The Remains of Tomorrow

The lower level was waist-deep already, flooding from a number of breaches along the starboard hull. Younger crewmen were wading through the water in search of bailing buckets. Older crewmates were racing toward the ladders, offering prayers beneath their breath.

The ship rocked violently against the violent assault of the squall, the gale bringing down icy sheets of rain. A young man scrutinized the darkness, gripping the stern white-knuckled and grimacing. His brown hair darkened in color as a salty spray washed over him, but he seemed rather impassive, merely muttering to himself.

“We’re so close. The end of the world is nigh, we mustn’t give up now.” The man glanced around at his chaotic crew, “Keep pushing men! Don’t give up now! It is simply the storm hour and we must overcome it!” The wind seemed to snatch his voice, whipping it away from him, but his crew seemed to understand.

The man tensed as lightning flashed. A blinding white luminescence that cast eerie shadows on the mens’ surrounding, followed by an unnerving silence. Everything was calm, the atmosphere heavy with tension, no one even daring to breathe a word.

As the light faded and the mens’ eyes adjusted the image of a city materialized. Vast architectural creations of iron and glass, they glimmered in the sunlight and stood towering over the crew as they floated across calm water. The dirty waves sloshing mesmerizingly against the hull as they drew closer.

Noises filled the air, a cacophony of sound that made the men grimace. Banging metal, angry voices, loud and abrupt noises that caught the men off guard. Several looked back to see clear skies, and the ocean stretched out behind them, the storm simply gone, others simply stood there in shock.

One of the younger men in the crew with strawberry blonde hair, a face full of freckles, a strong jaw and periwinkle eyes approached the captain, who stood still gripping the stern tightly staring unblinkingly out at the fabrication that lay before him.

“Sir, where are we?” The young man’s voice was high pitched, his nerves getting to him.

“The end of the world.” The captain replied still staring,

“What does that mean?” The man asked in apprehension,

The captain didn’t respond, “Sir. What does that mean?” The captain turned towards his crew,

“It means we’re not going back.”

Voices erupted in anger, confusion, and fear. “I didn’t agree to this!”

“What about my wife?! My children?!”

“What is this place?!”

“I don’t understand!”

“God save us all.”

The captain turned sadly towards the scene before him, “God have mercy on our souls for we have found the remains of tomorrow.”

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