Page 87 of Stay Buried

“Tell them to untie me, would you?” Benjamin said, lifting his head to look at us as we entered.

I followed Uncle Thomas to the bedside, my heart beating loudly in my ears.

Could this be real? Was he well? Was it possible the sickness could pass?

“How are you feeling?” Uncle Thomas asked.

“Hungry,” Benjamin said.

I gave a happy laugh.

“Well, that’s a good sign,” Uncle Thomas said with a smile. “No trouble breathing?”

“No,” Benjamin said. “I feel just fine.”

“Do you remember anything from the last days?” I asked.

He shook his head. “Only the dreams,” he said.

“Dreams?” I asked.

“Bad ones,” he said, frowning. “I can’t wait to get out of this damn bed. And have some food!”

Uncle Thomas began unbuckling the leather straps, untying the ropes. I helped.

When he was free, Benjamin sat up in bed and rubbed his wrists, which were raw from thrashing and pulling at the restraints.

I noted that his eyes still had a yellow, jaundiced appearance, though his skin looked darker in places, his lips, fingers, and toes almost bluish, suggesting a lack of oxygen. But there was no rasp, no labored breathing.

The sweet rotten fruit smell was stronger than ever, more rotten than sweet now, with a fermented tang like his pores were breathing apple brandy. I stepped back.

Uncle Thomas took out his stethoscope. “Let’s have a listen to your chest,” he said. He put the diaphragm against Benjamin’s chest and held it there. Then he moved it from place to place, listening to lung sounds.

I recognized the frown on my uncle’s face. He didn’t like whatever he was hearing. Uncle Thomas removed the stethoscope, gave it a hard tap, then replaced it on Benjamin’s chest.

Benjamin pushed his arm away. “I feel fine, I said,” he said gruffly, swinging his legs over the side of the bed. “Just hungry.” He sat on the edge of the bed, looked at Henry. “Bring me a hunk of cheese and bread.”

“I think broth would be better,” Uncle Thomas advised. “At least at first.”

“Bread and cheese,” Benjamin repeated. “Sausage too. And bring brandy.” He rubbed at his stomach. “I’ve never been so hungry.”

Henry nodded, disappeared from the room.

Uncle Thomas was putting away his stethoscope, his hand trembling slightly.

Benjamin’s face was covered with a thick growth of stubble. It was caked in streams of dried bloody mucus. His yellow eyes looked sunken in their dark sockets.

“He was confused when he woke up,” Luther said. “Didn’t know where he was. But the fever had broken. He’s cool to the touch now, ain’t he?”

I put my hand on Benjamin’s arm. He was indeed cool. Too cool.

“Do you know where you are now?” Uncle Thomas asked Benjamin.

Benjamin scowled, looked around the room, eyes darting as if trying to make sense of the place. He said nothing.

I pulled out my notebook. Wrote:Pt awoke after deep 24 hr sleep. Eyes jaundiced, extremities tinged with blue suggesting lack of oxygen. No fever. Still has unusual fermented fruit smell. Skin cool to the touch. Pt disoriented. States he is hungry. Vitals?

“Can you tell me what month this is?” asked Uncle Thomas.