Amanda stared into the dimly-lit darkness of deck six and once again felt that rush of terror she'd felt just one deck below on five. There was just something so tomb-like, even in the dimly-lit lighting provided by the emergency lights on the wall, placed strategically for optimal-illumination, but that still wasn't optimal enough for her own liking.
It would be different if she were on some sort of rescue mission for a person, or if some crying mother had said she lost sight of a child down here, but all she was really doing was saving documents that she may or may not get duplicates of the next time she left for the realm and returned here. Was this really worth it?
And the more she thought about it, the more she decided it was. She remembered the feeling that had come over her when the forged documents Strahm had provided for her had sat in her hands. It was the first time she truly and completely felt that the specter of Amanda Young, and the guilt of what she'd done when she had her full name, had been suddenly clipped from her neck and that she was now truly, and completely a changed woman. She was now Amanda Park. Amanda Park would never desire to harm an innocent, or even a mildly guilty person and would never touch another needle. Her decades long vamping of herself had finally been complete when she had everything she needed in her hand to make Amanda Park truly real. Could she gamble that everything would be fine and those documents would return the next time?
No, she could not. Because if these were her only copies, losing them would be truly devastating. It would be like fate had intervened once again to slap her back to reality and remind her that she would never be completely changed or completely free of her past. So fuck fate. She controlled her fate. This was simple. Go up two decks, get the shit, come back out. There was enough light to see. The cabin would be completely lit in the sunlight. get going, Amanda, you're fucking wasting time standing here. Shaw is waiting for you. Move.
She grabbed the railing and started making her way up the slant towards the aft portion of deck six. It was easier to walk, on the thick carpet. She had something to dig her toes into rather than the lacquered teak slats of the main and promenade decks outside. She only had to mildly use the railing to help her along. It would have been easier if they were loading from the promenade deck, but it didn't matter. She was soon at the stairwell, bypassed deck seven, and emerged in the dimly-lit corridor of deck eight. Grabbing onto the railing, she traversed the rest of the distance and was soon at their cabin door and she made her way inside.
It was a shame that she hadn't thought of this earlier. She'd been here before when she did the deck tours. If she'd had the thought then she could already have the documents and her cards, but she hadn't. Oh well, no use crying about that now.
The bed was still in position from where she could see through the doorway, but as she had seen the last time, the living room chairs, the tables, all of the fancy décor, was piled on the starboard side of the cabin against the wall. Even the empty champagne bottle from their sex last night had rolled out of the open terrace door to end up in the pile. She walked in, not minding where she was going and her right foot landed on one of the plastic cases of the Blu-Ray discs and her foot slid as though she'd stepped on ice.
The little table that held their welcoming bottle of champagne on the first day had fallen sideways, and when she fell forward her knee hit one of the table legs and combined with her body weight, it snapped off. The pain that coursed through her leg was enough to bring tears to her eyes and she vigorously rubbed it until it subsided from her abilities. FUCK. She needed to watch where she was fucking going.
The room had a square support column in the center, and she noticed that one of the few things still somewhat in place in the stateroom, a print of the Ocean Princess, was hanging out from the wall by the cord on the back of the frame. It was so bizarre to her senses to see the room so out of alignment, and see the picture hanging above her like a blade about to fall. She glanced around and the only other thing she saw that was still on any wall was the large flat screen television. She passed by it as she awkwardly climbed over and around the pile to get to the entrance to their bedroom.
The small bedside dresser on Jake's side of the bed had slid to the far side of the tilted room. Her own small dresser was pressing against the side of the king-sized bed. She made her way up the incline and rested her hip against the bed as she opened it. She found her purse inside, then removed her new license, passport, birth certificate, and social security card from the bag.
She thought of bringing the whole shebang, but if the strap broke on the purse she'd lose the whole fucking thing. Plus she felt a little guilty for taking this side trip and didn't want it to be obvious that she'd gone. Pretty much everything else in the bag could be easily replaced, these things that were laying on the bed in front of her were the real prize, the only things that were irreplaceable.
