After the End of the World

Not artful, but it covers the basics. I'm hitting them with pain, surprise and (hopefully) some joy. I press the send button, but just a moment later the screen says the phone has lost its connection. Shit! There's a chance it sent, but I don't know for certain.

I hand the phone back to the crewman, thanking him for being so generous. At least I know they're all right, and I'll certainly contact them later. Surely they'll have internet where we're going?

*****

Right before dinner, with less than a day until we're finally due to arrive, Caiden pops his head into our bunk, but doesn't climb up. He's hanging on to the bed's upright, though, because we're experiencing a heavy storm at the moment. "Hey, what's up?" I ask.

"They put me on a special work detail for this evening. The guy they sent to find me didn't know much about it, but it's something to do with prepping the ship for docking."

"Isn't that more of a crew function?"

"Yeah, but half these guys have no clue what they're doing. They're used to destroyers, not cruise ships, and most of them are conscripts just serving their time. Hopefully, we can get whatever it is figured out quickly, but I'm afraid you're on your own for dinner. I'm really sorry, love."

"Not a big deal, babe. You be careful, okay?"

"Not to worry."

Haley and Ty accompany me to dinner as always. We line up and get our food, then sit down together at our usual table, bracing ourselves and holding on to our bowls as the ship gyrates. Then a crewman arrives, looking obscenely steady on his feet. "Excuse me, are you Señora Michaels?"

I'm suddenly flooded with a sense of foreboding. "I am. Is something wrong?"

"I don't know. I was just asked to find you and bring you and your children to the bridge."

The foreboding is stronger now. I haven't felt dread like this since the police had shown up at my dorm room to tell me that my parents and grandmother had been killed.

"We'd be happy to come along," Haley says.

He shakes his head. "I'm sorry, but I was told that no one else was to come."

Haley and Ty stand up. "We're here for you, Lana," she says, "whatever it is."

"Yeah, anything you need, kiddo," he adds.

"Thanks. I'll let you know as soon as I can." I turn and follow the crewman. He leads me to the smaller forward elevator, the one reserved by key for the exclusive use of the crew.

Just then, Captain Ramirez' voice comes over the ship-wide public address system, like it does every evening at this time. He reports on our current weather conditions, the forecast for the next day (not terribly accurate since the weather satellites are dead), which Argentinian city we are nearest to now, and what our menu will be for tomorrow, the last day of our trip.

"I am very sorry about the storm," he says. "It is an intense one, but I am told that it will be short lived and should dissipate by morning." That's good, because I've caught definite whiffs of vomit several times today. Not pleasant.

The crewman uses his key to call the car and we step in when it arrives. We ride past the bridge, then clear up to the off-limits top level. Yeah, something's not right here. When the doors open, he leads me around a corner to a short hall. I notice that the stairwell doors have been chained shut. I guess they're serious about the off-limits thing.

We go the other way and he lets me into a large and lavishly appointed suite. The captain is standing near a door at the aft end that leads out onto the deck. He's speaking into a large, chrome microphone and finishing up his nightly briefing. Wow, I'd always just assumed that he was doing these talks from the bridge.

"Please make yourself comfortable," the crewman says quietly. "The captain will be right with you." Then he disappears out the door.

Ten seconds later, Captain Fernando Rodriguez clicks the microphone off, placing it in a bracket next to the door. He turns to me.

"Where is my husband?" I demand. "Is he okay?"

His look says he's wounded by my almost accusation, but I can tell he's up to no good.

"Please relax," he says soothingly as he walks up to me. "Señor Michaels is uninjured."

"I'd like to see him."

"We must talk first."

I take a deep breath. I don't like this man, but he holds power over us. It would be smart to at least be polite. "Very well," I say. "Let's talk."

"It's a bit complicated, so why don't we sit down. I have obtained two baby carriers for your convenience." He indicates a comfortable looking chair with the carriers at its feet, and his body language indicates that he's intending to sit in the one facing it. I'd prefer to stand, and to keep my babies wrapped tight to my chest, but I'm going to have to pick my battles. I nod and sit down.

