Noah's Ark: Encounters by Harry Dayle Page A

wafted in, reminding her of seaside holidays as a child. On the outside decks, couples walked hand in hand, giggling children skipped and ran, expending their pent-up energy. Somebody somewhere was singing, and a small crowd of onlookers had gathered, clapping along in time to the tune.
    “It’s almost like it was before. When we were still on holiday,” she said. She hung onto Dan’s arm, walking slowly, awkwardly.
    “It’s not always like this. The news about the other boat has got everyone fired up.”
    “It’s good though, isn’t it? Seeing people happy. After all that’s happened I didn’t think anyone would be happy again.”
    “People have short memories.”
    “Yeah, I suppose. Is it much further?”
    “No, not much. Just around the next corner. Are you okay?”
    “Yes. I’ll be fine. Just take it steady. I’m not used to all this walking.”
    They passed a group of young women, close in conspiratorial conversation. They stopped talking when they saw Vicky.
    “They were staring at me,” she said, when the girls were behind them. “Everyone’s going to stare, aren’t they? They’re going to hate me.”
    “Don’t say that. Nobody will hate you. This is a good thing, right?”
    She nodded, but her sad eyes said she didn’t believe him.
    “Here we are. I hope there’s still someone in. It’s gone seven o’clock. Most teams pack up at six.”
    Dan knocked on the open door to the medical suite.
    “One second!”
    “Come on, you can sit down over there,” Dan said, leading Vicky over to a chair by the wall of the outer room.
    The door to the treatment room opened, and a muscular man with short cropped hair stepped out. He was drying his hands on a paper towel.
    “Hello, I’m Doctor Vardy. How can I…” His voice trailed off. He was looking directly at Vicky. She looked up at him, her dark almond-shaped eyes filled with tears. Dan avoided the doctor’s gaze. “I see,” Vardy said. “Right. Wow. You’d better come through.”
    • • •
    Jake hadn’t wanted to change up to a larger cabin. It was his view that he should lead by example, and that included making do with the rather mean accommodation he had been given as part of his job as first officer. When Staff Captain Jonny Hollen had been killed, he could have taken over his — larger — cabin. Almost immediately following that murder though, Captain Clayton Ibsen had also died, at Jake’s own hands. When Jake eventually accepted the position of captain, he was offered Ibsen’s palatial suite, but had refused, preferring to let it go to someone ‘more worthy’, in his words.
    That was before Lucya, before the virus, and before Erica. Now that the three of them were living together as a family he had to face facts: the minute single cabin was not practical. So Jake had finally accepted that he had to move. As he had been sharing with Lucya and therefore freed up two cabins with the change (three, if he counted Erica’s late father’s room), he didn’t feel quite so bad about the whole thing. The committee had asked Silvia to find something suitable, and she had put him in a small suite on deck ten. It wasn’t one of the most expensive on the ship; she knew he would never accept something luxurious, but it did have two proper bedrooms and a small salon. Space enough for the new family. It also had the advantage of being very close to the bridge, which meant he and Lucya could both get there in a hurry if need be.
    Erica was already in bed when Vardy knocked at the door to Jake and Lucya’s suite.
    “Russell, come in. How are you?”
    “I’m fine thank you, Jake. Good evening, Lucya.”
    “Still enjoying running medical?”
    “Hey, Grau’s still in charge.” Vardy sat down in an armchair by the picture window looking out to sea. Jake joined him, while Lucya disappeared into the bedroom, giving the two men some space.
    “Technically, but we both know you’re running the show.” Jake rested one leg across the other