The Lingering Read Online Free Page B

its toothless mouth chomped. Then it started to screech like a banshee.
    “Take it away, that ain’t my child. That’s somethin’ from Hell. I’m being punished, I am. God is punishing me for being a harlot.” Martha raised her eyes and hands to Heaven. “Sweet Jesus, I’m right sorry I am. Please forgive me and take this beast away.”
    Bartholomew grabbed the baby from Evans’s hands, and slammed it back on the table.
    “Give me that damned scalpel!”
    Evans fumbled with the tray of equipment, and it fell to the floor. She dropped to her knees and snatched up the blade. With a grunt of exertion she struggled back to her feet and passed the doctor the knife.
    Bartholomew looked heavenward too, and said. “Forgive me, Lord.”
    With that he plunged the blade between the baby’s eyes and twisted. The abomination fell instantly silent.
    Matron Morag Evans wavered on her feet, then threw up at the foot of the bed. Bartholomew steadied her with a trembling hand, and then looked at the young girl who had just given birth.
    Martha’s eyes were distant and vague. She mumbled something he could not quite make out. He lowered the now sobbing Evans to the floor, then moved closer to his patient. He placed his ear an inch from the girl’s mouth, then began to cry at her words.
    “I am damned. I am damned.” Over and over again she whispered those three terrible words.
    He took her in his arms and sobbed like he had never sobbed before. “I think we all are, my dear,” he said as he gulped for air.
     
    ***
    Bartholomew sipped at a large glass of port, and eyed the man sat across from him kindly. Once again Rogers had stepped up when needed. He had taken care of the tiny body, and he had treated it with respect and dignity. Something few could have done.
    “What does this mean, Doctor?” Rogers asked after more than an hour of silence. “Why did that child have The Lingering?”
    Bartholomew downed the last of his drink, before pondering the old man’s question. “I fear the child’s fate may await us all. Tell me, Rogers, have any other patients been admitted who were free of The Lingering, but now face their end?”
    Rogers rubbed his chin, and nodded slowly. “Dr Jenkins has a patient on the third floor.”
    “And for what reason does this individual now join us?”
    “The poor fellow fell from a roof while fixing some slates, he broke his back. Young Dr Jenkins says he will be lucky to last the night.”
    “A broken back you say. If I am right, and The Lingering awaits us all, then at least he will pose no threat. Come, Rogers, show me this man.”
    Rogers heaved himself from his chair, and offered his superior a helping hand. Bartholomew took it and struggled from his seat. It took the two several minutes to ascend to the third floor. On their arrival, they saw a young doctor dozing in an armchair.
    Bartholomew cleared his throat, and the handsome young man leaped from his seat. Bleary eyed, he looked at the two standing before him.
    “Dr Bartholomew, to what do I owe this pleasure? Rarely do you visit my wards.”
    “Rogers here tells me you have a man with a broken back, and you believe his end is near.”
    Jenkins nodded and ran a hand through his unruly blonde hair. “Yes, Mr Williams fell onto a cart and snapped his back. I have no idea how he survived the fall, for he should have died at the scene. He now resides under my care, but there is little I can do for him, except make him comfortable.”
    Bartholomew nodded. “May I see him?”
    Jenkins brow furrowed. “Of course, but to what end?”
    Bartholomew took him by the shoulder and turned him towards the doors of his ward. “Earlier today I delivered a child to a woman untouched by The Lingering. The child was a still-born, yet it continued to breathe. It had the dreaded disease, and if I am right, I fear a similar fate awaits us all.”
    Jenkins stopped and looked at him. “You believe The Lingering resides in us all?”
    “If this Mr