8:37 a.m.
We found food! Thank god! It wasn’t much, but it was better than nothing.
We snuck up to the small café on the Entertainment Deck. Most of the food storage cabinets were locked, as was the door to the kitchen area, but we found one cabinet with a bag of tortilla chips, and some containers of parmesan cheese, crackers, and assorted condiments. While it’s not much, and it’s never a breakfast I thought I would enjoy, we’re sitting in our cabin sprinkling tortilla chips and salted crackers with parmesan cheese, and it’s SOOOO delicious. Who would have thought?! I guess it’s probably because I’m half starved, but it really hits the spot. For a few seconds, I became so lost in my food, I actually forgot about the problems facing us. But that was only for a FEW seconds.
However, we learned something on the way back from finding food. We’re not alone. While we were walking back down the greenish-blue carpeted corridor (I have a feeling they used the color not to represent the sea so much as to help hide dirt, sand, and stains), we saw a head poke out from one of the cabins far down the corridor from ours. We’re not exactly sure which cabin it was, nor do we feel any sort of compulsion to find out, but at least we know we’re not completely alone. That’s a good thing…I guess. Actually, I’m not really sure if it’s a good thing or not. God only knows who is left on board. They might be infected with this Su flu thing for all we know. Still, in a weird way, it’s nice to know we’re not totally on our own here.
10:38 a.m.
Jeremy and I have been talking for almost an hour. We’ve been continuing our debate on what we should do. He’s worried that if the ship’s officers all got sick that no one is running the ship. I tried to placate his concerns by telling him that they have procedures in place for this sort of thing. If the main officers get sick, someone at a lower level is likely designated to run the show. But he came back at me with the thought that there may not BE anyone at those lower levels. And even if there was, if we’re not allowed to return to port, it doesn’t really matter anyway. Our resources at sea will only last so long. My counter to this was that there may still be plenty of resources, but if it’s only lower level crew members left on board, and no one is supervising them, they may be taking their own needs into consideration over those of the passengers. In my words, “If no one is supervising the prison, what incentive is there for the guards to continue feeding the prisoners?”
Jeremy didn’t really have much of a response to my question. I don’t know if he just hasn’t thought about it, or if he’s concerned that his answer might scare me. It couldn’t scare me any worse than I already am…at least I HOPE not.
It’s raining out. It might be a good time to venture topside again and take a look around in the daylight. We’re almost feeling like we need to force the issue. We can’t just wait around to eventually wither up and die out here. What happens if there’s no one left to navigate this ship back to port? It’s not like Jeremy or I have a clue how to do it. I mean, Jeremy’s great with technology, but I don’t think he’s going to be able to figure out something like operating a cruise ship. But we might at least be able to send out a distress call or something. To do that however, we need a key to get into the bridge, which is something we don’t have and could be dangerous to get.
I asked Jeremy whether we should try to make contact with the person we saw peeking out of their cabin on the way back this morning. He wasn’t sure. He said that making contact could help us or it could present any number of new issues. Personally, I think that anybody left aboard needs to start banding together to try to at least do SOMETHING! But then Jeremy reminded me that whoever that person was (we couldn’t even tell if it was a man or woman), they might be sick with the flu. And he’s right. I wish he’d stop being right.
1:15 p.m.
I’m SO ready for a nap. I can barely keep my eyes open as I write. After last night’s odd hours, I’m pooped! Plus, I think the constant stress of the situation is continually wearing on me and making me even MORE tired!
We’re going to take a nap, and then I’ll fill in the gaps of what happened during the past few hours. They were VERY eventful to say the least.
3:39 p.m.
Oh, that was the best nap I’ve had in a long time. It was very much needed! It was so nice with the rain beating against the balcony doors outside…very soothing and nice to be lulled to sleep by the gentle rock of the waves. I dreamed we were back on the beach on Barbary Cay, happily exhausted after our snorkeling, drinks in hand, basking in the sun. Oh well, the dream was nice while it lasted.
Okay, so back to reality and earlier today. As I said, we’d decided to venture outside our cabin and do some more investigating, and we did just that. This time, we snuck up to one of the restaurants. We encountered no one along the way, and the restaurant was unlocked, so we ducked inside. We made our way all the way to the back where we pushed through the swinging double-doors that led to the kitchen and prep areas. There, we found food…LOTS of food. Well, I guess I shouldn’t say “lots”. It’s a lot for two people. In cruise ship standards, it’s probably not all that much, but for us, it’s more than enough. We found a refrigerator containing all sorts of goodies. And a pantry next door was nicely supplied too. I guess that answers at least one of our questions regarding whether the ship was out of food or the crew had just stopped serving us. There appears to be enough food left for meal preparation, but either there’s no one left to prepare the meals or they’re just not doing it.
Jeremy and I grabbed as much food as we could carry – mostly stuff from the pantry since we don’t have a refrigerator in our cabin – and hustled back to the safety of our little hovel. God only knows what the crew (if there are any left) might do to us for stealing food if we were caught. We paid our way to be here, but we have a bad feeling that normal societal rules aren’t applicable any more.
