36
Tuesday, June 6, 2006 – 8:42 p.m.
Aspen Memorial Hospital – Room 511
​
Donning the doctor’s coat he’d taken earlier, Slick walked into the hallway, the door to the stairs shutting behind him. Straight ahead of him was the long hallway that led past the patient rooms on his left. Across from the patient rooms was Dr. Slaterbaugh’s office. To his right were the elevator and the admitting desk for Neurology. Currently, the floor was empty. Ken had gone back to his office, and Darcy and Gretchen were elsewhere. Walking with a confident but cautious gait, Slick headed straight for Hank’s room. Reaching the door to room 507, Slick opened it slowly. It was dark inside. A small amount of light from the streetlights outside was spilling in from around the edges of the drawn shades. It wasn’t much, but it was enough to illuminate Hank’s features and the monitors quietly blinking in the room. Quickly stepping inside, Slick quietly shut the door. Walking over to the bed, he reached into his pocket and removed the syringe.
Holding the syringe in one hand, Slick used the other to quickly shut off the monitors so that no alarms would be set off in the nurses’ station. The only way they would go off was if they were accidentally unplugged or if something out of the ordinary went wrong. If they were simply shut off, no alarms would sound. Having shut off the EEG, EKG and other monitors, Slick quickly prepared the syringe. Placing his index and middle fingers around the base of the syringe and his thumb on the plunger, Slick slowly squeezed releasing the tiny bit of air in the tube. He didn’t want Hank to die of an air embolism or something horrible like that. A small stream of fluid arced through the air and landed on the bed covers leaving a few tiny dark circles. Slick knew that Hank had been unconscious for some time now, so giving him a quick shot in the arm wouldn’t disturb his sleep. In fact, Hank probably wouldn’t even feel it.
Reaching out, Slick carefully pulled the sheets down from around Hank’s huge upper arm. There was so much muscle and fat there that Slick figured he could drive a nail into the flesh and Hank wouldn’t notice. Grabbing his arm, Slick plunged the needle deep into Hank’s deltoid muscle. With a quick and steady movement, Slick pushed the plunger until it came to a stop. The drug had been administered. Removing the needle, Slick took a tissue from the side of the bed and blotted the tiny dot of blood that was forming at the puncture site. Recapping the needle, Slick dropped it back into his pocket. Concerned that he might be caught, Slick turned to leave when a loud crack sounded through the room. Slick’s vision dimmed momentarily as he tried to grasp what was happening. Stumbling sideways, Slick almost knocked over the EEG monitor before catching himself by grabbing the bed railing. Looking through a hazy field of vision, Slick saw Hank’s cast-covered arm swinging toward him again. This time he was able to move out of the way before it slammed into the bed frame above Hank’s head. Hank was still incoherent, but the quick action of the drug had caused his body to go into a spasm as it reacted to the sudden influx of hallucinogenic material. Hank swung his plaster-coated arm a third time nailing himself in the head and knocking any mobility out of himself. His arm dropped to the bed and a small moan emanated from his throat. Slick was sure that had the monitors been connected, extremely high readings of brain wave activity, heart rate and pulse would have been registered. His labored breathing would also have been quickly evident causing a flurry of activity to quickly fill Hank’s room.
Slick stood perfectly still for a few moments to make sure no one had heard the commotion. Satisfied that no one was coming to Hank’s rescue, Slick quickly went to the door. Opening it just a crack and allowing his eyes to adjust to the light in the hallway, Slick carefully peeked out and looked both directions down the hall. No one was around. Leaving Hank’s room, Slick quickly and confidently walked to room 511. As he reached for the doorknob, the knob began to turn from the inside. Startled by this, Slick continued his journey and walked nonchalantly past the room. The door opened behind him.
“I’ll be back in five minutes,” Karen said in a whisper, talking more to comfort herself than to comfort sleeping Maisie.
