I gasped for air, each breath coming harder and more painful than the last. My vision began to darken around the edges, and I could feel the pain halting my chest. Desperately, I clawed at my throat, as if somehow that would help me draw in the oxygen I so desperately needed.
In my frantic movements, my fingers brushed against something smooth and familiar. It was wrapped around my neck, cold and metallic—a breather. I didn't know how it had gotten there, but I wasn't about to question it. With trembling hands, I pulled the mask over my face and took a deep breath. The rush of oxygen was like a lifeline, and I could feel my lungs gratefully expanding as air finally flowed in.
As I caught my breath, I sank to my knees, clutching the breather to my face. My thoughts were slowly reorganizing themselves, letting me take in the view of frozen raindrops still hanging in the air around me, glistening like strange, suspended stars. It was surreal, like being caught in a waking dream, and I couldn't shake the feeling that it was only the beginning of this blizzard. Using the guard rails of the ship, I pulled myself up from my knees as my head splash the raindrops that froze above me.
Not long after, noises started coming from the communication device of the breather, which was already synchronised with the rest of the ship crew's frequency. Turning my head, I see the others emerging onto the deck with their own masks. They looked around in confusion and panic, their faces pale and eyes wide with fear. Even though they had trained for this situation as a ship crew, it was still a day anyone would dread to ever deal with.
They moved with purpose, shouting commands and instructions through the communicators embedded in their breathers. The devices crackled with frantic voices, each trying to assert control or make sense of the disorienting environment.
"We need to slow the ship down!" one of the senior officers called out, their voice barely cutting through the static-filled chatter. "We're too deep in the blizzard, we'll have to anchor and wait it out."
Crew members rushed to their posts, their movements quick but fraught with tension. The deck was a flurry of activity as they tried to carry out their orders amidst the surreal stillness of the frozen rain and the eerie glow of the ship's emergency lights. The air was thick with the sound of boots clanging against metal, the distant hum of the ship's engines, and the ever-present howl of the storm which lacked the sound of falling raindrops.
Despite their training, the situation was anything but orderly. The communicators buzzed with overlapping voices—some issuing commands, others calling for assistance, and many simply expressing confusion and fear. It was a flurry of sound, a reflection of the mounting panic that was taking hold of the crew and passengers alike.
"Engineering team, kill the turbines! We need to drop anchor!" barked a voice over the comms, struggling to be heard. "All hands, brace for turbulence!"
"Someone get those anchors down, now!" another voice cut in, the urgency palpable even through the garbled connection.
"Does anyone have eyes on the starboard side? We need to check for any damage!" came a frantic query, met with only static and fragmented replies.
I glanced back at the door I had come through, and there they were, Kath, Void, and Ash, just stepping onto the deck. Ash's eyes were wide, her expression a mix of concern for not only her own well being, but even protectiveness for the rest of the group, standing in front of them as they stepped out.
