When Shy made it back to the Normandie Theater and his group of passengers, he found everybody seated except for Kevin, who was standing in front of a window. Shy made a beeline to the railing and scanned the lower theater for Carmen, but she wasn’t there either, so he hurried up to Kevin, saying: “There’s gonna be a tsunami.” He looked over his shoulder, making sure none of the passengers had heard him.
Kevin stared back at him wide-eyed and pointed out the window.
Shy saw it now.
The slight rise in the distance.
It was subtle and far away, but the ship was moving directly toward it.
“What if we don’t make it?” Kevin said. He looked terrified.
Shy turned to the crowded theater seats, thinking for the first time that he might die out here, in the middle of the ocean. His heart climbed into his throat, and he felt like he was about to gag or faint. Dying had never crossed his mind in a real way before. Not like this.
A pack of passengers were now gathered at the balcony railing, and Kevin was moving toward them and shouting: “Sit down, please! Everyone needs to be sitting down!”
Shy hurried to his group, making sure they were all secured in their life jackets, and he double-checked his own jacket; then he sat himself in one of the theater chairs and gripped the armrests and closed his eyes and told himself they’d be okay, they’d be okay, they’d be okay, the ship was huge, the bottom indestructible like he’d told his grandma. All they had to do was sit in their muster stations like the captain said, because the captain had probably seen it all and knew what he was doing.
Shy clasped his hands together as if to pray, but he didn’t know how to pray because he never went to his grandma’s church, and he was making shit up when he told her the bottom was eighteen feet thick and made of pure steel, he had no idea how thick it was, or what it was made of, and what if this was his punishment for lying or for not going to church?
Shy was up again, moving through the balcony seats to check the rise on the ocean through one of the windows.
It reached higher now.
And it was closer to the ship.
And they were charging right at it.
He heard voices over his shoulder and turned around. Scattered passengers were now gathered at the window behind him. They were at every window. All of them pointing at the rise and holding each other and panicking. Kevin was shouting for them to get back to their seats, but nobody was listening.
Shy tried shouting, too, but all the screaming drowned him out, so he went to the railing to look for Carmen again, his heart slamming inside his chest, his breaths too fast, because they were only seconds away from living or dying. He understood this. And what if Carmen was outside somewhere? What if she didn’t know what was coming?
He circled his group of passengers again, pleading for everyone to sit down.
Some did, but most of them still crowded the windows trying to get one last look, and Shy shoved his way to the window where Kevin stood and peered outside.
He froze.
A massive wall of water, almost twice the height of the ship and climbing still, and coming directly at them. It was clear they had no chance of making it over, but the ship continued plunging forward.
Everyone at the windows was screaming, even men, and Shy realized he was screaming, too, and a heavyset middle-aged man slumped to the ground holding his chest, and Shy’s entire body started to tingle and he lost all strength in his arms and legs and had to hold on to the window to stay standing as he stared at the cresting wave—this beyond all his understanding except it was the end of everything, and no person could change this fact, and no God, and the wave was directly in front of them now, and all Shy could see through the window was the roaring wall of ocean water.
He turned to run just as it slammed into the ship and all the small windows exploded with glass and water, and the floor shot straight up, and he found himself in the air—and in his slow-motion flight Shy saw bodies thrown from chairs, bodies crashing into other bodies, into walls, bodies toppling over the theater railing, falling onto the stage, onto chairs, onto the backs of other passengers, the ship alarm once again blaring in Shy’s ears, and the spray of cold ocean salt water in his nose and mouth and eyes, blinding him, and then he was somehow slammed headfirst into a chandelier and was lost.…