Karen turned and headed for the elevators at the opposite end of the hall. Slowing his pace, Slick glanced over his shoulder just in time to see the doors shut behind her. Stopping, Slick turned around and immediately went back to Maisie’s room. Grasping the knob with his muscular hand, Slick entered shutting the door behind him. In the low light of the room, Slick could see Maisie peacefully sleeping on the bed, her body turned toward the door facing Slick. Her dark curls hung over her face and her small body left barely a lump under the bed covers. Slick had adjusted the dosage per Maisie’s body weight so that she wouldn’t die instantly upon receiving the hallucinogenic drug mixture. Walking to her side, Slick pulled back the covers from her tiny arm. Maisie shivered slightly at the sudden breeze of cold air that rushed over her. Slick reached out and covered the bare area of her arm with his warm hand. Maisie settled down into a peaceful state again. Reaching into his pocket, Slick found the syringe with the plunger still extended. Pulling it from his pocket, Slick used his thumb to pop the cap loose. Using his teeth to remove the cap, Slick gave the plunger a small push to remove the air. Sliding his arm down Maisie’s arm, Slick exposed a tiny bit of skin into which he could administer his newly enhanced cocktail. Raising his hand that was holding the needle, Slick was just about to plunge it deep into Maisie’s deltoid muscle when the door opened. Whipping his head around in the dim light as he pushed the needle into Maisie’s arm, Slick could see Gretchen’s arm followed by her body coming through the door. Hastily removing the needle as he turned back toward Maisie, Slick pulled the covers back over her body, dropped to the floor and scooted under the bed. Reaching up, he grabbed the cap from his mouth and recapped the needle as he watched Gretchen’s feet walking up to the side of the bed. Quietly, he put the needle into his pocket and waited.
After what seemed a lifetime, Gretchen left the room. Slick quickly crawled out from under the bed, stepped into the bathroom and activated his Bubble Chamber. In an array of color, Slick watched himself disappear into the past in the reflection of the bathroom mirror. As he was disappearing into time, Slick thought about the outcome of his two last injections and how they would fare. Smiling to himself, he knew this was something he would have to tell Spike about when he returned to the lab. He knew Spike would be excited to hear how he was further implicated in this scandal and how Slick would be able to get away Scott free.
Opening the door to Maisie’s room, Karen returned. She was carrying a sandwich and a can of Diet Coke. She set them down on the table next to Maisie’s bed and pulled up her chair. Unwrapping her turkey and cheese sandwich, she looked at her daughter still peacefully sleeping in bed. Reaching out, she readjusted the covers. Something wet touched her hand. Bewildered, she set down her sandwich and pulled back the covers. A large wet stain was present on the sheets next to Maisie. Maisie’s doll that Papa had brought her when she’d arrived in her room was snuggled next to Maisie. A small hole in the doll’s neck was evident and a trickle of liquid was dribbling from it. Picking up the doll, Karen looked closely at it. That’s strange thought Karen. I wonder what this is from? Perplexed, Karen set the doll aside and blotted the spot on the sheets. Laying a towel over the wet spot, Karen re-covered her shivering baby. She then went to the bathroom, washed her hands and sat back down to eat. Chewing her sandwich, Karen looked again at the doll. Strange she thought. Very strange.
***
Hank opened his eyes. Hank shut his eyes. There was no difference in what he could see. It was black, black, black. A black so black that words failed to describe it. A black that was like the black of space void of any stars. A black blacker than the blackest paint ever created. A black one might expect to “see” if they were blind, if indeed black was what a blind person experienced. A black that could be expected if nothing in the entire universe existed. A black, void of all light, all color, all texture and all life. A black that made a person go crazy. This black that Hank was experiencing was not a black of the living but a black of the dead. The blackness surrounding Hank was so intense that Hank could feel it, taste it, touch it. It was as if it were a blanket of black smothering him to death. Hank’s eyes strained so hard to penetrate the black expanse around him that the rods and cones in the back of his eyes began to fire creating tiny imaginary pinpoints of light that were registered as light in Hank’s brain. Although he thought he was seeing light, he wasn’t. His brain was playing tricks with him. His brain craved the light that didn’t exist. His brain needed light.
