What is it that people even do on a luxury cruise? You sure didn’t know—you’re only here because you won a pair of tickets in a raffle at an office party, in the office you worked from 9 to 5 and where you met your husband, Grayson, but he stayed home to care for your three young children. You wanted to sell both of the tickets, but he insisted that you take a vacation because you hadn’t had one in the eight years of working at your office, and, no, maternity leave doesn’t count,  so here you were, in the middle of the Atlantic, alone, in a crowded casino. 

Unlike the majority of the people in this room, you didn’t exactly have the disposable income to spare for gambling. You were just exploring the giant ship, and the atmosphere sucked you in like it did so many. You weren’t tempted to waste your money on slots, per se, but the bright and colorful spectacles in the otherwise dimly lit den made it difficult to avert your gaze. You checked your watch for the time (naturally, there wasn’t a clock in the casino) and realized with a sigh that it was 8:30 pm, and you had been circling the room for roughly twenty-five minutes. It was time to move on.

As you turned to leave, shouts broke out between what sounded like two men, and your focus was lost once again.

“You lying, cheating bastard! What, are you in bed with the dealer?” yelled one.

“Like hell I am! You better watch your damn mouth!” followed the other.

From the looks of it, they were previously engaged in a game of poker and were now eager to start a physical fight. The loser, or accuser, had short, dark hair and an average height and build. The winner, or the accused, was much more striking: tall, toned, wearing an expression one could only describe as smug. You acted like anyone would when chancing upon such a sight. Naturally, you were against it, but you could not help but watch, either. Leave it to depraved gamblers to provide a laugh—they had less dignity than they did money in their pockets by the end of the day. You did feel a little sorry for the dealer, though. She looked young and pretty frightened; must’ve been new to the job, or afraid she got caught in the act. Who knows?

A small crowd formed around the two men, who at this point were wrestling on the ground like schoolboys or brothers. Both of their faces were obscured by blood or otherwise disfigured from the punches they had landed on each other, which was odd; you assumed the muscular one would be in better shape. Though, it couldn’t last forever. Life has many tragic inevitabilities: death, taxes, and security personnel interfering with public fights. 

“Let us through! Hey! Put your phone down; this isn’t a freak show. Break it up. BREAK IT UP!!” 

Despite their best efforts, the guards had to call for backup from other areas of the ship. It took about fifteen minutes for security to detain the men and for the onlookers to disperse. Well, you thought, that was something. Now, to decide what to do for the rest of the night. 

You took a pamphlet out of your purse, glazing over the various activities on the schedule. You didn’t have the energy for ballroom dancing—or a partner, for that matter, though you were sure one could be provided. The theater had finished its shows for the night, a shame. There was always the bar, you supposed, and they had a jazz band. Sure, why not? Grayson would laugh at you if you told him this was how you were spending your vacation time, but nothing else sounded particularly appealing. 

There was a bar near the casino (for obvious reasons), but the one you wanted was about three minutes away, in the restaurant. When you arrived, you were so distracted by the opulent scenery, with its wine-red walls, brilliant fixtures, and sharp musicians, that you bumped into a waitress who carried a tray with a glass that crashed to the floor. “Oh my god, I am so sorry,” you said. The waitress assured you that no harm was done; the glass was mostly empty, so the mess was minimal. Still embarrassed, you took the nearest seat, ordered a strong cocktail, and listened to the dance music, swaying lightly to the beat. 

It wasn’t often you got time to yourself these days. You were either dealing with your useless coworkers or tending to your household. Though it was certainly awkward, you were grateful you had nobody to invite, really. You had lost touch with a lot of close friends from your college years when the reality of adult life set in. As for your parents, they would probably judge you to hell if they found out you were willing to abandon your children for some sin-ridden boat trip. You didn’t even bother to tell them. So, who did that leave? In-laws?

A shiver went down your spine. Absolutely not.

Though you wouldn’t admit it to him, you were also grateful that Grayson had volunteered to stay behind when you broached the subject to him. He was nothing but good to you, but spending time in his presence carried a different weight when compared to the rare moments alone. There were truly no expectations, no need for performance. It was just you, a fine drink, and some lively music. You felt at peace.

At 8:55 pm, a voice spoke through the speakers.

“Emergency. Fire on board, I repeat, fire on board. All passengers, make your way to the lifeboats. Follow directions from staff members. Please remain calm.”

That last sentence was almost impossible to hear over the screaming. Amidst the panic, you tried to navigate toward the deck, but it was no use. Another update came from overhead, but you couldn’t hear it. When the clock struck nine, the flames engulfed everything. You shut your eyes and inhaled the smoke.

