Darkness

David

“What do you think you’re doing?” the doctor gripes at Ben. He looks up from the dinner tray that he is carrying from the kitchen to the patient rooms.

I smirk at him, carrying another tray next to him. “Told you,” I say.

Ben shrugs, but not so much that it would upset the bowl of soup on the tray. “Er….” he hesitates, tongue-tied as usual.

It’s easy to fall back into old habits. I translate for him. “He told me he was feeling so much better, that it seemed ridiculous for him to stay in bed while me and the crew wait on him.” Doctor Duncan’s mouth falls open. “So he decided to get back to work.”

“Are you kidding me?” the doctor says in an aggravated tone. He takes the tray out of Ben’s hands and puts it on a nearby table, and reaches up to lay his palm across Ben’s forehead. His brow furrows a little, and then he says, “Well, you don’t feel all that feverish any more.”

Ben nods and reaches back for the tray.

“No no no,” the doctor scolds him. “Just because you don’t have a high fever doesn’t mean you’re better. Yellow fever is hard on the system, you’ll be weak for a few more days, and if you overexert yourself you could have a relapse.”

Ben stands there sheepishly. “I just hate to see you working so hard while I lay around doing nothing,” he protests, seeming to find his words again.

The doctor huffs. “You’re not doing nothing. You’re recovering from a serious illness. Will you PLEASE not make this harder for both of us by making yourself ill again? Come on, go get back in bed.”

Ben looks over at me like he thinks I am going to back him up here. I shake my head, “Oh no, don’t look at me. I told you the same thing if you’ll remember. Get your ass back in bed.”

He sighs and drops his head, defeated. “Fine. At least let me carry my own tray in. You don’t have to wait on me.”

We both look at the doctor, who gives him a little smirk. “All right. Then stay in your room!”

“Yes, Doctor,” Ben says, with a sort of ironic little smile, before he picks up his tray and carries it into his room with him.

The doctor looks over at me, exasperated. I grin. “Those Kaintucks,” I tell him, “they’re a stubborn bunch!”

It makes him laugh. “Thanks, David,” he says, and goes into the next patient room.

I watch after the doctor as he goes, wondering if I’m right about the two of them. Ben has never said anything to me about it, but I’ve long had my suspicions about him. He never wanted to come to the brothels with me, and despite all of his constant tongue-tied awkwardness, that doesn’t mean that he wouldn’t be lonely sometimes. I just don’t think he ever had the desire for what can be found at a place like Madam Beverly’s. It wasn’t really until yesterday when I noticed that their lodging only has one big bed in it that I started piecing it together. I wonder why he never said anything about it to me? Was he worried I’d be scandalized? Working on the flatboats together for all those years, it was never any secret that some of our fellow Kaintucks would turn to each other for comfort sometimes. It’s not to my taste, but I don’t begrudge my best friend if it makes him happy. And Doctor Duncan does seem like a very decent fellow.

“Was that Ben I just saw?” I hear a familiar voice from behind me, and spin around to see Gregor coming in the front door to the sick ward.

“Hey Gregor,” I say, still holding a tray that I need to bring in to a patient room. “Yeah, he felt the tiniest bit better and so he immediately decided to start working with the crew, rather than remaining one of the patients.”

Gregor smiles and shakes his head. “Did he now?”

“Doctor Duncan set him straight,” I say. Then nodding at my tray, I say, “Excuse me,” and go to deliver the dinner.

Samuel Duncan

Oh, that adorable, aggravating, loveable man! I should have figured that he’d immediately try to pitch in to help the first moment that he was able to stand up without falling back over.

When I have the time, I want to take some comprehensive notes about this outbreak. It seems to be starting in a typical way, and the early patients present as textbook yellow fever cases. But some of the patients, after declining rapidly, seem to be recovering just as rapidly. Ben is among those. I haven’t told him yet, but I have already decided that if he continues to show improvement overnight, I intend to discharge him in the morning and let him go home.

In fact, all of the patients that were here last night seem to be improving at the same pace. They arrived here terribly ill, and as night fell I was feeling very pessimistic about the prognosis for some of them, but they had all improved by morning. With the typical yellow fever disease, it would be three or four days before any improvement is shown, yet these people all seem much better.

