by Lou Cadle
“That’ll take a while.”
“If you are pregnant—and we don’t know that you are for sure—we have a few days to think it through.” With these words, she was implying she’d stay, a commitment she wasn’t certain she could live up to.
“Okay. If you’re sure.”
“I’ll do my best for you, just like I’ve done my best for Julie.” That much, she could promise. Despite the new worry, the urge to yawn overcame her, and she couldn’t suppress it.
“I’m sorry. You need to sleep.”
“I do. But I’m glad you told me about yourself.” That was a lie. She’d as soon Abigail had kept it private and not put the burden on Coral’s shoulders. What was done was done, though. “If it’s okay with you, I’m going to go up and get some sleep. I need to stay up to watch over Julie again tonight.”
“Okay.”
“Are you going to work now?”
“Yes.”
“See you later, then.” She stumbled up the steps, kicked off her shoes, and fell into bed. She had dreams of a line of people, with faces she’d seen here, bleeding from heads and bellies. Some were missing legs and had crutches. Some had arms in slings. It was a parade of the people she would hurt by practicing medicine she had no right to practice. They haunted her sleep.
A banging on the bedroom door startled her awake. What—-? Coral rolled over and when she saw Parnell standing in the doorway, she came fully awake. “What’s wrong? Is it Julie?”
“You missed your appointment with Victoria.”
Victoria? It took her a few seconds to place the name. “Oh, the social worker. Counseling.”
“Right.”
“Is that really necessary?” she said, swinging her legs around and sitting up. “What time is it?”
“Two,” he said. “Two fifteen, by now.”
So she had gotten six hours sleep. It would have to do.
“And Levi wanted to know about last night’s surgery.”
“Edith and I agreed that we couldn’t save Julie’s toes. I decided to amputate. It went okay, I think.”
“Tell me about it, in detail.”
Coral snatched up her shoes and pushed past him to walk downstairs. She didn’t want the man in her bedroom. Doors were left unlocked—there was nothing to steal, really, and no keys for most doors in any case—but she didn’t like that he had walked in on her while she was sleeping. She took a seat and motioned for him to do the same, and then she gave him a brief report on Julie’s surgery and who had been there.
“So you tried the new drugs on her?”
“Local and antibiotic both. The local worked, to some extent. If I had to do it again, I’d use a bigger dose next time. I won’t know about the antibiotics for a couple days. Dosage on that is really a shot in the dark.”
“How much did you use?”
Coral held her fingers up to indicate what had been taken out of the bottle of lidocaine. “That much local anesthetic. Probably three times the antibiotic.”
“Is that wise, do you think? To use that much antibiotic on one patient?”
“I wasn’t going to operate on her without it. The tissue was already gangrenous. It’s better to get a jump on fighting off infection. If we allowed it to take hold, if she went septic, then we’d have a real battle on our hands to save her.”
“How much more will she need?”
“I counted that it my estimate. I was thinking, four days, two doses per day, and if there’s no danger sign, no fever, no suspicious discharge, I’d lay off for a day and see what happened.” She spread her hands, indicating how unsure she was. “I’ve told you, I’m no doctor. But even a forty-year-old GP with years of experience might be having to guess with an amputation and sheep drugs.”
“I know. Our concern isn’t your skill. Edith says you did a good job, and we trust her.”
Implying you don’t trust me? Fine, as I don’t trust you either.
“Our concern is that we’ve found this stuff, something of a miracle, and now an unreasonable portion is being used on one patient.”
“She’s the patient I have.”
“We’re wondering if it’s wise.”
“I’m sorry? We means, you and Levi? You and someone else?”
“The leadership of the town. If this Army group you mentioned suddenly shows up, what we need most is an intact militia. We need any injuries of them treated, so we can continue to defend the town.”
“Some are more equal than others, right?”
“I’m sorry?”
“Are you ordering me to quit treating Julie with antibiotics?”
Slowly, he shook his head. “I’m ord—asking you to stay aware. And to be conservative in using the drugs for non-essential personnel.”
“Maybe you’d better give me a list of preferred people, then. I don’t know this place. I have no idea what anyone’s job is. I don’t know how you rank the chef, for instance.”
“There’s no reason to be bad-tempered about it.”
“Isn’t there?” She wanted to slap the man. “If you’re ordering me to dole out drugs by the importance of the patient, then I need a list of citizens by importance. That seems logical, doesn’t it?” It seemed horrific to her, but maybe he needed to hear it coming from someone else’s mouth to realize it was.
“Fine. I’ll get that for you.” He stood. “I know Victoria is still waiting for you.”
“I’ll be there in a minute,” she said, staying seated.
He stared at her a moment longer and then left.
She felt like slapping herself to make sure she was still awake. Had that just happened? She was fairly appalled at the conversation. But then, as she thought it over, she wondered if “the leadership”—meaning Levi, she assumed—wasn’t right. If you were trying to keep three hundred people alive, or as many of them as you could, was the assistant laundress or full-time parent as important as the guard with the eagle eye? Could you cater to the needs of children, who added nothing measurable to a society?