1/3 - MALIK FADEL  

8:30 PM

TAKE YOUR TIME.

When you opened your eyes again, there was no fire and no panic. There was, however, a name you didn’t recognize and an ominous message in your vision that faded away after you read it. You were alone in a bathroom, you realized—a men’s bathroom. You walked to the mirror to look at yourself, only to be met with a face and form entirely unrecognizable to you. Somehow, your consciousness inhabited a body that wasn’t yours. You were you, but somehow also not. Is this… Malik Fadel? You searched your (his?) pockets for confirmation and found a police ID card that matched the name. You had taken the form of a detective. What was he doing here? 

No. Calm down. You closed your eyes and recalled everything that happened. The fire. You had died. Everyone on the cruise probably died. You took a quick peek outside the window—lo and behold, you were on that same ship you burned alongside just a few minutes ago. Closing the door again, you took out his phone. December 11. 8:32 pm. You had gone back in time. There was only one reasonable conclusion you could draw:

You had to prevent the crisis that occurred on this ship at 9:00 pm, and you had thirty minutes to do so. 

This revelation scrambled your mind, but you couldn’t just stand around in bewilderment. You checked his phone for any more information (luckily, it unlocked with facial recognition; guessing an investigator’s passcode sounded impossible) and found little information beyond details from his personal life in texts you didn’t feel comfortable reading in-depth, and that he spent a ridiculous amount of time playing Candy Crush. Level 1086? Seriously?

Focus. Focus! You supposed it made sense that a person in his line of work wouldn’t have sensitive information on his devices. You scanned his person for any other clues, which uncovered a box of Mammoth cigarettes, a lighter, and a small folded note in the breast pocket of his coat. He probably went in here to read this note in private, you thought, or to smoke. Hopefully, he could hold out on that for thirty minutes. Unfolding the letter, you read:

The arsonists will take the first opening they can. Find them fast.

-V

You felt your heart drop to your stomach. So, what happened wasn’t an accident; it was premeditated arson. And you had to stop it. Sure, that’s easy enough. Especially considering the guy working with the police couldn’t do it.

You burned the note with the cigarette lighter (you weren’t told to, but it did feel cool) and left the bathroom, which led to a game area that had tables for playing ping pong and pool, as well as a mini golf course. You noticed a group of security guards leaving the room—going to the casino, where a fight was breaking out, you assumed. 

Wait. The arsonists will take the first opening they can. A distraction like this would provide a perfect opening. The culprit was already in the middle of their plan. What could you do now? You were told to “Find them fast,” but how? The criminal could be anywhere on this giant cruise ship!

No. I’m thinking about this wrong. Malik tried and failed to stop this person, and he probably had more information than you did now. You needed to take a different route: inform the staff. Maybe you could convince them to evacuate the passengers or, at the very least, warn them so they might be better prepared. This was not what Malik was assigned to do, and you felt a little bad about him potentially losing his job, but better fired than dead, right? Now, you were off to find the captain.

You spotted a crew member at the end of the hallway and called out to them.

“Can I help you?” she asked.

“Could you direct me to the captain? This is urgent.” You checked your watch. It was 8:40 pm. You knew half an hour wasn’t a very long time, but you couldn’t believe ten minutes had already passed. 

“What is the nature of this emergency? I can relay the message to him for you, if you’d like,” she said, gesturing to the radio transceiver clipped to her uniform.

“I would like that, actually. Can you reach him while taking me there?”

“Certainly.”

With a racing heart, you walked alongside the employee (Sam, according to her nametag)‌ while she talked into and fiddled with her transceiver.

“Captain, are you there? Captain Amos, can you copy?” The panic was growing in her voice. She started walking faster, and you followed, happy to pick up the pace. 

Two valuable minutes passed by the time you reached your destination. Sam knocked at the door to the command deck. No answer. “Captain Amos, are you in there?” she called to him, still knocking. Your patience at its limit, you told her to unlock the door herself or find someone who can. You tugged at your hair while waiting for her to find someone with proper clearance. When she finally did, however, you were met with a horrifying sight:

The captain at the wheel with his throat slit. First mate on the floor, knife in his chest. Blood everywhere. 

Sam screamed, alerting other crewmates. It wasn’t long before the entire staff was thrown into chaos. You had to step in.

“Everyone, quiet! I’m with the police!” you announced, holding up the badge you found. “There are dangerous people on this ship, and they are going to start a fire. We need to evacuate everyone, NOW!”

