“There’s still no evidence indicating this is contagious. Mrs. Bell wasn’t sick, not yet anyway.”
“Either way, all this speculation isn’t doing us any good,” said Andrews. “What are we supposed to do with her? Lock her up? We must do something, and soon. I think I can speak for Mr. Lightoller when I say we can’t hold her like this forever.”
“I need to tend to their wounds,” said O’Loughlin. “Put her back in the room for now.”
Lightoller and Andrews led Elise under the doorway to the second patient room and then pushed her in and shut the door. They put their backs against the door to prevent her from opening it. Elise went back to moaning while banging and scratching at the other side.
Dr. O’Loughlin kneeled down between Dr. Simpson and William Dunford.
“John, I’m sorry about this. I can’t help but feel somewhat responsible.”
“Don’t bother. It’s not your fault,” said Dr. Simpson.
“May I take a look?”
Dr. Simpson removed the cloth uncovering the horrific display on the lower right side of his face. Elise had completely bitten through the skin leaving behind multiple sets of teeth marks. While most of the bleeding had stopped, the swelling and bruising had only just begun.
“How is it?”
“I won’t lie to you, John, it looks bad. You’re definitely gonna have some permanent scarring. My biggest concern is keeping it from getting infected.”
“As is mine.”
“I’m gonna have to clean it.”
Dr. O’Loughlin then checked on the steward. The injuries to William Dunford’s hand, while being in a significantly better location, were even more severe than those on the assistant surgeons face. Aside from the obvious visual sign of teeth marks, much of the skin and underlying muscle tissue had been torn and displaced, leaving his index finger hanging loosely at the knuckle. Dunford had also lost a great deal more blood.
O’Loughlin got to work on their wounds.
Dr. Simpson cried out in pain when the tincture of iodine ran down into the hollow teeth-shaped ravines in his face, cried still when O’Loughlin scrubbed and picked out the dried bits of blood. But it was nothing compared to what William Dunford would have to endure.
Catherine Wallis, finally forced to surrender her post at the door to the stairwell, had to assist in the amputation.
O’Loughlin put on some gloves and then got together all the tools he would need on a medical cart. Dunford squirmed around on the examination table as O’Loughlin then injected a shot of morphine in the web of flesh between his index finger and thumb.
“Mr. Lightoller, do you think you could hold Elise off by yourself? I could really use another hand.”
“I think so.” Elise continued her physical assault on the door, though Lightoller seemed to have no problem keeping her contained.
Andrews went to the other side of the examination room, passing Dr. Simpson resting on a bench, and stood across from Catherine.
“I just need you to help keep him still.”
“Okay, I’ll try my best,” Andrews said nervously.
“William, I promise to be as quick as possible. Here, put this in your mouth.” He handed Dunford a cloth to bite down on.
O’Loughlin carefully picked up the amputation saw from the medical cart. Everyone looked away as he then went to work sawing through the remaining bone and connective tissue.
Dunford wailed in misery.
When he was done, O’Loughlin picked up the dead finger and placed it on a towel on top of the medical cart. He used a scalpel to shape the remaining skin and remove the smaller bits of tissue from the amputation site. Finally, he sutured up the wound and wiped dry all the excess blood and iodine. He gave Dunford a small dose of the oral opiate Laudanum for the pain, the same as he had given Dr. Simpson.
“What now?” asked Lightoller, leaning coolly against the door to the second patient room and smoking his pipe. Elise was still active—still going at it with her fingers and hands. Her nails had to be whittled down to nothing by now.
“How much longer do you think she has?” asked Andrews.
“Only God knows,” O’Loughlin replied. “Hopefully soon He will grant her the peace she deserves.”
“Until then, she stays locked up,” said Lightoller. He banged his fist against the door. “Don’t want her taking a piece out of anyone else, aye.”
O’Loughlin nodded. “I think you better go ahead and alert the captain now. If he has no objections, I’d like to speak with him. We will make sure Elise doesn’t get out.”
“You shouldn’t have much of a problem. It’s barely been a challenge. In fact...” Lightoller stepped away from the door. “She hasn’t even tried turning the handle.”
“That is very peculiar indeed. Her mind is even more incapacitated than I thought.”
“That’s good news for us.”
O’Loughlin glanced back at his assistant surgeon and hospital steward both sitting miserably hunched over on a bench and looking weary. “We shall see.”
April 13, 1912
SMITH
Being the ship’s captain meant you were always on duty—even when you were asleep.
Knock, knock.
Captain Smith sat up and yawned. The clock next to the bed said 12:12 a.m. “Who is it?”
“It’s Charles Lightoller, sir.”
“One moment.”
Smith had given specific instructions to his officers to wake him if they had any serious issues, not because he didn’t trust them to successfully handle any situation—he had assembled possibly the finest crew he had ever worked with—but because he felt a genuine responsibility toward every passenger on board. God forbid if something were to happen, something terrible, he wouldn’t be able to live with himself if he hadn’t done everything he could to prevent it. While many among the upper class referred to him as the “Millionaires Captain,” Smith thought of himself a little differently.
