Free O-Negative: Extinction by Hamish Cantillon Page B

came across the distinctive shape of a sheet of Nurofen.  He pulled the silvery sheet out and peered at it blurrily. Two left, thank God.  He put them in his mouth and swallowed without water – he couldn’t face making it to the bathroom to get some.  As he put his pillow over his head he heard Peter Jackson his bunk mate whistling as he got up to go for a shower.  To Joe it sounded like someone was scraping their nails down a blackboard.
     
    Two hours later he woke again.  The first thing he noticed was that his bladder was bursting; the second was that his alarm clock was lying on the floor smugly telling him it was 10.20 in the morning.  He lurched out of his bunk realising he was massively late for work.  Unfortunately he’d forgotten that he was also massively hung over.  The sudden movement necessitated him rushing out of his room and down the corridor to the toilet.  After emptying the contents of his stomach he lifted his head from the toilet bowl and noticed he was still wearing the same clothes from the night before.  All in all not the best way to start a day. 
     
    After a refreshing (for once) cold shower he put on some clean clothes and carefully made his way to his workstation.  There was no point heading to the dining area.  He’d missed breakfast and Carole was a stickler for keeping to the set meal times.  He knew he should really be heading out to his drill site to pick up the next set of samples but the thought of a 90 minute snow track ride with the sun shining into his eyes sounded like torture.  When he eventually made it to the lab Wendy was the only one there.
     
    “Well hello sailor.  What do we have here?” “You look very similar to my friend Joe, but you can’t be him as he should have been up and out of the station by O nine hundred hours at the very latest”.
     
    He gave her a pained smile. “I’m not going to lie to you Wendy, I’m a bit fragile this morning.  Do you have any Nurofen on you by any chance, I used my last ones earlier?”
     
    Wendy rummaged around on her desk and then brought him over couple of tablets and a glass of water.  “You’re in luck.  I don’t feel so great myself but you look much worse than I feel so here you go.”  She looked at his pale face and cracked lips. “How much did you drink last night?”
     
    He thought about the question for a moment and then replied. “Wendy I can honestly say that I have absolutely no idea.  In fact I can’t seem to recall much of last night at all.  Was it a good party?”
     
    Wendy smiled.  “Oh yes a fabulous time was had by all…..” She paused for full effect. “Though I can’t say a certain Professor Chapman looked best pleased when you started snogging Susie Pilchard….”  “I dare say Ms Pilchard’s days as the station’s comms officer are numbered”.
     
    He gave a start at Wendy’s comments.  “Please tell me you’re joking Wendy? Susie Pilchard?”.  A vague recollection of a large buxom woman squeezing his arm while her mouth locked over his surfaced from the depths of his mind.  “But why did you let me do this Wendy.  In the first conversation I ever had with Susie she made it clear she was on the lookout for a husband!  That was her prime motivation for coming to Antarctica – a high male to female ratio”.  He put his head in his hands “Oh my God what on earth was I thinking?  Florence is going to have a fit and Susie will be on my tail forever more.  Oh this is dreadful.  I am never taking another sip of homebrew ever again”.
     
    He suddenly realised he’d spoken out loud.  Wendy laughed.  “Well well well Dr Harper you are a very naughty boy indeed.  Professor Chapman, in the equipment shed, with the lead piping and all that.  Tut tut tut tut tut.”  She wagged her finger at him.
     
    He could have kicked himself, well at least he would have, had he not been unable to raise his foot more than an inch off the floor at that precise