by Jordan Rivet
“It’s been a while since we heard what’s going on there,” Esther said. “And the weather’s getting a little better. For all we know, there could be decent harvests on land already, if there’s anyone left to grow anything. Can you imagine eating corn every day?”
“I’ve thought about it,” Neal said. “Leaving. But not to land.”
“You want to join the Amsterdam or something?” Esther asked. The Amsterdam Coalition was a group of cargo ships that floated together around an old oil platform and refinery. It served as a trading hub for all the people who still survived at sea. Once a year, the Catalina docked with the Amsterdam Coalition to trade salvage and replenish their fuel supply. It would be a decent place to start over.
Neal shook his head. “Not the Amsterdam. The Galaxy.” His face was flushed, and he stared intently at the radio control panel.
“What’s that?”
“It’s another cruise ship . . . or actually a group of cruise ships,” Neal answered. “They maintain a regular position north of Hawaii.”
Esther cocked her head at this. Most of the ships they knew about were like the Catalina, floating aimlessly to conserve as much energy as possible.
“A regular position? How’d you hear about them?”
“We’ve been talking.”
“You and the group of cruise ships?”
“Me and their communications officer. Marianna.” He said the name slowly, like it was a final coffee ration that he wanted to make last for as long as possible, sipping until the dregs were cold.
Esther grinned. “I take it she’s nice?”
“She’s more than nice, Esther. She’s brilliant, and beautiful. She speaks four languages, and she’s teaching me Spanish. The words are like butter in her mouth.”
Esther had seen Neal go gooey over girls before, but he’d never talked like this. He certainly didn’t look the part of a hopeless romantic.
“How do you know she’s beautiful? You have a picture?”
“I don’t need a picture,” Neal said. “Her voice is the most beautiful sound in the world. I could live and die just listening to her voice.”
“How long has this been going on?”
“We started talking over a year ago, around when I took over the radio full-time.” Neal twisted the cord from his headphones between his fingers, eyes distant. “At first we just exchanged weather information, like I do with the comm officers all over the place. But I got curious about her, and we started talking more often—whenever we’re in range.”
“What do you have to talk about?” Esther asked.
She was surprised Neal hadn’t told her about this sooner. It wasn’t like him to keep secrets from her.
“Everything. She told me about life on the Galaxy, about her childhood in Mexico City, about words . . . It’s nice to know someone outside this tower, you know, and we have a lot in common.”
It stung Esther a little that Neal didn’t feel her friendship was enough, but then she had Cally, Frank, and the crew to keep her company while she worked, and there was always her father. Neal was usually alone up here, just him and the best sea view on the ship. He had been an original paid-up passenger on the Catalina, but his mother had succumbed to pneumonia in the early years. The community had looked after him, but it wasn’t the same as having family on board. He must feel just as tied to the people he chatted with on the radio every day.
“Are you thinking of trying to meet Marianna on this Galaxy?”
“How would I get there?” Neal sighed. “Judith only ever wants to meet up with the Amsterdam because she trusts them, sorta. She’d never sail to a group of stranger ships on purpose, even if we had enough fuel.”
“So next time we dock with the Amsterdam, join them,” Esther said. “You’d have a better chance of hopping another ship there than you do here.”
“I might not find a ship there that’d meet up with the Galaxy.”
“So what are you gonna do? Just sit here pining after her in this tower for the rest of your life?” Esther punched him in the shoulder, trying to elicit a smile. “Come on, Neal, let’s fix this!”
“I don’t know, Esther.” Neal’s face remained glum, and he fiddled with the headset around his neck. “What if she doesn’t like me in person? I am so in love with her voice that I don’t care what her face looks like. But she might not feel the same way.”
“Won’t know unless you try.”
“Judith wouldn’t let me leave anyway. No one else knows the radio systems as well as I do since Kim Wu left.”
Esther stood up, her decision made in a flash. “Well, I’m going to leave; otherwise, I’ll never finish the project I’m working on. I’ve had it with Judith. And you’re coming too. It’ll be easier if we go together.” Excitement swept through her. This was it: the change she needed.
