MUTINY: A Post-Apocalyptic Thriller (Reckoning Book 1)

by Lee West

  Looking around the vast room, he had a hard time immediately spotting anyone. The array of neatly arranged pipes created a maze for him to walk through. His footfalls were loud on the metal grated floor, which was suspended above the noisy machines below. All of the handrails and signs were neatly painted and glistening, thanks to his crew. Everything in his area of responsibility looked shipshape. Spotting his friend Wes, he moved quickly across the metal grated footbridge.

  Wes was a crusty older man who had been on a cruise ship since his twenties. A bad breakup with the woman he thought he would marry pushed him to walk to Port Lorraine and apply for a job. The next thing he knew, he was out at sea, loving the freedom and expanse of ocean. He never found another woman; instead, in Frank’s estimation, Wes was another guy who made the sea his life.

  “Hey, man! How’s it going?” yelled Frank.

  Wes remained engaged in his work. The noise in the engineering spaces was excessively loud. All personnel were required to wear protective ear apparatus in order to prevent permanent hearing loss. Earplugs and noise-cancelling headsets had a way of making communications with a friend difficult.

  Walking closer to Wes, Frank said, “Wes! Wes!” Still not getting the man’s attention, Frank touched Wes’s shoulder gently.

  Wes jumped like he had been startled.

  “It’s just me! Who’d you expect? The boogeyman?”

  “Sorry, man, I’m a little on edge. We’re having a major issue down here, and between engineering and electrical, we can’t make heads or tails as to what happened,” said Wes as he pulled a greasy napkin from his pocket and wiped his sweaty, dirty face.

  “Captain said the main generators are down? Is that true?”

  “Oh yeah, they’re down all right, but I’d say more like fried than just down. From what I’m hearing, all of the circuits are completely blown.”

  “What the hell happened?”

  “Beats me. It’s like the ship was hit by a huge bolt of electricity, which literally blew up the electrical circuits.”

  “Holy crap! But the lights are back on, mostly. So the auxiliary system is still working?”

  “Sort of. A portion of the auxiliary system was offline when whatever happened—happened. Essentially unplugged. So nothing affected its circuits. The problem is that the aux system isn’t designed to handle the load of the entire ship, so the captain has to make some decisions.”

  “What sort of decisions?”

  “They’re talking about relocating passengers to consolidate them, basically shutting off whole sections of the ship. Laundry is stopped, meaning no clean linens for the passengers or crew. Water pressure is the other problem. If this drags on for too long, the captain will have no choice but to shut down the passenger toilets. Obtaining water isn’t a problem, but using the auxiliary system to power the ship’s entire sanitation system isn’t feasible.”

  “That’s not going to be received well. God knows people don’t want to have to share a toilet.”

  “You got that right.”

  “How long do you think we have?”

  “It depends. If the captain starts consolidating and turning off the toilets, we could float for a day or two on the juice we can still produce. Still, we need to get this fixed and need to be in port to do it. We just don’t have the parts to handle this major of a repair.”

  “The freakiest part of this to me is that they said the ship hasn’t been able to reach shore on the radio. It’s like the port was hit too. What’s up with that?”

  “Word down here is that the U.S. has been nuked and are scrambling around trying to save their own asses. Why would they give a shit about a ship floating around out here?”

  “You got that right. We’d be the last thing the coasties or Navy would care about if it’s a national emergency,” said Frank, rubbing a tired hand on his stubble-covered chin.

  “That’s what I’m thinking. So the old man can either float our asses around here indefinitely, hoping for the best, or he can seek help in another port,” said Wes.

  “I’m going with another port.”

  “Me too. Sooner rather than later.”

  “Hey, thanks, man,” said Frank, glancing at his watch. “I need to get the guys started for the first shift. It’s going to be a long day.”

  “See ya, man. If I hear anything else, I’ll let you know when I see you for lunch on the mess deck.”

