A Cruise for Only Two

The private party felt like it was running on its own rules. Soft lights, music low enough to feel secret, drinks passed around without anyone counting. Danny had found it by mistake, following the wrong hallway and catching a glimpse of a door that never should have been open. James was already inside, leaning against the bar like he owned the place. He had been on ships like this for years, knew the tricks, the hidden corners. Danny was wide-eyed, clutching his first drink like it might anchor him.

James smiled at him, pointed out that most people on the ship would never know this party existed. Danny laughed nervously. They started talking. By the end of the night, they stayed close, two shadows moving through the crowd together.

In the following days, they met on purpose. James showed Danny which deck had the best sunrise, which pool to avoid if you didn’t like kids, and how to slip into staff areas without anyone stopping you. Danny asked questions, amazed at how much there was to learn. Their bond grew quickly, unspoken but clear. They brushed shoulders more often. They lingered longer than they needed to. The ship was full of people, yet they only noticed each other.

Then the blackout hit.

The ship went silent. The lights cut out. Engines stopped. The ocean made no sound, as if it were holding its breath. At first, people laughed. Some cheered. They thought it was part of the entertainment. But when the silence dragged on, when nothing came back, fear set in.

Phones lit the dark. The crew ran through the halls with radios pressed to their faces. No sound came through. Danny grabbed James’s arm. James whispered that it would be fine, though he didn’t believe it.

When the lights returned, chaos bloomed. Music blared, the engines groaned, but the ship wasn’t the same. Tables were empty where people had been seconds earlier. A woman screamed for her husband, who had vanished mid-conversation. A child’s toy floated in the pool with no child in sight.

Announcements came from the speakers. Calm, too calm. The words sounded rehearsed, not alive.

They stuck together, moving through the ship. The buffets were wrecked. Food was smeared across walls, not spilled but thrown, as if something had dragged trays and bodies through the room. A roast lay half-eaten on the floor, with what looked like claw marks torn across it. Bowls of salad were upended and crawling with wet streaks, slime clinging to the lettuce.

Screams pulled them into the main dining hall. Passengers were on the floor, writhing. Skin bubbled as if heat rose from under it. One man’s jaw stretched too far, tearing open until his scream was a wet gurgle. Another passenger’s eyes rolled back, sockets filling with black liquid that spilled onto his chest. The crew tried to hold them down, but then let go and ran when bones cracked in ways that no human body should bend.

James dragged Danny away. They burst onto the outer deck. The sea was wrong. The water rippled without wind. Shapes moved beneath the surface, long and twisted, too many limbs. One rose high enough to break the waterline, pale and glistening, its skin stretched thin over bone-like ridges. Passengers screamed and backed away. Some prayed. Some jumped into the water, only to vanish without a splash, dragged under by unseen arms.

Overhead, the stars shifted. Bright lines crossed the sky, glowing shapes flickered in silence. The ship shook again. The blackout returned. This time, it lasted longer. In the dark, Danny felt breath on his neck that wasn’t James’s. He clung tighter. The dark pulsed with faint colors, flashes of green and red that painted shadows against the walls.

When the lights snapped back on, the deck was littered. Not with bodies, but with fragments. Shoes with no feet inside. A handprint on the glass with no hand attached. A half-filled drink cup is spinning slowly in place.

They ran into a buffet hall again, though now it looked like a slaughterhouse. Food and blood mixed into one sick smear. Tables overturned, chairs broken. A woman staggered out of the kitchen, her face covered in a mask of writhing things, small eel-like creatures biting into her skin. She screamed until they ate their way inside.

James pulled Danny back. They slipped into a service hallway, the smell of rot following them. From above, something heavy dragged across the ceiling. The walls rattled as if something massive crawled inside them.

The ship pressed forward toward Bermuda, but it no longer felt like a destination mattered. The closer they got, the worse the sky became. Bright lights moved in silent patterns above. Every blackout claimed more people. Every return of power revealed more twisted forms and more empty spaces.

