Dear Diary: If Everyone is Dead, Who do I Pray to?

January 16, 2022

It happened three days ago. I couldn’t bear to write then but now I have such an urge. It’s almost rage yet I am numb. I’m on the yacht’s highest deck and feel alone in the world. The sun is setting, although I can’t actually see it in the dense grey smog, but a few rays have made it through, turning the horizon a glowing pink. It's a radioactive and trembling pink, heavy, like the sky might fall down on me.

I used to come up here and journal about getting yelled at by the Chief Stewardess or complain about the Chef’s plastic food, but that all seems so fucking stupid. Now, I can’t stop thinking about my family. I see their faces, weeping, terrified. I keep telling myself not to think about it like that and imagine it all happening in an instant without pain or knowledge, just an effortless evaporation into thin air. I know mom prayed to the last and dad held her. I’ve been wearing the locket they got me for graduation. It’s silver and shaped like a heart. Inside, there is a single pressed marigold flower. The fading yellow petals remind me of home, of them. The only thing left of that afternoon on the lake. The calming breeze, my mother’s smile. The way my dad looked at her, so in love...

So far, I don’t know much other than I am lucky to be anchored outside of St. Barthélemy, safe in the Caribbean. Well, not sure about the air quality or the future, but safe, for now. The Engineer heard the news first and called us all in to see. Nuclear bombs had been dropped on major airports and military buildings in America starting in the West. The reporter was live in DC. The bombs made their way to the center of the country. The man on the screen held back tears as he talked directly to his family. He said he loved them and would see them in heaven. The ticker at the bottom of the screen reported that Western Europe had been hit hard and bombs were traveling towards Russia. Then, we lost all communications and haven’t regained them since.

I hardly remember going to my cabin, but I do remember the emptiness of the silent line when I tried to call anyone, everyone. I remember the blankness of the wall I stared at for God knows how long. I was grateful to be alone. I don’t know where my roommate went in that time, but I know she took it hard. Ellie’s family was in Seattle. She watched on screen what happened. My family was in South Carolina so I’m not sure, but there are major airports in Atlanta and Charlotte so…

We had a meeting that first day with all 21 crew. Captain was red faced and aloof. I guess we all were. I hid in the corner and held Ellie’s hand. Everyone’s eyes were down except I caught Liam looking at me and when our eyes met, he didn’t look away.

Captain said we were each other’s family now and we all needed to respect each other first and foremost or we wouldn’t survive. He said the most important thing to have now is hope. That being on this yacht, where we are anchored, with the supplies we have, we can make it. Everyone smiled a bit. Captain said our owner was in Boston and had received wind early so was preparing his family to come to us, but that was three days ago and there is no sign of him yet. For now, we are going to stay anchored outside of St. Barth and wait.

We actually had to prepare the guest areas after the meeting just in case the boss made it. I griped at first with everyone else, but actually found making beds therapeutic, giving my hands something to do. We’ve been watching for planes coming into the island, but haven’t seen anything. We also have a security camera on in the crew mess trained at the helipad. The anxiety of the unknown is getting me pretty bad. Weirdly I think, worse than the fact that most everyone I’ve ever known is dead. At least I hope they are dead. If they aren’t, they are suffering and will be dead soon. The concept of that much loss seems abstract. None of this seems real. I go through bouts of heaving sobs at the worst possible time in the middle of work then when I’m alone all I can do is stare.

Ellie and I snuggled into her top bunk last night to watch The Phantom of the Opera DVD on her laptop. For a moment in time, I forgot about the weight of it all and I felt grateful. Isn’t that kinda funny? At the end of the world, I still have hope because of a musical!

January 20, 2022

It’s been a week. Exactly seven days with no connection to the outside world, except a few reports the First Officer and Bosun bring back from their daily tender scouts. When it first happened, the harbor was packed with yachts still here from the New Year’s season, but most all have went North or South. I have friends working on those yachts who I’ll probably never see again. There are still about 20 yachts anchored around the island. We are anchored far enough out that no one can swim to us, but we can still see if anything comes in and out of the harbor. We also have the swim platform pulled up and doors locked permanently, but I still get anxious going on deck.