That helped them organize themselves a little bit. One of them went to the dock where the emergency boats were located, another made the evacuation order over the intercom, and Sam contacted the base and any nearby ships. The rest went to help with the passengers. You anxiously looked down at your watch again. 8:45. This was better than the first time, but not by much. Is this enough?

“The lifeboats are missing!” you heard over a transceiver a crew member lent you. 

“Are you serious? All of them? Is there no other way off this thing?” you replied.

“We can try turning around! We’re not too far from the port…”

“NO! We don’t have enough time! Find another escape, quickly!”

Even as you spoke the words, you knew it was too late. The arsonists took off on the lifeboats, did they? Just how many of them were there? What were you supposed to do? This entire situation was hopeless. 

The time was 8:57. Like clockwork, the flames started rising again. Not interested in burning to death a second time, you decided to jump over the side of the boat. Your bones shattered upon impact with the ocean, and you had no will to stay afloat. You drowned while looking up at the cruise ship, engulfed in fire.  Read the rest of this story on our website!

2/3 - AIDAN MÁRQUEZ  

8:30 PM

TAKE YOUR TIME.

“I’d like a towel and a bottle of your Cloudy Bay Pinot Noir,” said a man in swim shorts reclining in a pool chair. 

Huh?

“...Uhm. Uh, yes, anything else?” You noticed your voice was distinctly masculine once again. You must’ve been a pool attendant on the job—a very inconvenient moment to take over someone’s consciousness. The man gave you an odd look for taking a few extra seconds to process his request. Nonetheless, you had worked a waitressing job in college, so you managed to act the part. You quickly wrote down the order in a notepad you realized you were holding. 

“I’d like four glasses, to share the bottle.”

“Sure, no problem. I’ll be back shortly.” That was a lie. You had no intention of returning at all. 

You milled around a bit to collect your thoughts. So, the captain and his right hand were both murdered. There was a chance they might still be alive at this moment in time, but, odds are, they were killed before 8:30. You would have loved to test that theory, but you didn’t have the time to do so. There was only one plausible explanation as to how the bodies could have gone undiscovered for as long as they did:

There was a mole amongst the staff. 

The more you considered the possibility, the more sense it made. How did the arsonists obtain access to the lifeboats? How were they able to get so close to the captain? A staff member who worked closely with the higher ups could come and go wherever they pleased, and nobody would bat an eye. 

There was also the message to think about. 1/3, now 2/3… that must refer to the number of chances I get. That means number 3/3 will be my last shot. Bullshit! The stakes were way lower in Groundhog Day, and Phil didn’t have a time limit then!

Well, that was the hand you were dealt, and you would have to live or die with it. Based on that information, you decided that your best plan of attack would be to gather as much information you could in this cycle, and then use it for the final one. You didn’t love putting all your eggs in one basket, but what choice did you have? You didn’t have nearly enough to go off of to prevent calamity in just thirty minutes, though you did feel guilty for judging the gamblers earlier.

You checked your phone for any useful tips, and it opened to a text between yourself, no, Aidan, and a contact named “Beautiful” with a ton of emojis. They were sent only a couple minutes ago.

You: I can’t believe it’s been three years since we started dating! I’m so so so so sorry I couldn’t be there today because of work. I’ll make it up to you. I love you soooo much!

Beautiful: It’s okay, sweetie. I wish you could be here. I know you work so hard! It’ll pay off soon! I can’t wait to see you tomorrow! :) Love you too.

Under normal circumstances, you would’ve cringed at an exchange like this; now you just felt depressed. Poor guy. If only he were able to take off today. You didn’t have the will to go through the phone anymore, but maybe you should respond? You certainly wished you could message Grayson right now… You thought Aidan would want the same.

You: Thank you for all the memories we made together over the years. I hope they continue for many more. 

…That was enough of that. You doubted the phone would have anything useful, anyway. 

It was time to act. You made your way to the helm of the ship, wherein Captain Amos likely lay dead. There was a lot to be gained from observing the movements of the staff members, but urgency called for a more proactive approach. 

“Excuse me,” you called to the first crew member you saw. His name was Matthew, according to his nametag.

“Yes?” Matthew looked at you strangely. “What is a pool server doing here? Are you lost?”

“A little bit, you see… I…” you were so eager to put your plan in motion, you forgot about the actual planning part.

“What? What’s wrong? Need directions to the pool?”

“No! I came from there. Sorry, this is my first day. I was summoned by the manager.”

He narrowed his eyes at you and asked, “Which manager?”

There are multiple? Okay, that was something. “I can’t remember the name. Maybe if you could list them for me, to jog my memory?”