She needed to find a way to carry just the documents themselves, somewhere they would be close to her, maybe her back pocket. The two banded cash stacks of poker winnings were also in there, and she absently stuffed them into the front pockets of her shorts. That was everything, but how the fuck was she gonna waterproof it in case she needed to go swimming? Fuck, as soon as one issue was solved, she immediately created another fucking one for herself. She thought for a moment, then almost slapped herself.
She moved her way back around the bed and back to the slanted wall. Jake's dresser was nearby, and she wondered if he'd also left things behind. She opened it. He'd left his wallet, cell phone, and passport behind, so she added it to her own little pile and got the fuck out of the bedroom, moving left, and left again to enter the sprawling bathroom. As she looked at Jake's cell phone she realized that she'd been so caught up in getting the papers and cards that she'd forgotten her own phone, but fuck it, she was wasting time and was not going to go back for it.
Amanda, of course, was a careful packer and she'd remembered she put the items that could spill in large plastic zipper baggies for transport in her large toiletry bag. The porter had unpacked the items and left the three empty Ziplocks in the bag for her to use for her departure. She put the social security card, both passports, her new license, Jake's cell phone, and the new birth certificate in one bag, squeezed out all of the air that she could and sealed it, then put it all in another bag the opposite direction and emptied the air and sealed that too. She finally repeated the process with the third and final bag and forced the bundle deeply inside the back pocket of her cut-off jean shorts. It was a very tight squeeze but she liked it that way. It was not going to fall out. She stuffed Jake's wallet in her other back pocket, then headed for the bathroom doorway. It wasn't super easy to walk now, but she had everything she needed.
She stepped from the bathroom doorway and stood at an angle in the main portion of the cabin, looking around. Suddenly she couldn't stop the breakdown over everything that had happened and the tension of what was still left to happen, and it suddenly overtook her, now that she was alone and undistracted. She cried. There had been so happy memories here, and they'd been overshadowed by this Hellish nightmare. Someday she'd be able to remember the finder memories. The passionate sex in her purple lingerie, the champagne, the cuddles...But it would still be overshadowed by the vivid memories of the situation she and Jake and the others were in now. The princess had been dethroned, the castle was in ruins, and the enemy army of water pounded at the drawbridge to breach the defenses and be let in.
She shook herself from her outburst, wiping the tears from her eyes, and had just passed the support beam when a trapped air bubble in the lower decks of the Ocean Princess escaped, and the big ship lurched. She momentarily froze, the paranoia she'd felt when she was checking on the flooding returning in a rush. Was this the ship's final plunge? Would she be trapped in here as the water rushed in to try and claim her? She remained frozen, as if making a single step at that moment would anger the ship so much that it would quit fighting and just let the seawater fill her completely.
And that decision to freeze cost her, not a lot but a little. The shifting and settling of the ship was enough to finally knock loose the hanging picture of the Ocean Princess from where it had been precariously perched in it's fastener, and it sliced through the air diagonally like the guillotine blade it had reminded her of when she'd first seen it, directly for Amanda's head. She didn't even know it was coming until the bottom of the heavy frame slammed into her right temple.
Thankfully, it was not a guillotine blade, and it merely bounced off of her head rather than slicing the top of it off. The blow didn't knock her unconscious, but it hit her fucking hard enough that she saw stars and collapsed to her hands and knees and cried out from the pain. She pressed her hand to the side of her head where it had hit her and felt warm blood seeping through her hair and onto her fingers. She waited, groaning for several minutes before the residual powers of the realm healed the cut and the pain disappeared. All that remained was the sticky blood in her hair.
If that wasn't a fucking sign she needed to get the fuck out of here, she didn't know what was. Amanda was good at reading a room, and she wasn't going to keep pushing her fucking luck. The Ocean Princess stopped settling, and she stopped feeling paranoid that the ship was now going to fall over right now and trap her amongst the furniture as the water surged in to try and kill her. The Ocean Princess was not ready to die yet. She got out of her frozen position and moved around and climbed back over and around the pile and out of the doorway of her cabin, making sure to avoid any more slippery plastic clamshell cases.
