Emilia

Tuesday, April 19th, 2022 (Four weeks after the Shutdown)

Emilia tinkered, trying to reconnect and organize the generator. The cables were all connected, just like they were supposed to be. They had replaced all of the resistors and amplifiers, cleaned the circuit board, and soldered new wires.

Even after a month of being stranded at sea no one could find out what was wrong with the ship.

The first officer of the cargo ship, Mr. Daniels kept sending people down to the lower decks in rotation for the past couple of weeks, trying to identify the problem. When Mr. Chase, the Chief Engineer of the ship, finally threw his hands up in defeat it finally sunk in for everyone.

There was no hope of rescue.

It took another ration cut for their hope to be replaced by desperation.

Hearing a sharp blast, Emilia threw her wrench down in frustration and walked up onto the deck.

A host of activities had sprung up after the last ration cut. Men were pulling water from the sea, and dumping it in empty jugs and plastic boxes for it to be boiled and desalinated. People were lowered close to the water to fish for food. And since their supplies were decreasing, the officers had relented and let them loot some of the cargo containers.

Everyone, including them, was holding out hope that one of the containers would have food.

“Yo Emilia, Atticus wants to talk to you. He’s on the upper deck.”

Nodding, she hurried up to the deck, wary of his infamous temper. Climbing up the stairs, Emilia looked back across the ship. The pristine order that Captain Oliver was obsessed with had eroded as people had grown tired of caring about stupid rules. Some people had gotten so bored that they willingly chose to pick up everyone’s slack and do the chores.

The Chief Engineer was sitting on a chair, reading an instruction manual. Which was sort of amusing given he hadn’t raised a finger to help.

Putting down his book, he frowned. “Took you long enough. What did you learn from your inspection?”

“... A theory,” she said, plainly.

Gesturing for her to continue, Emilia compiled. “Do you remember the Flare? I was wondering why our flashlights work, but things like our phones don’t. So, I thought it was because some of the components were fried during the initial event. Following that, since our generators and energy come from electrical components, maybe we have to replace the fried components. If we can find ones that haven’t been ruined yet, we still have a chance to turn on the generators and finally reach Seattle!”

Raising an eyebrow, Atticus sighed and picked his book back up.

“An interesting theory but one that we’ve already thought about. We don’t have any spare parts.”

“But we could strip some of the systems that we aren’t using to—”

“Stop. We’ve barely managed to repurpose the ship’s filtration system to take in salt water but you’re suggesting that we risk tampering with it and lose that? That’s reckless and foolhardy. We are low on bunker fuel to keep all the electric facilities running, we’re low on batteries, on everything.”

“B-But we can try…”

Heavy footsteps behind her made her stop.

“Ah Marcus, perfect timing. Thank you for coming.”

Emilia felt her body go rigid at the mention of that name.

A large shadow covered her. Spinning around, she saw the beady eyes, a bald head, and a permanently fixed sneer that she loathed.

"You called for me, Chief?"

"Yes," he replied. Looking at Emilia, he waved her away. "That will be all for now."

Nodding, she ran down the stairs, not desperate to stay a second more than was necessary. Why are they together? Her memory flashed back to their secret meeting the day of the Flare when she was eavesdropping.

No, that’s a dangerous assumption. Why would they go as far as plotting?

***

With the majority of their batteries having been used up, the crew’s curfew came and went with the sun but many slipped out for a smoke or to enjoy the view of the sunset. Emilia sat on the railings of the ship’s stern, watching as it lit up the horizon one last time.

“I can never get tired of this view,” a voice behind her said.

Flinching, she reflexively let go of the rails and slipped forward, where nothing but ocean awaited her.

Gasping aloud as someone caught her by the collar and pulled her back, her body rolled across the floor before finally coming to a stop. Sprawled across the deck, she saw her father looking down with raised eyebrows.

“What the heck was that?” he quizzed, his voice bordering on confusion and anger.

“You came out of the blue!” Emilia protested, propping herself onto her elbows. “You’re usually asleep by now, el viejo!”

