Off the River, and Through the Woods

Wednesday, May 19, 2094
Alexandria, Louisiana District


No patient notes today. I'm weary from travel, but wanted to get a few things written down, if for no other reason than to decompress.

When we docked at Davis Island, two armed River Port Security officers stormed aboard the Adeline. My stomach dropped like a lead weight into a pond, and all the bile tossing around in there threatened to resurface. I quickly retreated to my room when I saw them on the dock waiting for the ship to moor. If they were coming for me, I wanted my belongings. When I heard boots stomping on the hallway outside my door, I cried.

By some miracle, they passed. I watched, baffled, as they towed a handcuffed passenger off the ship and down the dock. The rumors spread that he had seditious material, and had been distributing the printed propaganda at every port call we had made. The man's name was William, and he often kept to himself. I had no contact with him during our journey. I feel ashamed, but I can't help thanking God that they were not coming for me.

It was then I decided to act. When we arrived in Natchez early the next morning, I disembarked from the Adeline, with only my rucksack. I chose to leave my other belongings behind, so as not to alert the captain I was departing for good. I regret leaving those I have come to consider patients and friends, but I fear Gordon Wilkes more.

Yesterday at noon, I joined a horse and buggy convoy headed to Alexandria. The kindness of strangers overwhelms me at times. They agreed to give me a seat on one of the wagon benches in exchange for medical care along the way.

I do not know what Texas holds me for. I hope. More than anything, I pray for peace. I do not know what tomorrow has in store for me. So until then, it's one hour at a time, trusting God to get me to my destination.

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