On our way back, we saw someone exiting a cabin down the hall from ours. We were pretty sure it was the same cabin we saw the head poke out from earlier. But this time, Jeremy took the initiative. I was so proud of him, my big man taking charge. At the same time, however, I was terrified that the encounter might lead to an angry exchange or one of us being infected with the flu if this person was sick.
It turned out that it was okay, though. After Jeremy made his introduction through a softly hailed (so as not to be heard by others who might be around) salutation and a wave, what was at first one person became two – a man and a woman. While we didn’t question them on the matter, I’d say they were both probably in their late sixties.
Upon Jeremy’s greeting, it fast became obvious that the two were hesitant to interact with other passengers. The woman (Barbara we later found out her name was), immediately ducked back inside their cabin, disappearing from view. The man (Richard) looked ready to follow her, but Jeremy stopped him with a “Hey, wait! We’re not sick!” as Richard turned toward the door.
Richard did wait, and after we both made it to where he stood, he seemed less perturbed by our presence, yet still wary.
We quickly introduced ourselves. He kept glancing at the food we carried as we talked. His wife came back to the door and they then introduced themselves as Richard and Barbara Janowski.
We then spent a few minutes each explaining our situations. Richard explained that Barbara had fallen early in the trip and injured her hip, keeping the couple in their cabin for most of the voyage. We shot a few questions back and forth regarding our current predicament and whether any of us had answers as to what was going on – which none of us did. Richard then asked if we had seen anyone else around the ship. We told him that they were the first people we’d seen since recently. Then we asked him the same. He said that this was the first time they were leaving their cabin in several days. They kept checking the hallway for signs of people, and after seeing no one but us, they had finally decided to venture out to see what they could find out. Barbara said it was the lack of food that was pushing them to leave. They hadn’t eaten anything more than some har
d candies and gum that Barbara had in her purse since our last boxed meal was served.
At this point in the conversation, Jeremy offered them some of our food, which they readily accepted. Jeremy told them where we got it, and explained that there was plenty more. But he also told them that getting it meant going to the restaurant, which meant the possibility of being seen by others, if there ARE any others. They graciously accepted our offering as we went on to explain to them what we had seen at the lounge quarantine unit, which appeared to shock them both.
After Richard and Barbara got their hands on the food, they seemed to be in a hurry to be done with talking. I can’t blame them. At least we’ve had snacks to keep us going. They’ve had nothing and must be absolutely starved! While I didn’t like parting with some of our food, it made me feel good that we were helping someone else who is stuck in this crappy situation.
And now, at last, we know we’re not alone.
Gosh, the rain is really coming down out there. I wonder just how long this storm is going to last.
5:25 p.m.
We just got back from another food run. While we had collected enough on our last trip for at least a day or two, we’d given Barbara and Richard enough for several meals. And we figured that we should load up while we could, least someone else get to it ahead of us.
Jeremy and Richard wanted to go alone, but I insisted on coming. Barb didn’t really want to come, but she didn’t want to be left alone either. She seems like sort of a timid little thing – nice, but kind of mousy, like a stiff breeze might break her petite frail-looking frame. She said the walking would do her still-sore hip good.
Richard seems fine (a little mousy too if you ask me) – more a follower than a leader, which is okay. There is definitely a place for followers in this world. And it makes it easier for me and Jeremy to call the shots.
Therefore, we all went back up to the kitchen again and loaded ourselves with supplies. We found a banana crate to help us carry our stuff. As we were working however, we began to notice an odd sort of smell in the kitchen. When we moved our search from the pantry and small refrigerator to the walk-in fridge, we realized just what it was.
We found two walk-in fridges LOADED with dead bodies! There weren’t just bodies; there were STACKS of bodies piled up almost to the ceiling. It was horrible, probably the most horrible thing I’ve ever seen. Thank god the refrigerators were keeping the smell to a minimum. Even then, it was kind of nasty. Actually, it was REALLY nasty! The whole thing was nasty! I think some of the people must have been hauled in there after they’d already started to decompose, thus the smell.
But why?
We talked about the reasons why these people might have been loaded inside the fridge instead of just dumped overboard. After we told Richard and Barbara about what we’d seen with the bodies being dumped off the back of the ship, Richard had a theory. He hypothesized that this may have been where they were holding corpses until they could dispose of them, but as more and more of the crew became sick, they just never got the chance to dispose of these poor souls.
On the way back to our cabins, we discussed whether anyone else might be left on board. We all agreed that it was likely there were still some people left somewhere. But whether they would be crew, passengers, or some combination thereof remains a mystery, as does whether we should try to find them. Eventually, all of us agreed that it was probably best not too “go looking for trouble” as Barbara put it.
Then the conversation turned to what to do next. We have food, which is great. But now what?
Jeremy brought up the idea of trying to get into the bridge to radio out a distress call, which Richard and Barbara thought was a good idea. Then he mentioned the locked door leading inside the bridge and explained that the window in the door was too small to squeeze through even if it was broken. At that point, Richard mentioned that there was likely an interior door that entered the bridge from the inside of the ship as well. He said that maybe we should figure out where that is and try to enter that way.
