you!” Benjie pressed his fingers deep into the flesh above my elbow. “Please, for the love of God and all that’s holy, take me with you. Please!”
“Can we take him too?” I asked Nela.
She swung the front door open by hooking her ankle around the bottommost edge. “The house isn’t large.”
“He’s my neighbor,” said Addie from the foot of the stretcher. “Hey, Benjie. Can you walk yourself out of here on your own? Are you able?”
Benjie scooted himself up to his elbows. “I think so.”
“We should take him.” Addie readjusted her hold on the handles. “His daddy’s a doctor helping a Negro regiment overseas. Benjie could probably be of use once he’s up and about.”
“Fine.” Nela tugged the stretcher and Liliana toward her, out the door. “But he’s got to swear he’ll help when he gets better. We’re going to be busy.”
I helped Benjie to his feet and, with my arm braced around his bony upper back, I guided him toward the exit.
“You’re going to be just fine,” I murmured in an attempt to comfort myself as much as him. “No need to panic. This is just a passing illness. They’re not panicking yet in Chicago, which is a good sign.”
Before we reached the last row of cots, I witnessed a little boy bleeding from his ears, as well as his nose, and he cried tears of red.
N E L A L E D M E down a dark road just south of the mills, along the edge of the river. I kept the throttle pulled all the way down to keep the ambulance running smooth and steady for our patients in the back. We puttered past Foursquare houses and little Queen Annes almost as nice as the family residences in the northern section of town.
“There’s the house right there.” Nela pointed toward one of the Foursquares, a boxy brick two-story with a dormer attic window that resembled May’s. It sat at the end of the street, right before the neighborhood ended and a long stretch of darkness that looked to be a soybean field began.
“Is there anyone in there who might get exposed to the germs?” I asked.
“No. My Fred—an American—married me right before his number came up for the draft. He set me up here, but I’m staying with Mother and the rest of my family while he’s gone.”
I adjusted the throttle, pushed down on the brake pedal, and eased the vehicle to a vibrating stop in front of her house. Nela and Addie sidled out of the passenger side and flew off to fetch our transports from the back.
Once inside, we lit oil lamps, set the kettle boiling for tea, tucked Liliana into Nela’s bed upstairs, and made Benjie comfortable on a yellow sofa in the living room. Nela bent down and struck matches to light a fire in the hearth, below a wedding photograph of her and a young man with hair so blond it looked almost white. Addie and I covered Benjie with a blanket crocheted in red and ivory yarn.
A woman near my mother’s age, dressed in a polka-dot Mother Hubbard dress and a ruffled nightcap, poked her round face inside the front door, and a gust of cold air blew inside the house.
“I saw the lights and heard that ambulance rumble up to the curb,” she said in an Irish brogue. “What the devil is happening in here?”
“We’re fetching flu patients, Mrs. O’Conner,” said Nela, coaxing a small and sizzling flame to life on one of the logs. “If you’re not already busy with your family, we could certainly use some spare blankets.”
“Half my house is sick with this unholy plague. God help us all.” Mrs. O’Conner made the sign of the cross over her chest, her wide sleeve rustling with the movement. “I can bring spare blankets if you come over to check on my grandbabies. You’re a trained Red Cross nurse, aren’t you, Nela?”
Nela nodded and struck another match. “I am.”
“We should fetch more of the sick,” said Addie, straightening her mask over her nose. “Soon.”
Nela pushed herself to her feet. “Bring your blankets, Mrs. O’Conner, and I’ll be over when I
“Can we take him too?” I asked Nela.
She swung the front door open by hooking her ankle around the bottommost edge. “The house isn’t large.”
“He’s my neighbor,” said Addie from the foot of the stretcher. “Hey, Benjie. Can you walk yourself out of here on your own? Are you able?”
Benjie scooted himself up to his elbows. “I think so.”
“We should take him.” Addie readjusted her hold on the handles. “His daddy’s a doctor helping a Negro regiment overseas. Benjie could probably be of use once he’s up and about.”
“Fine.” Nela tugged the stretcher and Liliana toward her, out the door. “But he’s got to swear he’ll help when he gets better. We’re going to be busy.”
I helped Benjie to his feet and, with my arm braced around his bony upper back, I guided him toward the exit.
“You’re going to be just fine,” I murmured in an attempt to comfort myself as much as him. “No need to panic. This is just a passing illness. They’re not panicking yet in Chicago, which is a good sign.”
Before we reached the last row of cots, I witnessed a little boy bleeding from his ears, as well as his nose, and he cried tears of red.
N E L A L E D M E down a dark road just south of the mills, along the edge of the river. I kept the throttle pulled all the way down to keep the ambulance running smooth and steady for our patients in the back. We puttered past Foursquare houses and little Queen Annes almost as nice as the family residences in the northern section of town.
“There’s the house right there.” Nela pointed toward one of the Foursquares, a boxy brick two-story with a dormer attic window that resembled May’s. It sat at the end of the street, right before the neighborhood ended and a long stretch of darkness that looked to be a soybean field began.
“Is there anyone in there who might get exposed to the germs?” I asked.
“No. My Fred—an American—married me right before his number came up for the draft. He set me up here, but I’m staying with Mother and the rest of my family while he’s gone.”
I adjusted the throttle, pushed down on the brake pedal, and eased the vehicle to a vibrating stop in front of her house. Nela and Addie sidled out of the passenger side and flew off to fetch our transports from the back.
Once inside, we lit oil lamps, set the kettle boiling for tea, tucked Liliana into Nela’s bed upstairs, and made Benjie comfortable on a yellow sofa in the living room. Nela bent down and struck matches to light a fire in the hearth, below a wedding photograph of her and a young man with hair so blond it looked almost white. Addie and I covered Benjie with a blanket crocheted in red and ivory yarn.
A woman near my mother’s age, dressed in a polka-dot Mother Hubbard dress and a ruffled nightcap, poked her round face inside the front door, and a gust of cold air blew inside the house.
“I saw the lights and heard that ambulance rumble up to the curb,” she said in an Irish brogue. “What the devil is happening in here?”
“We’re fetching flu patients, Mrs. O’Conner,” said Nela, coaxing a small and sizzling flame to life on one of the logs. “If you’re not already busy with your family, we could certainly use some spare blankets.”
“Half my house is sick with this unholy plague. God help us all.” Mrs. O’Conner made the sign of the cross over her chest, her wide sleeve rustling with the movement. “I can bring spare blankets if you come over to check on my grandbabies. You’re a trained Red Cross nurse, aren’t you, Nela?”
Nela nodded and struck another match. “I am.”
“We should fetch more of the sick,” said Addie, straightening her mask over her nose. “Soon.”
Nela pushed herself to her feet. “Bring your blankets, Mrs. O’Conner, and I’ll be over when I
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