
Are we going to drown, and go down to our watery graves?
Tim and Hari held on for dear life as another gigantic wall of water the height of a twelve story building rose up above them, before crashing down with enough force to pulverize bone.
“We can’t go on like this.”
“We’ll discuss this later,” he yelled over the cacophony of the storm, “just get everyone below the decks for now.”
The refugee ship was around 25 meters long from prow to stern, and it was being tossed around by waves nearly twice its size.
He blacked out for a few seconds, and when he came to, Tim realized that they were now riding the wave, with their engines lifted clear out of the water.
“Ok, I’ve lashed everything down with tarps, let’s get below decks”
About 40 refugees, men, women and children, were huddled together in the damp darkness. Some were weeping, some praying.
With a little luck, we’ll ride the storm out, and then it’s smooth sailing to Jakarta, in a couple of weeks.
Yet no one did anything, because those people getting poisoned were in far away Africa, or China, and you could still afford clean food and water in the US.
At least the bastards had the sense not use nuclear weapons and cause a nuclear holocaust.
The Asian countries who had kept out of the wars now had to deal with millions of refugees.
The UN had collapsed. Governments collapsed. Society collapsed.
“It’s over. Let’s go see where we are.”
Tim looked up. Sunlight was seeping through the access hatch. Hari studied him curiously.
Tim’s first impression was that they were in some sort of bay. The ship was floundering in the shallow water, having been washed up on some sort of shore.
“We are on Garbage Island” replied Tim, shaking with non-humorous mirth.
The ocean currents across the world end up circling this one shallow spot in the middle of the Pacific Ocean.
Tim placed a sliver of a plastic bag over the dish.
“25 seconds to consume a whole bag…”
“Yes. The world has been saved. By a little germ.”