10
Tabby didn’t know what to say to him.
They sat at the Workers Tavern bar, just next to the four graybeards, apparently on a musical siesta as they talked about sinkings of the past—some of which must have happened before even they were born.
Twice she’d seen a survivor, but in a position so dangerous that she didn’t want to point him out to Tad. But, even knowing he’d go into the nightmare and perhaps not return, she gave him the signal—and he went.
The MLB’s two swimmers often jumped in and swam out to the limits of their safety lines, to save Tad having to come all the way back to the boat.
And each time, he’d look to her as he tread water for a moment, and she’d find him another target.
“Nine,” he whispered softly to his beer.
“No, twenty-four. We saved twenty-four.”
“Nine di
