Lakewood Memorial (2 page)

“
Sam,” said Kristen
sharply, looking at him.

“
What?” said Sam. “He
doesn't want the surgery. It's his call.”

Kristen's face went dark.
Angie smirked to herself.
You've done it
now, asshole
.

“
And quit fidgeting with
your glasses,” Kristen continued.

“
I hate these stupid
things,” said Sam, taking them off and rubbing his eyes.

Angie bunched up the dirty sheet and did her
best to smile. “Well, I'll go check on the doctor.”

Sam and Mr. Paulson grunted something.
Kristen smiled. Angie turned and left.

As soon as she was back in the hallway, her
cell phone rang. She sighed, fished the phone out and answered.

“
Mom?” came her son's
voice.

“
Dalton? What is
it?”

“
Maylee's not doing what
Brooke says.”

“
Dalton, I don't have
time...”

“
And she keeps saying
bitch.”

* * *

“
Bitch, bitch, bitch,”
said Maylee, skipping around the living room. She liked the way her
hair, dyed the most screw-you black she could find, bounced with
each step. How her mom hated that hair.

“
I'm
serious, Maylee,” said Brooke, standing across the room with her
arms folded. Brooke's hair was conservative and
perfect.
I'm
older
, her hair said. It pissed Maylee
off. “Knock it off right now,” said Brooke.

Maylee stopped skipping and crossed her
arms, mocking Brooke. “But I don't know any better. I'm just a
little baby.”

“
Well, you're certainly
acting like a little baby.”

Maylee rolled her eyes. “Oh, thank you,
zinger queen. Your mom teach you that one?”

Brooke groaned and ran her hands through her
hair. Maylee loved seeing that perfect hair falling out of place.
“Why are you doing this, Maylee? Why can't we all just hang out
until your mom comes home?”

“
Because I don't need a
babysitter, that's why!” Maylee turned and stomped toward her
bedroom. She stopped when she heard Dalton's voice:

“
And she keeps saying
bitch.”

She growled deep in her throat and pounded
to the kitchen. She found Dalton at the table, phone to his
ear.

Maylee sighed. “Are you telling on me,
crotch-nostrils?”

Dalton grinned. “And now she's insulting
me,” he said into the phone.

Maylee snatched the phone and put it to her
ear. “Mom, please. Why can't you just trust me?”

“
You're just too young to
be left alone all night,” said Mom.

“
But I know what I'm
doing! I know better than to get knocked up like you
did!”

As soon as the words left her mouth, Maylee
knew she'd gone too far. She felt as though she'd hit her mom
across the face. She wanted desperately to snatch the words back,
but it was too late.

Mom was quiet for what seemed like minutes.
Maylee finally spoke, her throat dry and cracking. “Mom...”

“
Put Brooke on,
please.”

Brooke was already there, taking the phone
from Maylee. “Ms. Land? I'm sorry.” She nodded at whatever Mom was
saying and straightened her hair. “Things really aren't as out of
control as they sound.”

Maylee bit the tip of her thumb and leaned
back against the counter. Dalton stuck his tongue out at her. She
kicked at him.

“
Right,” said Brooke into
the phone. “No problem. See you later on. Bye.”

“
Wait,” said Maylee,
pushing herself up and reaching for the phone. But Brooke was
hanging up and Maylee was too late. Again.

“
I wanted to tell her I
was sorry,” said Maylee.

“
Well, you'll get to talk
to her later. I'll let you use my new cell phone.”

Maylee reached for the phone. "No. Let me do
it."

"Dammit, Maylee," Brooke snapped. "Back off
or I'll tell your mom what you've been doing with your friend
Stacy!"

Maylee looked at Brooke, mouth open. Dalton
looked from Brooke to Maylee, then back to Brooke. He looked very
amused. After a few seconds, Maylee gave Brooke a very dark look
and sat back against the counter. "I just want to tell her I'm
sorry," she said, almost a whisper.

Brooke sighed and drummed her fingers on the
wall. Maylee leaned back and pouted. Dalton shifted
uncomfortably.

