The Lesser Evil

From: Main Street nr. 46,  

            The village of Aegrus,                                           

Panacaea Tardivus.

21th of June 

To: Church Road nr .9,

The city of Legalis,

Sophia Goodwill

My dear Sophia,

           I pray that this letter finds you in good health and a forgiving mood. I had high hopes that I would have joyful news to share by now, but I fear the situation in Aegrus greatly surpassed the direst of my expectations. The sickness is devilish in its ruthlessness. The dead keep piling up faster than we can manage to bury them. We’ve had twenty-seven locals fall ill in a week -only five lived till Sunday morning. We are desperate. The supplies dwindle by the moment and it’s only a matter of time until the healers shall start joining the dead.

           My colleagues are terrified. We have already lost four nurses and five doctors this month. They fled their posts during the night, hoping to evade death’s grasp. While duty binds us to care for all in need, I cannot fault them for wishing to not perish in disgraceful agony. And what agony it is, my dear. Despite our best efforts, most lay feverish for days with constant gut torment, until their bodies finally give out. A fair chunk of my colleagues demand that we lock down the village and let the plague die out. That solution is abominable, yet resistance has been futile up to this point. Are we truly just prolonging their suffering? I don’t know what to think, a heavy despair walks in my shadow. What should I do, Phia? Please have some unfathomable secret that allows everyone to live.

           Should I never make it home, I want you to know that I cherish you above all others.

                                                                         All my love,

                                                                       Panacaea.

           She put the quill down silently. The workbench was covered in tinctures, bandages and herbs. The room was frightfully quiet. A bad sign. Always a bad sign. When the wails and moans stop, the reaper is among us. Panacaea let herself collapse tiredly in her chair. Once upon a time she would have grieved fiercely for each passing, they were simply too many now to faze her. Still, she took a hour every week to go over all the names of the dead. A final act of humanity, if you will.

           Panacaea morbidly wondered if she would still be breathing when a response arrived from Legalis. Does it even matter? None of us are likely to walk out of this nightmare on our own two feet. We lose so many, and even the few who do survive are left with permanent damage. Tucking her greasy strands out of her eyes, she asked the night, “Is there no hope?”.

           No answer came.

From: Church Road nr.9,                                                             

The city of Legalis,

Sophia Goodwill.

 27th of June 

To: Main Street nr. 46,

      The village of Aegrus,   

     Panacaea Tardivus.                                                                 

Dearest,

           Worrying about me, while in the midst of a full-blown plague, is just typical! I couldn’t help but smile as I read it. I miss you, dearly. I must admit, I am disappointed that you didn’t write to tell me the day of your return; nevertheless I can live with it. As long as you promise to come home unscathed. Are you ok? How are you feeling? Are you eating enough? Sleeping enough? If your life is at stake just say the word and I’ll ride there in a heartbeat.

            All sentimentalism aside, Pana, I fear for you. The things you described are intolerable even just in fantasy; I can’t imagine how the horror translates to reality. Those poor people! May they all find peace. An entire village spurned so cruelly by fortune. No one could ever deserve such anguish! Have you managed to evacuate any healthy dwellers?

           The practical side of me feels compelled to ask, could it possible that the sickness is linked to something disposable, such as grain? I pray that there is a concrete way to stifle out the source of the affliction, rather than to just treat it. You mentioned in one of your first letters that you suspected some the wells in the vicinity to be the cause of contamination. Did that idea have some merit to it, in the end? You also wrote about supplies, are you in danger of running out of fresh water? I could try to arrange for some to be brought from here. A dreadful thought just occurred to me, what if, heavens forbid, the sickness can be passed down through saliva? My dear, you could be one sneeze or unwashed cup away from knocking on death’s door! I’m sorry for the paranoia; I find the thought of something happening to you unbearable.

           Regarding the issue of leaving, I hate to say this, but maybe your colleagues have a point. If the disease is not easily catchable and there are people who can be saved, then absolutely stay and do so. However, if the plague is inescapable, meaning that the people are, objectively, marked for death, then rescue those you can, more precisely, yourself. It is incredibly selfish of me to say so, but there is no point in risking your life if they are past recovery. I truly hope it will not come to that. Nevertheless, should it happen, please choose yourself.

                                                                             Sincerely,

                                                                           Sophia.