The return trip to the outside deck was far easier, as it was all downhill. It seemed like it took less that five minutes to get from deck eight to the door she had come in from on deck six. When she got to the open doorway to the main deck outside, she sat on her butt and let herself slide against the railing. Above her, the second full helicopter of evacuated passengers flew overhead. She noticed to her surprising relief that the nosy T.V. helicopter had finally quit following her, and actually found herself surprised that it wasn't hovering out the door waiting to greet her. She was glad that she'd made the assholes bored enough to fuck off.
With her side mission completed, she continued her quest to the bow, throwing more shit over the side. The loose end of the rope around her waist had fallen free from all of her recent activity, and she barely noticed it slapping behind her legs and around them as she continued her strenuous activities. While throwing one of the wood and metal deck chairs over the side, the loose end flapped around The deck chair had a tight seam where the armrest was attached to the seat, and the dangling end managed to slide into it. When she lifted it, she wedged the rope into the seam further and didn't notice it at all. She tossed it over, turned, and then was suddenly pulled against the railing hard, screaming, "FUCK!"
She was heavier than the chair, and she put her feet to the railing and tried to push it back. However, while not as heavy as she was, the extra pull of gravity now that it was hanging over the open space made it nearly impossible to haul it back over the side. She leaned over the railing and jerked at the rope to try to shake it free because she knew she didn't have time to try to untie the other portion of it from around her waist.
Then the fucking Ocean Princess lurched again and because her hands were on the rope instead of the railing, her feet lifted from the deck, her gut hit the top end and she started to do a slow somersault. The railing of the Ocean Princess was made up of multiple components. The top bar of the railing was the thickest, and below it, with a gap between them, were three smaller railing bars that were separated by posts from the end of the deck, around the stern, to the other end of the main deck, designed to seem as one complete, unbroken unit. She only had a split second to think and bypassed the thicker top bars to wrap her hands around the first railing bar below it on the outside facing the sea as she completed her somersault and she topped over the railing completely.
Her hands spun around the railing bar and she slammed her back against it before the list pulled her forward and there she was, dangling over the fucking ocean and she was so scared she could have pissed herself. "FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK!" Amanda screamed her favorite word in a litany. The drop to the sea wasn't super far now, but the deck chair was still hanging off of her and she could see from the floating items in front of her that none of them were the other deck chairs she'd tossed over, so they had been heavy enough to sink to the bottom. If she didn't get free of that first, it would pull her under the water to the sea floor like a fucking anchor.
Her first break came from the fact that the hanging portion of the rope wasn't very long. The deck chair was pressed against the back of her ankles. She gripped the rail tightly, raised her feet and got them on the side of the chair, then used the muscles in her legs to shove the chair downwards. It took three tries, but finally, on the third, the rope freed itself from the seam and there was the welcoming sound of a splash as the chair dropped and sank into the water below her.
Thankfully she didn't have much body weight to hold up or she'd have been fucking swimming for sure. But even though she didn't have much weight in her body to hold up, her arms were getting tired. If she fell now, she wasn't in terrible danger. Still, she knew that if she left the ship now, that she'd never be able to get back on it. She'd likely be spotted and rescued by one of the Chinook helicopters, but they weren't going to let a rescued survivor re-board a sinking ship no matter how much she screamed, cursed, and begged. She had to get back on the deck now, or Shaw, Jake, and Rogo would be without her assistance for the rest of the rescue operations.
She suddenly cursed the fact that the helicopter filming her was now fucking around somewhere that the occupants could no longer see her and signal someone for help. She screamed again, "FUCK!" But then she realized that even if it was here now, its occupants probably wouldn't do a fucking thing but hover in front of her and film her, waiting to see if she got back aboard or took a swim.
Because she was unaware of the racy thoughts the occupants had involving her when they'd been filming earlier, she had no idea that if it was here now, the T.V. station cameraman and the pilot probably would have jumped into action and find a way to get her aboard, with the expectation that once they'd saved her, that she'd have spent the next hour using her body to get them off in the helicopter as they took turns keeping the helicopter covering over the sea. They both would have been for a rude awakening at her reaction to that, and her outburst probably would have resulted in the helicopter crashing into the water below. Amanda was not the type of person who enjoyed being blackmailed, especially for sex. She'd certainly rather take her chances in the water than betray her husband. Stepping out on him with Frank, at Jake's own approval to get the chance to kill him was more than fucking enough of that.
