cheering, and no ship’s horn trumpeting the return of the Sunset Rose this time. Somewhere in the crowd a child started to cry.
Marcus Dodson had planned on meeting his wife and son at the terminal today. He stood quietly within the crowd, waiting for word on when they would let him see his family. Marcus had enough sense to know something was wrong. He was feeling sick with worry with the delay. Patience and understanding had worn thin as the crowd of people started to shout at the port staff and police officers sprinkled throughout the crowd.
“We need everyone to remain calm and allow the authorities to secure the ship. Please return to your vehicles. We will let you know when you can see your family and friends,” came a blasting announcement from the passenger intake kiosk off to Marcus’s right.
In unison with the announcement, the officers stepped forward and directed the crowd to turn around and leave. The crowd stared and shouted as the emergency workers moved around behind the fence, preparing to breech the massive ship.
“I WANT TO SEE MY DAUGHTER … ARE THEY ARE OKAY? … WHAT’S GOING ON?” Voices from the crowd clamored for attention.
“I need to get to someone that can answer questions,” Marcus shouted to an older woman standing next to him. She could barely hear him over the outrage of the crowd.
“I hope my daughter and her family are okay,” was the only response he got before she turned back toward the ship and scanned every inch looking for any sign of her loved ones.
Marcus slowly moved toward the front of the crowd. He wanted to get a clear look at the ship to see if he could figure out what might have happened to his wife and son.
“Return to your cars,” came the command again through the speaker system. Suddenly the sound of sirens, lots of sirens, started to blare throughout the area.
Jostled by the crowd, Marcus could barely keep his footing as he clung to the fencing. He looked back up at the ship and was startled when he thought he saw a face peering out of a lower deck porthole.
“Look at that!” Marcus exclaimed, pointing at a face framed within the porthole.
“I don’t see anything, buddy, so stop freaking out my kids,” an angry man shot back.
“I think I see it,” a pretty young woman in a halter top said hesitantly.
People started to look in the direction Marcus was pointing. The crowd continued to press forward, testing the fence as more people caught sight of the face.
Maybe this isn’t as bad as I thought, Marcus said to himself, desperate to cling to some form of hope. Pressed against the fence, he started to pray silently, Dear God, please let my wife and son be okay.
There was a disturbance as a group of private-military-types dressed in black fatigues with “ TDC Tactical ” displayed on their BDU caps pushed through the crowd and joined the police. They attempted to maneuver the crowd back from the fence and toward the parking lot. Another group of mercenaries could be seen running toward the staging area behind the fence as medical personnel waited to breech the ship near the main loading door.
Marcus was relieved when the crowd started to back up.
“What’s going on?” Marcus asked a police officer working the crowd.
“Please return to your vehicle,” was all the officer replied, looking distressed.
Marcus looked around and spotted some in the crowd arguing with the police as they pushed back against the black-clad security team. Others were slowly moving toward the parking lot and their vehicles. Marcus looked back at the ship, but the face framed in the porthole was gone.
As Marcus reluctantly turned toward the parking lot and his car, his eye caught movement again, this time further up the ship’s massive flank. As he turned around to take a closer look he was prodded again to move along by the same police officer.
“Wait! I think I saw a door opening on one of the upper decks,” Marcus told the officer.
“What?” the
Marcus Dodson had planned on meeting his wife and son at the terminal today. He stood quietly within the crowd, waiting for word on when they would let him see his family. Marcus had enough sense to know something was wrong. He was feeling sick with worry with the delay. Patience and understanding had worn thin as the crowd of people started to shout at the port staff and police officers sprinkled throughout the crowd.
“We need everyone to remain calm and allow the authorities to secure the ship. Please return to your vehicles. We will let you know when you can see your family and friends,” came a blasting announcement from the passenger intake kiosk off to Marcus’s right.
In unison with the announcement, the officers stepped forward and directed the crowd to turn around and leave. The crowd stared and shouted as the emergency workers moved around behind the fence, preparing to breech the massive ship.
“I WANT TO SEE MY DAUGHTER … ARE THEY ARE OKAY? … WHAT’S GOING ON?” Voices from the crowd clamored for attention.
“I need to get to someone that can answer questions,” Marcus shouted to an older woman standing next to him. She could barely hear him over the outrage of the crowd.
“I hope my daughter and her family are okay,” was the only response he got before she turned back toward the ship and scanned every inch looking for any sign of her loved ones.
Marcus slowly moved toward the front of the crowd. He wanted to get a clear look at the ship to see if he could figure out what might have happened to his wife and son.
“Return to your cars,” came the command again through the speaker system. Suddenly the sound of sirens, lots of sirens, started to blare throughout the area.
Jostled by the crowd, Marcus could barely keep his footing as he clung to the fencing. He looked back up at the ship and was startled when he thought he saw a face peering out of a lower deck porthole.
“Look at that!” Marcus exclaimed, pointing at a face framed within the porthole.
“I don’t see anything, buddy, so stop freaking out my kids,” an angry man shot back.
“I think I see it,” a pretty young woman in a halter top said hesitantly.
People started to look in the direction Marcus was pointing. The crowd continued to press forward, testing the fence as more people caught sight of the face.
Maybe this isn’t as bad as I thought, Marcus said to himself, desperate to cling to some form of hope. Pressed against the fence, he started to pray silently, Dear God, please let my wife and son be okay.
There was a disturbance as a group of private-military-types dressed in black fatigues with “ TDC Tactical ” displayed on their BDU caps pushed through the crowd and joined the police. They attempted to maneuver the crowd back from the fence and toward the parking lot. Another group of mercenaries could be seen running toward the staging area behind the fence as medical personnel waited to breech the ship near the main loading door.
Marcus was relieved when the crowd started to back up.
“What’s going on?” Marcus asked a police officer working the crowd.
“Please return to your vehicle,” was all the officer replied, looking distressed.
Marcus looked around and spotted some in the crowd arguing with the police as they pushed back against the black-clad security team. Others were slowly moving toward the parking lot and their vehicles. Marcus looked back at the ship, but the face framed in the porthole was gone.
As Marcus reluctantly turned toward the parking lot and his car, his eye caught movement again, this time further up the ship’s massive flank. As he turned around to take a closer look he was prodded again to move along by the same police officer.
“Wait! I think I saw a door opening on one of the upper decks,” Marcus told the officer.
“What?” the
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