It took them over an hour to work their way up and down the four long rows. Jake recognised several seamen, as well as one of Lucya’s deputy navigators. Barry proved the most useful, identifying eighteen of his staff. Six worked in the theatre, backstage. Eight worked in the bars and shops, and the rest were from the casino. With every positive identification, Barry wept, silently.

After they had looked at the last unmarked corpse, Grau marched them back to the door. Jake noticed that he avoided passing in front of the last two bodies in the final row. He had no doubt that they were Ibsen and Hollen.

“Thank you gentlemen, I know that wasn’t easy,” Grau said once they were back outside. “I’d recommend going outside for some fresh air before doing anything else. The smell of death…well, it can hang around, stick in your nose.”

Jake was thinking. “There are too many. We can’t hold a memorial service for all of them at once. It will take too long, and logistically, we can’t bring up over two hundred bodies on deck.”

“Do the bodies have to be present? Can’t we just hold a service for the dead? All those who perished back home and here on the boat? We could do that in the theatre,” Barry said.

“We still have to dispose of the bodies,” Grau looked worried. “Keeping them in there much longer will present a health risk. You saw the flies.”

“We’ll have to send them overboard from the tender platform,” Jake said.

Melvin grimaced, but said nothing.

“It’s only one deck up, it will be more manageable. We’ll hold a service, tell the survivors that the deceased will receive a burial at sea, but we wont give any more information than that. Nobody needs to know the details. Grau, can you organise moving the bodies?”

“I can try, but there are only three of us in medical, and we are stretched as it is.”

“I can find you some men to help,” Barry chipped in. “Some of the bigger guys are used to heaving beer barrels and the like.”

“Bodies aren’t beer barrels. Are you sure they’ll be okay with this?” Jake wasn’t convinced.

“Don’t worry dude, I won’t ask just anyone. I’ve got a few people in mind, they’ll be discreet. I’ll send them down to you doc?”

Grau nodded.

“I’ll make the announcement then. Memorial service in the theatre in an hour,” Jake said. “See you guys later.”

Jake and Melvin headed back to the bridge as Barry wandered off somewhat in a daze. Grau returned to the cold store to clear up the mess on the floor.

Twenty-Eight

THE THEATRE WAS busy, but nowhere near as packed as it had been the previous day. A service to remember the dead wasn’t as big a draw as watching the apocalypse streamed live via satellite. The atmosphere was decidedly different too. The tense disbelief of twenty four hours ago had given way to resignation, but not quite despair. Those present talked in hushed whispers, as if the dead would somehow hear anything louder and be angry that it showed a lack of respect.

An elderly man in a black cassock took to the stage. He wore small round glasses, but no religious symbols of any kind. A lectern had been placed at the front of the stage, complete with microphone. The minister approached, tapped it twice sending muffled booming noises around the auditorium, and cleared his throat.

“Ladies, gentlemen, children, we have come together today, to celebrate the lives of those no longer with us.”

Someone in the front row burst into tears. Behind her, a child giggled, nervously.

The minster spoke for ten minutes, trying to cover all bases, all religious beliefs, as well as getting in a word for any atheists and those who might be on the fence about the whole matter. He managed to fill the time with words, yet without saying anything of any consequence. When it was over, nobody seemed quite sure if they should say “Amen”, or give a round of applause. So they did neither, and the minister shuffled off, back to wherever it was he had come from.

“That was…weird,” a woman at the back said to the person next to her.

“Yes. Maybe it helped some people. Gave them closure.”

“Hard to have closure without a burial.”

“True. You know what’s really weird though?”

“What’s that?”

“The captain. I mean, where is he? He announced this service, but he didn’t show his face. You’d think he could make the effort to honour those who died on his ship.”

Twenty-Nine

THE PHONE RANG. Jake had been dozing off, the sound jolted him awake. He looked at his watch, ten thirty. He looked over at Melvin expecting him to say something about sleeping on the job, but the man was slumped in a chair and snoring softly. He picked up the phone.

“Bridge.”

“Jake? Martin. We’re about to start the engines.”

“That’s…that’s really good news.”

“Yeah, whatever. Listen, there will probably be some vibration while we wind her up. Thought I’d better let you know in case anyone thinks the world’s ending, again.”

“Right, got it. Is there anything you need me to do? Can I help?”

“Nope, we’ve got it.”

A click, and the line went dead.

Jake looked around for Lucya, but she was nowhere to be seen. The idea of getting the ship underway sent a shiver of excitement through him. It was important not to get one’s hopes up, that he knew, but now the prospect of moving was imminent he couldn’t help himself.

There was a dull thud, Jake felt it through is feet more than he heard it. It was followed a few seconds later by another, then another. Then the vibrations started. Very low frequency at first, and very faint. Concentric circles formed on the surface of the unfinished orange juice in one of the glasses on the table.

“What’s happening?” Melvin was awake. He had gone as white as the icebergs outside.

“They’re starting the engines. The vibrations are normal.”

Jake picked up the handset on his console and his finger reached for the PA button. Another hand pushed it away.

“No,” Melvin said. “Let me do it.”

“What?”

“I’m here to represent the passengers, but nobody knows that. So we’ll kill two birds with one stone. I’ll announce the good news.”

“Oh I see, hero to the people?”

Melvin ignored him and grabbed the handset.

“How does this work anyway?”

“Speak into it like a telephone. Press this button to talk.”

Melvin took a deep breath. The colour was rapidly returning to his cheeks.

“Hello, this is, er, Melvin Sherwood. I am on the bridge representing all the passengers on board. I bring you good news. The vibrations you are probably feeling, are those created by the engines which are being restarted. We will shortly be leaving, returning to the land, to find out what has really happened in the world.”

Jake rolled his eyes, mouthed at Melvin: “Not shortly, at least another hour!”

Melvin turned away from him.

“We don’t know what we will find, and there are undoubtedly difficult times ahead, but I believe that together we will survive…”

Jake flicked off the PA button, silencing the system.

“What? Why did you do that? I hadn’t finished!”

“Yes, you had. This isn’t the time for any ‘I have a dream’ speeches, save those for later, when the going really does get tough.”

The vibrations had continued to grow in intensity, their frequency increasing too. The consoles on the bridge began to rattle alarmingly. Jake wondered if he should call down to the engine room, but thought better of it. Martin would take it badly, and besides, if there was a problem, the engineers were better off dealing with it than answering phone calls.