by Jordan Rivet
By the time Esther got to the Atlantis Hall for dinner that night, everyone was consumed with talk of the storm. Deliberate movements had become increasingly rare. There was always hope that drifting in a new part of the sea would somehow be different from their current monotony. Esther looked around, but her father wasn’t in the hall. It was too bad. Herring was his favorite. She sat down alone and dug in to her food with a bent fork. It was her first meal since the disaster with the desal system. She forgot how hungry a near-death experience could make her.
Esther happened to glance up from her chipped plate and caught Gracie Cordova looking at her. Gracie put a hand to her cheek in the same spot where the large cut marred Esther’s face and tipped her head sideways. Her thick hair hung across her face in an annoyingly coy curtain. Esther glowered at her. In an effort to curry favor with Judith back when she had started to gain power, Gracie had talked of Simon’s arrogance to anyone who would listen. The ensuing gossip binge had spread like hot oil, hurting Simon deeply. The last thing Esther needed was Gracie speculating on what she’d been up to that day. She quickly shoveled the rest of the fish into her mouth, wincing at the pain induced by chewing. But she was too late. Gracie came over and plopped herself down in the chair opposite Esther.
“What have you been up to today, Esther?”
“Just doing my communal duty. You?”
“I’ve been taking inventory of Judith’s stores. Just to make sure nothing has gone missing.”
“Well?” Esther fixed her eyes on Gracie’s murky brown ones.
“Everything’s there,” she muttered, dropping her gaze.
“How nice for Judith.”
“What happened to your face?” Gracie’s direct look was back.
“It’s just a scratch. Got it in the engine room. What happened to yours?”
Gracie ignored her. “Strange, isn’t it? This running storm.”
“Why? We’ve had storms before,” Esther said.
“It’s come awfully soon after the last one, don’t you think?”
“Has it?”
“It’s only been two days. That’s very unusual.”
Esther shifted in her seat. “Hadn’t noticed,” she said. “Maybe the weather patterns are changing. If you can even call them patterns.”
“I was on deck for my sun quota earlier,” Gracie pressed, “and it sure doesn’t look like a big storm is coming. I think something’s up.”
“Like what?” Esther kept her tone neutral, concentrating hard on the crumbling slivers beneath her fork.
“I don’t know. It’s strange that Neal is sending out a storm call like this so soon. Don’t you think?”
“As far as I know,” Esther said, “Neal’s not the one who controls the weather.”
“It just doesn’t feel like a storm’s coming, that’s all.”
Esther refused to meet Gracie’s eyes, but in her peripheral vision she could see Gracie studying her. She kept her voice casual. “Well, that’s some great detective work there. You’ve convinced me.”
“We’ll see,” Gracie said. “Sometimes there’s more going on on this ship than meets the eye. You ought to know that by now.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Esther said sharply.
“Oh, nothing. Poor Esther. You’ll figure it out eventually.”
Esther didn’t want to get into any of Gracie’s intrigues. She’d have to make sure Gracie didn’t snoop around too much during the storm call. She’d rather Judith found out about what she did than have Gracie Cordova telling the whole ship her version of it. Judith, at least, was honest.
Esther forced herself to down her generous ration of water, knowing they should already be conserving their stores. She stood up from the table early and left the chatter of the dining hall behind her. She walked down the quiet passageway toward their cabin amidships, planning to catch a few hours of sleep and then go back down to the desal room later that night to see what she could salvage while everyone was in bed.
There was a strange, muffled sound coming from the door. Her father must be doing push-ups, as he sometimes did for a few weeks at a time before giving up and getting lost in his books. She pushed open the door. A pale white backside greeted her, bobbing up and down on her father’s bed. A mess of mud-brown curls whirled around, revealing a pair of wide eyes in a face more shocked than a halibut on a hook. She didn’t have time to process what she was seeing before the strangled yelps of two voices—one high, one low—pushed her back out of the room.
Esther stood still in the passageway, frozen with shock. Before she had time to move, Mrs. Noah stumbled from the cabin, wrapped only in her father’s blanket, and darted to her own room. The slam of the door echoed through the hall.
After a moment, her father’s voice called softly from the room. “Esther?”
She turned and raced back up the passageway, not stopping until she’d pounded down the grand staircase. She pushed blindly through the double doors in front of her and ended up in the old theater. It was dark and empty. She sat heavily in one of the faded velvet seats.
Old curtains formed an eerie backdrop to the room. An empty chandelier shaped like an octopus hung from the ceiling. The private boxes, lined with peeling gilt, gaped like gills in the walls. Seats had been removed in patches for use elsewhere on the ship. The theater had always been garish, but it’s derelict state made it all the more grotesque. Keeping it maintained had not been a priority. But it was quiet and empty, and far away from her father’s room.
Esther looked at the shadows cutting shapes into the old theater seats and thought about her mother. She’d had a strong nose and deep brown eyes. Esther used to love sitting on her lap and playing with the clattering collection of bracelets her mother wore on her wrists. Her sister, Naomi, reading in an armchair nearby, would tell her to stop making noise, but her mother would smile and wrap her in a tight hug that smelled like apples. Esther had once found a nearly empty bottle of apple blossom perfume in a waterlogged suitcase. She’d held on to it, sniffing it whenever she wanted to summon her mother’s face. But the smell of salt and fish had overwhelmed it long ago.
