put down the phone.
I certainly wouldn’t be taking Muffy there anymore, I thought, still angry, but beginning to feel a little foolish as well.
* * * *
I awoke to heaven. My head was being stroked, and I could smell coffee on my bedside table. I opened my eyes and sleepily smiled up at Janet, who had one hand on my forehead and one hand holding her own cup of coffee. The light was dim outside the window and invited dozing off again, just for a few moments.
I slid into a rush of last-minute dreams denied by too much missed sleep. A large ambulance was driving toward me, bringing Kingsly back, rotted, all in parts. His fluids seeped out the side panels and blew into liquid plumes. Yet I could hear his screams. Piercing screams that overwhelmed the noise of the siren. Screams that kept coming from the yellow bulk looming up over me, a shadowy figure at the wheel.
I woke to my own scream. Janet was long gone, and the telephone was shrieking in my ear. I fumbled the receiver and managed a dry “Hello.”
“Nice hours, Doc. Wish I could sleep in.” It was Susanne, fresh and saucy as ever.
“Oh, God, what time is it?” I’d obviously slept more than a few minutes.
“Eight-thirty, and we’re fighting World War Three here while our fearless leader sleeps.”
“Bad?”
“Real bad.”
“I’ll be there in thirty minutes.”
I’d barely hung up and was halfway to the shower when the phone rang again.
“Hello!” I answered impatiently, expecting it was the ER.
I heard only static, the kind of noise produced by a car phone.
“Hello,” I repeated, more politely this time.
The noise seemed to change. At first I thought it was more interference on the line. But it became a whisper, barely audible.
“Hello! Who is this?” I demanded. “Speak up. I can’t hear you.”
The raspy voice became louder. “I know. Doc. I know it’s you. You’ve had your warning. Back off!” Then I was listening to a dial tone.
The noise level in the ER matched my frazzled state of mind. Stretchers were end to end in every corridor. Susanne rushed by and muttered, “We’re not doing well,” keeping her reputation for understatement intact.
All around me nurses and doctors yelled orders and patients cried for help. Ventilation bags, oxygen masks, and IV sets were tossed to residents waiting alongside still-untreated cases. At first I thought there had been a disaster, a train crash or a downed plane. I tried to huddle with the clerk; she was besieged with calls for ECGs, X rays, the lab, and beds, always for beds. While still listening to someone on the phone, she mouthed my answer.
“We’re getting ambulances again.”
Zak! Shit! I’m not sure if I said it or thought it.
I was down the hall and in my office in seconds, but there I found more unpleasant surprises, two to be exact.
The first was a foot-high stack of computer printouts, which meant added hours of work going over them.
The second surprise was embarrassed to be caught going through the first.
Jones jumped back from my desk. “A lot of paperwork,” she sputtered nervously.
Annoyed, I let silence work her over. It took ten seconds until she caved in.
“I brought you the latest numbers on my magnesium sulfate resuscitation study.” She added a thin folder to the pile she’d been sneaking a peek at.
“Find anything interesting?” I knew I sounded cold and sarcastic.
She looked startled.
I wanted her to see she was over the line. I brushed by her to get behind my desk and let her stand there looking uncomfortable while I called Zak and wheedled another ambulance ban.
He demanded payment. “Any news on the murder front?”
“I can’t talk now.” I whispered, hoping I could still imply goodies to come. Apparently it worked. After we’d exchanged a few sentences, Zak said he’d direct his ambulances to other ERs until noon. I hung up before he could change his mind .
“I meant your study. Valerie,” I said, turning swiftly back to her,
I certainly wouldn’t be taking Muffy there anymore, I thought, still angry, but beginning to feel a little foolish as well.
* * * *
I awoke to heaven. My head was being stroked, and I could smell coffee on my bedside table. I opened my eyes and sleepily smiled up at Janet, who had one hand on my forehead and one hand holding her own cup of coffee. The light was dim outside the window and invited dozing off again, just for a few moments.
I slid into a rush of last-minute dreams denied by too much missed sleep. A large ambulance was driving toward me, bringing Kingsly back, rotted, all in parts. His fluids seeped out the side panels and blew into liquid plumes. Yet I could hear his screams. Piercing screams that overwhelmed the noise of the siren. Screams that kept coming from the yellow bulk looming up over me, a shadowy figure at the wheel.
I woke to my own scream. Janet was long gone, and the telephone was shrieking in my ear. I fumbled the receiver and managed a dry “Hello.”
“Nice hours, Doc. Wish I could sleep in.” It was Susanne, fresh and saucy as ever.
“Oh, God, what time is it?” I’d obviously slept more than a few minutes.
“Eight-thirty, and we’re fighting World War Three here while our fearless leader sleeps.”
“Bad?”
“Real bad.”
“I’ll be there in thirty minutes.”
I’d barely hung up and was halfway to the shower when the phone rang again.
“Hello!” I answered impatiently, expecting it was the ER.
I heard only static, the kind of noise produced by a car phone.
“Hello,” I repeated, more politely this time.
The noise seemed to change. At first I thought it was more interference on the line. But it became a whisper, barely audible.
“Hello! Who is this?” I demanded. “Speak up. I can’t hear you.”
The raspy voice became louder. “I know. Doc. I know it’s you. You’ve had your warning. Back off!” Then I was listening to a dial tone.
The noise level in the ER matched my frazzled state of mind. Stretchers were end to end in every corridor. Susanne rushed by and muttered, “We’re not doing well,” keeping her reputation for understatement intact.
All around me nurses and doctors yelled orders and patients cried for help. Ventilation bags, oxygen masks, and IV sets were tossed to residents waiting alongside still-untreated cases. At first I thought there had been a disaster, a train crash or a downed plane. I tried to huddle with the clerk; she was besieged with calls for ECGs, X rays, the lab, and beds, always for beds. While still listening to someone on the phone, she mouthed my answer.
“We’re getting ambulances again.”
Zak! Shit! I’m not sure if I said it or thought it.
I was down the hall and in my office in seconds, but there I found more unpleasant surprises, two to be exact.
The first was a foot-high stack of computer printouts, which meant added hours of work going over them.
The second surprise was embarrassed to be caught going through the first.
Jones jumped back from my desk. “A lot of paperwork,” she sputtered nervously.
Annoyed, I let silence work her over. It took ten seconds until she caved in.
“I brought you the latest numbers on my magnesium sulfate resuscitation study.” She added a thin folder to the pile she’d been sneaking a peek at.
“Find anything interesting?” I knew I sounded cold and sarcastic.
She looked startled.
I wanted her to see she was over the line. I brushed by her to get behind my desk and let her stand there looking uncomfortable while I called Zak and wheedled another ambulance ban.
He demanded payment. “Any news on the murder front?”
“I can’t talk now.” I whispered, hoping I could still imply goodies to come. Apparently it worked. After we’d exchanged a few sentences, Zak said he’d direct his ambulances to other ERs until noon. I hung up before he could change his mind .
“I meant your study. Valerie,” I said, turning swiftly back to her,
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