Right after the sky turned black, we watched hordes of small boats escape the harbor. The Bosun told me every boat had disappeared and it was a ghost town except for a handful of dead bodies. It must have been a pillage. Otherwise, they haven’t seen any people on land. A number of private jets did leave that first day, but there are still locals and service industry staff and I’m sure even some billionaires got left behind. I imagine it’s been utter mutiny and makes me sick to my stomach. I’m grateful to be safe and protected on this floating fortress. What keeps me up at night is the future. The food will eventually run out and the Chef is starting to lose it and has access to sharp knives. Crew tensions were high before this. Now add in grief…needless to say, I lock my cabin door at night. I can’t help thinking we are all just drawing out the inevitable.

This new normal is surreal. The days are long, but have purpose. I’m glad to have something to work towards. It keeps my mind off other things. The girls have been focused on inventorying all dry food and medical supplies. We have two dry stores filled with nonperishable food as well as overflow hidden under the crew mess seats. The chefs are tackling all perishable food between the two walk-in fridges and freezer. We have been eating fresh food before it goes bad and freezing even more, but we have started rations, easing it down day by day to get everyone used to it. The deck boys have been testing and inventorying all safety gear like fire suits, extinguishers, life rafts, immersion suits, flashlights and batteries. The three engineers are working tirelessly to get comms back and also calculating how to ration our water, fuel and generator energy and testing our water makers and alarm systems. We are still going through everything but it looks promising.

Every afternoon we practice drills. We have focused on piracy/ intruder drills but today we did a full fire drill into an abandon ship drill. Captain has also added new rules. We aren’t allowed to touch the ocean water and if it rains, we must go inside. We have locked up all the alcohol and are not allowed to touch it and we can’t go on deck after dark. Before sunset, we turn off every light so we look like a dead ship. I noticed one yacht in the distance completely lit up. It looks about our size so maybe 300 feet or so, and at night, it shines like a beacon in the starless night. I fear for them. I fear for all of us.

Weirdly, the weather has been calm, almost stagnant. We did have a huge storm a few nights ago that shook us all up. The lightening shown deep purple and the rain left black marks on the white exterior that won’t come out.

February 1, 2022

So much has happened. Captain killed himself last week. It was pills. The boys carried his body and threw him overboard. We had a service for him. He had lost a wife, five children and eight grand-children. I feel better when I think he is with them.

The First Officer is Captain now and everyone has rallied together. We moved the boat to the other side of the island and anchored farther out. We needed to test everything and also mentally, I think everyone needed a change of scenery. We still have eyes on incoming ships, but all communications are still down. As of now, we will continue to anchor here, but I’ve heard talk of headed towards the southern tip of Argentina.

I started a new schedule this month and the change has been good for me. I’m working four hours during the day with basic upkeep of the boat. I swear dust will outlive us all! The other four hours I spend on anchor watch. I have the midnight to 4:00 AM shift with Liam, the Second Engineer. Every hour, we do walks of the vessel and engine room. There are no stars, no moon, just an all-consuming thick blackness and utter silence. When I get scared Liam holds my hand.

Last night we were up on the sundeck and I noticed a faint sparkle in the sky. A cloud had shifted. Liam thought it may have been light from the moon. We sat down beside each other and watched in silence. The breeze picked up and he put his arm around me. I leaned on his shoulder. I grabbed for my locket instinctually and rubbed the smooth silver between my fingers. Liam asked me about it, but I couldn’t speak so I shook my head. He said he understood then he cupped my face in his hand and we kissed. It was sweet and slow and I had tears running down my cheeks. He said it would be alright like he always does. He said in the uncertainty of our future he did know one certainty. I asked him what that was and he said that we would be alright. He just knew. He said he always had that feeling when he was with me. He kissed my forehead and told me I was his family now.

I’ve taken to prayer of late and practicing gratitude. I pray to God, Buddha, Muhammad and Gaea. I thank the universe for Liam, for Ellie, that everyone else is finally getting along. Funny how it took till the end of the fucking world. I’m glad to still have my humor and hope. I sit with my eyes closed under the radioactive sky and send good vibes to all corners of the world. I wish mercy on those suffering. I wish healing on those lost. I think of the waitress who served me a smile on shore. I think of my friend on a schooner in the Virgin Islands. I think of the charred ground of my parent’s house. I look up to the black clouds and ask anyone listening to light the way.

Oh my god…Captain just came over the radio. Someone calling themselves The New World Order has made contact…Lord help us…