For years she secretly hoped that her mother and sister had survived the descent of the ash cloud. She imagined that they’d taken a spontaneous trip to Mexico instead of going to the dentist that morning. She liked to think of them driving through the desert, far from the treacherous shoreline, eventually making their way to Brazil to live in the rainforest. Once, she’d shared her theory with Simon. He’d looked at her sadly and shaken his head. Others on board, like Penelope Newton, held out hope for their loved ones, but Simon had forced Esther to admit early on that they were gone forever.
The door behind her creaked open. A ray of light changed the shapes on the seats like a gear shifting a notch. Esther knew it was her father by the sound of his uneven footsteps, the result of a limp acquired long ago. He sat in the row of seats behind her, the chair squeaking softly. For a long time, neither of them spoke.
“I’m lonely, Esther,” he said softly. She closed her eyes. “And so is Penelope.”
Esther searched through the questions she wanted to ask, not at all sure she wanted to know the answers. Finally, she settled on the one burning thought in her mind: “Why her?”
“Esther . . .”
“She’s so different from Mom. You don’t even respect her.”
“You’re the one who doesn’t respect her, Esther. I understand a little bit of what she’s trying to do for her family by being . . . the way she is.”
“How long has this been going on?”
“A while.”
“What about her husband? She’s always talking about how the Lord has saved him and they’ll be reunited on the Last Day and all that.” Esther couldn’t keep the scorn from her voice. She didn’t even try.
“Penelope knows he’s gone. She’s kept up this story, this myth, for so long for her children that she can’t let it go.”
“Doesn’t it
bother you, though?” Esther said. “Enough that it’s not worth the physical comfort or whatever you’re getting out of this?” She just stopped herself from kicking the back of the seat in front of her like a child.
Simon was silent again. She glanced back at him. His face looked old and very sad. “Couldn’t you have held out for someone who was at least half as good as Mom?” Esther said. “We meet new people sometimes. Maybe on the Amsterdam.”
“Esther, I’m not looking for a new soul mate. That part of my life is over. You’ll come to understand someday that it’s worth finding comfort with someone who understands your sadness. You won’t always scorn the . . . physical need to be with someone.”
“I think I’d rather be lonely.”
“You’re still young, Esther. I’m proud of you for working so hard to keep things running smoothly on the ship. You’re so smart and capable; sometimes I forget how young you are.” He paused. “You know Neal . . .”
“Dad, don’t.”
“I’m just saying that Neal is a good young man. He’s your friend, and he will always be there for you. Someday you may realize that it’s worth accepting the company and partnership of another human being just to help you get through the dark nights at sea.”
The horn rumbled through the ship. Esther and Simon waited, allowing the vibrations to fade away. A second horn sounded. Then a third. Then a fourth. They looked at each other. That meant everyone was supposed to muster on the decks. It was a rare call. They stood at the same time, and Simon gripped Esther’s shoulder. “Be kind to her, Esther. Please.”
Chapter 8—Orchid
Esther and Simon rushed to the foredeck. Nearly half the ship had already gathered there or on the upper decks. More people crowded onto the balconies of the forward cabins, inviting themselves in to get a better view. No one bothered to lock doors anyway. The rest filed out from the lower cabins and workstations and jostled for position along the portside lido deck.
The foredeck was bare. They’d bolted benches and tables to the decks in the early days, but those were long gone, ripped away by the violence of the sea. With the entire population flooding onto the decks from every nook and cranny, the Catalina looked like it was sprouting anemones. Esther and her father pushed through the crowd. A crisp breeze greeted them, and twilight had turned the sky to a soft lavender color. Esther had to admit it didn’t look like a storm was coming.
They found Neal on their way to the railing. It was always strange to see him outside of his tower.
“What’s going on?” Esther asked.
Neal frowned. “It’s not good.”
When the quadruple horns rang out, Esther had worried someone had discovered the catastrophe in the bowling alley. But something in Neal’s face told her this had nothing to do with that—or with their plan. She reached the front row of the crowd and looked to the sea.
Another cruise ship floated alongside them. It loomed above their heads, blocking out the sky. Far bigger than the Catalina, the ship probably had a capacity close to three thousand. Like the Catalina, this ship had undergone modifications. Entire decks had been removed, like layers on a cake. She must have been too top-heavy for the biggest storms. The empty upper decks gaped like the rib cage of a skeleton. For a moment, Esther thought they’d reached the Galaxy Flotilla ahead of schedule, but this ship, grim in the twilight, did not look like a thriving community. Nothing moved on its decks.
A spotlight from the Catalina illuminated the name on the hull written in swirling, faded letters: Orchid. Hanging above the name was a banner, clearly handmade from a salvaged bit of sailcloth. In red paint, it read, “Disease. Stay Away.”
