Uninvited Death
It was 1885. Willie Klinger softened his step so as to muffle the sound of his shoes striking the damp wood block surface of Magazine Street. He walked past the lifeless line of dark gray houses. He thought, “They are like tombs from which death could reach out and afflict me.” As he approached Delachaise Street (his home was there), he increased his gate. He glanced up from time to time hoping to see shadows of life in the windows of the long row of houses he was passing. He wondered if the pestilence had touched the inhabitants.
He stumbled as his foot turned on a wooden block. The street blocks were undermined by the heavy afternoon downpour; some had broken away and floated buoyantly toward the river, as if they had finally freed themselves of the burden of bearing the bodies of men and animal, with their insufferable putrafication. Willie hardly noticed the sweat that was soaking through his long sleeve shirt; he just wanted to get home.
He turned on to Delachaise, past the burning tar barrels that clouded his vision and singed his nostrils. The burning tar was a feeble attempt by a desperate people, they thought, to ward off the unknown evil that was stealing so many lives. A full moon was barely visible through the smoky mist. He found his home and knocked on the door. The knock surprised the occupants even though they were expecting it.
Lisa stiffened. Then her head turned toward Anna. She pulled her white cotton blouse down over her exposed breast barely disturbing the baby who attempted to continue her feeding through the cloth. She walked slowly to the window. cracked the shutters to see out and heard her husband whisper, “It’s me, Willie.” With the same free hand, she snapped back the latch, turned the key and he felt the door push gently against her as he entered. He crossed the room and without looking up fell backwards onto the soft cushioned chair and caught his breath. They didn’t speak. Lisa then laid the sleeping infant in the crib and stood over her husband to comfort him.
Anna Klinger placed her German language prayer book face down on the makeshift altar, sat down in her rocker and leaned forward to glance at her brother and asked. “Is mama O.K.?” Willie did not respond. Anna broke the silence, “I get you a brandy.” She watched her brother nod his head and she left the room.
^
After a while, Willie whispered, “Mama wants to stay in their home.” He hesitated, and continued, “She waits for Papa.” Lisa restrained herself from blurting out, “The old fool!”
The baby girl slept peacefully in the crib, her blonde hair was just long enough to curl up over the lace collar of her thin pink gown. Lisa touched the hair softly and resisted an urge to scoop up and caress the small fragile child.
A mosquito lit on the rail of the crib and Lisa swiped at it furiously. She turned in anger toward her husband. His pale face and drawn features shocked her. She quickly crossed the room, knelt before him and buried her head in his lap. He caught her face in his hands and as her blond braids fell to both sides, she wept. He gently brushed her tears.
Hearing Lisa sobs, Anna busied herself in the kitchen looking for signs of roaches, rats, or whatever, even though she had thoroughly rid the small house of those small scavenging monsters when they first moved in. It was easier to keep this house clean than the home that they had left three years ago – her thoughts turned to her hard life in Southern Germany. They did not eat well in America, but it was better than starving in Germany.
It was not the case with Lisa. She was well off in Munich and happy there until her father was killed for his politics. Her mother had died at her birth. She left Germany in a hurry, leaving behind her house; she took only what was necessary.
She met Willie Klinger on the sailing ship. The ship left Bremerhaven in the winter, so the seas were not calm. Willie’s sister, Anna, and their father and mother, sailed with him. They were figuratively in the same boat – Otto Von Bismark had invaded Bavaria and the Catholics were persecuted. So there was a rush to exit Germany, and America seemed the answer to their prayer. But there were times when the three had second thoughts about the move to America.
Lisa and Willie were married at St. Mary Assumption church within a week after they arrived in New Orleans.
^
Lisa had left the room. Anna brought in a glass of brandy, handed it to her brother and kissed his forehead. She stopped to pick up her prayer book and moved the crib closer to the makeshift altar. The brandy brought color to Willie’s face. He thought of the last days spent with his father. It seemed so long ago. His mother sent for him, and Anna, when the fever began. Vomiting followed. Then his father suddenly rallied and Willie kidded him of having his cronies sneak him a bottle of his favorite wine. He was so confident that his father was out of danger that he went home only to be call back the next day. He lost hope when his father’s face and eyes became jaundiced and the vomiting returned, and it was black.
Willie stayed to watch his father die; his mother was asleep. He dressed his dead father, placed a rosary in his hand, kissed him, carried him outside and laid him on the steps for the cart to pick up in the morning. He pinned a message of instructions on his father’s coat. The message included a request for the last rites.
The body was gone before his mother woke up in the morning.. When he told her that her husband was dead, she nodded and smiled.
The brandy was making Willie drowsy. He reached overhead to turn off the gaslight. The only light remaining, as the exhausted Willie Klinger dropped off to sleep, was the flickering reflection of the altar candles.
^
As if it was waiting for the precise moment, a small insect launched herself from a shadowed area of the room. She raced randomly around the walls, bumping into the high ceiling until she dropped suddenly landing on the white linen altar cloth. No sooner had she settled on the altar when she rose again bobbing up and down before the helpless chalk images of the saint protectors. The flickering flame of the candles highlighted the miniature demon as she conducted her death dance.
The suddenly, she glided to her destination, inserted her stylet into the tender young flesh, drew blood and heft her death behind. The baby stirred and clutched the white sheet with its tiny fist and settled back to sleep. The mosquito glided off satisfied that it had the human blood necessary to nourish its eggs to reproduce itself.
Baby Louise Klinger lived nine days after the yellow fever virus was carried to her innocent body.
^
Willie and Lisa Klinger, having paid their dues to Bronze John, lived a healthy normal life span and, although Lisa surrendered part of her sanity during the baby’s episode with yellow fever, she remained a dutiful wife and bore her husband three more children who lived healthy normal lives.
Anna Klinger, although her prayers failed to heal her baby niece, was called upon to read from her German language prayer book to help cure every disease from Cholera to the Wasting Disease. Her prayers were so successful that people came all the way from Texas with their ailments and their hope.
Although Anna Klinger never married, she outlived her brother and his wife. She was the only one of the three to learn the identity of the miniature creature of death, the female of the species: the carrier of the yellow fever virus.