James turned to Danny and kissed him hard, quick, desperate. Danny kissed back, clinging to him with both hands. They whispered promises that they would not let go of each other.

Then the lights went out one final time.

The sounds in the dark were not human.

And when the ship lit again, the deck was almost empty. Only the ocean. Only the lights in the sky. Only the things in the water, circling.

The ship groaned, metal twisting as if something enormous had wrapped itself around the hull. The few passengers left screamed and ran in every direction, but the hallways no longer led where they should. Doors opened to black walls that pulsed like skin. The air stank of salt and blood.

James gripped Danny’s hand, pulling him toward the bow. “Stay with me,” he said, though his voice cracked. Danny nodded, teeth clenched, eyes darting to the shadows that seemed to move on their own.

A shadow split open ahead of them. What crawled out looked half-human, half-sea creature, its body bent backward, skin slick and gray. Its jaw unhinged wide, spilling a sound that made the glass tremble. It lurched toward them, limbs too long, snapping joints like wet wood.

James shoved Danny behind him and grabbed a broken chair leg from the wreckage. He swung hard, shoving the thing back, but its skin gave way like jelly. The creature split open, and something smaller wriggled out, latching onto a woman nearby. She fell screaming, her body twitching as the thing crawled inside.

Danny screamed James’s name. James grabbed him again, dragging him toward the open deck. They burst outside. The night sky was alive with lights, glowing shapes circling silently above. The water boiled with movement. Pale limbs rose and fell, slapping against the hull, leaving streaks of slime and blood.

On deck, survivors huddled in corners, some sobbing, some silent. One man clawed at his own throat until his skin tore. Another laughed until his teeth began to drop out one by one.

James and Danny pressed against the railing. Below them, massive shapes swam in circles. One lifted its head out of the water. Its eyes glowed white, lidless, locked on them.

Danny’s breath shook. “We’re not making it out of this, are we?”

James pulled him close, forehead against his. “Then we go together.”

The sky flared green. A beam of light dropped down, sweeping across the deck. Wherever it touched, people vanished. Not with screams this time, not with struggle. Just gone, leaving behind clothes, bags, drinks, food, every trace except the flesh itself.

The beam swept closer. James tightened his arms around Danny. Danny whispered that he was ready.

The light washed over them.

The ship fell silent again.

When the lights flickered back on, the railing where they had stood was empty. Only the sea. Only the circling things below. Only the sky above, burning with alien fire.

The beam passed. The screams stopped. The ship went silent.

James opened his eyes. Danny was still in his arms, shaking, but alive. Around them, the deck was empty. Clothes lay in piles. Half-eaten meals sat on tables. Drinks dripped off the rail where hands had once held them. No bodies. No voices. No movement.

The lights in the sky dimmed. The shapes vanished into the clouds. The water stilled, leaving only faint ripples. It was as if nothing had ever happened.

They searched.

Cabins were open, beds still warm. Shoes lined up neatly by the doors. Phones buzzed on tables with no one to answer. The casino lights spun in silence, cards still scattered on tables. The pool decks were quiet, floats drifting in circles, water undisturbed.

Everywhere they looked, the ship was abandoned.

James and Danny called out until their voices broke. No one answered. They found no one alive. No crew. No passengers. Just the two of them.

Finally, exhausted, they stepped into a cabin and shut the door behind them. The silence pressed in heavy, broken only by their breathing. Danny leaned against James and whispered that maybe this was it, maybe they would never be found.

James kissed him, slow this time, not desperate but certain. “Then all we have is each other,” he said.

Danny kissed back, clinging to him with both hands. With tears in his eyes, he whispered, “Then I am yours until we die.”

They held each other on the bed, the ship groaning faintly as it drifted through empty water. No more lights in the sky. No more creatures clawing at the hull. Just the two of them, alone, holding on to their fragile new love.

And somewhere beyond the horizon, the ship kept moving. They did not know if the world itself had fallen, if they were the only ones left alive, or if it was only this place that had been taken.