“Old man? Oh, the misery! My own daughter has resorted to such name-calling. Where did I go wrong?” he cried out, pretending to swoon.

“Dad, no one is here to watch you.”

Freezing, he relaxed and stretched out his limbs. “But whatcha think? Pretty good right? Maybe even Oscar-worthy?”

“Please,” she smirked. “The only way you would ever win is if the jurors were blind, deaf, and completely tasteless.”

“Ouch,” her father chuckled.

His eyes fell back on the setting sun, and he relapsed into silence. “Hard to believe it’s only been a month. It’s felt like it's been years since we left Osaka.”

Sitting up, she glanced at the wistful look on her father’s face. What's he thinking about now? Or is he homesick like me?

This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.

"Dad, let's go inside. It’s starting to get cold," she said, lightly pulling on his jacket's sleeve.

But he didn't budge. Looking over her shoulder, she watched the lines on his weathered face morph into disbelief. With wide eyes, he pointed in the opposite direction of the horizon.

"Tell me if I'm wrong but that's… that’s land," he said in a hushed tone as if he was skeptical of his own words.

Following his finger, she watched with bated breath, eager to see her father’s words proven true. Nothing.

“Are you sure it isn’t a trick of the light—”

“LOOK! What did I say?! I told you!” he cried, grinning from ear to ear.

As her father broke into a little dance, Emilia rushed to the bow of the ship and pressed herself against the rails. Sure enough, a small black speck was at the center of the ocean, gradually growing larger as the boat drifted toward it.

Holy shit, he wasn’t joking.

A flurry of emotions ran through her: surprise, anger, fatigue, and above all, joy. The excitement of finally talking to people other than a bunch of sweaty men — and Katherine — made her grin like a madman.

Home… we’re finally going to make it home. Oh, God. Thank God. I’m gonna pulverize the pendejos who didn’t even come to rescue us. One whole month and they still couldn’t send a boat out for us.

Smirking at her father, “Dad we should sue the Masidal Corp for s— Dad?”

Her father turned to her at her abrupt stop. “What? What happened to your big idea?”

I thought I just saw something, she pondered, staring at a nearby cargo container.

Slowly, creeping towards it, she peeked around the corner and found… nothing. Well, that was anticlimactic — oh.

“Emilia, what is it?” her father called out.

A single-edged blade was sticking out from under the shipping container.

Quickly bending down to inspect it before her father arrived, she tucked it in her jeans tucked it under and spun around, smiling as her father approached her with a worried look.

“No, it’s nothing. I-I might’ve mistaken something,” she stuttered, blocking the knife from view.

Raising an eyebrow, he shook his head and beamed, “Alright, alright, keep your secrets then. Let’s tell the rest of the crew before it's too dark!”

Practically skipping towards the cabin as he disappeared from view, Emilia withdrew the knife and studied it. It was crudely made as if it was from scrap materials and its hilt was bound in red fabric. Why is this here? Flecks of rust speckled the blade. Bringing it closer, she grimaced.

At least I hope it's only rust.

***

Despite being dragged from the comfort of their beds, no one was complaining because, for the first time in forever, they had hope.

Night fell quickly in the Pacific and though sunset was only an hour ago, the ship was filled with a thick, black fog making traversing the ship difficult. Especially when all of the lanterns were spread only in the front of the ship like it was a festival.

“Make this count!” the captain yelled from the front of the ship. “We have to let them know we’re out here! Keep a few batteries aside and bring the rest of the lanterns up to the front!”

“Captain, I got a steel bowl! We can use it to direct the light towards the island!” a crew member cried, as he ran past Emilia.

Emilia was swept up in the chaotic rush as people grouped up to find reflective objects. Grabbing a large sheet of metal from between two containers, she dragged it behind her, ignoring the cacophony it produced as it rubbed against the deck. Propping it behind the lanterns, the entire ocean was suddenly awash in light.

“Yes! That’s what I’m talking about, Emilia! Keep it coming boys!”

