Shipwreck(Anthony Colombo) The Pastor said, “Lord save us.”

His flock answered, “Lord save us.”

“I see the Pastor and his flock are still at it,” said Bryan.

“I have never been very religious before because I never saw a real need before now,“ answered Timothy.
“I don’t think I can be as cynical as you under the circumstances. I am beginning to think the Pastor is right. How long has it been,” but Timothy didn’t wait for an answer. “I’m not sure and I don’t think anyone can tell us other than it’s been a very long time.”

“Yeah, your right, I should...” there was a pause while Bryan thought out what he was about to say next. “I don’t know, sometimes I talk trying to make people think I’m not afraid, but between you and me, I just don’t think anyone is going to come for us. I look at those people and I remember the ones in the boats. Where did they go? Why were we left behind? Why hasn’t anyone come to look for us? We’re stuck here. Damn, who would have thought? I got a job waiting for me, but I bet they got tired of waiting and found someone else to fill it.” Then after a long pause he asked, “how about you?”

“No, I got nothing and no one. I am a writer that ran out of things to write about. I thought this trip would be a good way to develop some new material. Look at us; I sure got a lot of stuff to use now.”

“You mean you’re going to write about us?”

“Well, some of us, and the things that have happened to us. Realistically though, I am sure that not everyone will be in the book. Some just aren’t that interesting.”

“That’s funny, but for me it’s hard to think of any of us in these circumstances as being anything but interesting.”

“OH, you know what I mean. There are those with names that make them interesting in themselves, and the heros. Those are the people that others want to know about. No one cares about the everyday things. Common stuff just doesn’t sell.”

“Will the Pastor be in the book,” asked Bryan.

“Yes. I think he will make it only because of his belief in miracles.”

“Sounds like a touch of sarcasm in your tone.”

”There is more than just a little. The way I see it we really don’t know how long we have been here, and all the praying the Pastor’s done hasn’t gotten us any closer to being saved, has it? I haven’t even seen any of the crew coming up with any ideas of how to save us. Tell me, really, how long have we been here now, do you know?”

“No, I haven’t a clue. I started a calendar and after about three weeks I found that at least thirty others had done the same thing. Some were off by days and others by months. So, I figured what’s the use.”

“No matter, how many miracles do you remember in that time, what ever it is?”

“I don’t know about miracles, but how about the guy that was burned? Remember him? He was so bad you couldn’t tell that he was even human. But, within a few hours he was sitting up talking and in only a day or two there were no signs of burns except for his clothes. Then there was the old couple. You remember them? No one thought they would live more a few days. Look at them now. They’re over there with the Pastor. See they look like kids in their twenties, and how about…”

Timothy interrupted Bryan before he could finish. “I get the point. But just because I can’t explain why something happens doesn’t automatically make it a miracle.”

“What, once an atheist always an atheist?”

“I’m not sure anymore. It is getting harder for me to keep up my front as a good atheist. Lately, I have been feeling that I should be with the others and the Pastor.”

Before Timothy could make any other revelations, Bryan said, “holy . . . Tim, look behind you! What the hell is that light?”

Timothy turned around. His mouth dropped open, and for a long time he couldn’t utter a word. The light rose higher into the sky. It rose slowly, but it wasn’t where it should have been if it were the sun. Further, it was bright icy white not a warming orange or yellow. It was cold and piercing not warm and refreshing. It rose, stopped and hung motionless above them. After a time, it dipped and flashed across the people just above their heads. Some of them ran in fear looking for places to hide while others knelt in prayer. The Pastor stood transfixed doubting its religious origins.

All the people that remained on deck watched as the light hovered, darted one way and then another, stopping from time to time as if trying to decide what to do next. At one point it stopped and began to revolve around an imaginary axis finally settling on the roof of the bridge. There it seemed to rest for an eternity before more lights came on. The new lights separated themselves from the one large light. Even the smaller lights were so bright that one had to shade his eyes in order to see what they were doing.

Once the lights were parted from one another, a tether joined the two by means of a very long leash. The smaller group of lights seemed to move cautiously, almost afraid to get too far from the larger light. As the smaller lights moved, there were even brighter flashes of light, mini suns lighting up small areas across the deck. At one point it dipped out of sight into the forward hold reappearing only after a long time below decks. When the smaller group of lights was satisfied that its mission had been completed, what ever it was, they rejoined the larger light and departed.

When the thing had gone, and all was back to normal, or as close to normal as things could be under the circumstance, there was much to speculate about. Most were sure that a rescue mission was about to end their isolation. Others weren’t so sure. In any event, the spectacle repeated itself several more times without any attempt, by what ever it was, to contact anyone, why?

Several days passed. Each day became like the one before it. The thing, what ever it was, came early in the morning. Between the bigger and two smaller machines the entire surface of the ship was covered, for what purpose no one knew. The smaller machines would often detach themselves from the larger and drift like a playful child stopping where they wanted and going in where they wanted without regard for the privacy of others.

Everyone tried to contact the things, tried to get them to acknowledge the fact that we were here. They must see us. Those lights are so bright they blotted out the sun, how could they not see us. People shouted, waved and stood in their way even when it was obvious that the maniac behind the lights would run them down. No one was hit. The thing would float toward them then, within feet of a collision, it would rise slightly and pass over them. It was trying to ignore everything but that which it wanted for its own purpose. My God why? Nothing we did stopped those flashing lights. you bastards we’re here! See us? We’re here! Damn you to hell!

Finally, timothy and I were standing near the bow of the ship on the port side when that thing came again. It stopped about five feet from us and hovered. Its bright light was shining on us. It was as if this thing were looking for the perfect words to use to tell us why it had ignored us all this time. But it just floated there not moving not saying anything, it did nothing for a long time, what are we? Why are you treating us this way? Timothy began to move toward the thing. As if trying to defend itself from Timothy, it pulled back a few feet and extended a ghastly metal arm. On the end of the arm was a small metal plaque. Ever so slowly the arm reached out and placed the metal plaque on the deck in front of us. Pleased with its offering to us it moved back still farther and waited for our show of gratitude.

However, when neither Timothy nor I moved to inspect the plate, the machine turned and moved off. All we could do was stand and watch as it disappeared into the distance.

Over the past days we experienced the full range of human emotions. We went from elation, at the thought of being found and the eventual rescue, steadily down until this moment when the bottom dropped out and we reached the pit of despair. There are no words to describe the feeling that comes from crying for help only to have the door slammed in your face.

Tim and I stood for what seemed like days. Curiosity, however, is a force that no will can stand for long. Finally, Timothy was the first of us to give in. He had to see what was on the plaque. He moved toward the small piece of metal as if he were approaching a vial of some deadly bacteria. Ever so slowly, he stooped to pick the thing up, but his hands never touched it. He stood erect with a start. His face was ashen, and he began to tremble violently. When he looked at me, his eyes were trying to ask questions his mouth had no words for. He stood, and I had to see what had done this to him. Even as near as I was to him, brushing him as I knelt, he didn’t move.

Unlike timothy I didn’t look at the words until we were face to face. It took a long while for me to build up the courage to look at what I held in my hands. Then, my God, I couldn’t believe my eyes. I, in my whole life never expected to see what I was looking at. No, this can’t be true! Who is this Robert Ballard, and what the hell is a Woods Hole? This must be some kind of sick joke.”

Timothy only stood there, ice in his eyes, looking through me. “This says we’re all dead. It says that we died April 15, 1912. It says that was more than eighty years ago. How can that be? Didn’t they say the Titanic was unsinkable?”

The only reply was, “Lord save us.”

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