She knew she needed to get herself turned around, so held herself up by her left hand turning her body left as she reached across her chest with her right. It made the bones and muscles of her wrist ache, but she was able to get her right hand around the rail facing the direction she needed, and she completed the turn that allowed her to face the ship once again. Then she let go of the railing with her left and flipped her hand around so both were wrapped around the bar facing the ship. She used every bit of adrenaline left in her to pull herself up far enough for her feet to get purchase on the deck under the railing. Then, one hand after the other, she grabbed the railing's top bar and used her legs to vault herself back over onto the tilted deck of the ship, landing painfully on her ass, but feeling the security of the railing against her back. The metal bars once again separated her safely from the sea.
And then she laid there pressed against it, she had a fit of laughter mixed with hysterical tears as the tension and terror of the situation abated and she got to her feet. CHRIST Amanda, you need to be more fucking careful because it is starting to seem like this fucking boat is trying to fucking kill you. She let the tears and giggles flow until she relaxed herself again.
Of course, there had been a second reason she hadn't wanted to go into the seawater right now, beyond just leaving behind the rescue operations. She could swim, but...It was different in the ocean. In a pool you went only 10-18 feet down and then your feet touched the bottom. She had no idea how deep the ocean was under the ship but it seemed like it could be endless and Jake was still here and he might not know she was gone and he might not see her in the water and she might not find a lifeboat and he might come looking for her and stay on the ship until it was too late and...
She backhanded herself. Hard. She was panicking and acting like a fucking scared idiot and now was just not the fucking time for that. She had a close call, she saved herself. The deck was hardly safe but it was a solid surface under her and for the time being, she WAS safe. Pull your head out of your ass, Amanda, you've got shit to do. For Christ's sake, you not only used to murder people, but you played hide and go seek against other killers after you. Find your fucking resolve, woman.
She got to her feet and made sure the hanging portion of the rope around her waist was tucked in securely before she got moving again. But she became a lot less daring, and instead of throwing things over the rail, she made her way around them or climbed over them when necessary until she reached the end of the main deck. It ended in a wall, and she stared at it stupidly. No...No no no no no Fuck no FUCK no FUCK FUCK FUCK!
She needed to be on the fucking promenade deck to get a clear view of the bow below her. The promenade deck was where the fucking bridge was. She was two fucking decks below it, How could she have been so fucking STUPID? She tried to lean past the white painted metal wall of the superstructure by leaning against the railing but she still couldn't see as much of it as she needed to. She'd come all this fucking way for fucking NOTHING and she let out a scream of rage that seemed to come from the lungs of someone far bigger than she was
She went back the way she'd come not even bothering to be careful, as she was full of rage at her stupidity. She pulled open every door she could find until one opened and revealed a stairwell. She climbed up the stairs faster than she should have but after going up two decks, she found herself at another door and this one opened to the promenade deck on the starboard side. She walked to the end of the deck and here she found her unobstructed view of the bow far below her.
The Ocean Princess was clearly sinking, the bow was riding very low to the water and was obviously listing to the side, but it was still entirely above water. The sea was lapping against the metal below the railing by maybe five feet. The bow was not awash yet, which would make Shaw happy, but it was fucking getting there, and that certainly fucking wouldn't.
She turned and made her way back the way she had come. Her objective was completed and it made the earlier rage at her stupidity evaporate. As she was walking back by the bridge windows she saw her reflection and saw that there was a LOT of dried blood matting her hair. More than enough to clearly show she'd had a major wound that had magically disappeared. She needed to wash it out.
As she passed by the the bridge's starboard entrance, something rolled against her foot. She glanced down and saw it was a nearly-full bottle of Dasani. Only moments ago, she'd felt like the ship was trying to kill her, now when she needed to clean her head off, this bottle of clean water had appeared virtually from nowhere.
Was the Ocean Princess making a peace offering? 'Hey, yeah, tried to kill you twice but missed both times. You're obviously made of more than I gave you credit for. Here you go, wash yourself off. No hard feelings, eh?'