But the new patients that arrived today all seem extremely sick, with none of them improving despite my best efforts. The disease progression is uneven between the different patients, and I haven’t been able to find the pattern. It’s very perplexing, and none of my reference books contain examples of this strain of yellow fever. So I want to document this event, in the hopes that other doctors might learn from it.

When I have time. For now, I don’t have a moment to spare for anything.

After I chase Ben back to bed, and go see to another couple of patients in the next room, I come back out to ask Polly to send in someone with fresh linens. One of the new patients didn’t make it to their basin in time.

“Good evening, Samuel,” Gregor intercepts me before I can get very far.

“Gregor! I wasn’t really expecting to see you. Were you out working at Homochitto all day?”

“Yes,” he says, “I just got back. I stayed behind for a little while to speak with your brother.” He looks around at the infirmary, several of his crew members bustling around, then asks, “Do you have a moment to get off your feet and talk?”

I glance around, see that things seem under control, and nod. “All right. Why don’t we go to the office?”

I take a minute to ask Polly about the linens, then lead Gregor in to the little room which I have been using as an office. I sit behind the desk, and he perches on the wooden chair in front of it. My medical texts are stacked untidily on the desk, along with some rudimentary patient charts that I have been trying to keep.

The air whoofs out of me as I sit down. I think this might be the first time I’ve done this all day.

He watches me with a sympathetic expression. “You look even more tired than you did yesterday. I assume you still need to get dinner?”

I shrug. I haven’t really thought of it.

He smiles and shakes his head. “Well, how are things going here today? Anyone recovering yet?”

“Yes, most of the first group of patients are feeling far better than I would have expected after only a day or two of illness. Normally yellow fever takes a few days to run its course, but I plan to release several of the patients in the morning unless they show any signs of relapse.”

He nods. “That is good to hear. How are Ben and little Matilda?”

“Much better.” I huff out a laugh, and roll my eyes, and Gregor looks at me with a curious expression. “I just had to force Ben to get back in bed. He was feeling a little better so he decided that rather than allow himself to fully recover, instead he should join the crew working here and start serving dinner to other patients.”

He chuckles. “That sounds like Ben,” he says. “He is a very sweet fellow,” and he reaches across the desk and pats my hand, almost conspiratorially. I understand his message, that I am lucky in my love. I nod, smiling.

“And Matilda is doing better as well,” I tell him. “I’m more worried about my uncle.”

Gregor’s eyes grow concerned, and a bit perplexed. “Is Samuel ill?”

“No,” I say, “but he refuses to leave her, and I don’t seem to be able to convince him that she is going to be all right. I think that it just about gave him a heart attack last night when she had that fever-induced seizure. I’ve tried to explain that it happens fairly often in young children with high fevers, and isn’t usually dangerous, but he still seems terrified to take his eyes off of her. He apparently lives in the room with her now, sleeping in the other bed.”

His brow furrows and he leans back in his chair with his arms crossed. “Well, I think you should take your uncle to the club for supper, then both of you should go home to rest. I meant what I said last night, I’d be happy to take the night shift for the next several nights.”

I look at him dubiously. “When was the last time you got any sleep?” Surely he didn’t really mean that he can go entirely without.

“Um, a few days ago. Really, Samuel, I am fine, far better than you are going to be unless you listen to me. You wouldn’t allow one of your patients to drive themself this hard, and you know it. You have to take care of yourself in order to be able to take care of them.”

It doesn’t make any sense that he could be so chipper if he hasn’t really slept in so long, but the evidence I have seen in the past supports the fact that some things about Gregor just don’t make any sense. And he is not wrong about me. I am starting to get that shaky and queasy feeling that deep exhaustion brings, and I know that if I let this go on too much longer I will cease to be effective as a physician.

“I can’t deny that you are right,” I say to him. “Fine, I’ll go eat and take a nap like I did last night, then when I get back you should go and do the same.” He nods, as though it is all settled, and moves to stand back up. “But,” I say, and he pauses, “I don’t think you’ll convince Uncle Samuel to go. Matilda needs to stay here at least another night, just to make sure she really is recovering, and I haven’t been able to convince him to leave for more than a few minutes.”

He nods. “I’ll talk to him.”