Lakewood Memorial (3 page)

“
My god,” said
Angie.

Angie heard a stern cough from behind her.
Rick made an “oops” face and quickly started looking busy. Angie
turned to see Nurse Ruby.

“
There's no time for
chit-chat,” Ruby said. “Please go straighten up the waiting room,
Angela. We've had an unusual amount of traffic tonight.”

No
kidding
, Angie thought. “Yes, ma'am.” She
gave a little parting smile to Rick and headed for the waiting
room.

* * *

“
I'm dying,” said Dalton,
clutching his stomach as he lay on the couch.

“
You're not dying,” said
Brooke. She sat in Mom's chair with the TV remote in her hand. She
hit the up button again and again, flipping through
channels.

Maylee sat on the edge of another chair,
across the room. “Can I have your stuff?”

Dalton said nothing, watching TV channels
flash by. He slid his hand inside his open over-shirt and rested
his palm on the t-shirt underneath.

“
Hey, ass turtle!” said
Maylee.

“
What?” said Dalton,
looking over.

“
Can I have your stuff,
since you're dying?”

Dalton shook his head and rubbed his
stomach. The TV flipped past a news report, something about masses
of people holding up traffic in a big city. “No, you'd better not.
My things may be contaminated.”

Maylee rolled her eyes. “I thought you were
starving to death.”

Dalton nodded. “I am
starving, yes. But it may be a coincidence. I may be both
starving
and
have
a highly contagious disease.”

Brooke chuckled as she clicked the remote.
“You use lots of big words for a little brother.”

Dalton beamed. “Mom says I'm smart.”

“
Sure,” said Maylee. “To
your face. To me, she says you're an ass turtle.”

Dalton sat up and scowled at Maylee. “No she
doesn't!”

Maylee held up her hands and sat back. “Hey,
don't blame the messenger.”

“
I blame your ugly face,”
said Dalton. He stood, ignoring Maylee's quickly-flashed middle
finger.

He frowned. “Is the pizza ever coming?”

The TV flipped past another news report,
something about slow-moving mobs and random killings.

“
Maybe food will save me.”
Dalton grabbed his stomach and made a big show of stumbling to the
front window.

The usual view of their street greeted him
outside. No car with a pizza sign.

He sighed and put his forehead on the glass.
It felt cold. He gazed at a lit window in a house across the
street. The light snapped out, sending an odd chill through Dalton.
It was like the window had died.

A figure shuffled into view. It stumbled in
from Dalton's right, headed to the left.

Dalton gasped and pulled away. The curtain
fell back into place.

“
What?” said Maylee from
across the room. “The pizza?”

“
No,” said Dalton. He
pushed the curtain over and squinted outside.

It was a man, stumbling slowly across the
lawn. He looked like a man staggering just before falling down,
only he never fell. He just kept taking one slow, herky-jerky step
after another.

There was something wrong
in the man's walk.
No
, Dalton thought. There was something wrong in the fact that
the man was walking at all. Something said he shouldn't be walking.
Shouldn't be doing anything.

The man jerked out from under a tree and
into the moonlight, giving Dalton a clearer view. The man's head
leaned all the way back, bouncing limply as he moved. His eyes were
wide open, staring solidly at the moon.

Or at nothing.

“
Dalton?” said Maylee,
suddenly right behind him and breathing on his neck.

He jerked. “Crap, Maylee! Don't do that!” He
turned to glare at her.

“
What's your problem?”
Maylee said, leaning to one side to look past him and out the
window. “What's got you screeching like a little girl?”

“
Nothing,” said Dalton,
embarrassed now. He turned back to gesture out the window. “There's
just some weird guy on the lawn.”

“
Where?
Oh, there he is.” Maylee fell quiet as they both watched the man
continue his
deeply wrong
walk across the lawn. A few seconds later, Dalton
realized they were both holding their breath.