"Thank you," Ramirez says. He indeed takes the chair I'd figured him for.

I carefully strap my children into the carriers in front of me. The captain, or whomever has arranged for them, has been thoughtful enough to have provided blankets. I fed the kids an hour before going to dinner and they've both been sleeping it off. I tuck the blankets around them carefully and they go right back to sleep. They seem to do everything together.

The captain has waited patiently for me to complete the changeover. "I must tell you about a matter of grave concern to you and your family," he says.

"I'm listening."

"You have been told that you will be working on ranches in Argentina, but this is not entirely true."

Oh shit. "Which part?"

"You are actually being taken to a new nation that is made up of territories that used to belong to both Argentina and Chili. You would know these areas as the island of Tierra del Fuego. The occupants of this new land have declared their independence from those corrupt countries and have renamed themselves The Peoples Republic of South America. They have spoken, and I have risen to serve."

"I see." I'm working hard to keep my voice and expression neutral, but this is terrible news. There's another tin pot dictatorship in the world, this one in a very inhospitable part of it. And my family is evidently going there.

"You know of course," the captain says, "that the radiation danger from the war is reduced the further south one travels. This makes the southern part of South America some of the world's most desirable real estate. The People's Republic is severely underpopulated, with only about one hundred and twenty thousand people. Now though, many, many people want to enter the new republic from the north."

"I would imagine. But if your new country needs more people, where does the problem lie?"

"The issue is twofold. First, most of these refugees have no useful skills and would almost certainly become just more mouths to feed."

I nod noncommittally. 'Useful skills' is a relative thing.

"The second is somewhat more, say, controversial."

"In what way?"

"Well, as in many Latin countries, the People's Republic's leaders are, like me, of mostly European descent. The people emigrating south are from mainly Argentinian and Chilean inland areas and are of mostly indigenous populations."

Oh, wow. "So, what you're saying is that the leaders of this new utopia don't want too many dark people spoiling things?"

"That is a very crass way of putting it, but yes, that is, in essence, true."

"So the refugees on this ship, almost all white, and all of breeding age, are going to help swing your demographics to a more European look?"

He nods. Then yet another disturbing thought occurs to me.

"So how many trips like this has this ship made?"

"This is the third," he says evenly.

I should have guessed. Running an operation like this would have a pretty steep learning curve, but they'd had it down pat by the time we'd come aboard. And then... "How many ships are doing this?"

"Two, including this one. The other ship is also on its third run, but it has more than twice the capacity."

Wow, that's like eighteen thousand people, total, and it would make the new arrivals about fifteen percent of the People's Republic's population.

"Then this is some kind of eugenics program?"

"Perhaps, but this is not the part that should concern you."

"Really? And what part of it should?"

"There are several things. One is that you will never see Señor Michaels again. I have placed him in the brig, on the lowest level, until he debarks with the rest of the men when we reach port."

My fingers are digging deep into the padded fabric arms of the chair. "And what will they be doing when they leave?"

"They will be put to labor on the sheep ranches. They are filling in for the usual ranchers, who are being employed to repel refugees from the north. The work on the ranches is very hard, rations are short, and winters are brutally cold. He will not be allowed off the ranch again for as long as he lives, which may not be long. The attrition rate is expected to be very high."

"That's not a ranch, that's a concentration camp."

"You may call it what you like, but Señor Michaels will find it very unpleasant. There is more though. You see, the immigrant women, most certainly including yourself, were selected for their beauty and intelligence, and will be provided to officers and other high-ranking officials."

"You're going to make prostitutes out of us?"

"Not necessarily. Depending on the situation and the cooperativeness of the woman, she would be either a wife or mistress, and only to one man."

"But what if we're already married?" I'm working really hard to keep from shouting now.