Who the fuck knew? She picked it up, uncapped it, and poured it into her hand slowly, pressing handfuls to the bloody side of her head until the water came away clean, and leaning awkwardly to keep the rinse from soaking her tank top. Her head was wet, but now unbloodied. That worked. A wet head she could explain easily. magically disappearing head trauma she could not. She dumped the rest of the bottle over the side. The last thing the ship needed was more water on it.
Absently, she recapped the empty bottle and tossed it through the doorway back into the bridge before she resumed her trip back to the stern. She'd left the door open to the stairway she'd come up and darted through it and even down a few steps before stopping herself and returning. She closed the door again. It was not prudent to give the water a clear opening on the side of the ship that was leaning every closer to the water. When she got to deck six, she looked towards the front of the ship but saw that she'd had the good sense to close all the doors she'd opened before getting to this one. It wouldn't be much, but anything they could do to keep the water from breeching the ship was better than nothing at all.
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When she'd made the decision to dump the leftover Dasani water into the sea, she'd been right. The Ocean Princess definitely needed no additional water in it. The sea was continuing to fill the ship. On deck three far below her, the water was between three and five feet deep the closer one got to the interior starboard wall of Shaw's office, The destination concierge's office, and it was roughly four to six feet deep in the even numbered Ocean View staterooms from 3000-3108, before tapering off to dry floor as one got to the doorways.
The wine cellar was high and dry on the port side, but half of the expensive bottles of wine had fallen from the ship's list and shattered, staining the carpet red after it had poured under the door. The red river had continued down the slanted deck to pass under the doors of the men's and women's restrooms and mix with the, water at a maximum depth of about four feet, that was collected there. The multiple sinks and toilets continued to belch the sea up from them, and it was filling both restrooms and traveling in any opening it could find to continue filling the forward cabins and the two offices.
Also high and dry was the empty Tuscan Grill. The racks of plates, silverware, and cups had long since fallen and shattered against the starboard wall, along with the tables and chairs into a sort of shipwreck casserole.
The watertight bulkheads remained so, but the open portions of the starboard side corridors on the ship's bottom deck were now virtually filled. It would have taken flashlights and scuba gear to enter the engine room now. Water still poured in from multiple crew quarters and restrooms and kept working to fill the corridor with water from floor to ceiling. Further forward, All of the crew cabins and open holds on the starboard side of the bow were almost entirely underwater, and while there was plenty of air in many of the sealed compartments, the weight of the heavy water against the metal continued to pull the bow under the gentle waves to its grave.
There were plenty of open walkways on the bottom deck to the port side that the crew, when the ship was operational, would traverse from one side to the other. It was already creeping up those passageways in the bow, and there were several bulkheads in the bow's forepeak that were unsealed cargo holds. Once the water reached them, they would fill too, and that would only make the water weight drag the bow down even further, and more quickly.
On passenger deck two, every even numbered cabin from 2000-2200 was a quarter filled with water, the furniture had all shifted starboard, and the leftover belongings of the passengers that could float bobbed up and down in the water.
Deck four had few bathrooms on the starboard side, and water was filling the men's bathroom outside of the bottom level of the Cosmopolitan restaurant. The ladies bathroom next to the grand foyer was on the opposite wall from the ship's outer hull. It was closer to the breached compartment than the bathroom opposite the Cosmopolitan. Because the initial breached bulkhead was entirely underwater with virtually the rest of the lower hull corridor filled as well, the water pressure was once again increasing.
Seawater was rushing from every sink and toilet in that women's restroom like a geyser. It poured from underneath the door, and stacked up against the shut door because the space underneath it was too small to drain it as quickly as it was filling the room. The onslaught and the weight was eventually so strong that it finally snapped the door completely off its hinges. The deluge flooded the hallway, carrying the door with it and poured through the doorway of the bottom level of the ship's movie theater, as well as into the photo gallery, studio, and the right side of the Fortunes Casino. The chips had long since fallen from shelves and were piled behind the cashier's cage, however, the heavy poker tables, roulette tables, blackjack tables, and the anchored slot machines remained fixed in place, at least for now.
The ship sinking by the bow kept the stern raised at an incline, which kept the water from the ladies room from traveling backwards to flood the lower level of the Cosmopolitan, but the sea was patient. It would drown the fancy eatery with its perfect prime ribs eventually.