Brooke looked around at the two of them and
smoothed out her hair. “Okay.” She picked up the phone. “I know I
told your mom we might go out, but let's just order in. What do you
two want on your pizza?”

Two

Angie walked back into the laundry room and
dumped the dirty sheet into one of several large baskets. She put
her hands on the base of her spine, then bent backward until a sore
spot popped and felt relief. Around her, the washers rumbled and
moaned.

“
Troubles at home?” asked
Freeda from behind the folding table. Freeda was chewing gum. She
blew a little bubble and smiled.

Angie straightened and shrugged. She walked
over to the table and grabbed a sheet to fold. “No new ones, if
that's what you mean. Maylee just really chafes at having a
babysitter.”

“
Well...” Freeda started.
She looked at Angie, then back down at the sheets. Angie knew the
look Freeda had just given her. It was Freeda's cautious look, the
look she had when she was choosing her words carefully. “She is
fourteen.”

“
Oh god.” Angie shook her
head, but smiled while she did it. “Not you too.”

Freeda laughed. “I know, I know. They're
your babies. And you've had Maylee since you were practically a
baby yourself. But you have to start letting go a little.”

Angie nodded and finished
the sheet she was folding. She felt bad for being cold to
Maylee.
Call home
, her mind nagged at her.
Tell her
you're sorry
. “I know you're right,
but...” She trailed off, putting the folded sheet on the stack
Freeda had made. “Well, I don't know but what, just but
something.”

“
I see,”
said Freeda, nodding as she finished the last sheet. She put it on
the pile and raised an eyebrow at Angie.
“
but
as
in
butt out
.”

Angie laughed. “No, no. Not like that.” She
helped Freeda straighten the stack, then they both headed for the
door. Angie snapped off the light as they both left.

They walked down the hall quietly for a
moment. “Speaking of butts,” Angie said, “Sam Shuab...”

“
Oh god, that prick.”
Freeda laughed. “You'd think Shuab Auto Sales was worth billions,
the way he acts. What's he want?”

“
A doctor,” said Angie.
“He's demanding one come talk to him.”

They turned a corner and headed up a hallway
toward the break room. Freeda frowned. “Mr. Paulson's refusing the
surgery again?”

“
Yep.” Angie nodded, then
thought for a moment. “Who's the doctor on duty,
anyway?”

“
Doctor
Gordon.”

“
Oh great. Well, at least
he and Sam should hit it off.”

Freeda laughed. “I swear, if that little
jackass was half the doctor he thought he was, he wouldn't have the
late shift on a Thursday night.”

Angie nodded. “This is true. He probably
wouldn't even have this shift if he didn't have so many buddies on
the board of directors.”

They both turned another corner and almost
collided with Nurse Ruby Meyer. Ruby had been headed the other
direction and looked very annoyed at having been stopped. She was a
tight-looking woman with a stern face and her hair pulled back
taut.

“
Where are you two going?”
she said.

“
Break room,” said Angie
as pleasantly as she could. Ruby made her nervous, but she refused
to show it. “We're both pulling a double tonight, so I thought we'd
take the chance to sit for a few minutes.”

Ruby frowned for a tiny moment, then pushed
past them. “Not yet, girls,” she said as she walked up the hall.
“I'll need everyone we can spare in ER. We've got a gunshot victim
coming in. Someone who tried to rob Ed's.”

Then she was gone around the corner. Angie
and Freeda listened to the receding pat of Ruby's sneakers. Even
with those sneakers, Angie could usually hear Ruby coming.
Something was distracting her tonight. Something was wrong.

When Ruby was out of both sight and sound,
Freeda turned to Angie. “What if we just don't show?”

Angie shook her head. “You
know Ruby. That would be a bad idea.” Then Angie felt a dread come
over her. A feeling of something awful creeping up.
Call home
, she
thought.
No, no time. Have to
work
. “A very bad idea.”

