The Lingering Read Online Free

doors. Once, his volunteer work had brought him pleasure. The thought of his skills helping those less fortunate than he, always brought him comfort. Now the doors of St. Mary’s offered him nothing but pain and sorrow. Since The Lingering, much of his work had involved dispatching those who had become Lingerers. He felt like a vet whose only job was euthanizing sick animals. He knew the work had to be done, but it still sickened him.
    Finally, he headed for the door and rapped on it with his cane. He heard the sounds of locks being pulled, and then the old doormen, Rogers, swung them wide.
    “Dr Bartholomew, it is good to see you, sir. Could I take your hat and coat?”
    Bartholomew removed his top hat and passed it to the bent man before him. “Thank you, Rogers. Tell me, has the night been quiet?”
    “Yes, sir. I am gratified to say that the worse seems to be behind us.”
    “And how are you feeling after your brief glimpse into the abyss?” Bartholomew asked as he handed Rogers his coat and cane.
    “Much better thank you, sir. I hope I find you well today?”
    “I have the constitution of an ox, but thank you for your concern. Have we any new guests since yesterday?”
    “Yes, sir, a few. The good news is some of them have not been touched by The Lingering. We are beginning to see people suffering from run of the mill maladies again. God forgive me for thinking such a thing a blessing, but that’s how it feels.” The old man tugged at his cap apologetically. “Beg your pardon, sir, but this hospital has been like a slaughter house for too long now. It is time to get back to treating the sick.”
    Bartholomew patted the question mark shaped man on the back. “Well said, Rogers, you took the thoughts right out of my head. Now, point me towards my first patient.”
    The old doorman smiled. “Matron is on the first floor, she has the list of our new comers. But seeing as you asked, I think your first visit will be with Martha Skinner. She lives just up the road from me, and she is with child.” Rogers moved closer to Bartholomew and gestured for him to bend, so he could whisper in his ear. Bartholomew lowered his head with a smile. “She is a bit of a sort, this young Martha. I wager the father could be one of half a dozen men. She has no idea who the bastard’s old man is. She has had one blessing though.”
    Bartholomew straightened. “And what blessing might that be?”
    “For some reason The Lingering left her whole family untouched. She lives with her dear old mum and dad. Her four brothers are still at home too. Not one of them suffered the curse. Not even when every house in the street had fallen to it.”
    Bartholomew raised an intrigued eyebrow. “Really, how old is the girl?”
    “Sixteen, sir, but she fornicates like a brass from the gutter.”
    Bartholomew stared at Rogers disapprovingly. “She is a child! Comparing her to a prostitute is hardly the act of a Christian.”
    Rogers tugged at his cap. “Sorry, sir, I got carried away.”
    “Well, remember where you are. We are here to help the unfortunate. We are not here to judge them. Now be off with you.”
    Rogers scurried off, cackling to himself as he went. Bartholomew shook his head, but smiled. In spite of his short falls, Rogers was a good man. He knew the old orderly never left his post, not even through the worst of the outbreak. Even when many of the other staff ran, he stood strong. Only a good man would act so.
     
    Matron Morag Evans gestured towards a very young looking girl in a bed. “This is Martha, doctor; she is about ready to drop.” The matron’s deep, Welsh voice boomed off the walls of the stark ward. “I think the baby will be along very soon. Trouble is, doctor, the poor girl has felt no movement for over a day. I have explained to her what this means, but I think she needs to hear it from you.”
    Bartholomew looked around the ward. All the other patients had their eyes locked on the poor child crying in the