The Ocean Princess was still not quite in her death throes, but she was definitely on life support, and eventually, the unforgiving sea was going to pull the plug on her.
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Jake kept looking in the direction that Amanda had disappeared from and being disappointed. He was getting more and more nervous. He knew there was a lot of ground for her to cover, but still, he felt like she'd been gone a lot longer than she should have been. Three times he'd been about to unclip his harness and stop himself. Shaw finally noticed and told him," She's got a good head on her shoulders. She's fine."
Jake nodded, but he knew that he wouldn't feel comfortable until she was back against the railing in her original spot next to Rogo. He agreed she could take care of herself, but time was wasting and goddamnit, he missed looking at her face.
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Amanda kept going the way she'd come. She couldn't see what was happening below her, and if she could, no doubt she would be heartbroken to see the flooding of the areas she'd been enamored with when they'd toured the ship on their first day. Much was burned into her memory, and perhaps it was best that she could remember it as it was.
She worked her way around the piles of shit until she reached the long section of railing that had been cleared by her. She suddenly felt a wave of panic and quickly slapped all of her pockets before breathing a sigh of relief. She'd been unwittingly performing some potentially-deadly sea acrobatics, but the documents, cell phone, and Jake's wallet were all still firmly in her back pockets and the cash was also firmly in the pockets of the front of her shorts.
As she got closer to the stern, the deck started tilting back upwards which made her forward progress a bit slower. The third helicopter took off fully-loaded when she had Jake, Shaw, and Rogo in her sights to the right, and above her.
At the distance she was from them, she didn't see Jake's tear-filled sigh of relief at having her in his sights again. Shaw slapped his chest slightly and said, "See? I told you she'd be perfectly fine." Jake nodded.
He barely took his eyes off of her as he watched her progress back to them. She pulled herself with her arms and pushed herself with her feet around the curve to the back portion of the railing, then held on with her hands and feet as she finally got back to Rogo's right side.
In the Teleceiba helicopter, the cameraman and pilot exchanged a grin seeing the short, tanned American woman had returned from her adventure and they could once again look at her sexy belly and legs.
Rogo did almost the same trick as before, letting her grab onto his beefly left arm and swinging her in front of him until she could grab onto the railing on the left side of him. Amanda was growing quite fond of the Rogo ride and giggled again as he swung her, and Rogo let out a belly laugh of his own right along with her. He held her in place as she once again tied the end of the rope around the thick upper bar of the railing.
"The first three helicopters are already on route back to us," Shaw told her. "The helicopter that just left is made up of all male passengers. All the female passengers and crew and the children are gone, except for Julie, which is good news."
Shaw's face betrayed a confused expression. "One of the last to leave was one of the spa workers. She told me her name was Bonnie. After she introduced herself, Bonnie also told me to tell you that Deiter sends his regards. She said you'd understand?"
She shared a knowing expression and a smile with Jake. Yep, she understood completely. "Dieter" had given her a massage to remember, and it almost, but not quite, overrode the most recent memory she had of standing in her and Jake's tilted stateroom crying.
Shaw's face relaxed. "Anyway, now that you have returned, I'm hoping you have some good news of your own? Jake was getting a bit nervous but I calmed him. I think another few minutes and he'd have chased you down."
Amanda's face reddened in embarrassment. "I got all the way to the end of the main deck before I realized that I couldn't see the fucking bow from there, so I had to back track and find a stairway that got me up to deck eight so I could look out from where the bridge is."
Shaw shook his head. "I bloody forgot all about that. At least you thought quickly and found the solution. What is the state of things up there? The list seemed to have corrected itself a little, which is good news, and even though we've had a few shudders since, she doesn't seem to be listing at a terrible angle as of yet."
"The bow's not swamped yet but it's only got about five feet to go before the starboard side starts dipping under the water. But as of now, the entire thing is free and clear, so that's the best I've got for you," Amanda told him.
Shaw nodded and began to visibly make calculations in his mind. Then he said, "We've offloaded a little bit more than 200, so there's still around 400 to go. It's about an hour round trip for the three helicopters to the airport to refuel and back...So we need...At least two hours. Maybe two and a half."