Hank’s heart was pounding. His breathing was labored and short. He felt cramped beyond movement, as if he were crammed into a space smaller than his body. Struggling to move, Hank attempted to free his unbroken arm. He found, however, that it was crushed between his body and a solid object on his left. Squirming and wriggling, Hank was able free his trapped arm. Slowly, but surely, he wiggled until his arm broke free of his body and the solid object pinning it against his side. Although numb and tingling, Hank raised his hand in an attempt to penetrate the blackness around him. Hank had barely moved it when it hit something soft and solid overhead.
Panic-stricken, Hank touched whatever it was. The soft texture felt like silk. Pressing on it, Hank found that it gave some before his hand was pressing against something hard underneath the silky material. Moving his hand around and touching several areas overhead, Hank could feel the billowy folds of silky material surrounding him. Reaching down alongside himself, he found the material there too. Reaching back up, Hank pressed down on the fluffy material until he felt the solid structure underneath. Then, he slowly slid his hand across it. His hand moved straight for a few inches before curving downward and to the left at which point Hank’s fingers crossed what felt like a seam or crease in the surface. Stopping, Hank found that the seam ran parallel to his prone body for as far as he could reach in both directions. Reaching back up, Hank ran his hand the other way. He encountered the same kind of seam on the opposite side. Lifting his feet, he found that they too hit the same solid structure. Hank suspected where he was, but refused to accept it. Feeling around more frantically, Hank began to push with all his might on the surface overhead. His heart pounded harder to the point where it hurt. His breathing was getting more sporadic and he was finding the air in his prison diminishing. Hank’s mind told him that he was inside a coffin.
Terrified, Hank began to scream. Kicking with all the energy he could muster and pounding with both hands on the coffin’s lid despite the horrible pain shooting down his arm from his shattered wrist, Hank did everything in his power to escape. The oxygen level in his prison was quickly being depleted, and more and more carbon monoxide was filling the void around him. Hank began to tear at the soft coffin lining around him. Digging his fingers into the mahogany wood that made up the shell of the coffin, Hank’s fingers began to bleed. Although Hank couldn’t see them, the excruciating pain and the warm trickle of blood running down his hands told him what was happening. Unfortunately, the only damage done to the coffin was a few scratch marks. Hank could feel the splinters of wood that he’d torn from the lid as they pierced deeper and deeper under his fingernails. Hank was sweating profusely. His head was drenched and his body covered with moisture. Hank was screaming and clawing frantically, his mouth agape like some fish out of water as he tried to suck in the last few remnants of air that remained in his tomb.
Hank could feel the pressure of the coffin around him as if it were slowly closing in on him. His brain screamed, “escape” and his body followed suit, but it was fruitless. All his efforts would be to no avail. His vision, or at least the vision in his mind, began to fade. The pictures and thoughts that raced through his mind were becoming fuzzy and misshapen. He was having a hard time concentrating. Whatever full-color images his mind had conjured up in this tomb of black death were slowly turning black and white and would eventually disappear as Hank’s brain shut down and his body followed quickly behind.
Hank was gasping for oxygen. His strength was waning and he could no longer struggle to free himself from his tomb. A sudden pain in his chest and left arm indicated to his brain that he was about to die. Grasping his chest with his hand, his fingers curled up like a claw as he torn at his rib cage trying to relieve the pain, Hank felt a sudden “pop” almost like the pop a mud pot in Yellowstone might make, and a hot fluidic sensation quickly filled his chest. The full-color images in Hank’s mind faded quickly to black and white and then blinked out of existence. Hank’s head rolled to the side, his breathing stopped and his massive body went limp. A dark crimson stain unseen underneath his shirt slowly spread across his chest creating a beautiful crystalline pattern under his skin.
