It was the large swell as the ship entered the latitudes south of forty degrees that had stirred the tremendous seasickness she never knew existed. The cruise ship doctor, worried about a spread of gastroenteritis, had quarantined her in the honeymoon cabin. For eight hours they had come to check up on her constantly, being more of an annoyance than of any real benefit. Then, she’d been given a series of painful antiemetic injections, which had finally allowed her stomach to settle, and then she slept almost continuously for the past forty eight hours.
Since then, no one had come to check up on her. Despite her multiple calls to every service department she could think of, her calls went unanswered. She dried her curly brown hair. Then pulled on a pair of black denim jeans, a white tank top, and dark green skivvy. Her myriad of freckles reached to her small dimples, giving her face a cute, albeit erroneous, appearance of innocence. She didn’t put makeup on. Never wore any. Didn’t need to — and if she did, still wouldn’t have. As a scientist she didn’t care for vanities. She forced herself to smile — even to her, it looked contrived; the sorrow of a lost puppy unmistakable in her otherwise striking green eyes. She tied the laces to her boots, opened the door and stepped out into the empty hallway.
She was on her honeymoon — and all alone.
Chapter Two
The Antarctic Solace was an eight hundred and twelve-foot adventure cruise ship. Designed specifically for navigating waters in some of the world’s most remote and inhospitable destinations, including both of earth’s Polar Regions. The 85,072 ton vessel boasted a strengthened hull with a Lloyd’s Register ice-class notation 1A for passenger ships, authorizing her to take commercial passengers to areas otherwise reserved for icebreakers.
She spent the summer months in each polar region providing luxury travel in the lucrative trade of Arctic and Antarctic adventure. This was the last of her trips in the southern hemisphere for the season, and probably a little too late. She carried a hundred and fifty paying guests and nearly twice that many crew and entertainers to ensure her passengers experienced the world’s best in luxury cruising.
Alexis took a few steps down the empty passageway without falling. She smiled. Perhaps I’m finally getting my sea legs? At the end of the passageway she paused and looked back. No one had stopped her yet. She felt slightly nervous. Like a school girl sneaking out in the middle of the night on camp to meet a boy, she half expected one of the staff to catch her at any moment and send her straight back to her stateroom.
But no one came.
She tentatively looked over her shoulder where she had just come from and then started to climb the stairs towards the sixth level. Her stateroom was situated near the very front of the ship, on the portside of the bow. She headed towards the aft of the ship. The main restaurant stood empty. It was often filled to bursting with exceptional food, delivered in both buffet style and a la carte — three times a day. Each sitting provided a two-hour window to enjoy the food. There was unique and even finer dining on top deck above, but this was where the main meals were served.
Alexis looked at the empty restaurant. She didn’t wear a wrist watch, but could tell instantly that the time was outside one of those three meal windows. She’d never seen the place so vacant. Normally there’s a straggler who’s simply remained to have a coffee, or finish reading the newspaper. But today the place was completely empty.
She walked inside. Past the rows upon rows of stainless steel buffet serving tables and dispensers, all empty and polished clean so that the metal shined in preparation of the next meal sitting. At the end of the room she stopped before the kitchen door.
Her eyes glanced at the small opening where special orders were delivered to picky passengers. People who didn’t like the normal, delicious food. Vegans, people who were gluten-free or had allergies to everything, and just plain whiners. During meal times the place was filled with chefs working vigorously to meet the demands of the passengers whose vociferous appetites for perfection drove them to work ever harder. Between meal times, you could ordinarily catch the occasional chef coming and going, or some of the junior kitchen staff performing the menial tasks of food preparation for the next sitting. Today, she saw no one.
She tentatively ducked her head into the kitchen window, hoping to catch someone who could make her something more interesting than the diet of plain toast and water, which she’d subsisted on for the past three days. “Hello. Excuse me…” she said.
No response.
“Is anyone there?”
Silence.
Well that’s odd. Where is everyone?
Alexis continued walking aft. She was tempted to take the stairs up to the seventh level — where the finest foods in the world were served at a premium price, twenty-four hours a day. She would have too, if it wasn’t for her fear that the deliciously rich gourmet meals would irritate her empty stomach and send her back to her stateroom in a quarantined status.
Behind the restaurant the ebony grand piano stood alone in an empty bar. The racks of alcohols used to blend expensive cocktails hung in preparation for the drunken revelers who would soon follow. Alexis guessed it must be before 1130, because that’s when the pianist started. The bar usually didn’t gather many patrons until then.
On her first day, before the sea sickness caught her, she had met James there. He was a Jazz pianist from New Orleans, playing music on the grand piano. He was a passenger but the staff let him play, and a crowd quickly formed to listen. Like everyone else, he appeared to have slept in today.
Alexis kept walking aft of the great ship, past the empty library. She stopped at the concierge and on shore adventure desk. A little yellow sign with a handwritten note stared blankly at her in the middle. She picked it up and read the note — back in fifteen minutes.
It reassured her nothing terrible had happened. No one bothers to leave a note if they’re abandoning a ship.
She took a seat at the desk and waited. After a few minutes she stood up and laughed at herself. What was I thinking? A ship like the Antarctic Solace, with modern technologies and a reinforced steel icebreaking hull, doesn’t just break apart at sea, or lose all its passengers to some freak accident while leaving everything perfectly intact. She was being overly paranoid. There was a perfectly logical explanation for where everyone had disappeared to. And she would discover it at any moment.
Alexis considered the only places aboard that could draw so many people away from the main areas of the ship. There was only one that she could think of — the theatre.
Maybe there’s a big performance in the theatre? The entertainment department boasted some of the best shows of any cruise ship, ranging from current best-selling musicians to performances by Cirque du Soleil. The name struck a chord in her memory. She looked at the entertainment’s board. Cirque du Soleil was on the list. They must be performing today, and drawing big crowds.
Of course, Cirque De Soleil was performing. This must be the day for the main show. She didn’t even consider why the main performance would be showing during the morning, when traditionally they were always performed in the evenings. Even so, she couldn’t get past the impending sense that some great calamity had affected everyone aboard the ship with herself the only exception.
Alexis continued to walk towards the back of the ship. Next to the empty library a door labeled Fitness Center was closed. Ordinarily she wouldn’t have taken notice, but the series of strange events had led to a heightening of her senses.