For the first time I see him look embarrassed, if not actually ashamed. "While I myself recognize the marriages of other countries, the People's Republic does not."

This is monstrous, but I do my best to hold my temper. "So, I'm to become the wife or mistress of some general or government official. What if I don't consent to this?"

He nods, having expected that question from me I'm sure. "There are houses for these women. They are made available to soldiers and low-ranking government workers at affordable prices. When their pregnancies become too far along for them to continue in this service, they will be moved to a maternity center to give birth and recover before going back to work."

"And their children?"

He pauses for a long moment. "All of the young children of American women in the People's Republic will be adopted by the men and women of the revolution. We do not want our children indoctrinated with capitalist-imperialist ideals."

Belatedly, I see why they weren't taking children between five and fourteen. Older than five, and they might be difficult to indoctrinate, but at fourteen, the boys can be shipped to the work camps and the girls put in the "houses."

The full horror of this finally hits me. "But you can't," I cry, leaping to my feet and standing between him and the twins. "My children are everything to me."

Ramirez rises as well, stepping forward and putting his hands gently on my shoulders. I want to pull away from him, but sense that I should not.

"I know very well how much your children mean to you," he says with surprising tenderness. "You see, I lost my wife and three young children in the revolution. My life is empty without them. That is why you are here right now. I would like to make a proposal."

I think I know where this is going. I gently step back away from him and resume my seat. He sits back down in his own chair.

"Continue," I say. He nods.

"I can help Señor Michaels. My men tell me that he is a most excellent mechanic. With his skills, he would be highly prized by our military. I can see that he receives good treatment and good housing. Depending on his behavior, he might eventually be given citizenship and be able to marry and have more children."

"But I still won't be able to be with him?"

"No, it is not within my power to allow that, but it is within my power to let you keep Gregory and Amelia."

My heart soars at that possibility, but... "How is that possible? You said all of the children would be taken away."

"Yes, but only after they leave this ship. Here is my proposal. I would like for you to live here, in this suite, with me. I would treat you as a woman should be treated. I would also convert the smaller suite next door into a nursery for your children and provide for them."

"I would be your mistress." It's a statement, not a question.

"You would, Señorita."

"Señora," I correct him. "And you said that you personally respect the marriages of other countries. Are you proposing adultery?"

"I do respect all marriages and I will not commit adultery, but you are not married. My suspicions, as usual, were correct. This morning I finally found one among your number who would admit to me that Señor Michaels was married to a different woman before we arrived in Florida. A short, blonde woman named Kara. It seems that they also had a baby. A girl with blond hair and blue eyes named Amelia."

I don't even try to deny it. There must have been other MacDill personnel onboard. If the captain had been so sure I wasn't Caiden's wife, even when all of the evidence pointed toward it, there's no way I'll be able to convince him otherwise when he has a witness against it.

"Caiden and I have privately vowed-"

"Before you continue with that statement, Señorita," he says quickly, cutting me off, "I would like you to consider how removing yourself from my consideration would affect your life and that of your loved ones."

Given a moment's thought, I can see that he's right. If I'm unavailable to the captain, Caiden, our children and I will share the fate of every other family on this ship.

"You are correct, Captain. I am not married. Still, you should refer to me as Señora. I am the widow of Gregory Edwards Sr., who gave his life to save mine in the first moments of the war."

"Very well, Señora Edwards, but I would earnestly advise you to very seriously consider my offer. As my mistress you will learn that I am a gentle and considerate lover. I find you very physically attractive, of course, but I also admire your strength of will and your intelligence. You are a woman to be admired. It would be my aim to prove to you that spending your life with me would be a wonderful thing."

Talk about an indecent proposal. I can barely wrap my head around it, but I figure I should be fully informed about what's on the table here. "Are we talking about my eventually becoming your wife?"

He nods. "If both of us should agree that this is what we want, then yes, I would take you as my wife. This next trip will likely be my last. Then I will return to my estate near the capital. The idea that you and your children might accompany me there is very pleasurable to me."

