FicWad

In the middle of the night, Lynn is awoken by Jack’s cries of pain. An infection has set in, and it is most disagreeable to his Vampiric nature. He sits up in bed screaming. All he knows is that there is a sudden, sharp, burning pain in his side that he cannot will away. The medicine is not helping. He is blinded by pain and delirious with fever. He is convinced that he is being burned to death. No amount of comforting will bring him out of it, and the property is far from Bridgeton. In the District Five portion of the city, a doctor could easily be found. Lynn throws on a pair of her husband’s pants and rolls up the bottoms. She puts on a pair of work boots and one of his shirts as well. She rummages through the closet and finds a justaucorps that is far too long for her. She braids her long hair, grabs her husband’s pistol, and runs off to the stable. She rides her white mare into the city bareback and finds a tavern where she inquires about a doctor. She buys a whiskey to calm her nerves and the bartender writes directions on a scrap of paper. She knows the area well enough to get home.

A watchman calls, “Two o’clock and all is well!”

All is not well, thinks Lynn. Jack just does not know what is the matter. She raps on the doctor’s door. His wife answers and asks Lynn, “What is so urgent? Do you not know the hour?”

“I am most dreadfully sorry. The fever, it has my husband. I fear he may die. Please fetch your husband.”

A sandy-haired, bespectacled young man treads quickly, yet silently down the narrow stairs and to the threshold. “I’ll be back come morning, love.”

He saddles a bay mare and they head off to Jack’s house. The young doctor follows Lynn closely as she explains Jack’s situation. The doctor is surprised when he hears that it is Lycanthropy. He explains that if an adult Vampire catches it, it is almost always lethal if left untreated. Upon seeing Jack, he notes that it is a severe case which ought to be treated in a hospital, but transporting him would be difficult and dangerous. It would be the equivalent of a Werewolf catching Sanguinaria.

When they reach the bedroom, Jack is standing in the corner wearing only bandages with his pistol drawn. Shane is standing in the hall. He offers to fetch Lynn’s nightdress. She changes in the bathroom. Jack collapses suddenly, his pistol misfiring into his chest. Lynn takes the smoking gun away from him and puts him onto the bed. He is far lighter than she thought. The bullet missed major organs, cracking a couple of ribs and ricocheting around his right shoulder snapping both his collarbone and shoulder blade before becoming lodged between the fractured pieces of his shoulder blade. The doctor rolls him onto his stomach and makes a small incision, gingerly plucking the lead ball out of his back. This is not the crude surgery that Kerrigan performed to save him. Everything is sanitary and skillful. The doctor stitches the small incision and, from the outside, moves Jack’s broken shoulder into place. He then carefully lays him on his back and does the same for his ribs and collarbone. He sits Jack up and wraps plaster gauze around the site and his arm, waiting for it to dry and harden before returning his sling and laying him back onto the pillows. Jack moans in his sleep. The doctor carefully cuts off Jack’s signet ring, as the swelling has gone down. He sets the bones in Jack’s hand methodically, explaining that once he’s in a proper cast, he will exacerbate his injuries far less in the fits associated with Lycanthropy in Vampires. He also instructs Shane to take any weapons out of Jack’s room.

The doctor asks Lynn to try to keep Jack cool while he inspects the wounds and changes the bandages, for if his fever spikes, Jack will become violent. None of the wounds are healing. Jack’s face looks remarkably ashen and drawn. He moans as he regains consciousness.

In the dim firelight, the doctor measures a portion of yellow liquid into a syringe. He injects it into Jack’s good arm and waits. After about ten minutes, Jack opens his eyes. He immediately reaches for the whiskey on his bedside table. His nerves are bothering him. There is howling outside. He almost falls out of bed. Shane runs out into the night. Jack has another drink and lights a cigar. The young doctor does not object to his patient’s alcohol consumption. His pleas, he knows, will fall upon deaf ears.

“So could ye tell me what ‘tis I’ve got?”

“Unfortunately, you have a very serious case of Lycanthropy transmitted via Werewolf bite.”

“What about the stuff I was given to combat that?”

“Too little too late.”

“So what did ye give me?”

“Something to make the fits subside.”

Shane returns with blood all over his face, although, aside from minor scratches, he seems alright. “Twas another. Nothin’ stolen. In the mornin’ I’m goin’ to Bridgeton an’ buyin’ a good, strong lock for that barn.”