“I don’t know, Esther . . .”
“We’re not scheduled to dock with the Amsterdam for another four months. We’ve got plenty of time to work things out.” Once she'd made the decision, it felt easy. Esther had never been one to agonize over her choices. She could find a job as a mechanic on the Amsterdam; they’d have quality materials that she could use to work on some of her ideas. If Judith wouldn’t trust her to experiment, maybe someone else would.
“It isn’t going to work,” Neal said, but his face bore a hint of a smile that hadn’t been there before, a slight sign of hope.
“We’ll figure it out.”
She just had to get out of there.
Chapter 4—The Atlantis Dining Hall
ESTHER BLAZED THROUGH HER regular checks in the engine room, then looked in on the power grid. Last night’s storm had generated enough reserves for them to run an extra batch of water through the reverse-osmosis system. They’d even have extra left over for their next journey to the Amsterdam without dipping into their backup fuel unless they hit a big storm before then. They rarely fired up the huge marine diesel engines or the propulsion system. The Catalina survived by floating and conserving energy, but they needed to be ready to sail at any moment—whether to run from storms or scavengers. They’d had close shaves in the past.
As she worked, Esther thought about how to tell her father she wanted to leave the Catalina. It was the right decision—she hoped. Her confidence from that morning dissipated as her muscles grew tired. She started thinking about their good years. She remembered when he’d taught her to swim, back when they still kept water in the pools instead of supplies. She remembered his strong hands supporting her belly as she flailed forward, swallowing huge gulps of water. Then he’d helped her float on her back, taught her to calm her body and watch the shapes in the clouds. The first time they’d ventured out into the sea, she had nearly drowned him when a school of tiny silver fish swam around her ankles and she tried to climb on top of his head to get away. How he had laughed! Then, again, he’d helped her to be calm, to float and regain control before she tried to swim.
That’s what Simon was like: calm, strong. But lately he’d been so quiet and distant. She didn’t want to hurt him.
At dinnertime she scrubbed the grease off her hands with a cloth grown stiff from too many saltwater washings and went to look for him. She found him in the Atlantis Dining Hall, a room that had once served a grotesque buffet of red meat and pasta and root vegetables. It still had the original tables from when it had been a proper restaurant, but they’d chopped up the tablecloths and sewn them into clothes. They had bolted the chairs and tables to the floor after a long-ago storm, one they probably would classify as a runner now, had sent the furniture cascading around the room, crushing bones and denting walls.
Esther’s father often picked up his meals before everyone else arrived, and ate elsewhere. He would hide out in the derelict Mermaid Lounge, sitting at the shabby bar and staring out to sea. But he was in the dining hall today, at a table in the corner. That was a good sign. As Esther joined the line for dinner—cod again—members of the community trickled in from their du
ties.
Clad in a mishmash of crew uniforms, repurposed tablecloths, and whatever else had survived this long, the people of the Catalina were thin from a diet of seaweed, fish, and crustaceans. Most talked and laughed, but a few bore the vacant, resigned looks of those who spent too much time thinking about the emptiness of this world, about their long-ago losses. Everyone had to fight despair in some form. Some did this more successfully than others. They kept themselves busy, found projects, learned new skills. Bernadette, for example, took on responsibility for the beautification of the Catalina. She’d spent years painting the walls with images of the old land whenever she could get her hands on suitable supplies, making her own paints from creatures dredged out of the sea. Her murals showed pastoral scenes of green fields and animals, cityscapes, deserts, mountains.
Others didn’t succeed in distracting themselves from the truth. The dentist, who had set up in the gift shop using tools fashioned from kitschy figurines and souvenir spoons, had given up six months ago. He left a note on the cash register before he stepped into the sea.
That was what Esther feared for her father. She worried that he would simply give in to the hopelessness.
