Touched with Fire by Christopher Datta

Author:Christopher Datta
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: adventure, african american, historical fiction, womens fiction, war, historical romance, slavery, american civil war, civil rights, historical saga, womens empowerment, women in combat, african american empowerment
Publisher: Christopher Datta

Chapter 9

Late Afternoon September 26, 1863

Chattanooga

The hospital was the town hall and Eli found it overflowing with wounded. Before he located a surgeon he passed several corpses the overwhelmed staff had yet to remove. The place had the sharp metallic odor of blood and the stomach turning reek of death.

When he found him, the surgeon’s appearance reminded Eli of a man behind the counter of a butcher shop wearing a dirty white apron thoroughly stained with blood. He was an older man, bald with a snow white moustache. Bent over a patient, he looked up at Eli over his horn-rimmed glasses.

“What can I do for you, son? That’s a nasty bruise on your forehead,” he said.

“I’m fine,” replied Eli. “I’m looking for a man from our company named Joe McCarthy.”

“What’s his unit?” asked the doctor looking back down at the man lying comatose on the cot in front of him.

“125th Ohio.”

“Big fella?”

“Yes.”

“Second floor, first room on your left. Might already be dead, though.” The surgeon went back to his work.

Eli pushed his way up the stairs past scores of wounded men and found the room, his eye immediately drawn to the enormous form of Big Joe in a corner. Apparently too large for any of the cots they had simply left him on a thin layer of blankets on the bare wooden floor. He was not moving.

Eli stepped carefully between the tightly packed beds to Joe’s side. His face a peculiar yellowish gray, his eyes sunken and dark, he looked like day old death.

Suddenly Joe’s eyes flickered and he managed a feeble smile. “That you, Eli?” he whispered.

Eli stooped down next to him, and then almost backed away. Joe stank powerfully of sweat and excrement. Eli was stunned. Not two days ago this man was at the peak of health and looked like nothing could knock him down. Now he was a ruin.

“So thirsty,” whispered Joe, his eyes slowly closing and opening.

Eli nodded and went off to find water. He returned a few minutes later carrying a tin cup filled to the brim. Holding his breath to avoid the stench, he stooped down next to Joe and lifted his head, placing the cup to his lips. Joe quickly gulped it down minus what dribbled down both sides of his cheeks.

Eli felt his forehead. It was burning with fever.

Joe immediately began retching, bringing back up the water along with a thin yellow bile that was all he had left in his gut. It smelled bad and covered his neck since he didn’t have the strength to turn his head properly or roll on his side.

Eli thought Joe so weak the violence of vomiting might finish him off. He had to admit he half hoped it so they both could be done with this, but it didn’t kill him.

“Sorry,” whispered Joe. “Can’t keep noth’en down.”

“Don’t talk,” said Eli. “Save your strength.”

Hell and damnation, Eli sighed inwardly, cursing Al for talking him into coming. The last thing he wanted was to play nurse to this oversized white gorilla.

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