure he’s worried, but he never seems to exhibit any outward signs of concern. Maybe he’s just being brave for me.
The ship has stopped moving completely. I’d think that if we were going to make it back by tomorrow morning, we’d be underway by this point. I just want to be home, and by “home” I mean the good ‘ol US of A.
Gone are all thoughts of honeymoon bliss and baby making. They’ve been replaced by just surviving what has turned out to be one hell of a foul cruise. I shouldn’t say that. The first half of our cruise was absolutely amazing. It’s just the last half that has made it dismal. But it’s been one HECK of a last half, that’s for sure!
Ship-storming pirates, terrible viruses, cabin confinement –
I couldn’t have come up with this sort of scenario if someone had paid me to try!
September 7th
(Cruise – Day 7)
5:58 a.m.
I slept terribly last night! My tummy kept churning with nerves all night long. And things haven’t gotten better since I got up. I assumed (wrongly so, apparently) that I would awake to see the Miami skyline. Instead, I woke to a vast and seemingly endless expanse of sea still stretching before us.
I used to so look forward to sitting out on our balcony each morning. Now I almost dread it. It has certainly lost a significant portion of its appeal, especially considering the fact that after checking the ship’s directory channel today, I see that we’re still in the Bahamas, not at or even near Florida as we had been told by the captain.
And we’re STILL not moving!
I’ll admit, at this point, I’m SCARED…I’m VERY scared. This is quickly going beyond just an inconvenience. What happens if we can’t get home in the next few days? Not only will we have to figure out new travel plans for a flight back, which will probably cost us additional hundreds of dollars or more, but what about work? We can’t just NOT show up! I mean, we might be able to call in sick for a day or two, but we used up all our vacation time just to have the wedding and honeymoon. We’ll be using unpaid days, which will cost us even more money.
If I get fired over this stupid flu thing, I’m going to be pissed to say the least. I’m thinking lawsuit for sure! I bet you anything there will be a class action suit or something from the passengers aboard this ship. But I guess that’s putting the cart before the horse at this point.
9:03 a.m.
Breakfas
t was served with a card saying that we’d received box lunches delivered to our room between 11 a.m. and 1 p.m. There was no menu and no options for what we will be served. Guess it will just be a surprise.
We just finished listening to an announcement from the ship’s first mate. I wonder what happened to the captain. Is he sick? Is he still alive? God only knows.
The announcement explained that we are currently awaiting clearance from customs and the port authority to re-enter US waters. It said that the government has temporarily halted all entry into the United States due to the flu outbreak, and this stoppage includes cruise ships that have been outside US borders since September 1st. Great…just great. Now we’re stuck on a floating prison ship, apparently full of flu carriers, some of whom might be dying onboard and have to be flung overboard.
I’d love to try to communicate with some of our fellow passengers to see if they’ve had any word from the mainland, but then we’d be opening ourselves up to possible contamination from this flu thing.
I should have listened to Jeremy. He wanted a simple honeymoon. All he wanted to do was take a few days off from work, head down to French Lick Resort in southern Indiana, play at the casino, sleep, eat, swim, enjoy the spa treatments, and relax. It would have been almost as good as a cruise, minus the ocean and sand. But oh no, I couldn’t let him get away with that. This was our HONEYMOON! We had to go overboard on it. I had to go overboard on it. I had to have a cruise to the Bahamas. I had to have it MY way. I couldn’t just be content to enjoy a nice getaway with my husband. I had to take it that extra step and have the big honeymoon cruise so I could go back to work and rub it in everyone’s face. Now I’m getting my comeuppance I guess.