(chapter revised 6/14/22)
Chapter 4: The Harling Patient
Julie's index finger smarted as she cleaned it with an antiseptic wipe. Her mind churned with angry thoughts about Donovan and his nerve to suggest that Steve Maitland come and doctor her.
Where is Steve? She wondered. Maybe I'll call him. He'd be glad to see me. No, that would be spiteful. Maybe I'll call Steve after I get settled.
The sound of a familiar male voice, one she had not heard in a few days, resonated through the doorway.
"Julie, you are needed."
It was Willie, the Visitor turned resistance ally, on the outside.
Sure, I'm always needed, she mused.
"Mike said to bring your medical bag," said Willie as she opened the door. "Sean is harling."
Harling? What word did he screw up now?
She snatched the black vinyl bag from her makeshift desk (two wooden crates with a sheet of plywood draped across them) and then headed into the common room.
Sean Donovan, dark-haired and maybe cute if it weren't for his paleness, stood in the middle of the room, leaning forward. Liquid dripped from his mouth. Julie noted the presence of not only Philip and Willie, but Willie's fiancée, Thelma as well. But Donovan was absent.
Hurling, Julie mentally corrected. He meant to say hurling.
"It's the withdrawals from Procorb," Willie explained.
"The sky fighter's motion was not very helpful either," said Thelma.
Donovan rushed in with a small wastepaper basket just as Sean puked again. He looked at Julie. "What can you give him?"
"First, I have to find out what they gave him," she said.
Philip pulled out his tablet and scrolled through Sean's latest medical treatment as Julie coaxed Sean toward the couch.
"C'mon, Honey. You need to lie down."
Sean jerked away. "Don't touch… me." Without warning, he doubled over and vomited again. A little spattered on Julie's shoes.
When he was done getting sick, Sean shuffled to the couch and sat, his head down. Julie observed his skin color; somewhere between pale gray and green.
"I know you don't feel well," she said. "But I'm the only one who can help you." She took a few steps toward him only to be met with anger.
"Are you deaf?" He picked his head up and glared at her.
Donovan took a step forward, "Now Sean, she's only trying to help."
"Like she helped Mom?" Sean asked.
Donovan's ex-wife Margie had died during a raid gone awry last summer.
But how does Sean know? Julie wondered. What did Diana tell him about the raid? I killed his mother? It was ironic; Donovan had initially blamed her for Margie's death too…
"Whatever you think Julie had to do with your mother, I'm sure it was just some false memory planted by Diana," said Donovan.
Sean's face contorted. He looked as though he were going to hurl again, but he did not. Instead, he swallowed it back and said, "She killed Mom… And you let her."
Julie looked at Donovan, wondering, How do you expect me to help him when he thinks I killed his mother?
"I'll straighten this out," Donovan said, as though he knew her thoughts. "He just needs time. Will you get the rags and a bucket of soapy water?"
No, he's your child. You clean up after him. With a slight shake of the head, she extended her hand to show him the blood dripping out from under the bandage.
"I need to go take care of this cut," she said and then walked back toward her room.
"I'll clean up the mess," Thelma offered.
Julie sat on her cot again, undid the bandage, and swabbed at it with another wipe. Her injury burned as the alcohol came in contact. As she sat there trying to figure out how she would go about treating Sean, she overheard Philip give the answer.
"He'll need to be restrained," he said. "It's vital that he isn't left alone for any length of time."