Jeremy and I both agreed that this was a possibility but that we’d already tried entering the crew areas below deck and found them locked. We explained that without a key card, we were denied access, and if those areas were secured, the bridge was almost certainly similarly secured. Still, we thought it was worth a shot. Barbara said that if someone left in a hurry or forgot to lock the door, the bridge might still be accessible without a key. Personally, I think it’s a long shot, but it’s not like we have much else to do or many other options. We therefore decided to try to find the bridge’s interior access point after dinner.
7:28 p.m.
We just got back from our failed attempt at gaining access to the ship’s bridge. Gosh, it sure is storming out there. The ship is really rocking.
Anyway, we managed to find our way to the bridge’s interior entry door, but as we surmised, it was locked. And yet again, the porthole-sized window in the door was far too small to fit through even if we broke it.
At this point, I’m almost starting to think that it might be a good idea to search the ship in an effort to find out if any crew members are still alive. They might have an access key or know how to use the ship’s radio.
Jeez, this storm is really rockin’.
Well, for the moment, we’ve made progress. At least we have food. I think that tomorrow, though, we should make a more thorough search of the ship. That way we’ll know just how much food is at our disposal, whether there are any more survivors on board, and we might even find an access key, although that’s like searching for a needle in a haystack. It makes me wonder whether any of the bodies inside the walk-in refrigerators were crew members. One of them might still have a key on them. But the thought of what we’d have to do to get that key is enough to have me rethinking THAT idea.
I wonder if things are this bad back home, and by “back home” I mean not just Chicago but the United States as a whole. If this virus or flu or whatever the heck this thing is has hit home like it has this ship, I really hate to consider just how bad things might be. I wish we had the news channel again. Then we’d at least have some idea of what was being done to combat this thing or how the situation is looking. I mean, for as bad as things are out here, maybe in our relatively isolated situation, we’re actually safer here than on the mainland. But that’s just it, we have no earthly idea.
Maybe the flu spread back home just like it did here on the Neptune Triton. Maybe it was so fast and so furious that no one is left to come to our rescue. Or maybe it was worse out here with us being packed aboard a ship in relative close proximity to one another. Then again, a ship is kind of like a floating city in many ways, so the cities may have experienced a similar situation. If that’s the case, the city populations could be decimated. Maybe that means the outlying areas will have faired better than those urban oases. They may even have found a cure. It could be that we’re just left out here on our own until the entire ship dies as a precautionary measure to keep us from coming back and infecting others.
Gosh, that’s a wonderful thought. I just hate this not knowing. My mind bounces back and forth between hopeful optimism that we aren’t forgotten, and a gut-wrenching feeling that if we were going to receive help, we would have gotten it or at least heard SOMETHING by now. I have a sinking feeling that the rest of the world might be weathering a similar storm to our own.
Speaking of weathering a storm, the seas out here are getting pretty rough. I was expecting the storm to have passed by now, but it only seems to be getting worse.
I’m glad the ship is still functioning considering that we haven’t seen hide nor hair of the crew. Maybe some of them are just hunkering down below deck until all the passengers have succumbed to the flu. If that’s the case, from what I’ve seen, I think they’ve pretty much succeeded in their goal. I don’t think there are too many of us left after seeing those walk-in refrigerators in the restaurant kitchen. I have no idea if the other restaurant kitchen refrigerators
are in a similar state. Ugh!!! It gives me the willies just thinking about all those frozen corpses – our cruise mates, happy, carefree and frolicking just a week ago – piled in there like matchsticks.
Oooh! The ship just lurched violently. We must have gotten walloped by a really big wave. We’re on our last doses of motion sickness medicine so I hope this storm subsides soon. Maybe morning will bear better news. We can only hope. I can’t imagine things getting worse.
September 11th
(Cruise – Day 11, although it doesn’t feel anything like a ‘cruise’ anymore)
7:08 a.m.
I think I’ll stop jinxing myself at this point. At the end of my last entry, I said I didn’t think things could get much worse. Well, they have.
The storm is really moving the ship. We can actually feel the ship shudder every so often when a particularly big wave smashes into its side.
We are going to have breakfast and then see if Richard and Barbara want to accompany us to the upper decks to have a better look at the conditions outside.
8:06 a.m.
Okay, things are NOT good! I guess they haven’t been good for a while, but now they’re REALLY not good, if that’s even possible. I suppose I should say they’re getting WORSE.
So we took a walk on the Vista Deck to get a better read on this storm. It’s bad…it’s REALLY bad. The waves are big, so big in fact that they’re pushing the ship toward the island that’s a couple miles off. Well, it USED to be a couple miles off. Now I’d say it’s only a mile away due to the ship’s gradual movement.
Jeremy said that the force of the waves is apparently overwhelming the ship’s stabilizers. He said that if we could get into the bridge, he might be able to figure out how to compensate for the force of the storm and keep the ship where it’s at. If not, well, the ship could run aground.
The Dystopian Diaries Page 36