“Thankee, Shane.”

Jack somehow seems weak, not at all like the Senatorial General who rode into battle despite his injuries. After four more glasses of whiskey, his nerves are sufficiently calmed. Lynn has fallen asleep by his side. He brushes a curl out of her face. No woman should have to watch her husband go through what Jack has gone through in front of Lynn. The doctor assures Jack that what he has is curable, though excruciating. He moans. The time passes slowly. After about an hour, the doctor prepares another injection. He can finally begin to give the antidote. He is a little afraid of the potential result, so his hand shakes. Jack loses consciousness mid-injection and grabs the doctor tightly by the throat. Shane wrestles Jack off without waking Lynn.

“This is to be expected. The same would hold true if you contracted Sanguinaria. The worst has passed, I hope. I won’t know until morning.”

“Faith! I feel guilty. If he’d taken the fields and I the barn-”

“Don’t blame yourself, man. You saved him tonight. I wish I could be with my wife, but the fact is that he needs us, and we owe it to him to be here.”

“I owe him, not ye.”

“He got me through medical school.”

“I never properly introduced meself. Shane Shepherd.”

“Brendan Sparrow. Your brother knew me father.”

“That makes your sister…”

“Bridget Sparrow-Crane.”

“She…”

“Tried to kill her husband again?”

“Mmm.”

“I’m not surprised. I hate the hussy.”

“So, how many more doses?”

“Two tonight. Fetch me in three days if he’s still ill. If his condition worsens, send Lynn to find me immediately. Remember, he’s not himself, so don’t blame him if he comes after you.”

“And the boys?”

“How old?”

“Four, nearly five, and about two months. The older one is leavin’ come mornin’.”

“If Jack is calm and abed and you’re here, the older boy should be alright. Lycanthropy in adult Vampires is marked by periods of lucidity interrupted by violent fits, during which the patient does not recognize friends and family and displays violent behavior. Upon regaining lucidity, usually after a period of unconsciousness, the patient will not remember what happened during the fits. If the children catch it, they will become partial Werewolves, most likely unable to truly transform. The younger child must be kept away. It is too dangerous to expose him to Lycanthropy unnecessarily at such a young age.”

About half an hour after the first dose of the antidote, a second dose is administered to a sleeping Jack. Upon inquiry, Shane learns that the antidote contains an extract of wolfsbane mixed with a small amount of silver salt dissolved in an alcoholic tincture. Both ingredients are lethal, so the correct dosage is given in thirds. After a short while, Jack awakens. Shane is sitting by his side. The doctor is in the other armchair by the fire, which has burned down to embers. Jack looks old, tired, and feeble. He seems sober and is in a melancholy humor.

“Shane, I’m dyin’.”

“Nonsense!”

“Could ye tell the boys their da’ loved ‘em?”

“Aye, Jack.”

“An’, Shane, tell Lynn the truth ‘bout me.”

“How much ye loved her an’ that?”

“Nay. That she knows. Tell her how I was an awful, cold-hearted man wi’ too much fondness for drink an’ women.”

“No.”

“Shane, take me weddin’ ring off. Put it there on the dresser. Find pen, an’ paper, an’ ink, a seal an’ wax, an’ be right quick ‘bout it.”

Shane does as he is told. He returns to his brother’s side with great speed. “What d’ye want?”

“Write this down: ‘I, Senatorial General Jack Shepherd, being of sound mind, do hereby proclaim this to be my last will and testament. I revoke all former wills left. I name my wife Lynn Shepherd as executrix of my estate without bond and do hereby empower her to pay all of my final expenses and to inherit my property. Fifteen percent of my money shall go to each of my sons, Jason and John Shepherd, to be given to them when they come of age. For my brothers, Shane Shepherd, Sean Shepherd, and Seamus Shepherd, and my sister, Shannon Shepherd, I leave ten percent each. For my niece, Siobhan Shepherd, I leave five percent. The remaining twenty-five percent shall be left to my wife, Lynn Shepherd, along with my house and physical possessions excepting the following: For my son Jason, I leave the photograph of the two of us hanging in my office, a wax seal, and the family crest above my bed. To my son John, I leave a photograph of me, another wax seal, and the family crest in my office. I leave my Senate seat to Lynn Shepherd to be handed over to Jason Shepherd at such time as he comes of age. Being in a state unable to sign as corroborated by my witness, I declare a wax seal to stand in place of my signature.”