***
Immediately following her visit to Maisie’s room, Gretchen went directly to room 507. Upon entering, she knew something was amiss. Hank’s massive body didn’t have the lived in look anymore. Instead, he appeared more like a huge shell inside of which something living once resided. Quickly stepping up to his bed, Raisin-Woman found all the monitors had been shut off. Grabbing the phone, she paged for Dr. Slaterbaugh, stat. Within seconds, he arrived.
“What is it?” Ken asked in a breathless voice as he entered the room.
“Hank. He’s dead.”
“What! How did this happen?”
“I don’t know. I just walked in and this is how I found him. The monitors had been shut off, and he was lying just as you see him now. I paged you immediately.”
Pulling back the covers, Ken noticed a large purplish discoloration under the skin on his chest. Pressing on it, Ken noted it had a spongy feel and realized the enormity of what had happened. Hank’s heart had been put under so much stress that it literally burst.
“His heart burst,” Ken said. “It must have been pounding so hard that it just couldn’t take the stress anymore. You say you didn’t hear or see anything?”
“Nope. This is how I found him when I came in the room. Since the monitors had been shut off, no one at the desk knew anything different.”
“And no one saw anything?”
“Nope. Everything’s been quiet.”
“Obviously, someone or something caused this.”
Looking over Hank’s body, Ken looked for something to indicate foul play. After carefully examining the torso, Ken moved to Hank’s arms. Nothing unusual was evident with his arm in the cast, but upon looking closely at his other arm, Ken noted a small dot where a needle or something sharp had recently penetrated. Squeezing gently, Ken was able to produce a small drop of blood indicating the puncture mark was only minutes old. Blotting up the blood, Ken was going to take it to the lab and have it tested for tryptamines. In the meantime, Ken called security and alerted them to the fact that some unscrupulous individual was in the hospital wreaking havoc. Security in turn called the police who would arrive shortly to help in the search for whoever was responsible. Ken alerted them to the possibility that the suspect was Spike. As Ken was hanging up, a horrifying thought occurred to him. Maisie!
“Have you checked on Maisie in room 511?”
“I did just before I came in here, why?”
Without answering, Ken ran out the door and down the hall. Barreling through Maisie’s door, Ken came to a sudden stop as Karen looked up at him with a terrified, shocked looked on her face.
“What’s wrong?” she asked.
Ken, his heart pounding, said nothing. He walked quickly to Maisie’s side and began to check her over. Glancing up, he noticed that the monitors in her room were still active. They had not been unplugged. After satisfying himself that she was okay, he turned toward Karen.
“How’s she been?”
“Fine. Why? What was the panicked look on your face when you came in here?”
“I thought Maisie might be in trouble so I rushed in to check on her.”
“Why would she be in trouble? Is something wrong?”
“Nothing for you to worry about.”
“But, now that you came bombing in here, I am worried.”
“We had an incident down the hall. I thought they might be related and scared myself thinking that Maisie might have been affected too. Obviously, she’s okay.”
“What kind of incident?”
“I’d rather not say. It’s under control now.”
Karen gave Ken a look of disapproval at his unwillingness to answer her question. Ken looked back as if to say I’m not telling you anything. Realizing that she wouldn’t be able to get Ken to talk, she dropped the subject.
“So, how’s Maisie been?”
“Sleeping soundly. I went out for a sandwich and when I came back, she was still out. She hasn’t moved much at all. That medicine must be helping.”
“Well, I hope so. It’s hard enough to have to watch her suffer from headaches let alone have to sit in the hospital with her all night.”
“I’m just glad we came when we did. Moreover, I’m thankful that you were the doctor we had to help us. She loves you and trusts you implicitly.”
“Well, that’s good to know. I just want to see her get better.”
“She is.”
Ken reached out and laid his hand on Karen’s shoulder to reassure her of his concern.
Karen smiled back at him. “You’re a good doctor and a friend.”