           After finishing the letter, Panacaea wasn’t sure how to feel. Phia’s words did help her see her options clearer, yet she was disgusted that everyone was urging her to abandon the dying. Not that it would matter for long. There were less than forty patients left, out of the initial four hundred. None of them will make it.

           When they first arrived in Aegrus, they discovered roughly seventy villagers hidden away in barns, all free from the plague. They went about relocating them immediately. An additional fifty miraculously survived catching the disease. Overall, barely a fifth of the population made it through. She felt too miserable to even cry.

           Seven of her colleagues have died. The remaining ones were currently in their rooms, packing their stuff. They felt that their duty was fulfilled, given that the last of the sick were doomed. Panacaea will stay and help until the end. Come what it may, no one deserves to die alone.

           She was slowly making her usual afternoon rounds when she noticed a woman was conscious. Suddenly, a quiet, hoarse voice ringed out, “The doctors are leavin.”

“I’ll still be here. Don’t worry, you are in good hands.” Dazed black eyes connected with hers, their confusion obvious.

“Why?”

Panacaea gently laid her palm on the woman’s forehead. Damn, a high fever. “Would you like some water?”, she asked with forced cheer, “It would make y-“

“Go home girl, ain’t nothin’ but death waiting ‘round here.” There were no signs of fear in her expression, just an exhausted sense of resignation, “Most of us are too far gone to care, either way.”

Stunned, she walked back to her room without another word. Perhaps she’s right. In the end, all I will accomplish here is one more corpse. The guilt was eating her alive. It’s just the fear talking. I’ll be fine once the others take away the carriage, and with it the temptation.

           Her shoddy resolve lasted until she saw the last of her colleagues climb in the coach. She was out of the makeshift hospital in a flash, haunted by images of dying alone covered in dozens of rotten corpses. All the same, she spent the whole trip home in a state of unshakable shame. We just left them all to die...

           Panacaea was shaking when she walked towards the house she never expected to see again. How can she look Sophie in the eyes and tell her what she had done? Or her parents? Oh, God, I am a monster! She was wracked with guilt and only belatedly noticed the honey-haired woman who rushed out of the house.

“You’re here!” Sophie grabbed her in a tight hug, “ Thank the heavens, you’re here!”

She could feel her eyes starting to sting. She’ll hate me! She’ll never speak to me again! Panacaea couldn’t help it; she burst into tears, “I’m sorry! I’m so sorry! I’m a horrible coward!”

“Pana? What’s wrong?” her voice instantly turned comforting and it broke her heart. I don’t deserve it...

“I abandoned the patients...Everyone was dying and I wanted to stay until the end but the others were leaving and I got too scared and-“ She hurried to explain the whole thing at once, but Panacaea found that she couldn’t breathe. There was simply not enough air.

A steady hand cradled her head fondly, “Let’s go inside, we can talk about everything after we get some warmth in your skin and food in your belly.”

           Two hours later, she recalled what happened, in as much detail as she could bear. Sophia stood silent through it, only occasionally encouraging her to continue. Panacaea waited for her verdict with the air of someone standing before the hangman, which is to say that she was trembling and sobbing all over. 

“There was nothing you could have done, my dear” Sophia squeezed her shoulder gently, “I am glad you are alive and safe.”

“I could’ve stayed... I could’ve...”

“You didn’t have a choic-“

“I damn well did!” she bellowed. The self-loathing had reached a boiling point. “Don’t you see? I chose to be a coward!” More quietly, she added “We always have a choice.”

Sophie searched her expression for a few moments, before speaking cautiously, as one would with a spooked animal “It’s true, we do always have options. You simply didn’t have any good ones.” Panacaea tried to interject, but Sophia abruptly cut her off, “No, you listen to me. This isn’t a case of taking the easy way o-“

“But I di-“

“-ut or choosing the lesser evil or whatever self destructive philosophy you came up with” a warning glare was thrown her way. “Your colleagues were all leaving, even if you had stayed, you couldn’t have taken care of forty dying people on your own. No one could.” Her features abruptly softened, causing her tone lost its sternness “It was a horrible situation and no one deserves to go through that, but there was nothing you could have done. It wasn’t your fault.” Eventually, Panacaea nodded numbly in acceptance. She only prays that, one day, she might actually grow to believe it.