Then Brooke was behind them both. “For
heaven's sake,” she said. Both Dalton and Maylee jerked. Dalton
heard Maylee gasp.

“
It's just a drunk or
something,” said Brooke. “Go sit back down. The pizza should be
here soon.”

“
Yeah,” said Maylee, not
sounding very convinced.

Dalton nodded and moved
away from the window. He was blushing. He'd acted like a scared
little kid.
Don't be such a
baby
, he thought as he sat back down on
the couch.
Look at Brooke, she's not
afraid
.

But he noticed she stared out the window for
a few extra seconds before turning away.

Four

Shambles
, thought Angie as she
stepped into the waiting room and looked around. Chairs were moved.
Paper coffee cups were stacked everywhere. Magazines appeared to
have been tossed around at random.

To Angie's left stood the reception desk,
and Velma stood behind that. Velma had worked reception since Angie
was a girl. Two men stood in front of the desk, talking to Velma.
One clutched a wounded arm. Angie overheard that his name was
Moe.

She moved past them and started cleaning.
One of the men, the unhurt one, was complaining about having to
wait to see the doctor. He sounded like a jackass.

She collected up several half-empty coffee
cups and took them to a nearby trash can. Lukewarm coffee splashed
on her hands as she dumped the cups inside. She cursed and wiped
her hands on her smock. She looked around and saw at least three
magazines nearby. She picked up two off of a nearby chair and went
toward one lying on the floor just by a large window.

She knelt, picked up the magazine, then
jerked back when something brushed the glass.

She stood, her heart skipping, and saw a
woman pressed against the window. The woman moved feebly, writhing
against the glass. Like she was trying to walk through it.

The poor thing's
drunk
, thought Angie as she tried to
direct the woman to the doors. But the woman wasn't looking at her.
The woman wasn't looking at anything, really. Her eyes were a milky
yellow and her slowly opening and closing mouth revealed a swollen,
gray tongue.

“
Oh my god,” Angie said,
stepping back.

She heard movement behind her. Her back
tightened and she spun around.

Dr. Gordon stood there. He was a short man
with a lean face and a comb-over.

“
Dr. Gordon,” she said,
breathing out. “Um, Nurse Ruby told me to clean up...”

He gave a little shake of his head to
indicate he wasn't interested. “Ms. Land, I was just talking with
Mr. Paulson's family.”

“
Oh, right,” Angie said.
“Mr. Paulson's saying he doesn't want...”

“
Mr. Shuab told me you're
trying to give medical advice.”

Angie's cheeks tightened with heat. “No,
sir, I was just...”

He shook his head again, dislodging his thin
bangs. “You don't seem to realize what your duties are. And I must
say I'm tired of complaints about your attitude.”

Angie's first thought was to punch him.
She'd never hit anyone before, but this little fucker had asked for
it night after night. She needed this job, but damn it would be fun
to...

Something bumped the glass behind her. She'd
forgotten about the woman at the window.

“
Sir, I think there's a
woman who needs help,” she said, turning to the window. The woman
was gone. Only smears on the glass remained.

“
Ms. Land!” Dr. Gordon
shouted.

Angie spun back to see him fuming and
readjusting his hair. “I'm afraid that's all I can take. If you
can't even do the courtesy of looking at me while I'm talking to
you, then...”

“
Sir,
please...”

“
No, I'm sorry. I'm going
to recommend the hospital board fire you.”

“
What?” Angie said. “You
can't...”

“
Now I hate to be a man
who uses his connections, but I'm afraid I have no choice. If I
were you, I'd start looking for other work.”

He turned and walked toward the emergency
room. Angie watched him go.

He couldn't.

Dr. Gordon pushed the emergency room doors
open and walked through. The doors swung shut.

Angie blinked. She opened her mouth, then
shut it.

He couldn't. He didn't have the
authority.

But he did have the friends. A whole
board-of-directors full.

So maybe he could after all.

