Chapter 73

No, you do, Quinn thought, drawing a blanket up—again. But no matter how many blankets he drew up to his chin, he remained vigilantly awake.

“This is your captain speaking,” he heard over the public address system.

Oh, captain, my captain,Quinn thought—one with Walt Whitman—as he looked around at Tam and the other slackers snoring, tongues lolling. I await your instructions, Quinn added mentally.

“The South Pacific is notoriously turbulent so I’m going to keep the seat belt sign on for just a bit longer.”

I’ve never taken mine off, Quinn told him silently.

“Well, someone is prepared,” the flight attendant said as she tugged at Quinn’s secure belt. She smiled at him and he looked at her with the same wide-eyed gaze that greeted the flight officer who had reached out to him in the icy waters: “You’re going to make it, son. You’re going to be all right.”