course. People and their madnesses don’t.
A pretty nurse - I only hire pretty ones - comes up to me. “We missed you last night, Doctor Pierce.”
I smile at her. “You know me and Halloween.” I think to myself, “It’s my Christmas,” but I can never actually vocalize that holiday’s name, although I can write it.
“Did you see this?” She hands me a newspaper. I don’t use computers at the asylum. “One of our day nurses trained with the woman in the article.”
I read it. It would appear that Wendy Bell, a nurse at Franklin Memorial, failed - whether accidentally or purposefully, investigators couldn’t say - to maintain the insulin pumps for her diabetic patients. Three of them had subsequently gone into ketoacidosis overnight and died. There was no sign of the nurse, who had no doubt fled in an effort to avoid charges of either murder or involuntary manslaughter. If anyone has any information of her whereabouts, please contact the authorities.
My physiology is no longer capable of showing reflexive signs of emotional distress - flushing, sweating, tears - and for that I was thankful. I sink my forehead into my hand as I read. Bollocks and merde. In my haste, I had forgotten to turn the insulin drips back on, and now three people are dead. (Yes, I know, in actuality four, but three that I hadn’t known about. Don’t be a wise guy.)
A small, warm hand pats my shoulder. “I’m sorry, Dr. Pierce. I know you’re sensitive.” She smiles gently, apologetically. “It’s what makes you such a good doctor.”
The phone rings. Another nurse answers. She speaks with the other party, then cups her hand over the end and looks at me.
“Saint Mark’s wants to send over a cutter. Female, seventeen, slit both her wrists last night. She’s stable after surgery. Vascular checks have been good for the last twenty-four hours. Can we accept?”
“Of course.” I frown in concern. It truly upsets me when one so young feels her life is so valueless. The asylum has an excellent record of care, one of the best in the state. “Let’s prepare a room in the east wing.” Two orderlies leave to do so.
One last thought strikes me. I turn to the nurse with her hand still over the phone.
“And make sure they send some blood over with her.”
Special thanks to Katharina Netolitzky for the cover design
katharina-netolitzky.blogspot.com
Other works by R. M. Huffman
Novels
ANTEDILUVIAN
BOOK 2 - Coming 2014
BOOK 3 - Coming 2015
www.antediluvianworld.com
Short stories
Sweet Tooth
Sweet Tooth: Lord of the Pies
A Very Christmas Sweet Tooth
Sweet Tooth: Heartstaker
Sweet Tooth: Raise the Dad
Sweet Tooth: Rebirthday Boy
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Sweet Tooth Page 3