He rolled out of bed and threw on a robe before answering the door.
“Charles, you look tired. What’s the problem?”
“Sorry to wake you, sir,” said Lightoller. “But we’ve had an issue with one of the passengers. A young woman from steerage. She’s very sick and, well, she’s lost all control over her actions.”
“What do you mean she’s lost all control?”
“She’s seriously injured two people already, Dr. Simpson and William Dunford. Right now we have her confined to one of the patient rooms in the third-class hospital.”
“Where is Murdoch?”
“I don’t know. I came to you first. I got caught up in this after my watch concluded.”
“You said this woman is sick and violent?”
“Dr. O’Loughlin believes the sickness itself is making her violent.”
“How?”
Lightoller shrugged. “He wants to speak with you.”
“I’ll change and meet you down there,” said Smith, starting to shut the door.
“That’s not even the worst part, sir.”
“What are you saying, Charles?”
After getting dressed, Smith accompanied Lightoller down to the third-class hospital. Lightoller explained the rest of the story along the way, particularly emphasizing how the sickness that currently controlled Elise Brennan’s mind causing her to go insane could be contagious.
Could be.
When they reached the hospital and saw Dr. John Simpson, it seemed almost a certainty.
“His condition began to rapidly deteriorate right after you left,” said O’Loughlin.
“Aye, you could say that,” said Lightoller.
Dr. Simpson was sitting on the bench holding a hand up to the large purple welt on the left side of his face. He looked like he was struggling to keep his eyes open.
“He has a fever. A very high fever,” O’Loughlin continued. “Just like Elise.”
“Where is the steward?” asked Lightoller.
“William is in
the other room. He also has a fever. He began to feel lightheaded so I suggested he go lay down. The bad news is I think Elise may have passed whatever ailment she has on when she bit them. The good news is I don’t believe the virus is airborne. So I went ahead and told Catherine to leave. Andrews elected to stay.”
Thomas Andrews shook Captain Smith’s hand and exchanged pleasantries.
“What is that sound?” asked Smith.
“That sound is Elise,” Andrews replied. “She’s in the other room.”
“Why is she...moaning?”
“I think the virus has made her incapable of normal speech,” O’Loughlin replied. “Moaning has become her only way of telling us that she wants something.”
“What does she want?”
Elise began to beat her arms against the door.
“To get out,” said O’Loughlin.
“To get at us is more like it,” Lightoller added, lighting up his pipe.
Captain Smith walked over and stood in front of the door to the second patient room. “How is it that you have her locked in there?”
“That’s the thing. Along with the ability to speak, she’s also lost the capability of intelligent thought.”
“You’re saying she can’t even turn a door handle, doctor?” asked Smith.
“Exactly. It is only the inability of her mind to learn and adapt that is keeping her locked up.”
“And I gather you’ve tried everything you can to help her, from a medical standpoint?”
“I can’t even get near her, captain. Generally, a sick patient wants to get better, and will cooperate in any way I ask. I’m afraid Elise has passed far beyond that point. She doesn’t even know she is sick. In fact, she may even think my intentions are to hurt her, not help her.”
Smith turned from the door to Elise’s room and looked back at Dr. Simpson trembling on the bench. A slimy, white pus now oozed from the bite marks on his face. The purple and black swelling increased by the second, giving the appearance that a large grotesque tumor was remapping the cellular structure of his face.
“How much longer does he have?”
O’Loughlin came up beside the captain. “I don’t know. Maybe a few hours. Less if he’s lucky.”
“We have to keep this from spreading any further,” said Smith. “We can’t take any chances.”
O’Loughlin nodded.
“We are already down one doctor. We can’t afford to lose you, and we can’t afford to cause a panic.” Smith turned to face Lightoller and Andrews. “That means this problem stays here in this room. The door will remain locked at all times, as this hospital will be off limits to any passengers. This will stay between us and only us.”
“And Catherine,” said Andrews.
“I’ll have a talk with her in the morning,” said Lightoller.
Smith nodded his approval. “Is there anyone else?”
“Margaret Brown,” said Andrews. “I was with her when she spotted Elise on the deck. She helped bring her to the hospital.”
“But as far as she knows Elise is dead,” said Lightoller.
“That’s right. She went to her room before Elise went...well, crazy, I suppose. So she doesn’t know about Dr. Simpson or William.”
“Then let’s keep it that way,” said Smith. “If she asks, Elise died.”
“It may not even be untrue come sunrise,” said O’Loughlin. “I can’t imagine her lasting much longer, as fast as the virus is progressing. Sad as it may sound, we’re very fortunate she has no friends and family aboard.”
“Should we move Dr. Simpson into the room with the steward, just in case he should become violent?”
“I don’t think he will become violent,” said O’Loughlin. “He’s dying, captain.”
“Elise was dying too,” Lightoller said. “We had to carry her into the room, have you forgotten? So she could die a nice comfortable death. She was as docile as he is now. How did that turn out?”
