Play@YSDC

Massachusetts General Hospital, November 25th 1920

Today the sun is shining for which Norman is glad. He is still recovering from the events of the previous day, and is weak from blood loss, which means he will spend another day in hospital, before going home to rest. Painkillers have faded the pain from his broken arm to a dull ache, but he is stiff from bruising all over his body, and had also dislocated a shoulder. Hopefully though he will recover in time to go on the expedition. The doctor has told him that he will need about six weeks for his arm to heal.

He needs to do a lot of thinking though. He cannot rationally explain what happened at the Corbitt House. Maybe Isadora is onto something with all her talk of spirits…

He wonders if he will see her today?

One thing he always disliked about hospitals, dating from his previous stay--infected tonsils as a boy, was the pervading smell of urine... "Oh, damn it! I need to go now." He said:

"Nurse! nurse! can you help me to the lavatory?"

The duty nurse appraises Norman with a practised eye.

"You can't get out of bed Mr. Owens, doctor's orders. I'll help you with the bedpan".

She proceeds to do so.

He pisses into the pot. "Thank you."

During visiting hours Isadora arrives to the hospital and asks to be shown to Norman's ward.

"Good morning! How are you feeling? she asks her fellow investigator and puts down a paper bag full of produces on his nightstand. "I've brought you Belgian chocolate and some oranges... oh, right... can you peel oranges with your hand broken?"

She sits down next to him, takes out an orange and starts peeling it.

OOC:   How many people are in the ward?

Isadora sits still and silent for a while, the orange peels piling up in her lap.

"What happened in that room?"

"No idea, Ms. Carmichael," he said quickly. "I want to forget about the whole sorry business. I appreciate all this"--popping an orange segment into his mouth--"but most of all I appreciate how you looked after me back there."

"It was the least I could do, Mr. Owens.

I want to forget too... But I just cannot! It keeps coming back, clawing at my mind, eating away my soul. I couldn't sleep all night."

"George wants me to quit the investigation," Isadora says, recapping last night's long conversation with her husband. "He is right, of course, this is all getting too dangerous too quick."

"But I cannot live with the thought of such evil existing in our world!!" she adds, whispering.

"Maybe we can tell Jordan to have the house torn down... But I'm afraid to think what might happen to the workers when they enter that malevolent building!!"

"I'm not a 'Sensitive' like you are, thank God." He whispered: "Why don't we burn it down?"

"The fire might spread," Isadora answers so quickly, that it's obvious that she's been giving this thought as well. "And we might go to jail for arson. Or worse - to a mental institution..." This second perspective is clearly the scarier for her.

"Would it? And we'd ensure not to be caught." He thought: "Why afraid of a mental institution?"

Isadora leans closer to Norman. A few chunks of orange peels fall to the floor.

"Do you... do you think we could carry it out?

"But the evil influence might permeate the soil as well; and whatever they build next on that crooked lot, it will be over the grave of Corbitt."

"If a new building went up on the site, the builder would destroy the old foundations. I think that the night before I go to Canada I should burn the house down. You have no part in this, Isadora," he said almost tenderly; "but if the police start snooping around inform me of this by letter."

Isadora acknowledges Norman's plan with a nod. The less she knows about it, the better... But she still has many doubts.

"I'm afraid dealing with the house on the physical plane is not enough. I will try to find a way to counter this evil on the psychic or astral plane as well."

"What shall we tell to Jordan, though? If we refuse to work for him any more, he will hire other people, who will surely endanger themselves. "

"We'll have to put him off--maybe I could plead for more time due to my hospitalisation?"

"We'll say nothing--appear ignorant of Corbitt and perplexed at what happened to me. Play our cards close to our chests."

"Jordan knows about our inquiries into Corbitt in the archives and libraries (but not the Church!), so I will make up some neutral summary, without the grisly details."

OOC:   I think we are ready to skip to Jordan's visit?

Not long after Isadora and Norman are interrupted by a nurse bringing a very tense and anxious Harry Jordan. He looks shocked to see Norman’s condition.

“Ms. Carmichael. Mr. Owens! Good Lord!”

He pulls up a chair on the opposite side of the bed to Isadora,, and addresses Norman.

“I want you to know that I will be covering your hospital fees. And I will arrange a nurse to look after you when you are discharged. The doctor has informed me as to the extent of your injuries, I took the liberty of saying that you were in my employment.”

He sits back. “I feel dreadful that this happened to you. That blasted house! Ms. Carmichael has filled me in on some of the details – this man Corbitt, the Chapel of Contemplation, but what on earth happened yesterday?”