Shambles
, thought Angie as she sat
down in the closest chair she could find, next to a soda machine.
It hummed in her ear, but she barely noticed. She stared at the
floor.

Call
home
.

Why not?

She took out her phone and started
dialing.

* * *

Ten Minutes Earlier

“
I don't believe this,”
said Park, drumming his fingers on the reception counter. “Can't
you see how bad he's bleeding?”

“
Be nice, Park,” murmured
Moe, clutching his arm. “It's not that bad.”

“
I understand, sir,” said
the fat old bitty behind the counter. “But we are unusually busy
tonight. Just have a seat and the doctor will be with you as soon
as possible.”

“
Great,”
said Park. “Just great.” He paused to watch a woman in a hospital
smock walk by.
Angie
, her name tag said. He turned
back to the fat old bitty. “Thanks for the heaping help of jack
fuck.”

“
Come on,” said Moe,
wincing slightly. “Let's sit.”

Park grudgingly followed Moe to a chair and
plopped down next to him. He ran a hand through his long hair,
scratched at his stubble and absently watched “Angie” pick up
magazines and cups around the room.

“
Damn it,” he muttered to
no one in particular.

“
Just try to relax,” said
Moe. Park turned back to see Moe looking at his red-stained palm.
Moe put his hand back on his wound. “I'm the one who got
bit.”

Park sighed. “Yeah, I know. I'm just in a
shitty mood.”

Moe chuckled. “You're always in a shitty
mood. You were born in a shitty mood. You wake up every morning in
a shitty mood. And when you die, the doctors will tell your wife
'At least he died peacefully, in a shitty mood.'”

Park grunted. “Ex-wife. And I doubt she'd
work up enough of a shit to show up.” He hiked up one hip and
fished around in his pocket for change. He cursed, switched hips
and tried the other. This time he found some coins. “I saw a soda
machine on the way in. You want one?”

“
Don't know what I'd do
with a soda machine,” said Moe. “Doubt I could even carry it in my
condition.”

“
Hey, it's the funniest
fuck in fuck town,” said Park. “You know what I mean, dipshit. Do
you want a soda?”

“
What I want is a beer,”
said Moe.

“
You're in a hospital,
Moe.” Park looked around for the machine. Angie was talking to a
balding man. She looked pissed.

Park looked back to Moe and smirked. “So you
obviously can't have a fucking beer. What you can fucking have is a
fucking soda.” He rattled the coins in his hand. “Do you want one
or not?”

Moe smirked back and shrugged. “Sure.”

“
Fine,” said Park. He
started to stand. The balding man walked past him on the way to the
emergency room. Park sat back down and watched him go.

Park grunted. “Sure,” he said loudly enough
for the fat old bitty to hear. “He gets to go in.”

“
That was the doctor,”
said the fat old bitty.

“
You shitting me?” said
Park. “That was the doctor? Thanks for fucking telling him we got a
hurt man here.”

The fat old bitty sighed. “Please, sir, just
be patient. I will let you know when he can see you.”

Park snorted and stood. “Yeah, well, don't
fucking hurt yourself rushing to help.” He turned and walked to the
soda machine.

Angie was sitting next to the machine. She
stared at her cell phone as she slowly punched numbers in.

“
Hey,” said Park. “Not to
interrupt whatever chat you're about to have, but my friend is hurt
pretty bad. Are you people gonna get off your asses and do
something?”

Angie looked up at him. She was mad, and
Park was used to people being mad at him. But there was something
else in her eyes. It took Park a second to recognize it.

Despair.

Then it was gone. “Sure,” she said, snapping
the phone shut. “But I'm just an aide. At least for tonight. I'll
get you a nurse.”

Five

Angie stepped back into
the emergency room and looked around. Chaos. Every bed and chair
was full. Aides scurried around, trying to attend to all the
injured.
Tend, hell
, she thought.
It looks like it's
all they can do to keep up
.