Brendan Sparrow signs as witness, and Jack affixes his seal with Shane’s help. Exhausted by the effort, Jack reaches weakly for his cigars. Shane can see that his brother is in severe pain, so he hands him a cigar and a match. Jack attempts to light the match with his left hand, but he is unsuccessful, so Shane again aids him. For a man who won two combat medals three days earlier, Jack has taken a turn for the worse. As dawn approaches, Shane departs to tend to the animals, and the ewe who has become so attached to Jack wakes up and begins to bleat. Shane takes her outside while Jack sleeps, his lit cigar still in his mouth, and, upon his return half an hour later, the ewe trails Shane closely. The doctor prepares the final injection, and the ewe brushes against Jack’s outstretched left hand, waking him. He wakes in a fit and starts throwing punches into the air with his good arm. Lynn sleeps undisturbed while Shane attempts to calm his brother. The doctor, amazed by the sheer depth of Jack’s non-recognition, rummages through the recesses of his black bag. At long last, he finds a tranquilizer. Stealing a shot of Jack’s whiskey for confidence, he braves the violent brotherly row and sneaks the medicine into Jack’s side.

Almost immediately, Jack calms down and falls into a drug-induced stupor. He feels weightless and somehow free of pain. Is this death? Both times he died on Earth, he had not noticed. The second time, he drunkenly started a row in a Dublin tavern. He drowned in the Liffey after running into it in an attempt to evade both persecution and prosecution. He left behind a young wife and an unborn, though entirely legitimate child. The first time, he had frozen to death. His first life had lasted thirty-five years, his second only nineteen. It was just as well, as the second life, from which he had no relations of whom he knew, had coincided with the worst of the fighting in the Vampire Revolution.

He ends up walking through Bridgeton. His legs carry him to the Three Kings atop its lonely hill where Daniel King closes his bar and puts himself to bed after visiting the graves of his brothers and parents, the tops of the headstones now just barely visible over the melting snow. He is alone and mournful, locked in his somber ways. Above The Hawk’s Nest, Jack sees Sullivan O’Shea get up and make himself coffee, all the while singing a song of the revolution. Two doors down, a haggard Mike Crane hurriedly closes the Crane and Sparrow and, rousing his sons, sends them about their chores while he fixes breakfast and tends to the baby. He then sends the older boys off to school and sends the younger boys into the little garden behind the pub to play until they grow cold while he catches a few minutes’ sleep. He is unsure of his wife’s whereabouts, but he is too exhausted to care. Jack sees children starving and freezing. He reaches out and wants to help, but they cannot see or hear him. There is a woman skinning a rat so that her family might have dinner. “Five o’clock and all is well!” shouts the watchman. All is not well, and everyone knows so, but nobody does anything about it. Jack looks out across somber streets and aging edifices. The properties are not well-maintained. The windows are boarded and broken. The walls hardly keep out the cold. The deep snows are melting, but the cold rain falling from grey skies casts a worse pallor over the city. The Crane boys seek shelter inside but do not dare to bother their father upstairs. The rain keeps Daniel King awake as it patters loudly on the windows of his old, lonely house. Jack watches the other side of society and cannot help but feel remorseful at having money and being powerless to help his old friends. Remorse turns quickly to rage. Jack slams his good hand into a brick wall. It shouts back.

Jack does not realize that his brother was injured by the blow he thought hit a brick wall. Brendan is again highly disturbed by Jack’s sheer resistance to the strongest drug he has aside from opium, which he is afraid to administer. Shane, bruised but standing, jumps on top of his brother, thereby pinning him to the bed. Jack kicks and bites at Shane who, as he becomes exhausted fighting against his brother’s boundless energy, changes strategies from fighting defensively to fighting offensively. He dodges Jack’s blows while simultaneously attempting to put his weight behind a blow, which he eventually lands on the side of Jack’s head, knocking him unconscious. The blow leaves Shane’s hand bloody. The doctor bandages Shane’s split knuckles before turning his attention to Jack. Brendan had hoped that the worst would be over by this point. Lynn awakens as the sun pierces its rays through the window. Brendan does not tell Lynn the severity of her husband’s illness. He politely leaves the room with Shane while Lynn slips into the next room to shower and back into the bedroom to dress.

