Coincidence - Alan May [74]
But he could not. He had vowed not to let anyone else know. No matter how much he wanted to alleviate Melissa’s anguish, no matter how much he trusted her, he knew that sharing the news, even with no one but her, could put that rescue in jeopardy.
And, of course, even with the encouraging breakthrough in communication, there was no guarantee of their survival. No guarantee at all, just a thin sliver of hope piercing despair.
Following the temporary distraction of the coffee night, the mood aboard the Inspiration had gone back to bleak and wary. As the hours dragged on, the waiting itself had begun to seem unbearably heavy; almost worse, Pierre had begun to think, than whatever fate might be in store for them all. What good was it to continue to survive, if survival meant only constant dread of what loomed ahead?
Then suddenly the mood had shifted again and the dull anxiety turned to acute fear. Pierre couldn’t put his finger on exactly when this alteration had occurred, or what had caused it. There had been no announcement, no obvious sign of an imminent culmination to their situation. Yet he felt a distinct undercurrent of building tension, a profound sense that something was just about to happen.
Pierre had seen unease in the faces of Anika, the doctor, and the captain as they had emerged from the first-aid room with Phillip earlier in the day. The three had walked right past him with hardly a glance. Anika was ashen and shaky, Dr. Williams was stony-faced, and the captain was standing more erect than usual. Phillip had looked almost as grim and glowering as that other drug guy, the one they called Juan.
Drugs. It was all about drugs—cocaine, according to Mac.
He thought about how many guys at Caneff had been involved with drugs. Most of them just had experimented with pot, but a few were into more serious drugs, and a couple had even been dealing. It would have taken very little, so very little, the way he’d been drifting, for him to have crossed that line himself. He had never been that interested in the drug scene. He regarded it as a waste of time and money, but still … had he stayed at Caneff, or gotten out and continued to hang out with that crowd, would he have been strong enough to turn down the easy thrill of drugs, to resist their mind-numbing, stress-relieving allure, to risk the scorn of his companions by saying no?
It made him sick to think that he might have helped fuel the demand for illegal drugs—demand that in turn spurred people like Juan to profit from weakness. Or even worse, might he have become one of the people like Juan, a user-turned-pusher-turned-drug runner.
He might have become someone who endangered the lives of all of the people he cared about aboard the Inspiration—mon dieu, the life of Melissa, for whom he would gladly give his own life. Non, it wasn’t possible, surely could not be possible—and yet …
It was too horrible to think about.
“Pierre?”
Melissa’s soft voice brought him back to reality.
“Melissa,” he replied, taking her chin in his hands, searching her face.
“Whatever happens,” Melissa said, “I want you to know how much I love you.”
“It could never be as much as I love you,” he whispered.
He drew her close so she wouldn’t see the tears welling up in his eyes.
31
“Oh, excuse me, Captain, I seem to have the hiccups,” Kathleen said.
This is it, then, Captain Marzynski thought. He’d been expecting the code word, listening for it, ever since Dave had relayed it from Mac, but it still registered as a shock now she’d said it. Hiccups. He gave no indication of its significance.
“Try bending over and drinking a glass of water from the far side of the glass,” he said. “Always works for me.”
Marzynski continued with his report on the Inspiration’s coordinates and the weather and noted they were still having some minor problems with the electronic systems.
The minor problems were going to turn major in just a moment.