  Frank waved over his shoulder to his friend as he hurried his way back to deck seven, where the maintenance lockers were located. Wes’s description of what had happened confirmed Frank’s suspicions and caused him to feel even more anxious about their chances of getting to port. He knew the only way to save himself rested on his ability to take a lifeboat and make a run for the shore. Even if the entire U.S. was suffering from the same issues, Frank estimated he’d be better off on land than in a floating coffin searching endlessly for help that would never be obtained. And then there were Sharon and the kids. Frank loved those kids like they were his own. Mike and his family were the only family Frank ever really felt a part of. He would do everything he could to help Mike protect them, even if it meant stealing a lifeboat.

  — 8 —

  Joe pulled Meg into him as she started to rustle around on the verge of waking. He wanted to sleep a little longer but knew once she was awake, she’d want to be out of the room. Their room was little more than a closet with a very small bathroom. When inside the interior cabin, they had no way of telling if it was night or day. At least the ship had stopped rolling. Joe concluded from the feel of the ship beneath him that the fin stabilizers must have been back up and running. A thin sliver of light from the hallway shone under their cabin door, giving him a sense of relief that whatever had happened last night had been resolved.

  The captain’s voice boomed on the loudspeakers outside their room. There were no speakers inside the cabins so that people could rest when they wanted. In order to hear the announcement, they would need to either open the door or turn on their television. Meg stirred again, turning toward him.

  “What’s all that noise? What’s happening?” she said groggily.

  “Nothing. It’s the captain probably just telling us we’re getting close to Port Lorraine and need to start packing. Go back to sleep. We had a late night.”

  “I think I need to get up,” she said, heaving herself from the warm bed.

  “You feeling okay? I haven’t noticed the ship moving as much as it did last night, so I think we’re in the clear. They must’ve fixed whatever went wrong. As a bonus, looks like the power has been restored.”

  “Yes, I’m okay. I feel completely drained but otherwise no worse for wear. On a positive note, I probably lost whatever weight I gained on the trip by throwing up so much last night. We should probably start packing.”

  “Don’t remind me. I don’t want the vacation to end. How about if I wash up real quick and go get us some Irish coffees? You can take your time and meet me at the breakfast buffet in forty-five minutes?”

  “Sure, that sounds perfect. Even in a weakened state from a huge episode of seasickness, I won’t pass up an Irish coffee!”

  “Okay, I’ll grab those and meet you at the buffet. If you get there before me, try to snag our usual table if you can. It’ll be our last breakfast on board. After we eat, we can come down and start packing. It shouldn’t take too long.”

  He leaned over and kissed her on the cheek and then turned her head, kissing her lips tenderly.

  “Love you,” she whispered.

  “Love you more.”

  Joe quickly made his way to deck thirteen, where a makeshift bar station stood each morning of the cruise. The station had hot coffee, tea and an assortment of alcohol to mix into the beverages. Mike stood behind the bar, busily cleaning the area around him and pouring drinks for other passengers.

  “Hey, Mike! Can we get two of those Irish coffees?”

  “Sure thing. How are you guys today?”

  “Mos
tly fine. Hate to start packing, but the dream has to end at some point.”

  “Packing? I’m not sure you need to worry too much about that right now.”

  “What do you mean? Aren’t we pulling into port in about an hour?”

  “Dang. You must’ve slept right through the captain’s announcement.”

  “Announcement? What’s going on?”

  Mike handed the drinks to the remaining customers at the bar and turned to Joe as he retrieved some fresh glasses. “Something happened to the ship’s electrical system last night. We’re on auxiliary power right now. Between you and me, we were told that the ship can’t get ahold of Port Lorraine or the Coast Guard on the radio. Without them…”

  “We can’t come into port. I know how that works. What’s going on with the radio?”

  “That’s the strange part. The problem isn’t on our end but back at shore, but I’m not supposed to be talking about it with the guests.”

