“Oh, really? No more right perhaps, but a lot more qualification! What does he know about running a ship? You think he understands everything it takes to keep this place going?”

“Of course not. But he doesn’t need to, there are plenty of people who do. Martin, Silvia, Claude, you.”

“Don’t count on me, I’m not spending a second helping him out.”

“It doesn’t matter, Dave probably will. And even if he doesn’t, we can’t go anywhere anyway. You know we’re all dead, it’s only a question of time now.”

“So that’s it? You’re just giving up?

“What else can I do, Lucya? What else can any of us do?”

“We fight! We work together! We find a way! We have the census. You know who’s on this ship? I’ve seen the lists! There are builders, carpenters, teachers, chefs, farmers, fishermen, mothers, doctors. We have every skill we need start again. We could build a home, a town. A city!”

“Where? The land is poisoned. There’s nowhere left to go. If the land this far north is like that, there is no more hope.”

“But there must be!” Lucya was crying now. She stood, looked up into Jake’s eyes. “I don’t want to die Jake. I don’t want you to die! I love you and I can’t let it end like this!”

The two of them looked at each other, motionless, neither sure what was about to happen next. They made up their minds at the exact same instant as they flung themselves together, the stress of the last few days fuelling their frenzied and passionate embrace. Two bodies sank onto the bed, and Jake knew he was no longer afraid of dying.

• • • • •

He awoke to the sound of Lucya getting dressed.

“No, don’t get up,” she said from the end of the bed. “I’m just going to my cabin to get some things. I’ll be back in five minutes. If you want me back, that is?”

He smiled. “Of course I want you back.”

She slipped out the door and was gone. Jake lay staring at the ceiling, trying to work out how he felt. He had loved Jane for as long as he could remember. They had met at university, got together the first week. He was devastated when they had separated. But deep down, he knew it was over. He had always known, if he was honest with himself. They wanted different things and had been growing apart for years. He had tried to blame it on the fact he was away at sea for so much of the year, but that was merely an excuse, things were no better when they were together. If anything, they were worse, the cracks were all too obvious. And then then was Lucya. Of course he had known how she felt about him, everyone knew, she was hardly subtle. And he was deeply attracted to her. But their rank on board, and their professionalism, not to mention Jake’s residual feelings for his wife, meant that nothing could ever come of their feelings.

But now? Now the world had changed, in so many ways. Time was running out, they were surely going to end their days on the ship in the weeks to come. So here it was, his last shot at happiness. He had shed his responsibilities, and he knew Lucya would never set foot on the bridge as long as Melvin was in charge. No, they would see our their remaining time as passengers on a cruise ship. They would savour every moment as though it was their last, knowing it really could be.

With that thought in mind, and a smile on his face, he got out of bed and strode into the tiny shower room. A heavy hammering on the door brought him out again.

“Okay, coming. Don’t break the door down! I know you’re eager to get back into bed.” He clasped the handle, swung the door inwards.

It wasn’t Lucya. Instead, he came face to face with two men. One looked Chinese. Shorter than himself, older too, with thinning hair. He was dressed in a Hawaiian shirt and Bermuda shorts. The other man was about the same height as Jake, but was of a more substantial build. He was blonde, blue eyed, with sharp features.

Both men were carrying guns. Jake recognised them as the semi automatic weapons from the secure cabinet on the bridge.

“Get some clothes on, you’re coming with us,” the blonde man said.

He spoke with a clipped accent. German, Jake thought. Or maybe Austrian. His mind was set racing. What could they need him for? He’d relinquished control. Did they need someone to pilot the ship? Pedro could do that, or any one of a number of sailors aboard.

“Why?” He asked.

The two men looked at each other, then back to Jake.

“Melvin said you weren’t very intelligent. Let’s see, two of us, armed. One of you, naked. I think we give the orders, and that you follow them, yes?”

“Or what, you’ll shoot me? I assume from your being here that you need me, so shooting me isn’t going to help, is it?”

“Not you. But your girlfriend? Ja, I could maybe shoot her.” The blonde man smiled, just a tiny bit. “I mean, after I’ve had some fun with her first.”

Jake felt the blood drain from his face.

“Ja, that got your attention, no? So now you’re thinking, maybe we’re bluffing?”

It was precisely what Jake was thinking, or at least hoping.

The blonde man continued. “But I can tell you that she left this cabin four minutes ago. He hair was a messy, and she was not wearing shoes.”

“Where is she now?”

“She is enjoying the company of my colleagues. Being reunited with Tania Bloom. So, if you want to see her alive again, I strongly recommend that you follow my earlier instruction.” The smile disappeared. “Get dressed, and come with us.”

The Chinese man nodded once. Jake turned and scrambled to find his clothes. They had been removed in haste, and were spread around the small cabin. A sock here, a shirt over there. With panic rising, he pulled on his trousers and shirt.

“Take me to her, now!” he shouted.

“No, not yet. You need to be dressed properly Mr Noah. Put some socks on, tuck your shirt in. Take your time.”

“What?”

“I said take your time. Your girlfriend is not going anywhere, she can wait.”

Jake didn’t understand, but he was in no position to argue. He put on the rest of his clothes, tidied himself up the best he could with his hands shaking.

“Shoes,” the blonde man said. “And your jacket, too.”

As soon as he was fully dressed, the Chinese man gestured with the barrel of his gun that Jake should step outside. He took one last look back at his cabin, he had a feeling he would never see it again. It wasn’t much, but it was home for much of the year. The clock radio next to his bed showed the time was 21:30. He and Lucya had slept for longer than he thought. He swallowed hard, shut the door, and looked at the blonde man.

“Where now?” he said.

“Follow me.”

Forty-Four

THE THEATRE WAS almost full, not quite as packed as three days ago when everyone had jammed in to witness the end of the world, but considerably busier than for the memorial service. A few seats remained empty, and there was plenty of standing room. Conversations were being held in hushed voices, there was a real air of anticipation, if not quite hope. On the stage stood a tall red haired man, and an equally tall but much more muscular and somewhat older man. It was the latter who spoke first. He had no microphone, but the acoustics were excellent in the well designed auditorium, and he projected his powerful voice into every corner. As soon as he began to speak, the crowd fell silent, devouring his every word.

“Ladies, gentlemen, allow me briefly to introduce myself. My name is Flynn Bakeman I’m here this evening as an independent moderator. The purpose of our time here is to elect someone to take charge of this ship now that the captain has stepped down. I think everyone will agree that this should be done quickly, efficiently, and democratically. This gentleman to my side is Melvin Sherwood. Many of you will already have met Melvin, he has been working with the bridge crew representing passenger interests. Now, if we can get things underway, can I ask anyone who intends to stand against Melvin to come and join us on the stage. If there are too many candidates we will probably need to hold two rounds of voting. So please, come and join us if you wish to stand for election as captain.”