When Saks came back, Fabrini was sleeping in his bunk. But Cook was awake. Wide awake, just sitting there and maybe trying to sort it all out in his mind which was no easy thing. Saks came through the door, his piggish face streaked with grime like he’d been crawling around down in a mechanic’s bay.
“Crycek back?” Cook asked.
Saks shook his head. “Haven’t seen him.
Menhaus went looking for him.”
“I suppose he’ll find him.”
Cook was waiting for the typical response from Saks, some homosexual innuendo, but he got none. Nothing about his mother entertaining football teams or his father fucking barnyard swine. None of the usual. Saks just stood there silently, a funny look in his eyes.
“You find anything?” Cook asked him.
“Not much. That fungus is everywhere. Found some skeletons below, but whoever owned ‘em died a long time ago.”
Saks said he found the galley, too. The cutlery was all tarnished, but usable. The food was long ago rotted away. Sacks of flour and sugar were full of fungus. Same went for casks of water and bread. But he did find several sealed containers of salt pork.
“You think it’s all right?” Cook asked him.
“Looks like it might be,” Saks said. “But I don’t know if I’d want to put any of it in my mouth.”
“Anything else?”
“Rats.”
“Rats?”
Saks nodded. “I didn’t see them… but I could hear them in the bulkheads. They were scratching.”
After that, Saks went back to his cabin, that funny look still in his eyes and Cook knew something was up. Either he had seen something or did something or was thinking about doing something. Regardless, Cook didn’t really care.
When Saks was gone, he locked the cabin door and curled up on his bunk on a mattress he’d found that wasn’t too mildewed. He covered himself with a waterproof blanket from the lifeboat and fell asleep almost instantly, thinking of scratching in the walls and rats. He dreamed of ghosts.