Darkness

Gregor

I’ve had several hours with the patients before Samuel comes back, having had dinner and a nice nap of some four or five hours. It is enough to refresh him.

And it was enough to give me plenty of time to repeatedly rotate through the ten patients, spending several minutes each time, finding reasons to touch them. Feeling their foreheads, dabbing their skin with wet cloths, holding their hands, doing anything that would seem a normal part of caregiving, all while Wolk transmitted the healing energy through me.

As a result, all of them seem to be cycling through their yellow fever infection more quickly than would otherwise have happened. Nobody is getting worse. I am very encouraged.

At nearly two in the morning, after Samuel has had the chance to check on everyone, he tells me “You can go on home, Gregor, things seem under control here, everyone is doing fine. Thanks for your help. Go get some rest.”

I am going to object that I would be perfectly happy to stay to assist him for the remainder of the night, but Wolk says, “Darling, Samuel Postlethwaite has discovered that his daughter Matilda is very ill, and he intends to carry her down to the infirmary himself. He is in a bit of a panic.”

Oh.

“All right, Samuel,” I tell the doctor, “if you’re sure you can manage, I’ll go.” I leave, probably quicker than he would have expected, because I want to intercept the other Samuel to help him with his daughter. The child will feel heavy to him on the long walk, and I know his more sedentary lifestyle will make that difficult. Also, the sooner I can get my hands on her the better.

I run up the hill, and see Samuel at the end of the street. He is standing still, looking down at the child in his arms.

“She is having a fever-induced seizure, and Samuel is extremely alarmed.”

Oh dear. I know high fevers can bring that on in young children, and hopefully it is not a symptom of anything more serious. I continue running towards him, and in a moment he has begun running again as well, apparently in a state of terror. Poor fellow.

He is too surprised when I reach him to do anything but let me take the child out of his arms, and the moment that I have hold of her I begin trying to focus on healing. It seems to help right away, her seizure ends and she relaxes into sleep.

I lead Samuel back down the hill.

Samuel Duncan

I hear the front door open again, and peer around the corner to see who it is. “Gregor?” I ask. I thought he was going home. But then I immediately see what has happened, as he is carrying a small person in his arms. He must have come across somebody trying to make their way to the infirmary.

I walk towards the entrance, and behind Gregor is my Uncle Samuel, eyes wild with worry.

I peer at the child, and sure enough it is my young cousin. “Matilda?” I ask, brushing hair away from her face, as Gregor holds her.

Her eyes open, and she says, adorably, “Hello Samuel.”

“Hey kiddo,” I say, “not feeling so well?”

She shakes her head.

I caress her cheek, feeling her burning temperature. “All right, sweetie, let’s get you settled. I’ll take care of you.” She nods her head and closes her eyes, cuddling into Gregor’s chest.

I gesture to Gregor and Uncle Samuel to follow me into one of the empty rooms. All the beds have been made up now, so we are ready for more patients. I wonder how many more will arrive today.

“Here,” I tell Gregor, indicating the bed to lay the child down on. But rather than putting her on the mattress, he sits on the bed himself.

“She seems comfortable,” he says softly, “how about I just hold onto her for now, so we don’t disturb her?”

I shrug. I can treat her just as well in his arms as lying on the bed. My uncle sinks onto the other bed in the room, breathing heavily, probably with both worry and exertion. I wonder how far he got down the hill, carrying Matilda, before Gregor took over.

It is only much later, as dawn is approaching, Matilda finally sleeping peacefully in a bed, that I remember that Gregor had been on his way home. My uncle has drifted off to sleep on the other bed in Matilda’s room, and I peek in through the partially closed door to make sure she is all right. She seems fine for now.

Gregor is coming out of another patient’s room, and I approach him in the hallway. “Weren’t you supposed to be going home to rest?” I ask him with a wry smile.

He shrugs, and puts his hand on my shoulder. “I was happy to stay.” He glances down the hallway towards the parlor, where the sky is lightening outside the window. “My crew will be getting ready to go to Homochitto soon. I’ll have several of them stay with you again.”

“Are you going to go get some sleep?” I ask him. I know he’s been up all night.

He shrugs and shakes his head. “No, I’ll be fine.”

“But Gregor, I don’t want you to end up becoming sick yourself,” I tell him, concerned. “If you exhaust yourself, it could be dangerous.”

He looks into my eyes. “Samuel,” he says quietly, “you know that I have some… unusual physical characteristics.”

Oh, right. I haven’t forgotten about how his injuries were miraculously healed before my eyes earlier this year, but I haven’t really thought about it in a few weeks. It’s easy to just accept him as my friend, as the helpful and friendly fellow that he has always been, and not fret about whether he might also be some mystical creature. “You mean,” I clarify, “like how you, you know,” I wave my hand towards his back. He knows what I mean.

He nods. “Exactly. This is another thing, related to that. Going without sleep does not harm me. I can do without for much longer than you might think.”

I just stare at him, in wonder, contemplating his nature. What is he?

He smirks and waves his hand in front of my face, as though to disperse my speculation. “Like with that other thing,” he says, “I try to keep this information to myself. But now that you know, please allow me to volunteer to take the night shift for the duration. I won’t need to sleep for at least another week. By that time I hope that this outbreak will be tapering off.”

I am speechless. What use is my medical degree when before me stands a person to whom the normal rules seem not to apply?

He shakes his head with a hint of amusement. “I need to get going, Samuel, my crew is almost ready. I’ll send today’s assistants back here in a few minutes.” He glances down the hallway. “They should be all right,” he says. “Take care of little Matilda. And Ben. And your uncle,” he adds with a grin. “Poor Samuel!”