wound. âIs it bad?â
Noah shrugged. âNothing I canât cope with. A dozen, huh?â
Mickle nodded, looking like he might have started rattling off names before thinking better of it. âYup,â he said instead. âAnd none of âem with as good an excuse as you or Pereira here. To be honest, I feel a little like shit myself, but I delivered the last of the Tylenol to the skipper a few minutes ago. All I have left is some topical stuff for stitches and whatnot ⦠and the tramadol. The first wouldnât knock out a headache and the second will knock you out.â His eyes wandered toward Pereira sleeping fitfully in the medical bunk. âYouâre just going to have to brew up another pot of coffee and hope caffeine can get on top of it.â
âYou think the fumes from the electrical fire got into the ventilation?â
âOh, Iâm sure of it. But almost everybody was outside dealing with the storm when that was happening. The fire was out before most of the crew came back in. Vent system had time to cycle that crap through and replace it with clean air. Unless somethingâs wrong with that, too.â
âCommunications still on the fritz?â Noah asked.
âYeah. I went up a few minutes ago to follow up on Pereiraâs ride out of here.â
âHowâd Brewster respond to that?â
Mickle raised an eyebrow. âAs expected. He told me Pereira would get help quicker if people would crawl out of his ass long enough for him to find the Niflheim.â
âHe has a colorful turn of phrase, doesnât he?â
Mickle smirked. âHe uses colorful words to describe you, thatâs for sure.â He pinched the bridge of his nose between thumb and forefinger and squeezed his eyes shut. Noah suspected he was underplaying the severity of his own headache. âHe also refused to let me relieve him. Heâs been at the conn going on twenty hours.â Mickle didnât need to say how dangerous lack of sleep could be. A well-rested person attempting to steer the ship in fog as dense as this was dangerous enough. âI stopped here on my way to fetch him a cup of coffee before I try to relieve him again. You have any insights into how to get your father-in-law to listen?â
âThe only insight I have is that he doesnât ever listen. Itâs his way.â
Mickle sighed. âIf Iâm able to scrounge up any aspirin or something, Iâll let you know. You do the same?â
Noah held up a three finger salute, regretting the gesture as soon as it bounced off his wound, amplifying the ache behind it. âPromise.â
Mickle grinned at the gesture. âI was a scoutmaster for my kidâs troop back in the day. Never saw one who could grow a beard like that.â
âItâs glandular.â He petted his dark pelt and smiled. It was the first time in days heâd felt like he could let his guard down. It was nice ⦠and fleeting as he heard footsteps in the passageway behind him. Stepping a pace out of the door, he saw a pair of deckhands rounding the corner, stomping his way like men on a mission. One of them slowed when he caught sight of Noah. He furrowed his brow and missed a step as his eyes darted to follow something behind Noah. Noah turned, wondering if there was someone else in the passageway heâd missed. Empty. He stepped aside as the men shouldered past him into the hospital.
âHey Doc,â one said as he barged in. âWe were hopingââ
âStop right there,â Mickle said.
Noah left him to deal with the deckhands and went down to search out the coffee heâd been recommended to take in lieu of a real painkiller.
Â
6
Among the men up and moving aboard the Arctic Promise, most were barely moving. In the mess room, a handful of crewmen picked at their food, pushing it around but not eating as vigorously as they had when they first set out. They