Everyone listened as Elise continued her assault on the door.
“He’s right,” said Andrews.
“I don’t think so. While they might be infected, there is no evidence to suggest their bodies will respond in the same manner. How do we know Elise didn’t have some underlining mental condition to begin with, and this virus is just exasperating it. Of course, I can only theorize.”
“No offense, but I’ve had my fill of your theories,” said Lightoller. “If it’s true you don’t know what this virus is and how it may react, then why should anyone listen to you?”
“Because I have a better understanding of medicine than you do,” O’Loughlin replied.
“You were the one that said Elise was dead,” said Lightoller, raising his voice. “This is a security issue now.”
“Okay, let’s all calm down,” said Smith. He took a deep breath and shook his head trying to clear the cobwebs. What a nightmare. He felt like he should still be asleep in bed, dreaming of better things. “All I care about is keeping this contained. With that said, I am the captain of this ship, and I think that Dr. Simpson should probably stay in the patient room with Mr. Dunford. I’m sorry, but I don’t want to chance this thing getting out of control.”
O’Loughlin sighed. “There is only one bed.”
“Then go find another one. There are unoccupied rooms in the forward hospital. Bring one of the beds back here. Thomas, would you mind assisting the doctor?”
“No, that’s not a problem.”
“Thank you.”
Andrews followed O’Loughlin out of the hospital.
“I think the doctor has good intentions, but perhaps the situation regarding his assistant has become too personal and has clouded his judgment. I need somebody I can trust to watch over this, at least for a little while. So I’m putting you in charge, Charles.”
Lightoller took a long drag from his pipe. “Does that mean I’m going to be sleeping here until we reach New York? I don’t think I can take much more of that racket.”
“No, you will still sleep in your cabin and go about your normal watch. I just want you to check on the hospital periodically and give me updates. Don’t tell anyone, including the other officers about this. People see a crowd down here and they might start to suspect something is wrong. If we all do our part, only three dead bodies will leave the ship in New York. Do you understand?”
“Aye, aye, captain.”
They continued watch over the infected until Andrews and O’Loughlin returned with the spare bed. Then they helped set it up in the first patient room across from the bed William Dunford occupied. William’s hand was heavily bandaged, so it was difficult to tell its condition; though by the way the steward was gasping for air and staring blankly up at the ceiling, it certainly wasn’t improving.
They carefully moved Dr. Simpson into the room. He could hardly walk so they had to guide him most of the way. After they set him down, he looked up at O’Loughlin and attempted to mutter something through lips twice their normal size—something that sounded an awful lot like kill me.
“Get some rest,” O’Loughlin said. “You’re gonna be fine, my friend.”
Captain Smith watched from a distance, wondering how many times during his long career had Dr. O’Loughlin been forced to lie to a dying patient, and if any of the lies were more difficult than this one.
O’Loughlin stayed with his assistant surgeon for a minute and then finally left the room, closing the door behind him.
“I’m sorry,” said Smith.
“It’s okay. Sometimes all you can do is just step aside. Only God can save them all.”
“There are still other passengers on this ship in need of your services. There is no need to hang around here. But I do thank you, all of you, for bringing this to my attention. This hospital will remain closed and locked for the remainder of the trip, and under no circumstances should any of the patients leave this room, or should you speak of this to anyone. Do I have your word?”
The group nodded and said a collectiv
e, “Yes, sir.”
“Goodnight, gentlemen.”
DR. WILLIAM O’LOUGHLIN
Not more than thirty minutes later, when he was sure the coast was clear, O’Loughlin quietly returned to the third-class hospital. He unlocked the door and stepped inside, immediately struck with the realization that his worst fear had already materialized.
Thirty minutes longer. That’s all it took.
Perhaps an hour in total from the initial contraction of the virus.
So much for a slow incubation period.
O’Loughlin placed his hand on the door of which his friends and colleagues remained imprisoned behind, and then lowered his head.
“Please God forgive me.”
His friends responded by continuously thrashing their bodies against the door, trying to break free so they could tear him limb from limb.
While moaning...moaning.
“And forgive them.”
BROWN
Eight hours later Margaret Brown wandered around the ship searching for Thomas Andrews.
It had been a long night. After the ordeal in the third-class hospital, sleep had not come easy. She had stayed up late worrying about the young woman named Elise Brennan.
Would she live?
Would she die?
Could the virus that had sent Elise into a coma be contagious? Could it be traveling silently through Margaret’s own blood, as she lay awake in bed pondering these terrible things?
She had no answers.
It was only after reading for a good while that her eyes became heavy and her restless mind finally released its grip.
When morning came, however, her thoughts went right back to where they left off. She declined an invitation by the Astor’s to attend prayer service, and further declined breakfast in the dining saloon. She was on a mission for answers, and the only people who could provide them would be the doctors from the previous night, Second Officer Lightoller, or Thomas Andrews. One of which would hopefully ease her mind. None of which she could find.
Titanic With ZOMBIES Page 4