  Joe took offense to Mike calling him a guest as though they hadn’t talked extensively over the past week. The two had even made plans to reconnect on shore in a few weeks for beers. At this point, Mike felt like a friend to Joe, and Joe thought the feeling was mutual.

  Mike must have sensed Joe’s hurt feelings and added, “But you’re more than just a guest; that’s why I’m sharing this with you. You just need to keep it quiet, that’s all.”

  “Got it. Meg and I don’t talk to anyone besides you anyway, so I’m not too concerned.”

  Mike glanced around conspiratorially and lowered his voice. “Between you and me, some of the crew thinks the captain is going to leave the area, seeking shelter at another port.”

  “Oh shit, that’s not good,” said Joe.

  “No, it’s not. And the ship only has a couple more days of food left until it’s empty. So the captain has to do something fast or things are going to get pretty rough around here.”

  “Geez, you’re right. I didn’t even think about the food situation. Last night when the ship started rolling and the lights were out, I just assumed something went wrong in engineering and electrical, not that the shore would be impacted or that we’d be floating out here with no supplies.” Joe cracked his knuckles, his anxiety building.

  “I don’t plan to allow the captain to take me from port to port in a futile attempt at refuge. I have a family and need to make sure they’re okay. I can’t just leave the area for an extended period of time. If things are bad on shore, they could be in danger, and my wife is alone with the kids.”

  “What will you do?”

  “My buddy and I plan to take a lifeboat and get out of here.”

  “Can’t you get in trouble for doing something like that? I wouldn’t think the ship’s head shed would be thrilled to have crew driving off with lifeboats.”

  “My buddy Frank thinks the mainland was hit with an EMP, which caused everything we’re experiencing. Your cell phones work?”

  “I didn’t check.”

  “Don’t bother. None of them do. An EMP can do that to things. It fries electrical equipment. If Frank is right, no one will notice or care about a lifeboat that’s gone missing. Besides, conditions on this ship will deteriorate rapidly. It’s like a floating death trap.”

  “You’re starting to scare me big time. My brother and his wife are always talking about end-of-the-world stuff. I never believed any of it until now. Maybe this is bigger than the ship. If something like that is happening back at home, we’re screwed. I don’t want to be stuck on the ship either. Where will they take us?”

  “Who knows? Closest non-U.S. spot would be Bermuda, but the ship doesn’t have enough supplies to make it there. I would think they’re going to have to start limiting the amount of food people are being served. If I had to guess, I’d say the captain would probably head to the islands.”

  “You’re really serious.”

  “I’m serious. There’s no way I’m waiting to starve to death while my family is fighting for survival on shore. No way. You think about it. The lifeboat has plenty of room. If we decide to go, I’ll let you know.”

  “You guys know how to use one of those?”

  “Sure do. It’s how Frank and I met. We’re in the same lifeboat drill team. As part of our training, we’re required to be able to launch a boat without killing all the occupants.”

  Joe must’ve turned a few shades gray because Mike quickly added, “No worries. It’s not too hard at all. The boats can be launched by just a couple of people. We’ll be fine.”

  Mike put the two hot alcohol-laced coffees on the bar in front of Joe. The aroma from the coffee and alcohol brought a smile to Joe despite the situation.

  “You think about what I said. I’m sure Frank would be happy to have you guys join. But most of all, don’t say anything to anyone. I shouldn’t have been talking about it with you at all.”

  “No worries, man. Keep me posted if you hear anything.”

  “Will do.”

  Joe moved as quickly as possible to the breakfast buffet. The drinks were filled to the brim and then covered with whipped cream. Getting them to Meg without spilling any amount of the warm elixir would be tricky. His mind reeled from the news Mike had shared with him. The idea of seeking shelter from one port to the next without proper food provisions scared Joe. This sort of scenario never seemed to be an issue in the Navy because another ship could be called to rescue a disabled vessel long before the crew suffered from a lack of supplies. This was different. If something had triggered an EMP over the U.S., there would be no rescue operations launched and Joe knew it. The idea of stealing a lifeboat started to sound less and less crazy to him.

