by Jordan Rivet
The rumble of voices increased in volume. The people on the inner lido deck shouted that they couldn’t hear. They pushed forward, oozing out of the doorways, putting extra weight on the balconies.
“What does the sign say?”
“Do they have food?”
“What’s going on?”
“It seems—quiet, please—it seems we have no choice but to meet before anyone makes a further move,” Judith announced. “The council will go over our options and come to a consensus. If a harmonious solution is not obvious, we’ll put it to a silent vote. The choices are: leave the Orchid to float where it will; send a small party to investigate and salvage whatever materials we can find; or sink the ship to ensure that the disease won’t spread to any other communities.” She turned to where Manny was waiting at the door to the bridge.
“This shouldn’t be up to a committee,” Esther shouted, earning a glare from Judith. She couldn’t let this go to the council, not this time. They’d do whatever Judith told them to. “It’s getting harder to pull salvage. Things are going to fall apart on this ship eventually. You know it, or you wouldn’t be hoarding so much of it in the lounge, Judith. Everybody, we can’t let that ship go. Think of what’s being wasted over there.”
Simon put a hand on her arm. “Esther, the risks . . .”
But there was a rumble of approval through the assembly. They shouted at Judith to let them search the ship. She said something about the council, but the people drowned her out. The council always did Judith’s bidding anyway, and it seemed the people didn’t want to wait.
Reggie gestured to one of the reinforced panels over a bay of windows. “We can pull this down to use as a bridge.” His deep voice carried above the crowd.
The crew started pulling tools from their belts and back pockets, moving toward the panel. Esther breathed. They were going to be okay.
Suddenly, the wind shifted. It had been pushing the warning banner back against the Orchid. Now it swirled across the deck of the silent ship and swept toward the crowd on the Catalina. The distinct smell of decaying flesh came with it. The crowd gasped collectively as the stench enveloped them. For a moment, everyone was silent. Then the din began.
“Let’s get out of here!” someone yelled.
“Sink it! Sink it, I say!”
“Rust and salt! They’re all dead.”
“We’re going to die!”
“We need to get away now!”
“Sink the damn ship!”
“Oh Judith, what will you do?” the last comment came as a whisper from Simon.
Judith tried to calm the assembly. The shouts to sink the Orchid gained momentum.
Esther looked up at the Orchid, holding her nose against the stench. The ghostly hull drifted closer in the putrid wind. No, she thought as the crowd turned against her faster than a sneaker wave. This is our chance.
“All right everyone. Quiet!” Judith called. “Is the consensus to sink the Orchid and leave the salvage on the bottom of the sea?”
“Yes!” the people shouted.
Judith didn’t even offer a second choice. “Okay, we’ve reached a decision. Everyone return to your duties. The explosives specialists will address the situation. Thank you for your consensus.”
Esther didn’t miss the triumphant look Judith shot down at her. She stepped off the railing, keeping a viselike grip on the cold metal.
No one listened to Judith’s instructions to return to their duties. They stayed on deck and watched the preparations. The explosives had come from a capsized navy vessel years ago, but it had been a long time since they’d been used. No one wanted to miss the gruesome spectacle.
Esther watched the team loading into the speedboat. The “specialists” were a pair of very old navy veterans who’d been reliving their preretirement days at sea on a Catalina cruise. They were nearly senile, but they were the only ones who knew how to use explosives.
There had to be some way Esther could go along, to have one quick look through the ship. She nearly blurted out her secret about the desal system. They needed to know the truth. She should own up to her mistake. She wavered. But no. She couldn’t admit what a fool she’d been, not to Judith, not with her father standing right there.
They were still heading to the Galaxy. They still had a plan. Esther kept silent, ignoring the guilt that rose in her stomach like bile.
The engines chugged back to life, moving the Catalina out of the drag range of the doomed vessel. The speedboat carried the explosives team toward the sullen hull of the Orchid. The remaining light had leaked from the sky. Spotlights guided its passage through the choppy gray water. The crew wore T-shirts or scarves around their mouths and noses. Mismatched explosives filled the spaces between them.
