Plague Of Horror

Chapter 2: Guilt

The doctor's footsteps were heavy, crunching as he followed the gravel path through the center of Welk. His thoughts were racing, for the first time he questioned his journey. He thought of why he was going from town to town with such a grim task.
The saddened doctor grew weary so begrudgingly stopped by an Inn, paying for the most expensive room with the money given to him from the church. He wished to stay in the least used and best kept room out of all of them as to avoid contamination. He lay in his room, the mask finally removed but kept close by to purify the air he breathed somewhat.

The doctor's thoughts were still on the reality of his job. He knew the dark truth. The church sent word of these doctors to be miracle workers, though this fact held little honesty. People with below average medical skills were hired, the doctor had even heard word that a simple fruit saleswoman was payed to work as one of the special doctors. None of them were even worthy of the title 'doctor', they could barely cure a common cold, none besides the ones who volunteered like the man in the Inn at Welk. He was quite the extraordinary doctor.

The doctor continued his thought train, feeling worse than when he entered the village. The sad reality of his visits dawning on him. All he did was go to houses and tell the family they were going to be losing a member, then wait for the day they pass and move them to a carriage. This would be done for multiple villager's houses. After the townspeople have lost all their infected, usually in the teens, while village populations especially one such as Welk, start of with maybe twenty to thirty members. After all this the doctor would take the carriage to a further away location, lying to the villagers saying he would give them each burials, when in truth he would be burning the bodies to rid them of disease. Though lying like this was a necessary evil to reduce upsets.

As the doctor thought this over, he felt a great guilt building over him. The hate he'd recieved, the people he'd lied to and the men, women and children he'd patiently waited for to expire. He asked himself if this was the right thing to be doing. It was false hope, would God want this, was he damned to Hell for his sins? All this was too great for the doctor to handle. He looked around his shabby room, trying to keep his mind clear of the existential thoughts he was suffering from. He did not know if he felt guilty or justified. He decided one course of action was to take place. He decided, to sleep it off.