“Well, let’s see,” Matthew started, “There’s June, Dawson, and Corey. They’re the ones that mainly occupy this part of the ship. If any of them summoned you, it’d probably be June. Can’t imagine why, though. What, get in trouble already?”

“I don’t think so… but thank you. That’s very helpful,” you responded, wanting to move on then and there. 

Matthew lets out a chuckle. “Yeah, no problem. Have a good one.”

Naturally, a ship this large would have more staff than a small city would have population. Maybe if you could speak to the managers, you could find out who worked closely with the captain and what their movements looked like for the day. How could you convince them to reveal this information? You checked your pockets again for another convenient police badge on your person. Alas, that was not the case. Looks like you were just an average, lowly pool attendant. 

After asking around, you found the manager named Corey. A quick look at a nearby clock indicated the time was 8:38. You had gotten better at navigating this place, but would it be enough?

“Hello. I’m Aidan. I’m new and still in training. Could I ask you a few questions, so I can get a bit more familiar with how this place operates?”

“Sure, you can, but don’t take too long,” Corey answered, with a gruff sort of voice. Good. He doesn’t recognize me.

“Don’t worry. I’m not here to waste anyone’s time. I’ll cut right to the chase. Out of everyone working here, who seems to be closest to Captain Amos? Outside of the first mate, I mean.”

“That’s an odd question. There’s me and the other managers, I guess. Some lower-levels have clearance to enter the helm, but they typically don’t, outside of basic errands. That all?”

“One more thing. Do you know if anyone in particular interacted with Captain Amos at around 8:30?”

Corey raised an eyebrow. “What does this have to do with familiarizing yourself with the goings on of this place?”

“Humor me, will you?” You had no choice but to be direct in this scenario. 

“Whatever. I think Dawson was the last person to talk to him. Cap’s a solitary guy.”

“Thanks much!”

“Sure thing, kiddo. Stay out of trouble, you hear?”

“Loud and clear.”

It wasn’t long until you located Dawson in a nearby room—he appeared to be exiting into a hallway. Instead of approaching him, you decided to tail him at a distance. He approached the door to the lifeboat docks, and with a scan of a keycard, he was granted entry. The time was 8:49— which lined up with the previous loops—they were making their escape. Before Dawson could close the door completely, you grabbed the handle and flung it wide open, forcing yourself inside. 

“Who… what are you doing?” he asks, “This area is off limits to you. Leave now.”

Honestly speaking, you didn’t really know what you were doing either, but what other choice did you have? 

“In about ten minutes, this whole ship is going to go up in flames, right?”

Dawson looked shocked beyond belief. “What are you talking about? Who are you?”

“It’s not too late to stop this, is it? I mean, maybe it is. It looks like your pals already left. You’re the last to escape. But, surely there’s something…”

You felt the blast of pain in your back before you registered the sound of gunfire. You were wrong; Dawson was not the last to leave. You fell to the ground, and a woman with a pistol walked past your body, barely acknowledging it. She’s the dealer from the casino, you realized. There was some conversation between the two of them, but you couldn’t make it out. Your phone  buzzed with another text:

Beautiful: We’ll be together forever.

The time was 8:52. You didn’t even make it to the end of the loop.

3/3 - DENISE ANDERSON

8:30

TAKE YOUR TIME.

When you awoke this time, you felt more annoyed than anything. That message was really pissing you off now. 

“TAKE YOUR TIME?” WHAT DO YOU MEAN, “TAKE YOUR TIME?” WHAT TIME? YOU’RE GIVING ME AN HOUR AND A HALF TO SOLVE A LARGE-SCALE CONSPIRACY! I HAVE NO TIME!

This was your last shot, though you supposed you didn’t know that for sure. Based on your surroundings, however, you had little faith. You’re that woman dealer at the casino—the same one who shot and killed you a few seconds ago. Fate had a twisted sense of humor. 

“Lady, are you planning to do your job anytime soon?” the muscular man asked. 

Asshole. No wonder you got beaten up. Regardless, you distributed the cards as you were told. Unlike the last cycle, this role wasn’t one familiar to you. Gaming was never your thing, but hey, what could possibly go wrong?

A lot, as it turned out. Though, you kind of figured that going in, considering, historically, this game ended in a brawl. 

“I win!” the average-looking gambler exclaimed. 

You widened your eyes. That’s not how that was supposed to go. Does this mean you prevented the fight? That could work in your favor.

“Like hell you did!” said the larger one, lunging at the other man, knocking objects off the table in the process. You shrieked in surprise. Really, you shouldn’t have expected any different. 