Whispers ran through the crowd, saying they’d already breathed in too much—if the disease was airborne. The shirts wouldn’t do any good. Mrs. Cordova gathered up her extended clan and ushered them inside, muttering about saltwater baths. Bernadette turned away. The rest stayed on deck, leaning against the rails and each other.
The team finished their work quickly and returned to the Catalina. When they were a safe distance away, the explosives erupted at the edge of the water. The blasts sent luminous shivers up the side of the Orchid, like distant lightning. Slowly, water entered the belly of the ship through the wounds they’d inflicted. Everyone waited and watched, listening for screams or shouts or any signs of life at all. There was nothing.
It could take hours. The Catalina began to move away, still fleeing the fabricated storm. Esther watched the Orchid shrink behind them. Finally, it began heaving, drifting languorously downward. The hull seemed to glow, beautiful in its final moments. Esther kicked the toe of her boots against the rail as she watched the materials that could have saved them sink to the bottom of the sea.
Chapter 9—The Plaza
ESTHER MET FRANK AT the door to the desalination room when he came to work the day after the sinking of the Orchid. She had been unable to sleep, unable to shake the feeling that she’d made another terrible mistake. So she spent the night digging through the wreckage of the system, saving what she could of the pipes and water tanks. She had been correct about the extent of the damage. At their current rate of consumption, they’d run out of water in a week.
Frank listened calmly as she explained there had been an accident. In fact, he was so calm Esther wasn’t sure he fully understood what was going on. He simply said, “You’ll fix it. Don’t worry, Esther,” before wandering back up the corridor. He seemed to have forgotten he was supposed to be on duty.
Esther returned to her repairs.
Neal visited a while later. He wore a faded “Catalina: Your Island at Sea” T-shirt and his scuffed orange bowling shoes. He stepped over the debris and pools of water, grimacing as he approached.
“Is it as bad as we thought?” he asked.
Esther stood and stretched out the muscles in her back. “Yes, but it could be worse.”
“We should meet up with the Galaxy in three days,” Neal said.
“That was quick.”
“Yeah, well, we’re booking it to get away from a storm, remember?” Neal pushed a hand through his hair, smoothing the indent from his headset.
“How are you going to play this? Act surprised when we bump into another ship?” Esther asked.
Neal shrugged. “I’ll tell Judith we’re going to be crossing paths with the Galaxy about a day out so people can get ready.”
“Does the Galaxy know we’re coming?”
“Marianna does,” he said.
“And?”
“I’m a little terrified, to be honest.”
“What did she say?” Esther asked as she went back to sorting through the pipes, trying to assemble at least one working unit from the detritus.
“Not much,” Neal said. “That’s what worries me. We’ve been talking regularly for a year, about just about everything, and when I tell her we’re going to be meeting in person, sh
e has nothing to say.”
“She probably thought your two paths would never cross.”
“Maybe she doesn’t even want to meet me,” Neal half whispered.
“She was just surprised. You’ll be fine.” Esther tried to sound cheery, though she didn’t really know how to give relationship advice. “Maybe you two are meant to be together,” she said. “At least one good thing will come out of this.”
“Thanks,” Neal said.
He helped Esther organize the pipes at one end of the room, following her directions to the letter. As he worked, he’d stop to stare at the old bowling murals or turn bits of debris over and over in his hands.
“Esther,” he said after a while. “Are you . . . okay with me and Marianna?”
“What do you mean?”
“I thought, well, that is, if she wasn’t really in the equation . . . I just didn’t want you to feel . . . spurned.”
“Spurned?” Esther guffawed, trying to lighten the mood.
“It’s a real word. Don’t laugh. Look, I guess it seemed like we might end up, you know, getting married, having a couple kids.”