Brendan and Shane sit in the ground-floor drawing room. They have little in common except for their current predicament; they do not speak. Jason walks downstairs and greets the exhausted doctor, for whom Shane is brewing a cup of coffee. Jason sits in the warm seat his uncle vacated on the sofa while the doctor sits in Jack’s favorite armchair unbeknownst to either of them, for Jack is upstairs, and Shane said nothing to the doctor. Jason stares at the strange man with his owlish blue eyes. He is looking for answers to questions he does not know how to ask. The fire is unlit, and the room is drafty. March is not yet upon Hell, and the chill of February blows through the drafty room. Shane returns with the coffee and, upon seeing Jason, begins to prepare breakfast. John begins to cry, so Shane goes upstairs to fetch and calm him before putting the breakfast over the fire. Living alone for years without enough money to hire a cook, or an allowance in his conscience for owning a slave, Shane learned to cook well enough to survive. Nothing he makes could be called gourmet, but bacon, eggs, toast, sausages, and oatmeal are a good enough breakfast for the household. Lynn comes downstairs while Shane is preparing breakfast. Jason looks up at her and yawns. She holds him on her hip and turns to Shane, thanking him for making breakfast.

After they eat, the adults speak about Jack in hushed whispers so that Jason cannot hear the grave tone in their voices. Maire should be arriving soon to bring Jason back to school. If Jack is not both lucid and calm, Jason cannot bid him farewell. John is put back in his crib, lest he catch Lycanthropy. When they return upstairs, Jack is not in bed. Lynn finds him in his office. He is fully dressed and looking through a pile of letters. It is rare that the people whom he represents send any mail, and, for him to receive them, the letters must be either sent to his house, through his Senate office, or through the District Thirteen capitol. Most of the people he represents are too poor to send letters often, and many are illiterate. The letters he received recently are numerous and poorly written. He has no trouble reading or understanding them, but he worries that many families may have gone without dinner in order to afford paper, a quill, and ink. Many of the letters seem to be written by men who only rarely sign their names. Some letters are not from a single family, but from multiple families or entire towns. Every village and town in his district is represented somewhere in the pile of letters. None of the letters are from rich men, for he represents few of them. The schoolchildren who helped him pass the bill sent him a letter as a group. He will personally reply to all the letters when he is well enough. Many other Senators receive piles of letters and numerous visits from the people they represent, but Jack gets few letters or visits because the citizens of District Thirteen are too poor to write or travel. So many silent voices call to him through his conscience. They call out desperately for help. He listens. There is no easy answer, and they cannot fight for themselves. He must fight for them. They are his lambs. He is the shepherd. He must guard them.

Lynn walks over to Jack and kisses his forehead. He looks up into her eyes, and she pulls him to her chest and strokes his hair. She tells him that Jason must return to school, lest he fall behind. Jack grabs a bottle of whiskey off his desk and throws a swig back into his throat before announcing that he intends to bring Jason himself. Lynn thinks this foolish but does not voice her concerns knowing that Jack cannot be swayed. Jack goes outside and saddles Spectre and Spook. They leave, and Lynn asks Brendan to stay at the house, lest Jack return in a worse state than that in which he left.

The grown man and the little boy set off on a journey north into an icy rain. The bitter wind tears at their long cloaks, but they race north determined to complete the hour-long journey as if the weather were fair. Jack regrets leaving without having eaten. When they reach the school, Jack brings Jason to his dormitory. Jason sleeps in a hall with nine other boys and one man who looks after them. All of the children are very wealthy, however only a few have parents in the Senate. Many of the boys gawk. Some dare and push their classmates to touch Jack’s cloak. He pays them no heed. Instead, he focuses on Jason, who does not want his father to go back to war. Jack tells Jason that he will be at home for a while and promises to write often and visit before he goes back to the border. On his way out, Jack walks into a small, bespectacled man carrying a large stack of books. The man bends over to pick them up and loses his glasses in the process. He scrambles to attention and accidentally hits himself in the face. He then apologizes profusely. Jack insists that he not bother, in the accent for which he is famous. The little professor pushes his glasses up before they fall off again and looks up at Jack. He sets his books down on a nearby chair and stares at Jack in disbelief for a considerable amount of time. Jack becomes uncomfortable quickly, for he is not fond of people gawking at him simply because of his status. There is little he can do but hope the students do not join their esteemed hierophant.

