“A doctor. Johanna Schell. You’re safe here.”
He began to shake, violently, his teeth chattering. “Not safe,” he said. “No.” Fresh sweat covered his forehead and upper lip. His face went white, and Johanna recognized his impending sickness.
Quickly she removed the sponge from the washbowl and offered the bowl to him. He twisted his body and heaved into the receptacle, as if trying to keep her from witnessing his illness. He kept his back turned to her until she gave him a cloth to wipe his face.
“You shouldn’t… have brought me—” He gasped. He made a warding motion with his hand. “Go ‘way.”
“I can’t do that.” She reached for his flailing hand and held it firmly. “What is your name?”
His face went utterly blank. She watched him struggle to find that information, perceiving his panic when he couldn’t.
“Don’t remember,” he said. “Oh, God.”
“You are suffering from alcohol withdrawal,” she said, keeping her grip on him. “You may experience unpleasant symptoms, but you will not be alone.”
The door opened behind her, admitting Lewis with the pitcher of fresh water and a glass on a tray. He set it down on the table by the bed and retreated, holding his hands out from his body as if they had become contaminated. The stranger reared up, staring at Lewis with an almost feral intensity.
“Thank you, Reverend,” Johanna said. “Would you be so kind as to close the door behind you?”
He left with alacrity, doubtless to wash his hands another dozen times. Johanna poured out a glass of water and pressed it into her patient’s hand, holding it steady with her fingers around his. “You must drink. Your body is badly depleted.”
He gazed at her with the driven intensity he’d shown Lewis. Such remarkable eyes. She shook herself and lifted the glass toward him. He let her put it to his lips and swallowed the water like a man dying of thirst. She refilled it, and he finished the second as promptly.
“Excellent,” she said. “Now you must rest. Rest and proper diet, plenty of water and abstinence from drink are the only cures for your condition. When you are better, we can talk.”
“No.” He caught her wrist as he had by the wagon road, in that same unbreakable grip. “Can’t—” His throat worked, and he spread his fingers around it as if to choke himself. He released her, pushing her away as he did so. He began to run his hands up and down the lengths of his arms, slowly at first and then more and more desperately, as if he were trying to rip something away from his flesh.
“Not me,” he said hoarsely. “Not me!”
Here it began, then—the delusions and hallucinations. He might be seeing insects, or snakes, or some other loathsome object. The hallucinations might continue for hours. Calmly she reached down for her doctor’s bag and opened it. She carried a very small vial of chloral hydrate, which she used as sparingly as possible. This time she’d probably have no choice.
Her patient was panting now, eyes wide and wild. “Get out,” he cried. He clawed at his arms, leaving red streaks. Seriously hurting himself could be the next step.
“Listen to me, my friend. I can make you feel better, sleep until this has passed.”
He stopped his frenzied movements. “Help,” he whispered.
“Yes.” She poured a few drops of the syrup into a small spoon. “If you will take this—”
She thought it might actually work, that he would take the medicine quietly before matters proceeded to a dangerous point. He reached—as much for her as the spoon—his face unyielding. Then he froze, fingers bending into claws. His eyes rolled back in his head.
Johanna flung herself toward the bed just as his seizure began. She half lay across him, holding him down with the weight of her body. He convulsed beneath her. His heart pounded frantically, drawing her own into a sympathetic rhythm. His head slammed back on the pillow, once, again. The rigidity of his body relaxed, every muscle gone limp simultaneously.
The seizure was over. She checked his pulse and his breathing. Not good, but not fatal. Disentangling herself, she retrieved the fallen spoon and poured out new medicine. She pried open his mouth and pushed the spoon between his teeth.