Chapter Fifty Nine
That morning, Irene moved out of the infirmary. Sharing the space with a sick man was sucking the life outta her.
Sissy ducked under the door as Irene was folding her blanket. With her medical training for the relief mission to Haiti, Sissy had stepped into Zoey’s shoes. “He’s burning up,” Sissy said, placing a towel she had dipped in river-water across Brad’s forehead.
Irene took a hesitant step closer. “He’s dying, isn’t he.”
Sissy leaned down to pull the sweat-soaked blanket off. There was the renewed stench of foul meat. “I can’t control the infection. The leg should come off, but only Ricky might have managed it. There are no surgical tools, no scalpel or a bone saw. And no anesthetic.”
Irene placed a hand on Sissy’s arm. “Doctor Dixon can’t help?”
Sissy’s eye