The message rippled through the crowd and made its way inside to the people who hadn’t been able to fit on the decks. Disease. A humming silence descended on the Catalina. The Orchid simply floated: no engines, no lights, no life.
“Dear God,” Simon whispered.
“I saw them coming on radar,” Neal said. “Thought it might have been a glitch because I got complete radio silence.”
“Ever talked to them before?” Esther asked.
“No. We’re already outside of our normal drift range, what with the running storm and all.” He glanced at Simon.
“I remember this ship,” said a deep voice behind them.
Esther jumped. Reggie had pushed through the crowd to join them. He put his rough hands on the railing. A patch of grease glinted on his dark skin.
“We’ve met them?” she asked.
“No, from before. When I was looking for work on the ships, one of my buddies landed a job on the Orchid. She docks in Boston, on the East Coast.”
“How’d they get here?” The Catalina had never left the Pacific Ocean. It was plenty big enough for their needs.
“Tierra del Fuego, I expect,” Reggie answered. “This ship is a long way from home.”
“Do you think anyone’s still around over there?”
“Seems awfully quiet.” The four of them stared up at the big ship.
“What’ll we do about her?” Esther asked.
An idea came to her. The Orchid must have a good desalination system, maybe even one that used the same type of filters they did. If the ship was empty, or if only a fraction of the inhabitants had survived, they might be able to take some of their materials to repair the Catalina’s system. It was a risk to dock with the Galaxy Flotilla with so many unknown ships and people, but the Orchid . . .
Judith’s voice crackled through the loudspeakers. “Attention please, everyone.” She had climbed up to the bridge wing, a thin exposed balcony along the side of the bridge. She had a death grip on the mic for the loudspeaker and a sour look on her face. Judith hated interacting with other ships on the rare occasions they encountered them. She ordered the navigation team to steer clear of strangers whenever possible. “We have a situation on our hands. We have been unable to make radio contact with anyone aboard the Orchid. As you can see, it is unclear whether anyone has survived. We must be careful about how we engage the Orchid if we choose to offer help.”
“Let’s get away from it!” someone yelled.
A few people murmured their agreement.
The elder Mrs. Cordova stood in a prime spot on an upper deck, not too far from Judith. “We don’t know what kind of disease we’re dealing with,” she shouted. “We can’t expose the children.” She had one of her grandchildren clutched to her body. Mrs. Cordova always made her opinions known—and she held a lot of influence.
“These are valid concerns,” Judith said.
More voices chimed in. “There might be supplies. They don’t need them anymore.”
“There could still be people alive over there!”
“It’s not worth the risk.”
The crowd grumbled. The last vestiges of daylight were fading. The lights from the Catalina danced off the battered white hull of the Orchid. It glowed, ghostlike.
“We should investigate,” Esther said to her companions. “They’re right about the supplies.”
“We should be helping the survivors,” Simon said.
“There probably are none,” said Neal. “Otherwise, they would have figured out how to radio for help. We should leave it alone.”
Esther stomped on Neal’s foot. “I just mean that we shouldn’t leave it without knowing,” she said. “A ship that size is bound to be hiding something, whether it’s survivors or fuel that could keep us going for another few years.”
A look of understanding lit Neal’s face. “I think Esther’s right. It would be foolish to sail on without investigating.”
“It wouldn’t take long to send the lifeboat over,” Reggie said.
“How would we get up to the deck if there really are no survivors? I think we need to extend some sort of gangway,” Esther said. “You know that big piece of steel Manny dragged up during the storm? It wouldn’t take long to bolt a few pieces like that together and . . .” Esther and Reggie conferred over the options. But the crowd was gro
wing restless.
“We should sink it!” Mrs. Cordova shouted over the din. “That way the disease won’t spread to anyone else.”
She was gathering support on her deck.
“But there could be sick people aboard who need our help!” Bernadette called from a balcony.
More voices chimed in. “They told us to stay away!”
“We have to worry about ourselves.”
Mrs. Cordova seemed to swell as she shouted, “We can’t let whatever killed those people get off that ship. Send it to the bottom of the sea!”
Judith raised a hand for silence. Esther had to admit that she had a commanding presence. She made people listen.
“This is why I’ve called everyone up. For the sake of the community, this is a decision that has to be made together. I propose that we put it to a council vote.”
Esther thrust her hand into the air. Judith didn’t look happy to be interrupted, but she made a point of hearing people out when others were watching.
“I think we should send a crew over to find out what’s going on,” Esther said. “That way the council can make an informed decision. Reggie and the guys can put together a ramp so we can get across.”
A few people in the crowd murmured their agreement.
“Don’t you know anything about disease?” Mrs. Cordova shrieked. “If one person goes over there, they’ll bring it back with them. We might as well invite the ghosts in now.”
People around her nodded. The crowd seemed to surge closer, buoying her up with their support.
“She’s right!”
“Yeah, let’s stay away. That’s what the sign says anyway.”
“If they wanted help, they’d ask for it!”
“We can’t just leave it!” Esther shouted. She climbed up on the railing so she could see above the throng. “I volunteer for the salvage team.”