He doesn't need to say what will happen to us if I'm not his wife when we return.

He pauses, as if torn on whether to go on. Finally, he does. "Alana, you may have wondered why, with all of the healthy single women without children onboard this ship, I have made this offer to you, a woman encumbered by the children of two different men."

I nod. "The question had occurred to me."

"You see, two months before the revolution, I agreed to my wife's request that I have a vasectomy, though it was generally frowned upon in my culture. We had decided that three children would be enough. Now, with them gone, I will never have children of my own. Alana, if you should eventually decide that you could love me and become my wife, I would very much like to adopt your children as my own."

"What if I agree to be your mistress, but later change my mind? Or you change yours?"

"This is where you will find that I am a very kind and generous man. Alana, if you agree to be my mistress, you may get off the ship at any port once we leave the People's Republic. On this next trip, that means Brazil for refueling, then Lisbon, Portugal. After that it would be Malaga in Spain, then Palermo, Italy. I would allow you to debark, with your children, in any of those places, should you decide to leave."

Brazil? The thought of how good it would be to be back together with Walter and Cathy hits me like a physical force. And the thought of introducing them to their grandson, now their only surviving descendent, fills me with a joyful anticipation that I can barely contain.

But...

So yeah, the situation my family has gotten itself into is grim, but I can do something that helps every single one of them. If I don't do this, Caiden will likely die in a concentration camp, my children will be taken from me and given to people I'll never meet, I'll be pimped out to some general to show off to his colleagues, and Greg's parents will never meet their late son's only child.

Whereas, if I agree to be with Ramirez, a man who is doing his best to show me that he's a decent, caring man, I can change all that.

The heavy stone clock on the mantle tolls the hour as I stare out the windows into the storm. The big, flat screen TV over the captain's shoulder is on, but silent, displaying the ship's current position and course.

Captain Ramirez can obviously see that I'm thinking it over. He graciously gives me time, time enough to work through all of the aspects of what I must do. Finally, I'm ready.

"When would I become your mistress?"

"Right now," he says. "I need you to sleep with me to show that you have truly agreed to our arrangement. Unfortunately, and for reasons I'm sure you understand, I can no longer allow you to have contact with any other passengers."

Oh, I can understand his logic all right. If they got wind of the fact that they were being led like lambs to the slaughter, there would be a mutiny.

I nod that understanding. "Fernando," I say, and his face lights up a tiny bit at my use of his first name, "you do realize that I'm doing this under a certain amount of duress?"

He nods. "I am not a monster, Alana, so I hate having to use my power to make such a crude proposal. But how could I have done it differently? I noticed you immediately when I saw you in line in Florida, and when I saw that you were single and had a young child, I had hoped that there was a way I could win you to me. I would have had the entire voyage to do so, but then Señor Michaels made his dramatic entrance.

"When it appeared you had a husband, you were suddenly out of my reach. Perhaps it was my wishing that you were not really Señor Michaels' wife that made me doubt it, but I just had a feeling that you were not married to him. Enough so that I was willing to question you about it.

"Even now, though, I don't feel that what I am doing is improper, because it is not me who is threatening to take away your children and abuse your lover. I simply offer a way for you to stop these things. I may be fifteen years older than you, but I hope to very quickly win you over and make you see that you can be happy with me."

I give him a shy smile. "Do you suppose I could use your shower first?"

He smiles broadly. "Of course, and I anticipated your request. The bathroom is ready for you. Please, make yourself at home, because now this is your home."

"Thank you, Fernando." I check to see that Gregory and Amelia are still sleeping, then stand up. He immediately rises to his feet as well. A perfect gentleman.

I start to step toward the bathroom, but then reconsider. Instead, I slip out of my shoes and socks, placing them neatly on the floor next to my chair. Then I remove my stretchy wrap and lay it neatly across Gregory's legs in the carrier.