As he opened the great door at the bottom of the Theater and looked into the hundreds in their lounge chairs above, the smell overwhelmed him. It rushed down over him, flowing out the open door. He thought he would vomit. He turned from the scene quickly, rushing back through the hallways, not seeing the faces of those he passed by, although, striking as he was, all eyes always turned to him. He felt better as he got out of that Theater air, but he kept moving.

Adam Melville’s life had been a quest, and the clues always had come to him. He was one of those men who felt fate in their life, and he’d never run from it. But here, there was the greatest mystery and no clues. So many people were in so much pain, and he knew it was much more than the silly practical issues Lee tried so hard to resolve. If it were Adam’s fate to help here, he could not see how.

He found an empty stairwell. He shut the door and fell to his knees and prayed in the dark. There he had a religious experience.

Dear Lord, he said quietly, his hands covering his face, rescue us from our fear. Let us understand your plan. There must be a meaning to it! If this is punishment, show us a way out. I know I’ve been lost to you for many years but I’ve tried to do right things in my life. Please.

Adam knew, in the end, this was all there was to prayer. Please. It was obvious what they needed. Please. However many sinners there were on board, or anywhere the flood had hit, there were innocents too. Please. In the Bible, God showed himself so that the people could look on his miracles and know He had touched the world. Please.

He asked God to let them live, or, if they were to die, that God would show them how. So that, if it were God’s plan, they could die without suffering, and in such a way that they would have a better life to come. He prayed for all those aboard the ship, he prayed for those off the ship. He prayed with such intensity that his flesh grew red behind his grey beard, and sweat came from his cheeks and his fists bruised his forehead. Show us the way to live, or the way to die.

He stopped praying and stood. He understood, not everything, but the outlines of something. He knew he was where he was for a reason. Something needed to be done that only he could do. He returned to the Theater.

Adam’s hair was wet with rain; his clothes wetly hugged his enormous frame. The man entered at the bottom of the stairs by the Royal Theater’s left aisle. He walked along the front row, making eye contact through the crowd as he walked. There were people on the stage, it had been home to a couple of dozen. Adam walked onto the stage, and even in the dark, his presence was tremendous. He found an empty spot, fell to his knees and entered into prayer.

A wave of quiet propagated from the front rows out. Soon, all eyes were on the giant on stage, on his knees, his head held up, eyes screwed up tight, his big hairy fists up in his beard. For minutes it went on, and many wondered how long they would watch this man pray.

A man and his wife on the stage came over to Adam. They knelt next to him. An old lady went up, then a man.

Several more joined Adam on the stage, others fell into prayer where they were. Rick felt himself laughing nervously in the buzz of several dozen quiet prayers.

No one stood until Adam did. The spell broke. He looked around; the sounds finally came to him. He smiled, turning to those who had knelt next to him. They shook hands smiling. More came to him and shook his hand, thanking him for bringing God onto the ship.

31

The ending of the first week on board had brought a spiritual and emotional sickness to the Festival. The ending now of the second week brought a physical epidemic. People were getting sick. There was a bad flu bug; one in four were sick with cramps and muscle pain, diarrhea and vomiting, or respiratory infections. It was the mold and bacteria from the toilet spills, Travis knew. The ventilation system had been repaired, but the ship was too filthy to air out that easily. Darren was sick, and Travis, Corrina and Gerry took turns comforting him as he vomited or lay shivering on the couch in the piano lounge.

They continued to split their time between the piano lounge, Vera’s stateroom, and the Atrium. Although Claude would leave them for periods of time, Travis found himself attached to Claude, as his son was. He was fascinated by Claude’s optimistic pessimism. Professor Claude seemed always to expect the worst, but never seemed dismayed. Sometimes Travis was attracted by the attitude, sometimes repulsed. It was as though Travis held it as an article of faith that the worst had occurred, and the Professor felt as strongly that the worst was still coming.

One night, Corrina said offhandedly, “This limbo is hell.”

“What’s that?” Claude asked.

“The not knowing,” she said. “We have no idea what our world and lives are going to be when we get off. I think it’s the worst stress right now.”

“No,” Claude said. “God, no. This boat is home now, and everybody’s starting to realize it. Pretty soon people will be asking what it means if this is all we have. Think about this. Human beings don’t change. Our DNA is no different from- pick your favorite historic savage. Nazis slaughtering Jews, Romans slaughtering Carthaginians, Portuguese slaughtering Africans, whoever you want. There’s nothing in us programmed any different. Just what we grew up with. And this isn’t where we grew up.”

“You’re a real ray of sunshine, you know that?” Travis said.

“Travis,” the Professor said, “you’ve seen people in so much worse conditions in your Sudan work, in Haiti. Why do you keep thinking we’ve hit bottom?”

Yes, Travis had seen worse. He’d seen humans so far from humanity. What had to happen to take them there, he wondered.

Travis continued to explore the ship. He felt like, if he gave Gerry time alone with his wife, Gerry would likewise give Travis time with his kid, which happily sometimes meant Corrina as well.

He sometimes fantasized that they would survive, but somehow Gerry wouldn’t, and then he’d feel guilty for imagining it and he’d punish himself with the thought that Corrina would never return to him, whatever happened to Gerry.

The electric card locks of the cabins had remained operational through it all. Each had its own battery to power it, which meant that many abandoned cabins were locked. Travis had watched now, day by day and week by week, as more and more of the bolts were smashed open, the doors splintered around them. There were no secure spots, but the ship still seemed to contain vast secret places, dead and dark areas.

The huge casino, built in an old west style, was a haunted ghost town. Then, there would be life where it wasn’t expected, a hidden pocket, like the library, where they found a number of refugees would pass much of their time quietly in the Alexandrian-inspired space, amid white columns and upright desks, leather chairs and mosaic floors. They read histories and sciences, trash and art. It passed the time.

An afternoon several days since the run on the lifeboats, came a miracle.

Travis wandered alone. He passed through the Champagne Room, which had become one of his favorite spots. Many of the crew and ship staff had camped out here after the collision and the loss of so many crew berths. Occasionally, the musicians on board gave concerts there. Travis had seen a Flamenco guitar duo on one visit.

The Champagne Bar had the best lounging booths on the ship, the softest carpet, snooker tables, and an ice bar which Travis had watched melt over the first days on the ship until a wet stain had spread over the carpet, evaporating and drying slowly in the cold wet atmosphere. Now there was a moldy smell in the room, but it still charmed Travis because the room had so little natural light, but all day through showed the pleasant glow of the battery-powered electric candles on the tables, which lit up the room like lightning bugs at night.