“Tell me, how?” Sean urges.
“Each sickness is different. You will need to sort them accordingly. What exactly do you need from me?”
“Come with me.” He leads the way down the steps, and they are followed by the ones who brought them here.
“I go where she goes.” Victor quips and follows Summer down the steps. Danny jerks free and flanks her as the group stomp down into the hospital. The stench of sickness is ripe. Vomit and other smells from full chamber pots assail them.
“Ventilation is a necessity. Someone needs to take notes,” she orders. Victor grins at Danny. They have no idea what they are getting themselves into. Once Summer decides to do something, she does it right, regardless of the work involved.
Mr. Aherne’s booming laugh is full of relief, “I knew you would help us.” Summer glances back at him.
“Sanitation is key. It is the breath of life we all need. Without it, you will all die. The chamber pots must be emptied quickly and away from your main water source. Hands must be kept clean at all times. Sheets, linens, and towels must be changed frequently. The patients presenting fevers are highly contagious…” Summer goes on and on until they come to a room that is separate from the others.
“Call me Sean, love. Come meet the little ones.” He opens the door and Summer stops in her tracks. Little children in sickbeds, all in various stages of illness. She reaches, and Victor is beside her immediately to comfort her.
“Easy, just breathe,” Victor murmurs to her. She hides her face in his neck and regains her composure. All she can see is Hannah and Hailey.
“I’m sorry, Miss Denning. Come meet my son.” Sean says. Summer jerks and looks at him with understanding dawning. They follow him to a corner, where a seven-year-old boy with dark curly hair watches her.
“Colin, Miss Summer is here to help you feel better.”
“Okay, Da,” he whispers and coughs.
A woman is bathing his body with a clean, cool, cloth and she turns to stare at Summer with hope.
“Hello, Colin. I promise not to hurt you. What are his symptoms?” The mother ticks off the symptoms low fever, diarrhea the first few days, nausea, body aches, headache, etc. “Any signs of rash?”
“Not yet. What do you think it is?” His mother asks. Colin closes his eyes, and his rapid breathing is a serious concern.
“Please, pull the sheet back?” His mother pulls the sheet back to inspect his chest. “No signs of rash yet. That's good. Okay, Mom, you're going to help me. Check the inside of his mouth, is it dry?”
“Yes, it feels dry.”
“Any tears? How has his urine been? What color and how much?” Summer fires questions one after another and his mother answers. Next, Summer directs her to uncover his feet. No rash. Another good sign.
“Colin, is it okay if we pull off a blanket or two?” Summer asks. He nods his head and sighs when his Mother removes two.
The mother answers her questions and confirms her fears. “Colin has Cholera.” The mother gasps. “He's dehydrated. Feed him broth, no dairy or water. Every half hour, even just a teaspoon will help him fight back. Fruits are full of water but keep the portions to a minimum.” She turns and walks back to Sean.
“Sean, children are the hardest to treat because they are so small. You must follow my rules strictly. Get some ventilation in here and keep the drinking water separate from the bathing water. Anyone coming in here should be washing their hands before entering. If a rash appears, separate them from the rest and take them to the hospital.” Sean has lost all color at her diagnosis. Summer touches his hand to comfort him.
“He is dehydrated, but he is on the mend. Cholera is tricky because it can present as many different diseases. My father believed it was a hundred percent preventable, but people must be taught. That is why I wrote the flyers. I would say your son will be himself in a few days. Fluid and rest is what he needs, now.”
Sean closes his eyes and turns away to compose himself. His wife begins shouting orders, and people start moving. Victor sighs. He has to help. If that were Jonah, he would do everything in his power to save his son, just as Sean is doing.
“I can help, as well. I am an architect. I can plan out the best location for the changes Summer suggested. I can tell you which eaves to open that would be best to create ventilation and the locations that would be best to bring in fresh, running water. I need paper.” Summer hands him a sheet and watches as he begins a sketch of the warehouse.
“How is it that this is not common knowledge, Summer?” Danny asks her.
“My father was fighting to make that change before he died. Look around, large groups of people in small confined spaces create a breeding ground for sickness. Isolation is key.” Sean turns back and stops her.
“Isolation? How are we supposed to isolate this many?” He demands.
“Ideally the families would care for the sick in their homes, but…” she gestures to the population.
“They don’t have homes yet.”
“Exactly. Sean what you’re doing here is commendable, but they need to be taught how to care for themselves to prevent this from getting worse.” Danny suggests.
“Don’t ya think I know that boy? New York has hundreds of immigrants getting off ships every day! What option do they have at the moment? Should I let them give all their savings away and die in poor houses, or allow the girls to be shipped off to brothels? Children sold to the highest bidder?”
“Sean,” Summer says softly, drawing his attention. “Colin needs to be at home