Esther sighed. “Were you particularly excited about the prospect, Neal?”
“I . . . well . . . I thought it would make sense, you know? I don’t want you to feel hurt or anything now that things might be different.”
Esther put down another armload of twisted metal with a clatter. She didn’t particularly want to have another conversation about this. She wasn’t attracted to Neal, but she felt confused by what her dad had said, what he’d done. She wished she could go back to repairing machines. People were too complicated.
“Stop squirming, Neal, it’s fine. Yeah, it would make sense if nothing had changed, but we all know things can change in an instant. It might have happened eventually, but I’m not feeling that put out, to be honest.”
Esther thought about her father’s words. Perhaps one day she would yearn for the comfort of another person. Things could always change. That’s what she’d wanted when she first thought of leaving the Catalina: change. Right now she had to focus on making things right.
“You know you’re my best friend, right, Esther?”
“And you’re the sappiest guy I know.” She punched his arm. “You and Marianna will be great together. Quit worrying. And for the love of God, don’t mention our future marriage again.”
“Thanks. I mean it.” He smiled. “How’d it go with Frank, by the way?”
“I think it’s okay,” Esther said slowly. Frank’s lack of reaction still bothered her. “He said he wouldn’t tell anyone. I didn’t let him see how bad the damage is. I told him I accidentally busted a few things, like last time, and I wanted to fix them. Made it sound like I’d need to go crawling around in the machinery, which he’s way too old to do anyway. Hopefully he’s forgotten all about it.”
“That’s good,” Neal said, “because I saw him talking to Gracie Cordova, and I was hoping it wasn’t about this.”
Later that evening, Esther went to look for Frank. A crowd had gathered in the shopping plaza, but Frank wasn’t among them. That wasn’t unusual. Reggie and his band were playing, and Frank often skipped music nights.
People had settled in all the remaining chairs, on the floor, and on the shopping arcade balconies. The shops had been transformed from commercial to communal operations. Cally’s mother, Constance Gordon, leaned against the window of her shop with her two assistants. She was a statuesque woman with dark red hair. She had given birth just after their arrival on the ship, making Cally the first ship’s baby. Constance’s fingers, as she picked out a seam in a thrice-used garment, were weathered now, thin, and rough like crab legs. They bore little resemblance to the pale, shaking hands that had held her baby tight in the midst of the first storms. A tailor by trade, she operated the clothing supply out of a former designer boutique. She was particularly talented at making durable garments that could be altered many times as children grew and elders shrank.
Reggie and his friends had set up folding chairs in the center of the plaza. Two of the guys had been in the jazz band that used to play in the Mermaid Lounge during the Catalina’s cruises. They had a collection of salvaged and improvised instruments: rusted flutes, mellow oil drums, and their crowning glory—an acoustic guitar whose swollen, ruptured wood and strained strings hadn’t quite lost their sound.
Esther spotted Bernadette in the group sitting on the floor. She was the one who had urged everyone to find some sort of creative or leisure activity “to feed the soul.” Music, art, even poetry. A restaurant off the plaza had been transformed into a school. Bernadette taught arts lessons for the ship’s children until they were old enough to learn a trade. Everyone had to learn a practical skill to help the community function.
Esther picked her way through the crowd to her friend. “Hey, you should be sitting in one of the chairs, Bernadette.”
“Oh, don’t worry about me, dear. I like to be in the thick of things.” She twisted her tiny wrinkled hands in her lap. She looked like a doll wrapped up in her enormous sweater.
“Have you seen Frank?”
“I think he was headed for his cabin, grumbling about a nap and ‘these infernal noises.’” Bernadette did a spot-on impression of Frank’s voice.
“I better let him sleep,” Esther said.
“Yes, now sit. You’ve already missed the children’s choir.”
Esther sank down beside Bernadette and pulled her knees up to her chest. Her muscles ached from her long day of work.
