A getaway to Bikini Atoll

It was a vacation cruise that many would consider themselves blessed to even be on board, a year long world cruise to tour the different ports of the world. A journey that allowed them to venture the world with gourmet dining and with hotel-like hospitality; it was simply heaven. Then without warning, the waves became intense, thrashing the vessel without mercy. It was almost like a billion candles suddenly lit up on Earth, a dozen suns vaporized cities without warning. Even being far away from the blasts, one could still taste metal.

On the Mystery of the Seas, the floating city had been ransacked. The cruise ship’s casino, shops and restaurants lay empty, completely shuttered, never to reopen. The carpets and furniture were all reduced to scrap, transformed into valuable spare parts for the ship’s workshops.

In less than 2 weeks, the decks and passageways, once filled with laughter from partying young adults and bickering drunk retirees, fell silent. Throughout the ship, faint banging could be heard; restless passengers pounded on the steel bulkheads to be let out. They had become prisoners, trapped with no knowledge that their life back on land had been forever destroyed; the internet was destroyed by the initial EMP blast. The lucky ones were trapped in luxury suites, with plenty of room to walk around and exposure to sunlight; those inside the bowels, became battery cage chickens.

“Good morning ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls.”

A calm voice echoed throughout the guest areas of the ship.

“This is your captain speaking, we are still trying to combat the meningitis outbreak on the ship, so please be patient and wait until the quarantine status has been lifted.”

He regathered his thoughts.

“We also apologise for the extended Wi-Fi outage. Our engineers are working tirelessly to restore connectivity. In the meantime, all onboard entertainment has been made complimentary.”

Captain Evans switched off the intercom. He readjusted his neatly pressed collar in the reflection of the bridge’s window. His posture, uniform and voice all remained intact; the world did not. How long more can we hold onto this charade? When will they figure this out? He reflected. Had the passengers known the truth, it would have been anarchy. His responsibility to ensure that his 3000 paying customers on board had a good time had been elevated into keeping the remnants of civilization afloat.

The Captain walked briskly back to his navigation station; he checked the electronic chart once again. They will reach Asia in a week’s time, and hopefully the nations there would have survived the war. The crew attempted to communicate with various port authorities around the Americas and Europe, but there was no response. Even as the ship navigated around the horn of Africa, not even radio static was picked up. We may have enough food to make it to New Zealand if there’s no life left in Asia, he thought. If not, we’re done for.

“Captain!”

His train of thought was interrupted. A junior officer rushed towards him, breathless.

He pointed at the radio.

“Radio contact, another vessel. They’re requesting trade.”

Evans was already moving. The two made a beeline to the signal set, and the captain brushed past the operator to wear the other available headset.

“This is the MV Arkhangelsk,” the headset crackled to life. “We are requesting ships nearby to trade with us medicines such as Prussian Blue and DTPA. We need 20kg each, our ship was close to the contamination zone.”

Evans brought the receiver to his mouth.

“This is the MV Mystery of the Seas. We do not have the medicines requested as we are a cruise ship. We do however require additional food and we are willing to trade anything for it.”

He waited with bated breath.

“MV Mystery of the Seas, we are in no mood to trade for anything else, we have 15 men dying from radiation poisoning.” The radio crackled again. “Leave us alone.”

Captain Evans was silent. “Carry on lad,” he muttered.

Interior stateroom country was nothing short of pandemonium. Imprisoned passengers banged against their doors, begging to be let out. Pained screaming and moaning permeated throughout the deck. They could not accept their confined state for another day; 2 weeks was far too long. Those that were still sane tapped the walls with short and long taps to communicate; messages were sent to their neighbours via morse code. The tension was palpable as the crew members made their rounds distributing breakfast rations. The security escort even had to bring tasers, just in case there was resistance.

Room 1561. The dining attendant read. She readjusted her N95 facemask and cleared her throat; she knocked on the door thrice.

“Sir, please calm down, we have brought your breakfast.”

“I want out, I want to get the fuck out of here,” his muffled voice ripped through the door.

He gave a powerful kick to the door, but it barely budged.

The dining attendant winced.

“I’ll take it over from here,” a security officer came to her side. “Sir please comply or there will be no food for 48 hours.”