She sat down beside him and studied his profile. There were more wrinkles on his face every day. At fifty-six, he wasn’t particularly old, but life on the ship was hard. His gray hair was getting long again. She’d have to remind him to have Bernadette trim it for him.
She remembered the first days. Everyone had lost everything. Terror and sadness threatened to overwhelm them—a fate worse than being drowned in ash. There were quarrels, violence. But, through the haze of his own grief, Simon had forged a spirit of cooperation on the desolate ship. He had thrown himself into making their band of survivors function as a community. As they eked out a living on the water, unable to return to land, he’d helped them develop roles and routines that kept them sane. It had been his purpose, his mission, and his energy had been infectious.
Simon set up the original governing council. Being on the council was a rotating duty shared equally by all the adults on the ship. He told them how important it was not to hold everyone to his or her former roles or social positions. It didn’t matter if you had once worked as a cleaning lady or ran onto the Catalina at the last moment, or you’d spent several thousand dollars for a cruise that saved your life. Everyone participated in adjusting rations and approving the ship’s course on the rare occasions when it needed to move. They were there to survive and build a new life, and everyone needed to have an equal say.
But some were not happy with this arrangement—and that was the hook Judith had needed. It made Esther’s blood churn to think about it. The survivors owed their sanity to Simon, but Judith had made him a pariah.
Simon looked up at Esther and gave a vague half smile, leaving behind an extra crease at the edge of his mouth. As they dug their battered forks into the day’s catch—the cod was dry again—she prepared to broach the subject of leaving the Catalina.
“How’s the work going, Dad?”
“Fine, fine. I’m having a hard time remembering the details of our first meeting with the Amsterdam. I can’t recall how many ships docked there permanently the first time.” Simon stared up at the murals on the walls, seemingly lost in thought.
“You could ask Neal to relay the message through the radio chain and ask them,” Esther said. “We’re a bit far from the Amsterdam right now, but it shouldn’t take too many jumps to get the answer.”
“Oh, Neal has more important things to do than research ancient history for me,” Simon said.
“You make yourself sound like such an old whale. It was only, what? Ten years ago?” Esther tried to sound chipper, but Simon sighed deeply. “Speaking of the Amsterdam,” she began, but just then Penelope Newton, the woman who lived across the hall from them, bustled over.
“Hi there, Simon, Esther. May I join you?” She had curly brown hair and a wide face. A cross necklace glinted on a chain around her neck. “The boys are still out collecting seaweed. Seems this storm has blessed us with a lot of it.”
“Please sit, Penelope,” Simon said, keeping his eyes on his plate.
“Do you mind if I say grace before I eat?” Penelope said.
“By all means,” Simon said cordially. He didn’t believe in God anymore. Penelope Newton was one of the few people aboard the Catalina who still did. Esther had taken to calling her Mrs. Noah when she wasn’t around.
Mrs. Noah said her prayer aloud, gripping her cross necklace in both hands. “Dear Heavenly Father. We thank you today for the bounty of the sea and for your continued protection over us. We know you are watchin’ out for us, no matter what storms and trials and tribulations come our way. In these End Days, we know you have a perfect plan for us. Be with us, Lord, and come soon to reveal yourself in glory. In Your Name, amen.” Mrs. Noah smiled expansively at Esther and Simon and picked up her own fork. “I’m sure the Lord has a plan for us. You know, during the storm last night I could feel His presence saying He’d be coming for us soon. I know ya’ll are part of His Chosen People, but you might want to get acquainted with Jesus too.”
“That’s nice of you to say, Penelope,” Simon said.
He used to talk to Esther and her sister about what it meant to be Jewish when they were children, but it was always about their people, not their god. His secularism had turned to atheism aboard the Catalina.
Mrs. Noah, on the other hand, spent the early days leading a vibrant religious group. Everyone dealt with this new world in their own way. As a child, Esther had listened, enraptured, when Mrs. Noah told them they would be preserved on the sea for seven years, after which Jesus would come down with his celestial army to rescue them from their tribulations. When Esther was thirteen, seven years after the disaster, Mrs. Noah had kept watch on the top deck, looking to the sky, often accompanied by her three solemn-eyed sons. When the seventh year ended, she said she’d been wrong to interpret the seven years literally.