* * *

“
I told you it was a bad
idea,” said Parker Welch as he whipped his groaning pickup into the
parking lot of Lakewood Memorial. He ignored a speed bump and his
muffler clattered in protest. His hunting cap began sliding off his
long, unkempt hair and he tossed it off impatiently.

“
The guy looked hurt,
Park,” said Morton Buck from the passenger seat. Park had known Moe
for most of his thirty-five years, and Moe was constantly saying
things like that. Stupidly nice things.

Moe rocked from side to side in rhythm with
the truck. His teeth were clenched and he had one hand clamped over
his left arm. Blood seeped from between his fingers.

“
Fuck him,” said Park. The
truck's headlights bounced as he swung around, looking for a place
to park. He found a spot near the emergency entrance and aimed for
it. It was a handicapped spot, but Park ignored that. He was in a
hurry. “That's what I said, and it's what you should have said
too.”

“
Now, Park,” said Moe,
leaning to one side as the truck banked hard into the spot and
stopped. “You can't ignore a fellow who's hurt.”

Park let the engine run and stared across
the front of the truck. He wondered what the hell had happened. The
sun was going down on what was supposed to have been Parker's dying
day. A nice, long-overdue hunting session with Moe, then home again
to blow off the back of his head with a shotgun. Maybe he'd even
feel the breeze against the back of his eyeballs before he winked
out.

He hadn't told Moe, of course. Moe would
have tried to stop him, showing the same stupid helpfulness that
had gotten him bit.

“
Well, he wasn't hurt, was
he?” said Park, turning to him. “He was some crazy fucking asshole
who bit you. Fucker was probably on meth or something.”

He jerked the engine off and the truck
shuddered in complaint. He realized he was still wearing his
hunting gloves and he pulled them off, tossing them into a
camouflage heap at Moe's feet. “Let's get inside.”

Three

The emergency room was full. It was
unusually busy for a Thursday night. But it wasn't just that. There
was something unsettled in the atmosphere, something swirling in
the air that Angie couldn't place.

“
Wow,” said Freeda next to
her, looking around. “Things are bat-crap tonight.”

And they were. Injured people were
everywhere. A man with scratches on his face and a quickly bandaged
leg. A woman in a torn and dirty dress, holding a cloth to deep red
gashes on her arm. A young boy standing as his parents showed Nurse
Paula gouges on his shoulder.

Paula looked over and nodded at Freeda.
“Hey,” she called, “come give me a hand.”

Freeda turned to Angie. “Duty screams,” she
said, then rushed to the boy.

Angie stood in the middle of the room,
taking it all in. There was definitely something wrong. The tone
was off. The patients didn't look annoyed or embarrassed, the way
most mildly injured people looked in the emergency room. They
looked confused. And afraid.

That's
it
, thought Angie.
They look afraid
.

Call
home
.

“
Hey, Anj,” came a voice
behind her.

She turned and saw Rick sitting at his
dispatch desk. An old CB radio sat on the desk, waiting for the
ambulance to call. Angie's eyes moved from the radio back to Rick.
He was middle-aged, round and pleasant. Angie liked him. “What a
night, huh?”

“
No kidding.” Angie
nodded. “I hear we got a gunshot victim coming in.”

“
Yeah, someone tried to
stick up Ed's. Can you believe it?” He looked around and rubbed his
bristly goatee in a conspiratorial way, then leaned forward. “You
know, that robber was not the only person to leave Ed's on a
stretcher tonight. Only the coroner took the other one.”

Angie's back went taut. The feeling
returned. Something sneaking up. She stayed outwardly calm and
leaned forward, raising an eyebrow.

Rick nodded. “Old Timmins.”

“
Oh god,” said Angie.
She'd seen Timmins here and there her whole life. He was a drunk,
but a pleasant enough one. “Heart attack?”

“
More like a stroke. He
started biting people. Hard. As in drawing blood. By the time the
cops and the ambulance showed up, he'd bit both Ed and some guy who
tried to help. Even tried to bite a cop. Cop ended up shooting
him.”