More people trickled in, filling the plaza with conversation. Esther watched them, thinking about how this scene would change if she couldn’t fix the water system soon, how quickly the friendly atmosphere would turn sour.
The move to the Catalina had been the hardest on people who’d had a job with no practical application on board. Anyone who’d worked in finance, law, and media had to find new ways to occupy and stimulate themselves and contribute to their floating society. Many had taken the place of missing crew members. They’d listened carefully to the experienced seamen from Third World countries, learning their manual occupations from people who’d once made less money in a year than they earned in a week. One of Reggie’s other band mates had been an investment banker enjoying an early retirement. Now he worked the seaweed-harvesting crew.
The music began without preamble. The guys had developed a decidedly folksy sound. Reggie had a raspy smoker’s voice, though he had used up his most recent batch of cigarettes two months ago. Sometimes Cally sang with them. Her fresh voice provided a melodic contrast to the rough acoustics.
Tonight they sang ballads befitting the subdued mood since the sinking of the Orchid. Everyone was all too aware of the dangers disease posed. The children were especially vulnerable. None of the ones born on the ship had received vaccinations. An old nurse who’d saved vacation days for years to be able to take a long cruise on the Catalina was their chief medical officer. She’d been sitting in a deck chair drinking a Bloody Mary when the ash cloud reached them. She’d found herself treating people who’d sustained injuries on their mad dash to the ship, and she hadn’t stopped acting as caretaker ever since. But medical supplies had to be carefully preserved. The Orchid had reminded them of an ever-present threat.
Esther went over every bolt and connection of the desalination system in her head as she listened to the mournful tunes. It wouldn’t hurt if she made a few tweaks to the system while she was fixing it. She hoped that they wouldn’t have to trade away too much to get what they needed from the Galaxy. If worst came to worst, she would tell Judith exactly why they needed to use her stores. She was hoping to avoid that while everyone was distracted by the excitement of meeting another ship.
Esther was so consumed with the lists in her head that she didn’t notice Gracie Cordova and Judith talking with their heads together across the plaza. Gracie’s two sisters leaned toward the pair to listen in on the conversation.
Cally began
the first lines of a new song. The words were pure and simple, a lilting poem she had written herself, humming while she oiled the engines.
Breath of ocean sighing
Cross the sea of sorrow
Bring a song of flying
Deep into tomorrow
Song of ocean guide me
Cross the sea of sorrow
Dreams you never grant me
Weep into tomorrow
While I ever wander
Cross the sea of sorrow
Love is what I ponder
Deep into tomorrow
Constance Gordon dabbed at her eyes with a handkerchief, and even old Mrs. Cordova gripped her husband’s rough hands in her own. As the music drifted away, the plaza fell silent. The vast sea seemed to press in around them, emphasizing their vulnerability here in the middle of nowhere, going nowhere. The weight of the black sky hung heavy above the skylight. One by one, the people of the Catalina rose to return to their cabins, saying little.
When Esther stood to leave, every single one of the Cordovas watched her go with steely eyes.
Chapter 10—Rumors
BY BREAKFAST THE RUMORS had spread. Constance gave Esther a quizzical look as she sat darning socks outside her shop. In the Atlantis Hall, one of the cooks jumped when Esther joined the line for shrimp and seaweed rolls. Manny stared at her from his table, slowly shaking his head. People sat in tight groups, worried faces over untouched meals. Sharp glances flitted toward her.
Esther hurried away and hid herself in the engine room. Had someone found out what she’d done? The temp crew operating the engines treated her normally. She must be tired and paranoid. She’d barely been able to sleep because she’d been so focused on the repairs. She tried to concentrate on the grumble of the engines carrying them toward the Galaxy. Neal had insisted to Judith that they needed to push on for another few days to fully avoid the “running storm.”
Esther spent the afternoon minding the engines and taking inventory of her toolbox and paltry stash of extras, trying to find anything she could trade for new desal parts in a few days. Cally found her elbow-deep in a disordered pile of wrenches.
