USS Apocalypse

Miami Part 3

Per-click

Per-click

Mitchel Caliendo expected this to be the end. This would be the last time he would ever hear the annoying sound of Ryan Lesley and Evan Clacher playing pool after their all-night shift. Last night would be the last time Mitch ever heard RadDude bust the Bass, playing some lit tunes. The last time he ever saw Corrine groan over the new batch of children while Amy glowed. The last time his stately leader, the Captain, ever shook his hand.

Mitch opened his eyes into the forever that succeeded yesterday's for now, and found something entirely different than he expected.

He'd imagined the sound of pool balls clacking together, an eerie silence piercing through the usual industrial drone of the nearby engines. Mitch sat up and got dressed, glancing at his bags that had been packed the night before. It was only 6:02am, so he decided to get some breakfast before heading down and disembarking the ship for good.

No one was in the hallways, strangely enough. It was usually bustling with people, getting ready to go be waiters or clean a room. But no, the hallways were empty. 

Mitch rode the elevator up to the lido deck, looking around the kitchen. Why was... no one there? 

He walked out into the main dining area and spotted a few scared looking tourists sitting near the window, looking down at the port. The sun was low on the horizon. Mitch frowned, wondering what was up, then turned to see a lone employee standing at he the omelet bar: Umar.

Mitch approached him cautiously. "Good morning, Umar," he greeted, getting a nod back in return. "So, where is everybody?"

Umar shrugged. "Beats me. They all know that something is wrong, though."

"Wait, something's wrong?" Mitch shot back, half sarcastically, but half earnest. There was something unnerving in the air, but he didn't know what it was. "Where are the other attendants?"

"In their rooms, I think. Or down on the observation deck," Umar replied. "I'm surprised Jordan didn't call you yet..."

Mitch frowned, glancing back out the window at what seemed to be a perfectly normal, overcast day. "What is it then? What happened?!"

Umar took a deep breath and lowered his voice. "There's no one on land. Our last communication was at 11:45pm last night. Everyone disappeared. Like, they were Raptured or something."

The words didn't seem to make sense to Mitch, how could everyone have just disappeared? "You can't be serious..."

Mitch ran down to the observation deck, finding crew and guests alike peering over the railing at the port below. Nobody was down there to secure the rigging, or to move the gangway to connect the ship and dock. The building parallel to the ship was empty. In the distnace, the bustling city of Miami had gone silent.

It was an unearthly sight. Mitch was lost for words until he saw Jordan heading towards him, a grim expression on his face.

"Jordan, what's going on? Why is there no one down there?" Mitch started, his voice low to avoid panicking any of the tourists.

"We don't know. The Captain's been making calls to headquarters, but there's no answer," Jordan whispered back, grabbing Mitch's arm and pulling him back inside so they could talk freely. "We don't have a plan right niw, but the Captain will soon... We might send some people ashore to see what the Hell is going on."

Mitch's head spun. No answers, no people to help... He glanced up into the grey sky. No airplanes were headed toward the busy Miami-Dade Airport.

"What do you think happened?" Mitch asked his friend. "Did everyone leave? Or are they dead-"