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invariably trying to tell him something. Something important.

six
    William Rutherford’s face paled as he listened to the nightmare about to unfold on the Grand Atlantic . David was speaking to the ship’s captain in a very low voice so the other officers on the bridge couldn’t overhear him.
    “How far is it to the nearest U.S. port?” David asked.
    “Eight hundred miles,” Rutherford replied.
    “How long would it take for us to reach the mainland?”
    “At full speed, just over a day.”
    David grumbled under his breath. “The boy will be dead by then.”
    Rutherford gazed down at the expansive deck of the luxury liner. Passengers were strolling along the railing or dozing in lounge chairs, all taking in the bright sun and unaware of the disaster about to occur. “Perhaps the boy and his father will be isolated cases.”
    “Don’t bet on it,” David said forthrightly. “Chances are this virus will spread, particularly among the elderly, and we’ll end up with a lot of very sick people on our hands. And those with pneumonia, like Will, will die.”
    “Is there any possibility the boy will survive?”
    “Only if we can transport him to a critical care unit. And even then, his outlook is poor.”
    Rutherford sighed heavily, unsure of what to do next. “Dr. Ballineau, as an ER physician, you must have dealt with similar situations. I’m referring to patients with terrible diseases caught in remote places. How did you handle those predicaments?”
    “Usually with a helicopter,” David said. “But most of them have a range of only 400 miles, so you’ll have to contact the Navy and see if they have any ships with helicopters nearby. And if so, maybe they can pick up Will, then hop and skip their way back to the mainland.”
    “There’s a problem with that solution,” Rutherford said unhappily.
    “What?”
    “Our heliport was badly damaged during the storm,” Rutherford confided. “That large panel that fell from the bridge onto the deck split the heliport wide open. It’s so unstable that no one is allowed to walk on it, much less land a helicopter.”
    “Shit,” David growled.
    “Indeed,” Rutherford agreed. “Do you have any other ideas?”
    “None at the moment.”
    David hurried from the bridge and took the stairs down as he tried to come up with an answer to the dilemma. Without a heliport, there was no way a helicopter could land safely on the Grand Atlantic . And even if a naval ship with a helicopter came to their aid, how could they transport Will to it? In a lifeboat or a dinghy? Christ! He’d never survive that. The trip alone would kill him.
    David continued down the steps, concentrating his mind on other solutions to the problem. The Navy SEALs, as good as they were, would be of no help here. Nor would the speedier Coast Guard cutters, which would still require transferring Will over rough seas. And it was impossible for a seaplane to land and take off in the choppy swells of the ocean. So for now, David concluded, there was no way out. They were all prisoners aboard the Grand Atlantic . And to make matters even worse, without a heliport, they couldn’t bring in life-saving equipment, like ventilators and additional supplies of oxygen.
    At the G level, David left the staircase and dashed down the passageway. He went by a spa that was crowded with people waiting for a body massage or facial or some other beauty treatment. All were sitting close to one another, all breathing the same air in and out. It was a perfect setup to spread the virus quickly. David could only hope that his diagnosis was wrong. Maybe, just maybe, Will would turn out to have some strange type of bacterial pneumonia that would respond to antibiotics. But David knew he was hoping against hope. There was a nasty influenza virus on this ship, and it would search for any available host to live and replicate in.
    He entered the sick bay and walked through an empty reception area. It was a good sign, David told