There was a bathroom at the back of the bay. They dragged Simon to the shower and stood him under a jet of hot water.
Rye stripped out of her survival gear and filled the hypothermia bath, tested it to forty-six degrees.
‘All right. Let’s get him immersed.’
They laid Simon in the bath.
‘Keep his hands and feet out of the water.’
She shone a penlight into his eyes.
‘Ideally I would like to test rectal temperature, but we’ll spare him that indignity for now.’
‘His hand is fucked.’
‘We’ll see how his condition develops as we restore circulation. Of course, that’s when the pain will begin.’
Jane jogged a kilometre circuit of C deck. She was joined by Sian. ‘Spoken to Ghost?’
‘Briefly,’ said Jane.
‘What did he say about that Apex guy? The one who didn’t make it back.’
‘He refuses to talk about it.’
They trotted down unheated corridors. Each puffing exhalation was a great plume of steam-breath. They both wore three tracksuits. The metal floor was slick with ice so they ran in snow-boots with thick rubber tread. Their route was lit by weak daylight shafting through the corridor windows.
Jane ran fast and lithe. She had lost four kilos. Her clothes felt loose. Sian struggled to keep pace.
Jane had been fat all her life. Her body had been nothing more than a sweating, aching encumbrance but now she felt an intimation of what it would be like to be supple and strong.
‘What’s the deal with you and Punch?’
‘How do you mean?’ asked Sian.
‘Both young, both bright. An obvious match.’
‘I always thought Nail and Ivan seemed like a happy couple. Pumping. Preening. Oiling each other down.’
‘Nice deflection.’
They ran the kilometre circuit then ran it again.
Sian returned to her room to shower.
Jane walked past Medical on her way back to the accommodation block. Dr Rye was packing packets of drugs into a box. Jane felt obliged to offer help.
‘Happy pills,’ said Rye. ‘Seroxat. Triptafen. You’ve got to expect depression in a place like this. No daylight. Nowhere to go. There will be plenty of demand, now night is closing in.’
‘How is Simon?’
Rye gestured to a side room.
‘Stable. Sleeping. Infection: that’s my chief concern. This is a first aid station. Serious injuries are supposed to get a priority airlift. We don’t have enough antibiotics for long-term treatment.’
‘Right.’
‘I probably shouldn’t mention it, but what the hell. You might need to know. Nikki? That girl we pulled off the ice? She was pretty distraught about the man they left behind. She blames herself. It should have been me, blah, blah. I dosed her with Anafranil but it takes a few days to kick in. She’ll need a shoulder, someone to coax her through the next few days.’
‘Okay.’
‘The crewmen are smoking weed and hoping for a ship, but once the sun has set for good the mood will quickly head downhill. There are black days ahead. Thank God we don’t have guns on board.’
Sian found Simon watching DVDs in his hospital room. Goodfellas. He was pale. His hands and feet were bandaged. Sian held a cup so he could sip from a straw.
‘Can you help me up a little?’
Sian pressed the Elevate button to raise Simon’s head.
‘Where’s Nikki?’ he asked.
‘Eating in the canteen. Eating and eating. Can I bring you any food?’
‘No thanks.’
BBC News was still showing slow-motion footage of a fluttering Union flag and a list of refuge centres.
‘It’s been that way for days,’ said Sian. ‘The refuge list doesn’t update. I suppose the studio has been evacuated. We’ll be watching that image until the satellite fails.’
‘Are there no other channels?’
‘North America is totally off air. All the Russian and Euro channels are long gone.’
‘Jesus.’
‘See that BBC logo in the corner? I like to look at it. It’s comforting. A last little piece of home.’
‘I killed my best friend to get here,’ said Simon. ‘And I’m just as stuck as before.’
‘We’ve got heat, we’ve got light, we’ve got food for months. Look around you. This rig is one giant construction set. It’s packed full of survival equipment. I promise you, one way or another, we will get you home. We’ll get everyone home.’
Rye changed Simon’s dressings. She unwrapped his right hand. The smell of necrotic flesh made Sian want to retch.
Sian sat on the edge of the bed. She wanted to distract Simon from the sight of his rotted hand.
‘So what’s the first thing you will do when you get home?’
‘Fuck knows. Doesn’t sound like there is much waiting for us. And what can I do? I’ll probably never use a knife and fork again. I’ll have to lap food from a bowl like a dog.’
‘You’re exhausted, hungry and dehydrated. You get two days’ self-pity, all right? That’s your allocation. Wallow. Whine all you want. But after those forty-eight hours are up, you are officially a malingering twat.’
‘I need a shit.’
‘Is that why you haven’t been eating? Worried about using the toilet?’
Sian lowered the bed and helped Simon stand. He shuffled to the bathroom. Sian helped tug down his pyjama bottoms.
‘Call me when you are done.’
Sian helped Simon wipe, then walked him back to bed. She found Rye checking the drug cupboard.
‘What are you giving him for pain?’
‘Codeine. He’ll get a couple of cycles. After that, he has to tough it out.’ Rye gestured to the pill packets and bottles. ‘We don’t have much of anything. Once his share is used up, he’s on his own.’
Jane knocked on Nikki’s door.
‘Who is it?’ Nikki sounded groggy. She was probably dozing on her bunk.
‘It’s Reverend Blanc. Do you have a moment? I need your help.’
Jane led Nikki to the observation bubble.
‘How have you been?’ asked Jane, as they climbed the spiral stairs.
‘Standing by every heating vent I can find. Just can’t seem to get warm.’
Jane showed her the radio console.
‘We’ve been trying to hail any passing ship by short-wave. We man the radio round the clock. We were hoping you could pull a few shifts.’
‘What should I do?’
‘Sit here. Press to transmit, yeah? Kasker Rampart. That’s the name of the platform. So you say something like: “Mayday, mayday. This is refinery platform Kasker Rampart requesting urgent assistance, over.” Then you release the switch and listen for a reply.’
‘Okay.’
‘Do you like Monopoly? We’ve been holding a tournament.’
Sian walked Simon to the shower. She set the water running, took Simon’s dressing gown and helped him into the cubicle. She sat on the bed and waited for him to finish. ‘How’s Nikki?’ he called.
‘Seems okay. They’ve got her helping out in the radio room.’ ‘Keep an eye on her. Make sure she’s all right. She seems tough, but she’s not. We left Alan to die. She may act casual, but on some level it will be eating her up.’
‘Jane is looking after her. Jane’s good with people. She has an instinct.’
‘I’m done.’
Sian wrapped Simon in a bath towel and led him from the shower.
Jane took the elevator down to the docking platform. She found Punch in the boathouse. The boathouse was a steel cabin with a wide hole in the floor. The zodiac was suspended above the water by chains. The walls were racked with survival equipment.