"So...Based on where the water is...Do we have that?" Amanda's heart again beat in her chest. I mean, they didn't seem to have sunk a whole hell of a lot, but she remembered that goddamn Titanic movie and remembered that once the water had reached a certain point, the ship, which still seemed well-above water at that point, had gone under very quickly, a half-hour total, at the most.
"I believe so. I really do," Shaw told them all. "She's still listing and sinking steadily and settling but I'm sure there are still plenty of air pockets left distributed among the sections of the ship that are getting deeper and deeper underwater."
Rogo asked him, "Air pockets?!"
Shaw nodded. "The weight of the water we're taking on is pulling the ship down and adding to the flooding. But the inrush of water filling compartments, especially those that are watertight, will be trapping air inside them and giving the ship buoyancy. As long as they hold out, we'll be alright. I mean, bloody Hell, Andrea Doria had a gaping hole knocked in her side by the Stockholm, and she floated for close to ten hours before she sank. We've only been sinking for around three."
Amanda had no idea what Shaw was talking about. She knew bits and pieces about the Titanic, but that was it. She never studied or was curious about the sinking of other famous ships like the Lusitania or the Empress of Ireland so the only basis she had for what a ship did as it sank was what had been dramatized in that film. Stupid Jack shoulda hauled his fucking ass on that door, in her fucking opinion. Thanks a fucking lot, James Cameron.
In a way, it was probably better that way. After all, the Lusitania had sunk in about 20 minutes after being struck by a torpedo, and the Empress of Ireland had not had the luck of the Andrea Doria. When she'd been struck in her side, again, the ship had sunk in 20 minutes or less. Thinking of the Titanic while experiencing a similar situation on the deck of your own stricken vessel wasn't ideal, but seeing her slow demise and having it at the forefront of her memory was far better than having the knowledge of the Lusitania and Empress at the forefront, especially because not only had those ships been damaged on her starboard side, but they'd also succumbed to a severe starboard list which incapacitated most of their respective lifeboats and contributed to the high death tolls, not that either ship had much time for the launching of lifeboats anyway. But being on a ship that had faced similar situations to those two ocean liners would have definitely hit way too close to home.
After a moment's silence, Shaw said, "Oh, by the way, your popularity has never been higher. I was so startled by Bonnie's message that I forgot to tell you that Vandenberg also sends his regards." Amanda looked at Shaw. "The Norwegian Star, I was relayed a message to you by one of the pilots. The ship was called away to collect the crew and passenger lifeboats and ferry the passengers to Puerto Cortes, specifically the lifeboat carrying Captain Catalano."
Amanda looked off to the starboard side of the ship and noticed for the first time that the small, tired vessel was no longer nearby. She scoffed, "Should have let the fuckers land in Cuba. Or maybe South America."
"While I share the sentiment, it's immoral. Besides, he'll pay for what he did, and collecting him aboard the Norwegian Star will allow him to be secured until it's decided what to do with him. Vandenberg said they would attempt to return here to resume their lifeboat operations. Unfortunately, they didn't make a lot of progress. The lifeboat had no motor so they had to row back and forth. They have about 60 evacuees on-board. He...Um...Also recalled your distress signal and according to what the pilot told me, said that he was quite surprised to hear that many expletives from...Ahem...A woman."
Jake tapped a hand on Shaw's chest. "You should hear her when she's really mad. Quentin Tarantino would cover his ears and Uma Thurman would retire from acting. She might even scare Michael Madsen."
Amanda put an innocent look on her face. "I have no idea what you're talking about, I'm a perfectly innocent fucking angel. I only use my F-bombs in battle, when the situation calls for them...Or during sex, because there is nothing better than cussing during a nice, hard fuck from that long-haired dude over there." She blew Jake a kiss.
Jake, Shaw, and Rogo's faces all reddened for a moment before Amanda's lack of a filter once again prompted laughs from the other three. The roar of the helicopters could be heard. Three black dots approaching. Their laughing subsided.
Shaw's gaze moved around the stricken vessel before he said, "Two more hours Princess. I think even two more hours might be enough. Fight the water. Don't let it claim you like this. Don't go quietly," Shaw looked around the ailing ship and readied himself, along with the others, for the next airlifting.