“Thank you. I try. That’s why I got into this profession, to help people.” Ken put his hand down and noticed the doll lying to the side. “Does she like the doll?”
Karen noticed Ken eyeballing it on the table next to her.
“She loves it, although at the moment it is sitting here to dry off. Something must have dripped on it in her bed. Her covers were damp too.”
Karen picked up the doll and handed it to Ken. Holding it in his hands, Ken carefully rolled it around to examine it. Gently squeezing it, he noticed a small dribble of clear fluid appear on the doll’s neck. Looking closer, Ken knew that it was a puncture mark from a needle. A sickening feeling of terror rose up in his throat. He was sure he knew what it was and realized how close Maisie was to having been the victim. The intruder had missed her with the injection and had instead punctured the doll. Ken wasn’t sure why he’d missed Maisie, but he was definitely glad she was okay.
Ken looked at Karen. “I need you to stay in this room for a while. Don’t leave.”
“Why not?”
“There’s a possibility of an intruder running around somewhere in the hospital. The police and security are looking for them right now. It would be safest if you stayed in here so we know exactly where you are.”
“Are we in danger?”
“No. You’ll be fine. Just stay here. We’ll keep a close eye on the door as well. If you need something, pull the emergency cord on the wall.”
Karen glanced at it hanging above Maisie’s head.
“Okay,” Karen said, somewhat shaken.
“You’ll be fine. Just don’t go anywhere right now.”
“Thanks for being concerned.”
“It’s my job and my pleasure.”
Ken turned to leave. “I’ll be back in a while to check up on you. Until then, stay here.”
“All right. I have no plans of going anywhere.”
“If Maisie wakes up, tell her I’ll see her later.”
“Okay.”
“Oh, by the way. I’m going to take this doll and get it cleaned up. Tell Maisie it will be returned good as new.”
“She’ll like that. She loved it as soon as she saw it.”
Ken walked back and picked up the doll. “See you in a bit.”
“Bye now.”
Ken turned and walked out the door almost running into Gretchen and Darcy.
Darcy spoke up. “Gretchen told me what’s happening. Are we okay here?”
“You should be fine. The police and security are on it. In fact, look.”
Pointing down the hall, the three of them watched as two police were meticulously checking the rooms for someone. Stationed at the end of the hall was another police officer watching the stairs and elevators.
Ken said, “They’re already here. You’ll be fine. I need to run downstairs. I’ll be back in a little bit. In the meantime, keep a close eye on Maisie’s room. I told her mom to stay there with Maisie. Make sure they don’t leave and that no one suspicious enters.”
“Okay,” Darcy said.
Looking down at the doll Ken was holding, Gretchen gave Ken a funny look.
“It’s Maisie’s. Something was spilled on it so I told her I’d clean it up.”
Reaching out Darcy said, “I can clean it off for you.”
“Thanks, but I’ll get it.”
“Well, whatever.” Darcy and Gretchen looked at each other.
“To be continued.” Ken turned and headed for the elevators.
“Doctor Slaterbaugh,” Gretchen called out. “Have you seen Spike?”
“Uh, no. Isn’t he here?”
“No. I haven’t seen him for almost an hour. Ever since you gave him that errand to run, he’s been missing. I don’t trust that boy. He’s always coming in just before it’s time to start work, dresses funny, has a strange sense of humor. I’ll bet you anything that he just walked off the job. It wouldn’t surprise me!”
“I’m surprised he’s not back yet. I’ll check around for him. In the meantime, keep an eye on room 507, please.”
Darcy and Gretchen nodded an okay and turned back toward the admitting desk. Ken turned the opposite way. In his mind was the very real possibility that Spike was already gone. But he wasn’t going to add fuel to the fire and get Gretchen all upset. He figured it was just best to leave things as they were for the moment until he could get a grasp on the situation. Ken decided to take the stairs. Exercise would do him some good and help him relieve some stress that had been slowly building all day. Opening the door to the stairwell Ken stepped in and started his descent to the second floor.