You weren’t sure if you should leave now or wait for the fight to break up. Would that incriminate you? The last thing you needed was to be stopped by security yourself. You wished you had paid more attention to what the dealer had been doing when you witnessed this scene the first time. Considering how long it took for security to detain them, however, you didn’t have the luxury of simply standing by. So, you ran away in faux terror. 

You weren’t sure of what direction you wanted to take this time around. You had borrowed the form of one of the arsonists; would their plan fall apart because of that alone? Or was that more wishful thinking? You weren’t given much time to deliberate that, as someone behind you forcefully pinned you to a nearby wall, hidden behind one of the larger machines. You felt something cold against your back. Please, not again.

“I was willing to give you the benefit of the doubt. You know, mixed up the hand, accidents happen,” said an arrogant voice—the gambler who should’ve won. “Except, you bolted right after. What’s wrong? Didn’t want to be seen with me?”

“Get off me,” you snarled.

“I hope you’re not getting cold feet now, sweetheart. I was able to cause a distraction, but security is going to keep a sharper eye on me now, knowing that I was the one who caused the fight.”

So that’s what was going on. Cause trouble and pin it on the other guy.

“Maybe I’m reconsidering killing a literal boatload of people. And for what?”

He laughed. “Don’t try to sound innocent, Denny. You’ve killed before. These people are going to die no matter what you do. Are you joining them? Get on the boat or don’t, I don’t care. But I won’t let you drag me down with you. Understand?” You felt him press the metal harder into your back.

“Fine.”

He withdrew the gun and placed it inside your purse. “I hope you’ll put this to good use,” he whispered in your ear. 

“Found him!” you heard someone from behind you call out. The man gave you a sly wink before allowing security to take him away. 

His words wouldn’t leave your head. “These people are going to die no matter what you do.” What have you learned from these cycles, if not that? When you tried playing the hero last time, that only got you killed faster. Maybe this mission was not so noble and grandiose as you imagined it was; maybe it was all just torture for torture’s sake. If there was a God watching you, maybe you were nothing more than a court jester, making a fool of yourself for their amusement. 

8:40. The time was 8:40, and you were giving up. Why shouldn’t you? What was the point in doing this over and over when nothing would change? Instead of the dock, you went to the restaurant bar. You would spend your last moments drowning yourself in overpriced wine; the life of this woman, “Denise,” be damned. 

You had quite a bit of money on you, thankfully. You planned to drink an entire bottle of Cloudy Bay by yourself before all hell broke loose. That was until you heard the sound of glass shattering. “Oh my god, I am so sorry,” a woman said. 

You turned to face her—Maya Bradly. You. You had forgotten about her all this time. The experience of looking at yourself from the body of another was different from simply looking in the mirror. You would normally look for any flaws in your appearance, any wrinkles in your uniform. At this moment, however, you only thought of how beautiful she was, even with the distressed look on her face. Not necessarily because of her appearance, but because she was you. Nobody else was, and nobody else could be.

What’s the harm in being a little selfish now and then?

You took a deep sip of your wine and then approached her. “Hey. This might sound crazy, but I need you to come with me.”

“Huh? You’re the dealer from earlier, right? What do you want?” your voice responded to you.

“Your name is Maya Bradly. You have a husband and three children. You work a typical 9-5 office job, and you’re only here because you won a raffle. Now follow me.”

She looked dazed and confused, but followed behind you with a tug of her arm. You made your way to the docks and knocked on the door and motioned to Maya to get out of sight for a minute.

“Dawson, it’s me. Let me in.” And just like that, the door opened. 

“Hey there, Denny. Heard from Marcus that things didn’t exactly go as planned up there. Thought you wouldn’t make it. You sure took your time.”

“Shut it. I’m here now. Go ahead, I’ll be behind you.”

“Fine, fine. See you on the other side.”

Once Dawson was out of sight, you called for Maya to enter.

“Get in this boat–it’s the only one left. You have to trust me, or else you’ll die in here. Take these flare guns from the emergency stash. Just try to survive, hear me?”

You watched yourself leave your sight, quivering and scared. Honestly, you (Denise) were terrified, too. Was this truly your last chance? Did you fail? Will you die inside a body that wasn’t yours? But, there was nothing you could do, except wait for the flames to rise once again.

…

There was no message, no shock that came from taking another form. You simply closed your eyes and opened them again, with the distinct feeling that your consciousness had returned to where it belonged. Instead of fear or guilt, the first emotion that struck you was relief.

Perhaps I should contact one of my old college friends, you thought.

Drifting away in the lifeboat, you looked away from the flaming mass before you and down at your watch.

The time was 9:01 pm.