The prospect of meeting other survivors made it hard to relax. His mind played out different scenarios, and half the time he didn’t know if he was dreaming or not. He was also plagued by images of Stieg, and repeatedly saw him drowning, crying out for help as he was swept away by a turbulent swell. By 5:30 he was wide awake, soaked in sweat, and too on edge to consider sleeping again. He got out of bed as quietly as he could, trying not to disturb Lucya, but she opened her eyes and looked right at him as soon as his feet hit the floor. “Can’t sleep?” “Not really,” he said. “Sorry. I didn’t want to wake you.” “I wasn’t asleep either. Too much to think about.” She whispered the words, conscious of the sleeping child and the thin walls. “It’s a big day. An important day. We could learn a lot.” “Or be very disappointed.” He shrugged. “I’m going to take the early shift. Do you mind sorting Erica out this morning?” “Of course not. You should be on the bridge.”
