Doomsday Book (Oxford Time Travel, #1) - Connie Willis Page 0,240
the med support.” He looked hard at Dunworthy. “Are you sure you’re well enough to do this?”
“Are you?” Dunworthy asked.
The door opened and William’s nurse came in wearing a slick. She blushed when she saw Dunworthy. “William said you needed med support. Where would you like me to set up?”
I must remember to warn Kivrin about him, Dunworthy thought. Badri showed her where he wanted her, and Colin ran out after her equipment.
Montoya led Dunworthy over to a chalked circle under the shields. “Are you going to wear your spectacles?”
“Yes,” he said. “You can dig them up in your churchyard.”
“I’m certain they won’t be there,” she said solemnly. “Do you want to sit or lie down?”
He thought of Kivrin, lying with her arm across her face, helpless and blind. “I’ll stand,” he said.
Colin came back in with a steamer trunk. He set it down by the console and came over to the net. “You’ve no business going by yourself,” he said.
“I must go by myself, Colin.”
“Why?”
“It’s too dangerous. You can’t imagine what it was like during the Black Death.”
“Yes, I can. I read the book through twice, and I’ve had my—” He stopped. “I know all about the Black Death. Besides, if it’s as bad as all that, you shouldn’t go by yourself. I wouldn’t get in the way, I promise.”
“Colin,” he said helplessly, “you’re my responsibility. I can’t take the risk.”
Badri came over to the net, carrying a light measure. “The nurse needs help with the rest of her equipment,” he said.
“If you don’t come back, I’ll never know what happened to you,” Colin said. He turned and ran out.
Badri made a slow circuit of Dunworthy, taking measurements. He frowned, took hold of his elbow, took more measurements. The nurse came over with a syringe. Dunworthy rolled up the sleeve of his doublet.
“I want you to know I don’t approve of this at all,” she said, swabbing Dunworthy’s arm. “Both of you properly belong in hospital.” She plunged the syringe in and walked back to her steamer trunk.
Badri waited while Dunworthy rolled down his sleeve and then moved his arm, took more measurements, moved it again. Colin carried a scan unit in and went back out without looking at Dunworthy.
Dunworthy watched the display screens change and change again. He could hear the bell ringers, an almost-musical sound with the door shut. Colin opened the door, and they clanged wildly for a moment while he maneuvered a second steamer trunk through the door.
Colin dragged it over to where the nurse was setting up, and then went over to the console and stood beside Montoya, watching the screens generate numbers. He wished he had told them he would go through sitting down. The stiff boots pinched his feet, and he felt tired from the effort of standing still.
Badri spoke into the ear again, and the shields came down, touched the floor, draped a bit. Colin said something to Montoya, and she glanced up, frowned and then nodded, and turned back to the screen. Colin walked over to the net.
“What are you doing?” Dunworthy said.
“One of the curtain things is caught,” Colin said. He walked to the far side and tugged on the fold.
“Ready?” Badri said.
“Yes,” Colin said and backed away toward the prep door. “No, wait.” He came back up to the shields. “Shouldn’t you take your spectacles off? In case somebody sees you come through?”
Dunworthy removed his spectacles and tucked them inside his doublet.
“If you don’t come back, I’m coming after you,” Colin said, and backed away. “Ready,” he called.
Dunworthy looked at the screens. They were nothing but a blur. So was Montoya, who had leaned forward over Badri’s shoulder. She glanced at her digital. Badri spoke into the ear.
Dunworthy closed his eyes. He could hear the bell ringers banging away at “When at Last My Savior Cometh.” He opened them again.
“Now,” Badri said. He pushed a button, and Colin darted toward the shields and under, straight into Dunworthy’s arms.
33
They buried Rosemund in the grave the steward had dug for her. “You will have need of these graves,” the steward had said, and he was right. They would never have managed to dig it themselves. It was all they could do to carry her out to the green.
They laid her on the ground beside the grave. She looked impossibly thin lying there in her cloak, wasted almost to nothing. The fingers of her right hand, still half-curved around the apple she had let drop, were nothing but bones.