By the time the crew had reassembled in the galley, Mike and Tony had finished half the bottle of scotch. Jim took one look at the two of them drinking out of water glasses and smirked.
“And how much of this contraband did you sneak aboard my boat, mister?” asked the commander.
Mike responded slowly, his tongue feeling a bit thick. “Is the question being asked officially by the commander, or unofficially by my drinking buddy Jim?”
“Officially.”
“This is the only one.”
“Unofficially?”
“How many bottles you want?”
Tony piped up. “Hey! You told me you had one!”
“Of course I did! Fuckin’ sailors are all lushes! You’d finish the whole case before the second month!”
“A case?” exclaimed Tony.
“A case?” repeated the skipper.
Mike shrugged. “Hey, maybe it’s a Jersey thing. You don’t go underwater for a year without some booze. What can I tell ya—now you want me to pour you a tall one or not?”
Jim pointed to an empty glass and Mike grunted. “Ice?”
Jim made a face. “We’re surrounded by a billion gallons of ice-cold water—keep it out of my scotch.”
“Good man,” said Mike.
The six of them sat down with healthy glasses and Mike held up his glass. “To our friend Ian, may he rest in peace . . .”
They clinked glasses, took deep swigs, and listened to Jessica and Theresa cough for several seconds on the harsh whisky.
“Girls,” said Mike.
“Jesus. Trying to kill us?” asked Theresa. “Can’t you make me a piña colada or something?”
“Sorry, that’s made with rum. You can’t bring alcohol aboard this research vessel,” said Mike, now obviously slurring. “I’ll make us some chow.” He walked to the galley, shoulders brushing the hallway as he weaved his way to the kitchen area. Theresa smiled and followed him.
“I better make sure he doesn’t cut his fingers off,’ she said.
Jim, Jessica, Tony, and Ted were left at the table, Ted sitting slightly further away. His physical distance only served to illustrate the feelings of the crew.
Tony spoke to Jessica. “How’re you feeling?”
“Tired. No—exhausted. Completely exhausted. I think I’ll skip dinner. I just hit the wall. Can’t keep my eyes open. I’ll catch you guys in the morning, whenever that is.” She stood and walked out, and a few minutes later, Tony hopped up. He looked at the skipper and said he’d be back in a second, he just wanted to talk to Jessica real quick.
He caught up to her as she was entering her room. He went inside and reached for her, but she put up a hand. “Don’t,” she said.
He looked hurt. “Sorry, I just . . .”
“It’s not you, Tony. For all I know I could be infected. I don’t want to get you sick. Just stay away for a day or so and let me see how I feel.”
“Jesus, Jess . . . Are you sick?”
“No, just tired. I think I’ve been awake for forty hours. I need to close my eyes. Thanks, Tony. Seriously. I appreciate your concern. I’m sure I’m fine.”
He started to leave, then stopped. “What happened to Ian?” he asked.
She immediately teared up. “I have no idea. It’s like he melted inside. His organs—they just, I dunno, melted. He was so full of bacteria it made his belly swell up. And inside—he had this huge thing that was full of the bacteria. I don’t even know what I was looking at, Tony! Then he just stopped breathing. I couldn’t get a pulse, nothing. We used the defibrillator on him, but it did nothing. He just died, Tony.” She wiped away tears.
“Okay, okay,” he said. He instinctively reached for her to give her a hug. She put her hand up again.
“I’m quarantining myself. Thanks, Tony. I need to sleep.”
He forced a smile and left, closing the door behind him. He prayed silently that she was okay.
When Tony returned to the galley, Mike was just serving up some salmon and vegetables.
“Very healthy,” said Jim. “Catch the salmon down here?” he joked.
“I wish. Frozen fish, frozen veggies, and if things don’t improve, maybe frozen crew,” said Mike.
They ate quietly, although Mike mostly pushed his food around and drank his whisky. After they ate, Mike said he was turning in, and the little dinner party broke up. He was lying on his bed, propped up against a pillow drinking scotch, when Theresa walked in. He looked up in surprise.
“Hey,” she said quietly. “Just wanted to apologize for getting in your face before about Ted. I feel like I keep getting stuck in the middle of him and everyone else. Anyway—how’re you doing?”
Mike shrugged. He patted the bed next to him. “Have a seat.”
Theresa sat down and looked at his glass, which was almost empty. “You can finish mine if you want.”
He laughed and reached under his pillow, pulling out a new bottle and waving it at her. She laughed. “I bet you always got in trouble in school, too.”
“Nope—never got caught. Did plenty I shouldn’t have done, but never got caught.”
Theresa leaned over and gave him a kiss on the lips. “I shouldn’t have done that, either,” she said. “But it seemed like a better way to end my day.”
Mike was pleasantly surprised. “Wanna stay?” he asked.
Theresa stood up and smiled, but looked sad and drained beneath her smile. “Nope. Just needed a kiss. I’m going to bed. See you in a few hours with a hangover.”
He called after her as she walked out. “Hey! I’ll be down here on the bottom of the ocean for another eleven months or so if you need me again.”
“I’ll keep that in mind,” she said as she disappeared out the door.
“What about the four-mile-low club?” he yelled.
She stopped and turned around. “The what?”
“The four-mile-low club. It’s like the mile-high club, only better . . .”
“Good night, Michael!” she said, trying not to laugh.