The Lingering Read Online Free Page A

bed.
    “Matron, might we not move her bed to one of the single rooms?”
    Evans adjusted her apron; she looked annoyed by the suggestion. “Doctor, she is giving birth, the single rooms are meant only for isolation. This girl is not infectious, so she should remain here.”
    Bartholomew took the portly woman by the arm and guided her to the centre of the ward, then whispered, “Matron, she is a child about to give birth to a dead baby. Surely she deserves a little privacy in her grief.”
    Evans pulled her arm free of his grip. “The little trollop found no need for privacy when she conceived the child. She should have to …”
    “Enough! Move her to one of the single rooms!” bellowed Bartholomew angrily.
    Evans lowered her eyes. “Of course, doctor.”
     
    “One more push, Martha, and this will all be over.” Bartholomew could see the top of the baby’s head. “Just push down for me one more time.”
    Martha let out a pain filled cry, and wept, “Sorry, I ain’t got no more to give.” She slumped from her elbows back to the bed.
    Evans grabbed the girl by the shoulders and lifted her back to a position conducive to pushing. “Martha, you have made your bed and now it is time to lie in it! Do as the doctor asks, and push!”
    The young girl gritted her teeth and pushed. Her hair stuck to her sweat covered face, and the matron mopped it away with a wet rag. As she bore down, Martha’s face turned a startling shade of red.
    With a gush, the tiny corpse emerged from her in a rush of pain and blood. She screamed, and slumped back into the sweat covered pillow. This time Morag Evans allowed her to rest.
    “Matron, quickly, a clamp and some scissors.”
    Evans moved with a speed which did not match her size. She shifted quickly from the girl’s side, to the tray of surgical instruments beside the bed. Deftly, she passed Bartholomew the tools he required.
    He clamped off the umbilical which joined the dead child to the one that lived. Then he severed the connection completely. He lifted the tiny blue body from between its mother’s legs, and placed it on a table behind him. He then turned his attention back to Martha, who now sobbed uncontrollably.
    “I am so sorry my dear, but you still have a little work to do. You have to push out the afterbirth.”
    From behind him a faint gurgling could be heard, then a cry. Evans stared at him in disbelief, and he returned her gaze with equal amazement.
    “I can hear my baby — is it alive?” cried Martha as she heaved herself back to her elbows.
    Bartholomew turned back to the tiny infant, and examined it carefully. He watched as the child licked its mother’s blood from its lips, and its eyes turned from yellow to black. Evans now stood at his side, and she stifled a gasp. Apparently, the child now numbered among The Lingering, but how? Its mother had been free of the disease, so how had the child contracted the dreadful malady?
    “Matron, pass me a scalpel?”
    “What are you going to do?”
    “God forgive me, but I am going to end this poor creature’s torment.”
    Evans began to shake her head, slowly at first, but then more wildly. “You cannot, the child lives.”
    Bartholomew shot her an angry look. “This child is not living flesh and blood. It is an abomination to God and man alike!”
    “Is it alive? I can hear it cry — does my baby live?”
    Both Evans and Bartholomew turned towards young Martha. Both had forgotten the mother.
    “Martha, my dear,” whispered Bartholomew, “Your child is not alive. It suffers from The Lingering.”
    “That ain’t possible, none of me family had it. Give it to me, I want to see it.”
    Evans moved towards the tiny infant and lifted it from the table. Its head flopped on a neck too weak to hold it, but its mouth gnashed hungrily at the matron’s flesh. Evans shuddered visibly, and lifted the child towards its mother.
    Martha screamed at the sight of the monster she had just born. Its black eyes blinked while