“Can I help ye?” asks Jack.

“Pardon?”

“Is there anythin’ I can do for ye?”

“No, sir.”

“Buy ye a drink?”

“I don’t drink, sir.”

“Pity. Why not come an’ keep me company while I have a drink.”

“It’s a terrible idea, but I suppose it would be alright just this once.”

They head out to a bar nearby that some of the professor’s colleagues frequent. Jack is thrilled to find that the bar has venison pie. He explains that he has been ill and has not eaten in the last day. He drinks whiskey and discusses his views on poverty with the pedagogue. The little man had grown up in a middle-class family in the northwestern part of the Vampire District near the borders with Witch Country and the Banshee Quarter. His accent is distinct to the particular corner of District One where there are mountains, and his mountain-dwelling roots do not impress anyone. The citizenry from the area is largely either the very wealthy minority of coal and tin mine owners and officials or the very poor majority of miners. The teacher’s family is one of only a small handful of middle-class trading families, who speak in a dialect similar to their poorer counterparts but with an inflection like that of their wealthier neighbors. He tells Jack that his family had been carpenters well-known throughout District One for very fancy carved and painted doors. He left the area being the second son and the only one with no interest in the trade. He confesses that the schooling he received in the mountains was not enough. Through fortune, he ended up in a city and was offered a place in a university purely by accident.

Jack asks the private-school teacher what he thinks of educating the poor. The pedagogue admits that many of his colleagues expressed opposition to the idea. Jack is not old wealth and cannot understand exclusionist ideals. Excepting Kerrigan, none of his friends came from anything at all, let alone money. He spends about an hour with the teacher and even convinces him to drink a pint of porter on Jack’s tab. The esteemed instructor then pulls out his pocket watch and realizes that he is late for his class. He bids Jack farewell and thanks him before rushing off.

Jack drinks a few more rounds alone and smokes a cigar. Nobody approaches him, though he is a well-known figure. He drinks to avoid thinking about leaving Jason at school or the pain of his broken shoulder and hand and numerous cuts and scratches. He leaves for his home, which is a full hour away, disheartened and drunk. He returns home to his wife who runs over to him and caresses him with a worried expression. She hugs him tightly and causes his broken shoulder to slip out of place. Jack, despite being an experienced military man with many severe injuries in his past, screams in pain. Brendan arrives from the next room and gives Jack an injection of opium and helps him to the sofa. He shakes his head. Jack is obviously drunk and cold. Brendan worries about having given him medication with alcohol. There is a knock at the door, and Jack insists upon answering himself, as Lynn is busy cooking lunch, and Shane is asleep. Kerrigan is standing on his doorstep with a wicker basket and a tin bucket with a lid on it. Jack is barely standing. He tries to focus on Kerrigan, but his head is intent on spinning to the point where he can no longer stand. Kerrigan gingerly catches him and helps him upstairs to bed. Jack has a place among her sons, though they are not truly related. She unpacks the treats she brought for him. She has been many places and seen many things, but the horrors of Lycanthropy are unparalleled except in Sanguinaria. Still, she does not fear. She knew that Lynn’s mind would be occupied and that lunch would be soda bread and barley and vegetable soup, thus Kerrigan brought Jack’s favorite dessert, strawberries and cream, as well as a small amount of the lunch she made for Morietur and herself, which consisted of baked scallops and white wine. Jack declines the wine, but Lynn is grateful that Kerrigan brought something, for the soup turned out to be mostly broth.

After lunch, Jack lies back in bed. Brendan leaves to see his wife and tend to other patients. Jack is not well enough to have his broken bones healed, though the cuts on his back, arm, and face and the bite in his side are beginning to heal themselves. Lynn runs off to tend to John, who is fussing in his crib, and Kerrigan sits with Jack.

“Are you feeling any better?”

“I suppose.”

“Would you like anything in particular?”

“A story. Not just any story, mind. I want to hear the story o’ ye. I want to know about your da’ an’ how ye met your husband. I want to know everythin’.”

“I should warn you because you will not like what you will hear.”

“I ken. Ye don’ want to tell it, but I want to hear.”

“Alright.”