The Extinction Trials(55)

He didn’t say it, but Maya thought she knew what he was thinking: they might encounter someone dangerous on the ship, and it would be far easier to fight without the suits on.

That thought brought a memory, a flash of her in the hospital, sitting in a wheelchair, rising to fight with someone in the room. She could fight. That was something. Was that part of her job? Part of her training? What did that mean?

Again, the emptiness of not having her memories struck her like an old wound that had been re-opened. It was so unsettling. And it made her want to get onto that ship even more—to distract herself and to find a cure.

At the cockpit, Will set a course for the container ship, and the boat roared to life and moved toward it.

On the deck, all eyes were locked on the massive vessel looming on the horizon.

Owen drifted closer to Maya. “What do you think we’ll find?”

“Answers,” she whispered. “And food. Not sure which I want more at this point.”

He smiled. “Same here.”

Maya watched the ship as they approached it, but she could see no movement at all. There were also no markings on the vessel, no name or numbers that she could see. Metal containers were stacked three rows high and ran the length of the ship. They were blue and red and green, and none seemed to be open.

What she didn’t see concerned her most: a way onto the ship. Its deck sat high above the sea, far higher than their small craft.

Owen seemed to have come to the same conclusion. “Will, swing around the other side of the ship and see if we can find a way up.”

As they rounded the cargo ship, Maya spotted a tender hanging off the side—an orange boat that was about half the size of their yacht. Beside it was a rubberized rope ladder hanging about halfway down the ship’s hull. It would be a stretch to reach it from their vessel, but Maya thought she and Owen could manage.

Her next thought was what the rope ladder implied: someone had boarded the vessel while it had been at sea. She wondered if they were still alive. And still on board.

One way or another, they would know soon.





With the ship in position just below the rope ladder, Maya stood on the edge of the sundeck off the back of the yacht. Her earpiece was in, and her pockets held a flashlight and her father’s pocket watch—for light and good luck.

Owen held his hands up. “I’ll lift you up. When I do, grab the ladder. I’ll come up behind you.”

His hands were strong, and he lifted her at her waist, raising her in the air with ease.

She gripped the ladder, which was rubbery and wet from splashes from the waves. A thrill of fear ran through her as it swayed in the wind, the rubber screeching against the metal hull. She felt Owen’s hands beneath her feet, propelling her up. She pulled with her hands and was glad that she wasn’t wearing the environmental suit. There was no way she would’ve been able to lift herself.

Her foot caught the bottom rung and soon she was climbing. She stole a glance beneath her and saw Alister helping Owen onto the ladder.

At the top of the ladder, she climbed onto the deck and got her first glimpse of the ship. An open corridor ran the length of the vessel. Metal struts stuck up and curved back into the ship, like I-beams that had been bent. The paint was chipped away in many places, revealing rusty red metal beneath, as though a sea creature had been gnawing away at the vessel’s flesh, revealing its ribs.

The sight reminded Maya of the journal’s author, who had described a world that felt like it was dissolving, wasting away under the torture of time. That’s what the ship felt like to her: a floating artifact that the wind and sea were slowly wearing away.

“Radio check,” Will said.

“We read you,” Owen replied.

“Where should we start?” Maya asked.

“The bridge,” Owen said. “And then probably the engine room, the crew quarters, and the kitchen.”

“I feel strongly,” Will said, “that you should announce yourselves as you explore the ship.”

Through the radio link, Maya heard Alister’s voice in the background. “Terrible idea!”

“It is only prudent,” Will said calmly. “We have been sent to this location. We come in peace. If there are people here, they could perceive us as a threat unless we announce ourselves.”

Maya heard the two of them arguing then, voices low, indicating that Will had moved away from the microphone at the cockpit.

Owen seemed to have made up his mind. He called out in the morning sun, his voice echoing off the metal walls of the corridor. “Hello! Hello!”

It was utterly silent except for the purring of their own ship’s motors.

Owen moved forward, stepping cautiously on the rubber mat that ran along the corridor. They had boarded near the middle of the ship and were now making their way to the rear, where a multistory tower rose, looming over the stacks of containers. Maya could see a few columns of containers behind it, but there were far more in front. The scene reminded her of a small skyscraper in the middle of a container yard floating on the sea.

At the tower, they climbed a rickety staircase, careful to avoid the steps that time and rust had eaten away. Near the top of the staircase, Owen turned the long metal handle of a hatch and pulled it open, the sound of rusted metal wailing, calling out into the morning.

“We’re entering the bridge,” Owen said over the radio. “Still no signs of life.”