They ripped out mirrors and anything that shone and after careful adjustments, the light rays from the lanterns managed to reach 50 meters in front of the ship. With excitement fueling them, Emilia and the rest of the crew hung on to the rails, waiting to see the island in all its glory.

“Mr. Daniels, I thought we would see the island by now…” one of the crew said to the elderly First Officer.

“Based on when Juan alerted us, I would’ve expected us to see it by now. The naked human eye can see 3 miles in front of it, and given our current pace and time, we should’ve at least reached the shallows,” the First Officer mused, rubbing his unkempt beard. “I’m not sure what’s happening.”

Waiting in bated breath, their patience didn’t disappoint. As clear as day, the yellow sands of shoals surrounding the island appeared. Emilia flinched as cheering erupted onboard with a couple of them collapsing into tears as if they couldn’t believe the month-long period as castaways had come to an end.

But how the heck are we going to moor the ship without any ports?

Opening her mouth to voice her concern, the ship suddenly shifted under their feet, knocking everyone off balance.

Unsteadily standing up, she grabbed one of the fallen lanterns and rushed to the edge.

With no light available aside from her own, her sight was useless so she went by sound. Closing her eyes, she listened to the sound of waves lapping the shore. We have to be close if it's this loud. Searching for a mirror she grabbed a broken piece. Now let’s see what we’re dealing with.

Multiple voices started to grumble behind her as the rest of the crew dragged themselves to their feet.

“Are we on the beach?” Jefferson mumbled. “Someone turn the lights back on.”

… no, this is… this isn’t the sound of waves on a beach. It sounds more violent as if…

Using the broken mirror to focus the lantern, her stomach dropped.

A sheer rock face stood tall against the crashing waves, rising to the height of the ship.

Shaped by the constant waves and wind of the Pacific, signs of erosion were clear as deep cracks raced up and down the rock wall, with hardy plants taking refuge within them. Below, white froth whipped up from the constant deluge of waves and washed over a cluster of rugged boulders with edges sharp enough to cut through the hull of the ship.

We’d be sinking if we weren’t stopped by a sandbar. How—

“ — are we going to get on the island now?” a man next to her asked.

More and more people came to the rails and voiced the same concern.

“We can try and put a bridge across,” another crew member suggested. “But I don’t think we have any strong enough materials.”

If we disconnect one of the catwalks and bring it over here, it should be long enough and at the right level.

The catwalks that crossed the cargo holds were made of multiple different sections. If she could just disconnect one of them, it might be enough to cross the chasm between the cliff and the front of the ship.

Calling over Katherine to help her, By the time she finished unscrewing a section, the Captain had sent others to assist after realizing their plan. Silence met them as they hauled it back; faces filled with anticipation greeting them.

Carefully placing it across and checking if it was secure, they stepped back. But no one moved to cross it.

Even though they’d been stranded at sea for a month, the fear of falling from the bridge and smashing onto the rocks below, outweighed the prospect of setting foot on land.

“Screw this, I’ll cross first,” someone from behind her scowled.

Pushing past Emilia, he grabbed one of the lanterns and slowly crossed. Each creak made her heart skip a beat, and the crashing of the waves below in the darkness reminded her what her fate would be if she fell. After what felt like an eternity later, he set foot on the other side.

“Oi, I’m still alive! It’s fine to cross.”

Emilia sighed in relief. One by one, the crew took turns crossing until everyone had set foot on land for the first time in a month. Collapsing in relief, she kissed the ground, her lips brushing against the rough texture of the cliff.

Thank god…

Except for Mr. Daniels and a couple who were surprisingly wary of the new land, the rest of the crew eagerly agreed to camp on land for the night, tired of the cramped and debilitating quarters.

Orders were issued and the crew promptly started bringing supplies from the ship, hustling back and forth between the ship and the cliff as if the month’s worth of fatigue had evaporated. Studying their sudden bout of energy, Emilia was mesmerized by the rest of the crew.

I guess there’s no need to save our energy anymore.

Gazing at the boundless beauty of the stars, she smiled to herself.

Finally.