  — 9 —

  The aroma of cooked food overwhelmed Meg the moment she walked through the automatic sliding doors, causing her empty stomach to growl. On her way up to the restaurant, she thought eating might not be a possibility, but now that she was here, her body craved dense, heavy food. She walked past the bakery section of the line, taking note of the assortment of freshly baked muffins, scones and cookies. Everything looked fantastic. Meg just hoped she could enjoy it all, especially since it was her last meal onboard. She wasn’t looking forward to making her own food again.

  She grabbed two fresh orange juices and a glass of water from the beverage area. Over the week, she and Joe had learned that in order to stake their claim at a table, they needed to set drinks down a place keeper. Otherwise, other passengers would take their spot. Weaving through the crowded dining room with three drinks in hand was difficult. Another passenger stepped back unexpectedly, hitting her arm, causing the orange juice to slosh around and spill onto her hand. The large man, completely focused on obtaining the perfect made-to-order omelet, was oblivious to the mess he’d created.

  Joe and Meg preferred a small two-person table in the back of the restaurant. The dining room’s exterior walls were entirely made of glass, giving all seats in the room fantastic views of the sea. “Their table,” as they referred to it, in the back of the restaurant had a commanding view. In that area of the dining room the views were nearly one hundred and eighty degrees, allowing the passengers to look port and starboard as well as aft. Meg thought it was spectacular and loved every minute they sat in the restaurant. She had never been on a cruise before this one and now really understood why Joe loved the sea as much as he did. The vast expanse of the ocean calmed her in ways she could not describe.

  Making her way through the other hungry passengers to the back of the ship, she noticed their table was free. It took all of her strength not to make a dash to the gem of a spot in order to secure it one last time. As she approached, a small child walked over to the table and yelled, “How about this one, Mommy?” Her mind reeled as she looked around, trying to quickly find a substitute. “No, baby, that one’s too small. We need room for Daddy and Robby too.” The child floated away disappointed, leaving Meg the opportunity to snag the table.

  Settling into her usual seat, she sipped her juice and waited for Joe. Th
e cold sweet beverage felt great going down. After the night she’d had, she intended to drink as much liquid as possible to try to replenish what she’d lost to her bout of seasickness. Although she didn’t like getting sick, she was very relieved it was only the one time; for the rest of the trip, she’d felt fantastic.

  “I can’t believe this. We’re going to miss our flight! Are they going to pay for it?” yelled a woman at the next table to her companion.

  Meg always made an attempt not to listen in to other people’s conversations at restaurants. However, the woman spoke loudly in a heavy New York accent, her voice cutting through the other background noise in the restaurant and catching her attention.

  “Of course not! And the worst part about it is that we don’t even know when we’re getting in. And our damned phones don’t work! How can the captain not know when we’re getting in? It’s unbelievable. You wait until we get home, this cruise line is getting the worse review I have ever written. You’ll see!” yelled the man in an equally heavy New York accent.

  Meg wondered what the passengers were talking about. She thought they were due to enter the port in about an hour. Looking out to the vast ocean in front of her, it occurred to her that they did seem a little far away from port for getting in so soon. As she was trying to listen more intently to the conversations around her, Joe walked up to the table.

  “Hey, beautiful!” he said, putting the coffees in front of her.

  “Thanks, but I looked in the mirror this morning. I wouldn’t exactly call a face that was up half the night in a toilet beautiful, but I’ll accept the compliment,” she said dryly.

  “This should help!” said Joe, pushing her drink to her.

  Meg leaned over and inhaled the drink’s strong aroma. The heady mix of coffee and alcohol was an intoxicating combination.

  “Something weird is happening. I think we missed an important announcement from the captain. That couple over there was just talking about us not getting in on time. Did you hear anything from Mike?”