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The emergency radio faced the rear of the bridge, providing a spooky view
as Stella dialed through the channels. Static, static, country
music...Stella had been glad to see that the radio was simplified in case
civillains had to use it (the sign said this) but she was getting nothing.
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Stacy got somebody, a man with a Texas accent opearating a Red Cross station several miles away. He could -see- her boat.
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Stacy hears screams and 'Oh my god, they are eating Fred!'.
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Stacy contacts someone...five hundred miles away. Oh christ.
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The ship collides with a sandbar. The radio turns off for some reason. Stella cannot turn it on.
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Stella hears shouting from nearby, on the boat. Hostile shouting.
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"Stella? Stella!? It's your brother, come on out, are you okay?" Joe!
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"Stella! It's your brother!" Stacy heard this from the pool area two decks below. One problem. She did not remember having a brother.
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