BOOK 5: DOCTOR D

William Rochester stepped into the spattering rain, donning his hat and pulling the collar of his overcoat up. His medical satchel and small leather suitcase, the only belongings he had, were placed beside him by the driver before the car pulled away. The young man of twenty three looked up at the foreboding edifice that towered before him. This was going to be his designated workplace from now on, without reprieve. It was almost a life sentence, little consolation that he was on the right side of the iron bars.

Kravestone Penitentiary, the dull sign on the high stone wall read. The sun had long since set, the drive there almost took five hours. He looked around. Not a soul in sight. The walls were almost twenty feet high, with barbed wire adding another six feet of menacing elevation.

"Doctor Rochester, welcome to Kravestone." A large man in a dark wrinkled suit walked out from under the twelve foot high Iron Gate to greet him. "I'm Warden James O'Reilly. You must have really pissed off some people high up to get tossed down this hell-hole."

"Good evening, Warden." Rochester shook the larger man's hand firmly. "I was told this place would be good for my health."

"If you like the company of hardened criminals, ruthless murderers and the worst scum of the Earth, you might find this place refreshing." O'Reilly snorted, not caring for the younger man's sarcasm. "Let me show you to the clinic where you will be working, and then your office, which is also your lodgings."

"How old is this place?" Rochester stared at the darkened walls as he fell in step behind his disgruntled host.

"Built before the civil war..." The warden replied. "More than four hundred years, we can guess."

"They don't make places like this anymore." The young doctor marveled at the robust structure.

"Yeah, but the scum to inhabit them keep on coming." O'Reilly said with a tired sigh.

"What are my duties exactly, Warden?"

"You'll head the medical staff..." The warden led him into the clinic. "The guy we had died last week."

"How many in the medical staff." Rochester exhaled heavily as he glanced around the dismal working area.

"Just two."O'Reilly said indifferently. "You and the night nurse."

"Two?" The young man was taken aback. "But how am I going..."

"You have to figure that out, Doc." The larger man gave him a tight smile. "This is not exactly General Hospital, you know. Keeping this scum alive and well isn't really a prime priority."

"But that's unethical..." Rochester protested, sitting down on the examination table.

"Is that why you find yourself here, Rochester... because you're very ethical." O'Reilly almost sneered, staring right at the young doctor from the big city.

"Thank you for your time, Warden." Rochester stood up and nodded. "I can take it from here."

"Good luck, Doctor." The other man turned away. "You're going to need it."

"Luck hasn't been with me for some time now." Rochester muttered as he sifted through the tools and medical equipment in the little clinic. "And I doubt she'll be with me ever again."

"A little faith and everything will be well again." A rich lilting voice made him look up.

"You must be the night nurse." He stared at the woman in a starched and snug white uniform standing by the side entrance to the clinic. "Mrs. Della Swanson."

"That's Miss Della Swanson, Doctor Rochester." The red haired woman smiled, walking up to him. "And I am the night nurse here at Kravestone Penitentiary."

"And are you the only woman here in this gloomy place?" He asked, his keen eyes trailing along the ripe curves of her womanhood.

"There's also Elsa the cook and we have a few washer women coning in once a week." She met his gaze and scanned him head to foot. "Are you in need of more women here, Doctor?"

"Er... no," He averted his eyes, suddenly feeling uncomfortable. "I was told this is a prison for men."

"It is." Her full red lips curled into a sly smile. "We girls aren't prisoners here."

"Yes, I'm sorry." He glanced back at her, nodding curtly. "You're all employees... as much as I am."

"You look too young to be here, Doctor Rochester." The woman placed her hands on her flaring hips and cocked her head, her green eyes glittering.

"I'm old enough." He stood up straight, smiling tightly. "And it's not my first choice for a career... but then..."

"Do something naughty out there, in the big city of bright lights?" She smiled knowingly.

"Something likes that." He grinned, his tension relaxing a little. "Now how do we work things out here?"

"Well, Doctor Scott and I worked fourteen hour shifts, two overlaying hours when we coordinated things. We will do the same. You work the day and I the night."

"Where are you putting up?" He inquired, his eyes inadvertently drawn to her wide necked blouse.

"I have a place a mile down the road from here." She noted his gaze and arched her back, exposing more of her impressive cleavage. "I guess you're holed up in here. One day you'll have to tell me what you did to get here, Doctor?"

"Maybe, if I last long enough." He looked up into her intense stare. "The other doctor here, before me...the warden said he died. How did that happen?"

"He wasn't killed, if that's what you're asking about, dearie." She walked across the floor, swaying her sexy hips mesmerizingly. "This isn't some murder mystery or soapbox drama here, he just got old and it was his time."

"I see." He struggled to keep his voice calm. "Well, would you be so kind to show me around how things work here."

"Of course, Doctor." She gave him a wide grin. "And not just because you asked me so nicely."

"Thank you, Mrs... Miss Swanson." Rochester nodded, returning her grin just as wide.

"You can call me Della, sweetheart." She pouted, crossing her hands under her heavy bosom. "You're my boss, after all."

"Oh, no... we're colleagues." The young doctor blushed suddenly. "I'm not anyone's boss."

"Are all doctors as charming as you in the big city?" She pressed on, cocking her head at him. "...and also so cute?"

"I can't tell if you're flirting with me or just teasing." He laughed, with a hint of nervousness.