'I can assure you the rumours are completely unfounded. It's wishful thinking at best!'

Anders was heading the meeting as usual, though he wished he wasn't. He offered only problems, and no solutions. Perhaps there were no soltions.

'Look, we're having a hard time, I get it, but do you honestly believe floating around on some raft surrounded by non-potable water with one or two fish every hundred square miles is a better option than in a protected vault with the world's supply of horticultural goods? We will find a way here, or we will find a way South. It's the only choice.'

'I knew him. I spoke to him, he had dreams and he knew how to implement them. He just needed a trigger, and this was it!' Catherine was, if anything, number 2 in the failing colony. She was mostly at odds with Anders, but both remained respectful with one another, which is how they climbed the social ranks. Until this evening, anyway.

Anders glared at her, exasperated. 'Meeting him at a conference and chatting about life goals is not indicative of a floating island in the Azores! Conjecture will lead us all to death.'

'I beg to differ and I'm going to find out. The tanker below still has fuel, we have a workable crew. There's no reason to just check it out'

'This is not a dictatorship. Do what you will, and those who stay can help me with the generator, that's all we need to get this going'. Anders was sure the reason their seeds were failing was the climate. Using the heat lamps in a soil box indoors would inevitably produce for the group.

Unfortunately, the majority seemed convinced that a better life was at sea. It was like living with a gang of lost souls.

There is no better life! What the fuck is wrong with these people? Have they never seen a zombie apocalypse? This is a good as it gets until we get raided by other desperate survivors!'

Within the hour, Anders was working on his generator with heavy hands, Catherine was down by the dock discussing whatever with her 'former captain who has traversed these icy waters for many years'. Nonsense.

Five individuals stayed in total. Locals that couldn't bear to turn their backs on their poxy little town.

The Ship of Lost Idiots never returned, as expected. Anders had a special, unsarcastic place in his heart for Catherine. He hoped they found what they were looking for and were simply too selfish to come back for one loser.

You see, the other five were unfit for this new apocalypse. They wanted to 'go home', like they could just turn on their central heating and put the kettle on. They couldn't handle the very concept of hard work, bear hands, sweat and blood to survive here.

Seeds were a no-go, except some tough strain of wheat they found, and even then, the soil seemed to disagree with them. This was God's way of testing Evolution. Survival of the fittest.

They weren't fit to survive. They had to serve another purpose.

---

---

Their generous nourishment was good for months with the right rationing techniques, but time passes quickly when you're isolated on an icy mountain with nowhere to go and nobody to talk to. Or slowly. It was hard to tell.

Anders had further failed to produce a sustainable yield of wheat and tomato, but he had found some stored products breaking into every home he could find.

Longyearbyen housed a couple of thousand individuals, but none were prepared for such a life as this. Their non-perishables could collectively barely support a family for a year. But Anders made it work.

He occasionally found workable transport and made his way to various abandoned settlements; Hiorthhamn, Grumant, even Barentsburg and Pyramiden on good days.

He never knew how many years he scavenged, if even a year had passed. He had a calendar on a Samsung which he would charge occasionally, but the system became unreliable as connections to the world were cut off.

It didn't matter. Time was for people who had places to be. It became increasingly evident that the only place Anders had to be was hell.

Warmer than here, at least

He wrapped himself up in an open-space tent setup to watch the Auroras bounce around the sky, waiting for fate to take him away. He deserved everything he had coming to him.

---

---

Catherine fired the penultimate flare into the silence, and watched the veritable celebration of failure burn the sky for a while, before fizzling into reality.

In two days, the final flare will be used, the final chance will be spent. The group was hungry, angry, and accusative. If anybody was the first to get thrown overboard, it would be her. Save on the supplies and all.

She was mentally preparing the most humble way to be angrily tossed into the ocean, when the flare re-ignited in the sky. A different colour.

Wait, what?