Connie Willis - Doomsday Book

He walked back to his room. The sister had posted a large placard reading, "Absolutely No Visitors Allowed," on his door, but she was not at her desk or in his room. Colin was, carrying a large damp parcel.

"The sister's in the ward," Colin said, grinning. "Ms. Piantini very conveniently fainted. You should have seen her. She's very good at it." He fumbled with the string. "The nurse just came on duty, but you needn't worry about her either. She's in the linen room with William Gaddson." He opened the parcel. It was full of clothing: a long black doublet and black breeches, neither of them remotely mediaeval, and a pair of women's black tights.

"Where did you get this?" Dunworthy said. "A production of Hamlet ?"

" Richard III ," Colin said. "Keble did it last term. I took the hump out."

"Is there a cloak?" Dunworthy said, sorting through the clothing. "Tell Finch to find me a cloak. A long cloak that will cover everything."

"I will," Colin said absently. He was fumbling intently with the band on his green jacket. It sprang open, and Colin threw it off his shoulders. "Well? What do you think?"

He had done considerably better than Finch. The boots were wrong — they looked like a pair of gardener's Wellington's-but the brown burlap smock and shapeless gray-brown trousers looked like the illustration of a serf in Colin's book.

"The trousers have a strip," Colin said, "but you can't see it under the shirt. I copied it out of the book. I'm supposed to be your squire."

He should have anticipated this. "Colin," he said, "you can't go with me."

"Why not?" Colin said. "I can help you find her. I'm good at finding things."

"It's impossible. The — "

"Oh, now you're going to tell me how dangerous it is in the Middle Ages, aren't you? Well, it's rather dangerous here, isn't it? What about Aunt Mary? She'd have been safer in the Middle Ages, wouldn't she? I've been doing lots of dangerous things. Taking medicine to people and putting up placards in the wards. While you were ill, I did all sorts of dangerous things you don't even know about — "

"Colin — "

"You're too old to go alone. And Great-Aunt Mary told me to take care of you. What if you have a relapse?"

"Colin — "

"My mother doesn't care if I go."

"But I do. I can't take you with me."

"So I'm to sit here and wait," he said bitterly, "and nobody will tell me anything, and I won't know whether you're alive or dead." He picked up his jacket. "It's not fair."

"I know."

"Can I come to the laboratory at least?"

"Yes."

"I still think you should let me go," he said. He began folding the tights. "Shall I leave your costume here?"

"Better not. The sister might confiscate it."

"What's all this, Mr. Dunworthy?" Mrs. Gaddson said.

They both jumped. She came into the room, bearing her Bible.

"Colin's been collecting for the clothing drive," Dunworthy said, helping him wad the clothing into a bundle. "For the detainees."

"Passing clothes from one person to another is an excellent way of spreading infection," she said to Dunworthy.

Colin scooped up the bundle and ducked out.

"And allowing a child to come here and risk catching something! He offered to come and walk me home from the infirmary last night, and I said, 'I won't have you risking your health for me!'"

She sat down next to the bed and opened her Bible. "It's pure negligence, allowing that boy to visit you. But I suppose it's no more than what I should have expected from the way you run your college. Mr. Finch has become a complete tyrant in your absence. He simply flew at me in a rage yesterday when I requested an extra roll of lavatory paper — "

"I want to see William," Dunworthy said.

"Here!" she sputtered. "In hospital?!" She shut her Bible with a snap. "I simply won't allow it. There are still a great many infectious cases and poor Willy — "

Is in the linen room with my nurse, he thought. "Tell him I wish to see him as soon as possible," he said.

She brandished the Bible at him like Moses bringing down the plagues on Egypt. "I intend to report your callous indifference to your students' well-being to the Head of the History Faculty," she said and stormed out.

He could hear her complaining loudly in the corridor to someone, presumably the nurse, because William appeared almost immediately, smoothing down his hair.

"I need injections of streptomycin and gamma globulin," Dunworthy said. "I also need to be discharged from hospital, as does Badri Chaudhuri."

He nodded. "I know. Colin told me you're going to try to retrieve your history student." He looked thoughtful. "I know this nurse…"

"A nurse can't give an injection without authorization by a doctor, and the discharges will require authorization as well."

"I have a friend up in Records. When do you want this by?"

"As soon as possible."

"I'll get right on it. It might take two or three days," he said, and started out. "I met Kivrin once. She was at Balliol to see you. She's very pretty, isn't she?"

I must remember to warn her about him, Dunworthy thought, and realized he had actually begun to believe he might be able to rescue her in spite of everything. Hold on, he thought. I'm coming. Two or three days.

He spent the afternoon walking up and down the corridor, trying to build his strength up. Badri's ward had an "Absolutely No Visitors Allowed" placard on each of the doors, and the sister fixed him with a watery blue eye each time he approached them.

Colin came in, wet and breathless, with a pair of boots. "She has guards everywhere," he said. "Mr. Finch says to tell you the net's ready except he can't find anyone to do med support."

"Tell William to arrange it," he said. "He's taking care of the discharges and the streptomycin injection."

"I know. I've got to deliver a message to Badri from him. I'll be back."

He did not come back, and neither did William. When Dunworthy walked to the phone to ring Balliol, the sister caught him halfway and escorted him back to his room. Either her tightened defenses excluded Mrs. Gaddson as well, or Mrs. Gaddson was still angry over William. She did not come all afternoon.

Just after tea a pretty nurse he hadn't seen before came in with a syringe. "Sister's been called away on an emergency," she said.

"What's that?" he asked, pointing to the syringe.

She tapped the console keyboard with one finger of her free hand. She looked at the screen, tapped in a few more characters, and came around to inject him. "Streptomycin," she said.

She did not seem nervous or furtive, which meant William must have managed the authorization somehow. She injected the largish syringe into the cannula, smiled at him, and went out. She had left the console on. He got out of bed and went round to read what was on the screen.

It was his chart. He recognized it because it looked like Badri's and was as unreadable. The last entry read, "ICU15802691 14-1-55 1805 150/RPT 1800 CRS IMSTMC 4ML/q6h NHS40-211-7 M AHRENS."

He sat down on the bed. Oh, Mary.

William must have obtained obtained her access code, perhaps from his friend in Records, and fed it into the computer. Records was no doubt far behind, swamped by the paperwork of the epidemic, and had not yet got to Mary's death. They would catch the error someday, though the resourceful William had no doubt already arranged for its erasure.

He scrolled the screen back through his chart. There were M. AHRENS entries up through 8-1-55, the day she had died. She must have nursed him until she could no longer stand. No wonder her heart had stopped.

He switched the console off so that the sister wouldn't spot the entry and got into bed. He wondered if William planned to sign her name to the discharges as well. He hoped so. She would have wanted to help.