She realized that she was living in an awful social experiment, the sort of thing that might have been an assigned discussion topic back at university, but was being played out here and now, for real. And she was part of it. Worse, she was supposed to be part of the elite that implemented these decisions. Who got the pain pill? Who deserved the antibiotics?
No. She didn’t want to be the person who decided. Either everyone was treated, or no one was. Inside the clinic, that would be her decision. It was the only decision she could live with.
Victoria could wait. She went to the clinic to see how Julie was. Edith was with another patient, so Coral went into the treatment room. Julie was reading a magazine, a National Geographic that looked to be older than Coral. She put the magazine down.
“How are you?” said Coral.
“I’m okay. Hurts, but I guess that’s to be expected.”
Coral went down to the end of the bed and flipped the sheet back. The wound had a pristine bandage on it, and Coral decided to leave it in place. They didn’t have infinite supplies in that sense, either. She’d be changing it tonight herself, and until then, she’d rely on Edith’s report of how it looked. Julie’s leg was bruised from where Benjamin held her down. Coral touched Julie’s face—no discernible fever—and managed a smile for her.
“Everything looks good.”
“When can I go home?”
“Not for another day or two. I’ll be staying with you tonight again.”
“Neighbors came by today and said they’d carry me back, whenever I was ready. I guess I’ll need a crutch?”
“Eventually, but I think you should stay off it entirely for at least a week. Two weeks, probably. And we need to keep you warm while you recover.” She smiled again. “We’ll see. Don’t push yourself.”
“I hate to put other people out. They’ll have to deliver food, and carry out, you know, a chamber pot or whatever.”
“We’ll all need help from friends and neighbors.
You’d do the same for them, right?”
“Of course.”
“There you go. There’s no reason to refuse help that you really need.” She looked closely at the woman’s face. There was a hint of strain around the eyes. “Are you in pain?”
“It’s not bad.” She tapped the magazine. “It helps if I read. It keeps me distracted.”
“Then keep reading. I’ll see you tonight.” Coral turned to leave.
“Doctor?”
She turned back, surprised she was starting to respond to the title. “Yes?”
“Thank you. I know I could have died if you hadn’t taken the toes.”
“You’re welcome,” Coral said, and hurried out of the room. Being thanked for cutting off a body part didn’t seem right, somehow. She waited in the hall for Edith, and when she came out with her patients, a father and daughter, Coral motioned her back into the cold recesses of the darkened hallway to discuss Julie.
Reassured by Edith’s report on the wound, she said, “Then I’ll be here right around suppertime, so that you can eat at your regular table.”
“That’s not really fair. You’re taking more hours.”
“It’s fine,” said Coral. “I’m going to use the time to go through every one of those medical books and try to learn more.”
“It isn’t a complete medical library, that’s for sure.”
“No. But it’s better than nothing. And I have an idea for getting more information, too.” She briefly outlined her idea about trying to get lower-tech solutions from books and people both.
Edith nodded the whole while. “I’ve learned a few things like that, along the way. But I’ve never made an organized effort to ferret out more information. I like the idea.”
“I’ll talk to Levi about it,” Coral said. “I have to go now.”
Victoria was at her apartment, smiling when she opened the door, but clearly irritated under the smile at being kept waiting. “I had to check on my amputee,” Coral said, and as she said it, she understood that her attitude toward Victoria had changed. Before, she’d been willing to go along with the counseling
But now, Coral felt differently. The few days of being the town doctor had made her feelings change. The surgery had been a sort of test, and she’d come through it along with her patient, a new person.
“What are you thinking about?”
“About the surgery I performed last night,” she told the woman. “I may be distracted today. Perhaps we should reschedule.”
“No, I think it’s important to delve into your trauma.”
“Last night was fairly traumatic. I sliced off two of a woman’s toes.”
Victoria couldn’t hide her flinch.
“It was bloody. Of course, it had to be done, and quickly. You could smell the rot.”
“You sound, um, angry.”
“Do I?” said Coral. “I’m a little irritated at being woken up to come here and play talk therapy with you.”
“That’s rather an aggressive way to say that,” said Victoria.
“I’m a rather aggressive person,” said Coral. “I’ve killed people, you know.” She leaned forward and stabbed her finger toward Victoria’s chest. “That had to be done, too.”
“You must feel terrible remorse.”
“I did the first time,” said Coral. “After that, I learned not to.”
“I can’t imagine.”
“No. You can’t.”
“And you’re angry at me that I can’t?” She sounded honestly perplexed.
Coral felt a little sorry for her and relented, lowering her voice. “In a way, I’m jealous of you. You’ve been here, in a safe place, other people taking care of you. You’ve been fed every day. I haven’t had that. I’ve done what I needed to do to survive.”
“That must have been hard,” said Victoria.