He stopped banging. Using his master keycard, the security guard opened the door; out from the shadows came a dirty, unshaved middle-aged man. His hands were covered in bruises and sores, and he raised them to show he was holding no weapons.

The girl took out a tray and placed them by his foot. Saliva drooled from his mouth, and he quickly lifted up the cover; there was only three slices of bread, a single boiled egg and a tiny blister pack of jam.

He exploded. “This is the third time the food has been reduced! We used to be able to eat as much as we wanted, but when this quarantine started we could only order a main course and an appetizer. Then 5 days later it was just the main course only," he kicked away the tray of food. "What’s next, only bread and water?”

The lady hid behind her protector.

“Sir, comply and go back inside now,” the security guard commanded, unholstering his nightstick.

“This quarantine is bullshit! I have my rights, I want to go home! I want to be with my dog!" He took a step out of the room.

“Get back in now!” The security guard tackled him and threw him back inside the cabin. The other available guards descended upon them, restraining and handcuffing the detainee. Similar scenes unfolded in the other decks of interior stateroom country, across the ship.

Back at the bridge, Evans was quietly napping; his exhaustion was so great that the moment he sat down on his chair, he had fallen asleep basking in the afternoon light. As he slept, his first officer ran over to alert him.

“Captain, wake up, it’s urgent.”

He snapped awake. “What happened?”

“We can not sustain our rationing. Engineering can not fix the coolant system for the fridges.”

She wore a grim expression on her face.

“Almost half of our food will spoil, we will run out in 5 days with our current rationing.”

Beneath his cool face was a storm of frustration, worry and anxiety. “How much do we have left Zhang? How much is still edible?”

“We only have five tons of meat left, ten tons of vegetables, and fifteen tons of bread, pasta and rice left,” she looked down. “I’m afraid that we need to get rid of some passengers should our we not find life in Asia.”

“What do you mean Zhang?”

“Captain, we only have two choices if we want to survive beyond Asia,” Zhang took out her notebook from her breast pocket. She flipped to a list of occupations.

“Captain, take a look at this. We will reveal the truth to passengers that can be useful to the ship’s existence, with skills and professions listed here. We will recruit them to help keep the ship operational. Now those that have no value to us, you have two options.”

She flipped to the next page, there were flowcharts neatly drawn.

“Either, we starve them out, so no more running water and food. We basically lock them inside their cabins and leave them to die. Or, if you’re feeling guilty about the idea of leaving so many to die like a dog trapped in a hot car, we can fake an evacuation.”

Evans took offense at those words, but said nothing yet.

“We will get the crew to evacuate the useless ones door by door. We will pack the lifeboats and launch them, so at least we can give them some agency and dignity in their own survival.”

The captain’s eyes betrayed his unmoved exterior; he was staring straight ahead, beyond his fellow mariner.

“I can not do any of these, there has to be another way. We may be the last vestiges of civilization. If we kill off the disabled and disadvantaged, then all hope for humanity is truly lost. We are no better than the politicians that nuked everything to oblivion. Everyone must survive.”

“But Captain, surely you must understand that trying to keep everyone alive will get us all killed? What if all of Asia has become irradiated? We will be reduced to eating each other by the time we even reach the Indian ocean.”

The old man clenched his fists. “Listen very carefully Zhang,” he said gravely. “I am the Captain, I make the final decisions here, do not question my authority. Go get the safety command center to shift from planning contingencies to saving the food in the failed fridges.”

He looked at the other crew members standing around.

“Get the safety officers to figure out a way to prevent a potential food poisoning crisis, and make all available hands to cram the working fridges full now.”

“Right away Captain.”

Zhang walked away. He doesn’t have the strength to do what must be done. Zhang clasped her hands together as she moved to the command center. She must devise a scheme, or else everyone will perish. The officer began thinking about the stratagems that the great generals of the past would have used. How do I deceive the heavens to cross the sea?

Returning to his private quarters, Evans made a sign of the cross and prayed. Lord, please give me the strength to do the right things. After finishing his short prayer, he began recalculating the calorie allowance he allocated to his passengers.

