Actions

Work Header

Standing on the Deck of the Ever Forward as It Pounds the Earth in its Chesapeake Bay

Work Text:

Captain Pierce Brosnan looked out over the deck of the Ever Forward, clutching a convenient pendant showing a picture of his dead wife, Madeleine. He’d thought he’d been ready to get back to work, but he was fighting a pit in his stomach. The salt in the air caught in his hair and filled his lungs. It all felt so familiar.

He had to remind himself he was totally safe. The event which had claimed his wife Caroline and most of his crew back in the Suez Canal was a once-in-a-generation tragedy. He felt the fifteen medals weighing down the lapel of his coat, but they were cold comfort. They wouldn’t bring those lives claimed back, or deliver those seventy billion Amazon packages on time.

A skipper in an old-timey sailor outfit nodded to him reverently as he passed. He smiled, allowing himself to breathe. After this, he was going to retire. This was going to be a bookend that allowed him to close this chapter of his life, and live again.

And just as he was thinking that, a deep groaning sound came from the bowels of the ship.

“No…” he said to himself. “It can’t be.”

He staggered back to the captain’s room as waves crested over the side of the boat, soaking him through, almost knocking him off his feet. Wrestling to the steering wheel, he checked a large dial on the dashboard labelled ‘SHIP HORN-OMETER’.

It was at 0.

“Everything’s fine…” he said, heaving for breath, wiping the salt water from his face. “False alarm.” He breathed a sigh of relief, feeling like a fool for a moment.

He tapped the dial, just to double-check, and it flew up from 0 to 100 real fuckin’ fast.

Horror gripped Captain Pierce’s heart. It was just like last time. It was happening again.

The ship made a deep noise like a keening whale, and tilted up. Captain Pierce grabbed the steering wheel for stability as his legs lifted up into the air and the ship rutted against Chesapeake Bay, running aground.

The captain’s quarters were now vertical for some reason, and he hung from the steering wheel with all his upper body strength against his wet shirt in a shot for the mums in the audience. The skipper in the old-timey sailor costume fell past the window, screaming and tumbling to his off-screen death. “No!” he shouted, and he grabbed the tannoy microphone. “Everyone, to the life boats!”

The ship lurched again, and he dropped the steering wheel, now hanging on solely by the microphone cord, which stretched and distended as it frayed in the box. He swung like Indiana Jones to the door, before it snapped in mid-air.

Clambering onto the up-tilted deck, he ran past the violinists from Titanic, who were playing a sponsored song written by Sia for the end credits. “Move!” he shouted, pushing them rudely out of the way.

“I say!” one of them said, before being swept away by a wave.

Captain Pierce picked up the old phone on the deck, trying to get a line through to the coast guard.

“Hello?” Against all odds, it was his best friend who had been introduced in the opening scene of the movie.

“It’s happening again!” Captain Pierce shouted. “We’re going down! We’re yelling timber!”

“Pierce?” the unnamed friend said. “We’ve been through this, you’re safe now. The flaring bulbous bow of the Ever Given can’t hurt you.”

“No you idiot, listen!” he lifted the phone over his head and gripped the booth for dear life as the Ever Forward rocked back and forth, grinding against the Chesapeake Bay as hundreds of litres of water gushed.

“What on earth is going on over there?” the unnamed friend shouted.

“Hell is empty…” Captain Pierce said, looking into the middle distance. “And all the devils are here.” The line went dead. 

He was about to become the only person to be on a boat riding the Earth’s orifices twice in a row. He vomited, and it had nothing to do with seasickness.

Wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, he started the long trek to find other passengers. The cargo was done for, it would all be destroyed, burned up by the hot, spicy love of the boat. But the passengers…

A small child screamed. Captain Pierce looked up to see a small boy wearing shorts, suspenders, and a hat with a propeller on it. He was hanging from a shipping container by his hands. Captain Pierce froze, seeing the vision of his wife (Emmeline) and his generic children hanging from an identical looking shipping container on the Ever Given. It was happening again…

The small boy fell, his legs flailing in slow motion as the sea rose up to meet him.

“Nooooooo!” Captain Pierce screamed, in a performance that would in six months time be a well-used GIF on Twitter, netting him a Razzy.

He clambered inside, the only occupant left on this Wet Ass Shippy. He wasn’t going to make it. He had only minutes. He could see his wife, Margarine, reaching out to him as the corridors filled with water…

Four Weeks Later…

An enormous bore drill broke through the wall into the submerged Ever Forward’s cargo hold, and a large submersible with claw arms dove down into its slippery depths.

“Good god, these boats are monsters,” Unnamed Friend said, voice muffled from inside the little submersible, as he navigated it towards the inside of the bow of the ship. “It stinks in here.”

Drilling into the bulbous bow, the boat gave a sigh of release, and Captain Pierce climbed out of it like Danny DeVito climbing out of a couch, naked and drowning. Unnamed Friend opened the submersible door, obscured by a thick blanket of hydraulic steam from the door. He wrapped a towel around Captain Pierce’s naked form. “It’s ok… it’s ok…” he said, holding his friend close.

“It was… the eye of the storm. The only way… Oh God…” Captain Pierce couldn’t even close his eyes. “I saw it… I saw everything.”

“No human should have to look upon such things,” Unnamed Friend shook his head. We now see he is played by Jeff Goldblum. “Boats do dangerous things in the name of nature. No ship is immune to crack…”