Page 41 of Wild Tempest

"Other than being a little freaked out about the fact we’re stuck on this ship, I’m doing pretty good. Trying to stay optimistic.”

"No fever? No sweats?"

She shook her head. "You?”

"I feel good.”

"Why do you think we haven’t been affected yet?"

"Different metabolisms process things differently. Maybe we haven't been infected. Maybe we have some kind of natural immunity."

“How do you have natural immunity to an unnatural virus?" she asked. “Maybe this is the calm before the storm.”

“I thought you were staying positive.”

"My positivity comes and goes.” She shifted onto one hip and made an adorable face. "Feel like escorting me to the galley? I don't necessarily want to walk around this boat all by my lonesome.”

"It would be my pleasure," I said.

I climbed out of my rack and left the reading material behind. With my flashlight beam leading away, we crept through the darkness to the galley.

Tempest took my hand and hovered close. She had nice hands. Soft and warm. She didn’t feel feverish.

In the pantry, my flashlight beam raked across a selection of canned goods. "You have the choice of beef stew, chicken soup, corned beef, borscht, fish soup."

Tempest made a face. "I'll go with the beef stew.”

"Would you like some rice pudding for dessert?”

She shrugged. "Sure. Why not?”

With soap and bottled water, I washed the cans and utensils, then swabbed them with alcohol. I found a can opener, disinfected it, and removed the lids.

I figured, what the hell, I’d most likely already been exposed to the pathogen. I was getting hungry anyway. We sat in the darkness in the mess hall, eating cold beef stew. It wasn't terrible. I'd had worse. It would keep you alive. Maybe.

It was a challenge not to spill it all over the deck in the rolling swells, but we got into a rhythm.

"Sorry about your father," I said.

"Thank you. I knew that was a possibility when we set out. I kept holding out hope in my heart.” After a pause, she said, "Do you think we'll get off this boat? I mean, really. Be honest with me."

"Well, we can get off this boat anytime we want. That's not the hard part,” I teased.

She gave me a flat look. "I'm not talking about jumping overboard."

"Apparently it worked for Owen," I said dryly.

"I wouldn't say it really worked out for him.”

"True. Hell, I'm beginning to think Dale threw him over, thinking he was dead."

"I’d take anything Dale says with a grain of salt,” Tempest said.

"You know him better than I do. Does he seem normal?”

"As normal as someone can be in a situation like this.”

A clunk from above drew our attention.