“I was in the middle of an improvisation. Intermission was almost over and the show was aboutto recommence, but still there was no sign of Theo—Sorin the Magnificent. People were reseating themselves, and putting their masks back on. But—”
He pauses.
“I have no words. It—it was the very beginning of a nightmare. The ship took a sudden swerve, and I fell from my bench. I thought theOrchidwould right herself again, but she just leaned more. Everyone was gasping. Trying to stay upright. Things were starting to fall off tables, off shelves in the kitchen and in the bar. Then a big thud. A boom. A terrible juddering.
“My piano tore free from the safety latches. It started drifting—reeling around the room. Everyone was sort of flying around the room. I was frozen. And this sound of metal, groaning. A shuddering and shaking beneath our feet. TheOrchidbegan to lean over even more. The whole room was turning sideways. At an angle like this.”
He demonstrates a sharp incline with his hand.
“Crew and guests in evening gowns and suits were scrambling and crawling or trying to get up and walk on the sloping floor, which was slippery with spilled alcohol, water, and blood. They were crashing into one another, crawling over one another. Calling names. Holding hands. Some started to cry.” He pauses for several beats.
“And then the lights went out. Pitch black.”
A long silence.
“When the low emergency lights flickered on along the floor—it was Dante’s inferno. A hellscape. Chaos. Blood. Injured people screaming. Crying. A woman was bleeding from the mouth and holding ahandful of broken teeth. Another older woman—her arm was twisted in an unnatural shape. A man was lying with a broken leg, his bone sticking out. So much blood. One of the food carts had careened out the kitchen and smashed into his legs. My—” His voice catches on a hitch of emotion.
Lorenzo sits silent for a while. His eyes glisten. Then softly he says, “My piano had spun and shot across the room. It crushed a waiter against the wall. He—he did not survive.”
He swallows hard.
“Alarms started beeping and clanging everywhere. A voice over the intercom said that due to an electrical fault there was a temporary blackout, but things were under control. The crew said they were working to resolve the situation.”
Lorenzo looks directly at the camera.
“But there was nothing temporary about what was happening. Everyone could see that. They told us to go back to our cabins, or stay in place. I—I just had to get out of that room.”
He grows agitated, then inhales deeply and straightens his spine.
“I stumbled through the sloping foyer and got out to the deck. Panic was spreading. When I got outside, it was clear. The—”
He looks away for a moment.
“The ship—she was sinking.”
He sucks in another deep, shaky breath.
“I wasn’t even supposed to be on that cruise.” He exhales, eyes glassy. “Fate put me on theBlack Orchidthat day.”
Poppy
“Poppy? Wake up—stay with me.”
Poppy blinks, then winces as pain spears through her head and rips down her flank. She shuts her eyes again, preferring to sink into calm, soft blackness where there’s no pain, no noise.
A hand shakes her shoulder.
“We need to go up, get out on deck. Poppy, wake up—you can do this.”
She fights through a molasses thickness, trying to place the voice, struggling to comprehend what he’s saying. It is a he, she thinks. Patrick. Yes, Patrick.
Noise slams into her brain: Loud electronic beeps. Klaxon horns. Thumping. Shouting somewhere. Poppy feels confused. Patrick’s voice cuts through, urgent, demanding.
“Poppy! You have to move!”
She touches her temple. Her head is wrapped in something—a turban? Cloth?
“Can you get up?” Patrick asks.