Coral swung back to being irritated at the woman. Ridiculous old-timey counseling techniques, like they had any applicability here and now. “It was necessary. If I hadn’t learned how to kill, or how to dress game, or how to wrestle a sledge with hundreds of pounds of gear over rocks and ice, I would have died.”
“So you were scared.”
Coral said. “It was physically hard. Death is far harder. I hope you don’t ever have to learn that firsthand.” She stepped to the door. “I really have to go.”
“But—”
“Look, I’m sorry. I know you’re trying to help. But there’s really nothing I need help with. I’m resolved. My conscience is clear. I don’t need counseling.”
“But Levi says—”
“I’ll talk with Levi about it. I have something else I need to discuss with him.” Coral ungloved her right hand and offered it. After a brief hesitation, Victoria shook it. “Thanks for your help. I’ll be seeing you around, I’m sure.”
She put her glove back on as she walked out the door, pulled up her mask, and headed for the library.
Levi was with someone, and he told her he could clear out time for her in a half hour.
She used the time to wander around the library, trying to find the system of organization they had for the books. There was a whole corner filled with farming books and agricultural sciences. Interesting, but not of immediate concern to her—or to them, right now. The Boise group would have to survive for several months, build a greenhouse, and then find seeds, to make those books applicable to survival.
There were no plants, not herbs or food or fuel plants. Unless the seeds were in the ground, under the ash, under the snow, waiting for a chance at life again, they were as imaginary as dragons or fairies.
There were some engineering books in another section—bridge construction, hydrological engineering, architecture, metallurgy, and so on. Another corner had books she’d categorize as other sciences, from astronomy to sound physics to mineralogy and plate tectonics. She was glad they weren’t burning those books, but none were of immediate interest to her.
The only books she did find of any use were books in veterinary medicine. The vet drugs had worked well enough. As she flipped through a book on ostriches and emus, she started to realize that farmers and vets did have a lower-tech approach to medical care of animals. No one was going to run an emu through an MRI. The cost would have been crazy high for the return you’d get on meat prices by simply slaughtering the creature. These books might help her. They might help Abigail. Perhaps something that caused miscarriages in cows or sheep or horses might give her an idea of how to trigger Abigail’s.
She pushed aside the ostrich book to look for ones on mammals instead. She had collected four possibly useful books when she heard someone shouting for her. Levi.
She carried the books back and held them up. “I’m going to borrow these.”
“I guess that’ll be okay,” he said.
Coral marched past him to his office. She unzipped her jacket. “It’s too warm in here. We don’t even keep the clinic this warm,” she said.
“I’m sorry?” he said, sounding offended.
“I need something to be organized,” she said. She explained her need to collect any information she could on pre-technological health care. “I need a meeting organized, around meal time or whatever you can do, and I’d like someone assigned to help me hunt for that sort of information in books. Doug mentioned that old novels were set aside, with just that in mind. He might be a good choice.”
Levi seemed taken aback by her request. “So you’re willing to listen to—what? Rumors from people about their Granny Jones and her poultices?”
“Exactly. Granny Jones would probably be more useful to you than me, in fact, but since she’d dead and gone, the memory of her is all we have.”
“Surely a lot of those home remedies were nonsense.”
“Doubtless some of them were. And probably some of them were not. If there seems no risk in trying them, why not?”
“I suppose,” he said. She thought he didn’t like that she was being so demanding. And she was, she realized. She w
as coming very close to ordering him around. “Parnell says you’re concerned about my using too many drugs on Julie.”
“He said that?”
She waved it aside. “I read between the lines. If you want to save the few modern drugs you have for your militia, then it seems logical to try and find ways to treat the other population that don’t involve drugs, don’t you think?”
“I’m glad to see you so enthusiastic about your job,” he said, leaning back. “I got the feeling you weren’t even wanting to stay with us.”
That caught her unaware. She hadn’t realized she’d been so easy for him to read. Nor had she really thought through how deeply she was being pulled into the life of the community here. She didn’t want that. Did she?
No. Not unless one of the scavenging teams had some miraculous find in the next several days. Even then, an unlooted Walmart or something of that nature would only put off the inevitable for another month or two. These people had to find some way to generate food for 300 every day—and that meant 300,000 calories minimum every single day—or they’d die. Half a million calories would be much better. And every single day. Wow.
“Has anyone found greenhouse supplies, seeds, anything like that?” She tried to imagine the acreage of greenhouses that would be needed to produce that much food. “Do you have any idea if the light we are limited to now, with the airborne ash, could grow food?”
“What does this have to do with folk remedies and medicine?”
She said, “Herbs. If we could grow medicinal plants. Maybe get a willow tree going for the bark. That’s basically aspirin, you know.”
“Oh. Yes, I seem to recall hearing that.”
She had been asking him obliquely about the survival of the community. Why not say it straight out. “Aren’t you getting worried about food?”
“We have some stockpiled. And we find new cans every day, even in the local scavenging.”
“But you’ll be done with that soon, right? I’m surprised you aren’t already.”