After executing the Captain's orders, Zhang made her way down to personally inspect the salvage operations; she began tampering with the food trolleys when no one was looking. Earlier, she had gathered a list of violent passengers from a sympathetic Master at arms and their staterooms. They would be her darlings, doing the dirty work. So when no one was around to look, she placed instructions and master keycards underneath the plates of designated trays that she knew would get to her ‘agents.’

The sun had fully disappeared over the horizon. The ocean waters, a giant mirror, gleamed off light from the twinkling stars; the galaxies were no longer masked by man made light.

The security detail usually opened ten doors at a time to speed up service, but they only had a force of eight men per deck. It was a quiet night.

Too quiet.

Even Room 1561 was hushed. Not a single thump was made. Still like clockwork, unsuspecting dining room attendants took out their master keycards and opened the doors.

All of a sudden, stateroom furniture hurtled out of the door. Some rushed out to directly confront their captors with toothbrush shivs, drawing all of the security guards to them in the crowded passageway. Those that were not busy resisting ran down the passageway like crazy, unlocking all of the doors; they had unleashed the mob. The security officers, who had years of experience in military and paramilitary roles, were powerless and outnumbered by hundreds of people. Within minutes, deck 15 was under the control of the mutinee.

Evans wolfed down his chunk of two-ounce steak alone in his quarters. Between the occasional sips of black coffee, steak cutting and chewing, there was complete silence. Suddenly, the telephone on his desk rang.

“Captain, please come to the safety command centre now, a mutiny has broken out on deck 15.”

Evans placed the handset back into the receiver and bolted out of the door; he rushed into the bridge and pulled the curtain to the command center. Officers scrambled back into their workstations, some were making calls to the other ship departments, while others typed furiously on their desktops. Everyone was unfazed as the Captain walked over. His first officer was busy managing her section.

“What’s going on Zhang?”

“The situation is that hundreds of passengers have escaped their cabins in deck 15,” she appeared exasperated. “They are armed, violent and have barricaded themselves using their furniture. They have already killed crew members.”

Evans stood rigid, his eyes glued to the screen of monitors. There was blood everywhere in the livefeed, the throngs of mutineers packing the passageways with improvised weapons.

“Everyone listen up!” He ordered. “We are shutting down deck 15, we are going to contain the mutiny before we send in the response. Send fire patrols to deck 14 and 16 in case the mutineers try to burn down the deck, and get medical to prepare for a mass casualty event.”

Evans picked up the telephone directly connected to the engineering department.

“Engineering, seal deck 15 with all of the watertight bulkheads now, and cut off the lighting, even the emergency lights.”

Steel partitions abruptly cut through the crowds like a knife to hot butter; they were boxed in. Then, the light was cut off, leaving them in total darkness. The live feed switched over to infrared vision, the crowds grew panicked.

Evans then pointed at a junior officer at his workstation. “Get me the Master at arms on the phone,” he ordered.

The old man hurried over to speak with the chief of security on the line.

“Security, use any means necessary to stop the mutiny. Get every available member of security to assist. We can not let them take further control.”

Evans placed the phone down and continued watching, until an allegro of gunfire tore the rebels into a bloody mess. They were all slaughtered in a rhythmic, controlled manner. Evans looked away, his stomach left uneasy and churning from the gore; tears streamed down his face. Why did it have to come to this? Why God?

Zhang was still glued to the screen as she made calls to various heads around the ship. Step one is done; now it’s time for step 2, she anticipated.

Morning had broken, the ship continued operations as normal despite the incident. It was much lighter now as corpses were thrown overboard. In fact it was more survivable; there was more food to go around.

Evans walked around the bridge to check the ship’s course. They were travelling faster than expected; other than that, everything else was according to plan. Evans peered over the endless sparkling water, when Zhang came up to him.

“Captain, I have something I want to pass you.”

It was a list of passengers, with their information drawn from the manifest.

“If I may, I would like to conduct an investigation of what happened last night. We could learn from this, we could even figure out what makes these passengers highly problematic.”

She paused.

“We can even weed them out early before it's too late.”

He turned his head over to her.

“I don’t want what happened last night to happen ever again.”

“Neither do I Evans.” She said calmly. “With your permission, we can compile a list of passengers to take out, so that we can continue to maintain order.”

His response was steady.

“Get going then.”

Bingo; the plan is in progress.