She kept praying, but most of her disciples had fallen away by now. Esther had grown out of that phase too. She preferred to focus on things she could take apart and understand.
“Esther, dear,” Mrs. Newton said, “have you thought about getting married lately? You spend so much time climbing around in the engine room. You’re at just the right age. Don’t you think it’s about time to move out and start a family?”
“I haven’t really thought about it,” Esther said. She took a sip of water from her plastic tumbler. It tasted a bit off. It was probably time for another filter change. She’d speak to Frank about it.
“You should find a partner,” Penelope continued. “Marriage is such a beautiful thing. I don’t know what I’d do without my Jeb.”
Simon glanced at her, then looked back at his plate.
Mrs. Noah and her sons had come from South Carolina. They were in California to visit SeaWorld when the volcano blew. Her husband had stayed behind to take a nap at the hotel, and they’d run to the ship without him. “The angels will give him clean air to breathe,” she’d told her children as they stared back at the devastation on land. Simon and Esther had accepted that her mother and sister were dead, but Mrs. Noah held to her hope like it was a towline in a storm.
Esther sighed. “Who would I marry? Isaiah?”
Mrs. Noah blinked slowly. Her son was five years older than Esther, a morose young man with a disconcerting streak of cruelty. Neal had once caught him torturing one of the ship’s cats.
“Isaiah’s always had a preference for delicate blonds,” Mrs. Noah said. “What about your friend Neal? You two seem to get along so well. It’s our responsibility to multiply and refill the earth in preparation for Jesus’s kingdom.” She patted Esther on the arm.
“Why don’t you marry him then?” Esther mumbled.
“Esther,” her father said. His tone communicated volumes.
“I’m sorry, Mrs. No— Mrs. Newton. I’ll think about your advice.”
Esther felt b
ad for snapping at her. Neal was probably her best bet. They’d fumbled a bit as teenagers—making out in the laundry room, that sort of thing—but they’d decided not to take it any further almost immediately. Being with Neal wouldn’t be much better than living in the tiny cabin with her father. And now Marianna was in the mix. All the more reason for her to move on.
As Simon and Penelope talked quietly about the storm the previous night. Esther leaned back in her chair and scanned the dining room for Judith. Cally sat with her mother, Constance, on the opposite side of the dining room. Cally waved tentatively at Esther, as if she was nervous that Esther might still be annoyed about the pumps. Esther waved back, resulting in a huge smile on Cally’s face. Reggie was laughing with some of the hull crew, his voice booming over the dining hall. The Cordova family, affectionately called the Clan, was engaged in a rousing argument at the largest table. Mother, father, and six children had all escaped from San Diego together. They’d been embarking on a family reunion, but it had never ended. Their eldest daughter, Gracie, had brought a skinny, nervous husband into the mix about ten years ago. They’d already produced four rambunctious children of their own. The tiff seemed to be between Gracie and the middle sister, who was waving her fork around, bits of fish flying off the end. A few elders watched from a nearby table, then returned to picking over their fish. They’d seen it all before. Everyone in the floating community knew everyone else. It was difficult to keep much of anything a secret on the Catalina. Esther longed for the anonymity of another life, where mistakes wouldn’t continue to bounce around and temper people’s opinions of you forever—and where people wouldn’t feel the need to comment on why you hadn’t yet married your childhood friend.
She spotted Judith and Manny with their heads together on the opposite side of the dining hall. She couldn’t talk to her father about moving with Mrs. Noah around, but she could speak to Judith about making her application to the council. Officially, she needed council permission to join another ship, though Esther doubted that would stop her when it came to it. It was always safer to talk to Judith when lots of other people were around. She might even be able to avoid the whole probation business if she was going to be leaving anyway. She stood and crossed the hall. Bernadette winked at her as she walked past.
