I can’t breathe. I roll up on to my tip toes, desperately searching for the door we came in. There. It isn’t far. Hopefully I can make it there before passing out.
“Mom.” I try to get her attention. I don’t want her to think I got lost; she worries like that. But she doesn’t even turn her head.
“Mom. Mom!” I guess I’m not being loud enough. God, I swear half of the entire state of Rhode Island is on this boat. I give up and tug on her shoulder. I can see her mouth form the word “What?” but the sound doesn’t reach my ears.
“I’m going outside!” I try to be as loud as possible but I feel like I might puke any second. Again my mother’s mouth moves, but nothing seems to come out. Whatever, this is useless. I can’t take it anymore. I point in the direction of the door and start pushing my way through the crowd before she even responds.
“Excuse me, sorry-” I don’t know why I’m even bothering to try to be polite to these people. None of them can hear me anyway, and even if they could, manners aren’t high on anyone's priority list right now. Eventually I reach the door. I push it open and a blast of cold air rushes over my face, reminding me why most people are inside. It made my head feel better, though.
I find an area of the deck that’s relatively empty and lean up against the railing. I look out at the ocean but it’s dark out now so there’s not much to see. I slide my phone out of my pocket and tap the screen to wake it up. Forty three percent battery left. Damn it, how long will that last? I wish I could have grabbed the charger. I wish I could have grabbed a lot of things…
But this is all I have left, so I turn my back up against the railing to make sure I don’t drop my phone in the water. I open the map app. The satellite images haven’t been updated for a few months; everything looks exactly as it did last week.
“Where am I?” I whisper into the microphone. I can see it perfectly clearly on the screen but I still can’t bring myself to believe it, that this really happened.
“You are now approaching the WESTERN border of NEW YORK.”
But it did. I guess it doesn’t really sink in until you’re on a ferry miles away from where the beach used to be.
Now I almost want to chuck my phone over the edge. Why didn’t we do anything? Why didn’t I do anything? I can’t stop thinking that. Even if it was just me, maybe that would have been enough. What if I walked to school instead of having my mom drive me? I didn’t live that far away! What if I recycled one more bottle instead of trashing it? What if, what if, what if… It was one more degree. One more and it was enough to melt the ice caps.
I know I shouldn’t feel like it was my fault, though. It took a lot more than one person, even for an increase that small. It took all of us; it’s everyone’s fault. We’re all to blame.
~
“Hold my hand, okay?”
“Mom…”
“I don’t care how old you are! There are too many people here. We need to stay together.”
I don’t pull away this time when she grabs my hand. They’re finally loading people off the ferry. I don’t know for sure where we are now. My phone died days ago. All I know is that we had to go around the Appalachian Mountains. How far inland did we go after that? Well, I should say what used to be inland. I guess it doesn’t matter. I’m just glad to get off this boat.
I immediately regret thinking that. It’s just as crowded on land as it was on the ferry. More so, even.
“Quiet! Quiet everyone, we’re going to give you some instructions.” The roar of the crowd dies down a bit. I can’t tell where this is coming from. I peer into the small slits between people and gag, suddenly noticing how much we all smell. The salty ocean spray amplified the smell of sweat. Somehow, the ferry had plenty of food but no showers.
Soon I spot the stage where the noise was coming from. There's some sort of official looking people on it. I see the man with the microphone. He has short blonde hair, a thin beard, and thin glasses. He wears a navy blue suit that matches the uniforms of the other officials. I get a good look at him, but just then the people in front of me shift slightly and I can’t read the seal on the front of the podium he was standing at. City of C… City of Columbus? City of Chicago? I’ve never actually been to those cities before, so I can’t tell if the skyscrapers are right for either of them.
I check to make sure my brother and my dad and still behind us. Dad gives me a weak smile but Jay is a zombie. I knew he wasn’t going to do well on the ferry. He’s afraid of drowning and he always pukes on roller coasters, so he gets seasick easier than I do. But there’s something else about Jay that’s just off. I turn back around.
“Alright! Everyone on ferries one through…” It’s the man with the glasses. I find him again. Are they… Yes! He’s reading off a list of where we’re all staying. Finally, a bed, a shower. Oh god, I can’t wait. I know I’ll have to wait a little longer, though; we were on one of the last boats to come in.
I continue to watch the stage to keep from getting bored. Suddenly, one of the uniformed officials interrupts the man in the suit. He pulls him aside and whispers something in his ear. Oh no… Whatever he said, it wasn’t good news; the man in the glasses went white. He’s trying to hide it but you can still tell from his face that something is wrong. He slowly walks back to the podium. He pauses for a minute and lifts up a page of his list but he shakes his head and puts it back down.
“Attention… Everyone who is left, it seems we’ve run out of space here. You’re going to be taken to another location. We’re sorry for the inconvenience.” With that, he walks off the stage, trying to avoid looking at us.
Everyone lets out a sigh of irritation. More waiting.
~
After a subway ride more crowded than the ferry, we get in lines with our family. I’m not sure what exactly we’re waiting for. As we advance further I can see that a wall of what looks like elevator doors lies at the end. Some people in uniforms like the ones from before stand at each one. Every minute or so the doors open and the official tells the next group to go in. Where are we going? Is this an underground hotel? No, that would be silly… A bunker maybe? I guess we’re about to find out. The door in front of my family and I opens.
“Next? Go on in.”
It’s nothing but a small metal room. There’s a few speakers and other holes in the walls but… Where is the other door? The staircase…? The door closes behind us.
“... Mom?”
“E-everything’s fine, honey. Just hold on.”
The speakers come on. It’s a recording.
“Hello citizens. The United States Government would like to express how... Sorry we are. We never envisioned a situation such as this ever arising, and unfortunately there is just not enough space left for this many people. Again, please understand that we did not want to resort to this, but some things must be done for the greater good. May God bless you.”
I panic.
“Mom… What are they talking about? What do they mean there’s not enough space left? What’s going to happen to us!?”
And then I realize what the other holes in the walls are for. The smell in the room changes and everything starts going black.
The greater good. There’s a lot of things they could have done for the greater good.
