Concentrating on the nurses in the next room, I learn the exactlocation of the medical cart. It’s at the top of the second aisle, twenty feetfrom the entrance. Three women are working the ward together, and presently,they are preparing syringes for rapid injection among the patients.
The more experienced nurses begin administering the medication,but Novice stays at the cart. Is she distressed? Yes, I definitely smellanxiety. Her hands must be trembling too, because she drops a vial and knockssome of the prepared syringes to the floor. They roll in various directions:near her foot, next to the cart, in the center of the second aisle. As the new comer,she obviously doesn’t wish to call attention to her mistake and picks them updiscreetly. But she misses one.
Good girl, Novice, remain just as you are. Intimidated,slightly incompetent.
“Help me with this fellow, Hanks. He’s too strong for me.”
Evidently Hanks is Novice the new girl, because she runsto the older woman when called, leaving the last fallen syringe behind. It callsto me from the aisle. I had hoped to steal some vials from the trolleythrough some hastily-orchestrated ruse, but this is so much more convenient.All three nurses are facing the opposite wall, concentrating on their patients—Ican tell from the direction of their voices and breathing. You know, being badisn’t so hard after all. I’m rather adept at it.
Opening the door carefully, I cross the threshold and takeseveral quiet steps. The room stinks of bedpans and lye, the sour smell ofnear-death. No one seems to notice my progress with all the groaning andsuffering going on among the sick. I move quickly, counting off the distance betweenme and the desired bed, holding my breath as I creep. This must be the centerone. I lower myself to the tile and turn on my stomach, sliding under the bed. Reachingmy hand out, I stretch from under the bed into the aisle, hoping the nursesdon’t notice. Nothing but cottony balls of dust, hair, and other detritus. Who’sin charge of housekeeping? And where’s that damned needle?
The side of my hand brushes something hard. The syringe! Onlythe cursed thing rolls to the right. Stretch a bit more, Hester. A littlefurther and it’s yours! That’s right. Now to get out of here. Confound it, isthat Hanks walking back to the cart? The only thing separating us is a saggingmattress and a bed skirt.
“Come here!” another nurse yells. “This one doesn’t want his shoteither. There must be something in the air today.”
“Right,” Hanks replies.
Holding my breath again, I hide under the bed as two nursesreturn to the cart for more medication. Minutes seem like an eternity until allof them are busy with their patients once more. I inch out from my hidingplace, keeping low, and scuttle to the door. The knob turns in my hand, and Ipull it toward me. The sick continue moaning and tossing about, as I sneak backinto the hall, disgusted with myself for taking their only means of comfort. Untila wave of nausea rolls through me—then I think only of the craving inside.
Someone steps out of the Incurables Unit. “You there!” Hankscalls, stopping me in my tracks. “I thought I saw the door close just now, outof the corner of my eye. Did you need something?”
I lick the sweat from my upper lip, turn back toward her, andshake my head.
“Then what were you doing?”
She sounds suspicious and annoyed. How do I salvage thissituation? I lift my pitch-stained hands so she can see them and mouth twowords. Stack. Wood.
“Are you new here? There’s no hearth or hob in thisunit—no need for kindling. Everyone knows that.” Hanks sighs, as thoughshe’s given up on teaching an imbecile. “You really must learn your wayaround.”
As soon as the nurse leaves me, I return to the nook under thestairs and grab the sharpened chicken bone from my secret pocket. Will she realizemy theft and turn me in? Will Titus be summoned? Reach for me with his hard,bruising hands? But all I hear are the nurses holding down a weeping man. “Letme die,” he says. I knuckle the moisture away from my eyes and drop the bonebefore finding a vein. Breathing rapidly, I tap the syringe barrel as I haveheard Faust do on so many occasions and then inject myself, waiting for thehot, stinging rush. And it blessedly arrives. Fortunatus mea.
Anna and I are leaving Ironwood tonight. I cannot be a burdento her with my tremors and vomiting. This dose should help me function, atleast long enough to reunite Anna with her son.
First task completed, now on to the second.
I leave the asylum by a side entrance, following the path tothe woodshed to gather a load of kindling. Deo favente. The guardsaren’t anywhere near the shed. Inhaling, I smell the faint odor of cigarettesmoke and hear Titus talking with Roy down near the stables. I haven’t beenmissed, in spite of my larceny. After filling my arms with wood, I count the stepsback to the asylum and plead with the heavens in my heart. Forgive me my sins forI am not a thief.
Although with one thing left to take, I am not done stealingyet.
27
Fugio.
I run, flee.
WhenI finally come upon Titus, he’s finished his smoke and Roy has gone offsomewhere. Good riddance too. Titus doesn’t say anything out of the ordinary,nothing about my appearance. The sweat upon my brow, the bone-deep weariness.We all look like walking death at Ironwood, I suppose. It’s a given we’re ugly.
“Get that wood inside and hurry up about it,” he says.“Doctor’s office is nearly empty.”
Titus follows me to Faust’s domain. He stands near the desk fora few minutes, and I begin stacking the fragrant, sappy pine in the wood bin. Iuse precise movements, as though I am a kindling perfectionist, and the guardgrows bored.
“Pick up the pace,” he murmurs before walking down the hall.
I make for the desk as fast as
