by R. D. Hunter
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large open area that served as the full service cafeteria. Even though it was barely eight in the morning, most residents had already eaten breakfast and the kitchen workers were straightening up and preparing to fix lunch.
Like the rest of Sunny Pines, the cafeteria was old and outdated. Wobbly tables and chairs stood in long lines so that it resembled a school cafeteria, or maybe even a prison. The tile floors were stained with various spills over the years so that it would be impossible to clean them entirely. The whole thing would have to be replaced. By this point, I wasn’t surprised by any of it.
She led me further down the hall and we passed several more rooms that were locked tight. Originally designed as activity centers, they were now relegated to storage for holiday decorations and surplus equipment, Nancy informed me. There was very little of either. It was a depressing sight.
From the one open room at the end of the hall there came a sudden yelp, followed by a male voice admonishing, “Mrs. Tipton, I told you about that.”
There was the sound of a woman giggling before she said, “I just can’t help myself, Mr. Richards. You know I have this condition.”
“You’re ‘condition’ doesn’t force you to pinch my butt.”
“No, you’re cute little cheeks do.”
In the flickering fluorescent light, I could see Nancy trying hard not to burst out laughing. Her mirth bubbled over into me and suddenly I had the giggles too. We both clammed up as a young man wearing white scrubs came out. He was rubbing his behind and wearing a scowl, but there was no real anger behind it. In fact, there was nothing behind it.
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It’s rare that I meet someone who is almost utterly silent. Usually their emotions are either blaring like a trumpet, like Michael and Jenny, or there’s just an undercurrent of urges and feelings, like with King. But only a few people kept themselves so closed off they were silent to my empathic ear. It was refreshing.
“Ava, this is Gary Richards. He’s our resident physical trainer. Ava’s going to be finishing her clinicals with us. Is Ruby giving you a hard time again?” Nancy asked, still trying to keep a straight face.
Gary made a face. “Molesting me is more like it.”
“Oh, don’t be so dramatic,” a woman said, coming out to join us. “It was just a little love tap. Something to show my appreciation for all you do.”
She had to be in her mid-seventies, with silver hair pulled into a tight bun and glittering brown eyes behind thick glasses. She was everyone’s grandmother, except the vibes I was getting off her as she looked at the physical trainer were anything but matronly. She moved like a twenty year old vixen, and eyed the younger man like he was a prime piece of meat.
“Ruby here takes an extensive collection of medications to help control her hypertension,” Nancy explained. “One of the side effects of this cocktail is…”
“A hyper active libido,” I finished for her.
Ruby chuckled and winked at me. “Got it in one. Best side effect I’ve ever had.”
She turned to Gary. “Mr. Richards, I apologize for my behavior and hope this little incident won’t affect our professional relationship.”
She didn’t mean a word of it. Gary, for his part, murmured something about accepting her apology and they shook hands formally. As Ruby walked past him, her left
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hand came around to give his butt another generous squeeze, causing him to start and turn around to glare at the laughing old woman as she made her way back to the dayroom.
Nancy and I both laughed out loud, then clammed up as he spun around to scowl at us. “You’re not helping,” he said.
“Sorry. We’re sorry,” I said. We both took deep breaths, looked at each other and started laughing all over again. It took a good couple minutes before we were back in control.
“I’ve gotta go,” Gary said in a huff. “I’ve got another appointment in a few minutes.” He wasn’t really mad. At least I didn’t think he was. Now that I’d been around him a bit, I only got vague impressions as to his emotional state. I was pretty sure there’d be no lasting grudge though, especially when he glanced back over his shoulder and gave me a half-crooked smile.
“I think someone’s got a fan,” Nancy teased once he was out of sight.
“I thought Ruby had him spoken for.” That caused us both to break out into fresh peals of laughter as we walked back towards the dayroom.
I spent the rest of the day getting acclimated and helping out where I could.
Nancy was great with the residents and they all liked and admired her. I was held at arm’s length for a bit, eyed with distrustful stares and glances. After a few hours, though, their cold reservations toward me softened a little and some of them even started talking.
I met Mr. Donnoway, who had been a career military man and served in just about every major skirmish since World War II. He said I reminded him of this cute girl he met at a USO show in Vietnam. Bless his heart.
Then there was Mrs. Evelyn, who insisted I call her Evie. Of her three sons, she
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was most proud of Patrick who, she said warmly, owned three restaurants and a hotel. Of her other two, Dave was a pencil pusher in some corporate office and Jerry was a mechanic down in Florida. When I asked Nancy about this, she laughed and said that Dave was one of the most successful lawyers in New York and Jerry was a chief engineer at NASA.
Everyone had a story and once they realized I was a willing ear, they all seemed to line up to tell it. While they talked, I did what I could to help by passing out meds, fluffing pillows and generally making those I could feel more comfortable.
I didn’t get a chance to slow down until close to supper time. After polishing off my sandwich and chips, I decided to go for a stroll down the hallway. And if I happened to bump into Gary, well, maybe he could give me some pointers about Sunny Pines…or something.
I hadn’t made it halfway down the empty hall when I was nearly dropped to my knees by a blast of pure misery. It was like a cold ooze, dripping all around me and pressed on my shoulders like a thousand pound weight. Tears stung my eyes and I leaned against the wall for support so I wouldn’t collapse in a sobbing heap.
It felt like hours but couldn’t have been more than a few minutes before someone’s voice broke through the cloud of suffering around me.
“Hey, Ava. You okay?” It was Gary. He actually had one hand on my shoulder and was looking at me with concern written on his face. He was so closed off from me I hadn’t even felt him come up.
I wanted to hug him. Just pull him into a fierce embrace. Do anything to stop the pain I was feeling. But I couldn’t do that. Not only would it be wildly inappropriate, but I
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had work to do. I had to find the source of this suffering and do whatever I could to alleviate it. And there was only one place it could be coming from.
“What’s above us?” I asked.
Confusion replaced his concern for a second before he said, “I’ve only been up there a few times but I think this is the housing wing for the bedridden patients. Why?”
“We have to go up there.”
“What? Are you crazy? Why? What’s going on?”
“I can’t explain and I won’t ask you to go with me. Just please, show me where the elevators are.”
He studied me for a few seconds and I was afraid he was going to refuse. Finally, he shook his head and motioned me to follow him.
The first floor was bigger than I’d thought. Nancy had obviously only shown me the used parts. There was a whole back half that was almost completely deserted. Gary led me down two more hallways I hadn’t known were there before we arrived at a set of oversized elevator doors.
“This is it?” I asked. “All the way back here?”
“We have another set closer to the front, but they failed inspection last year.”
“Unbelievable,” I muttered, pushing the button and stepping inside.
“Wait! You’re really going up?”
I nodded. “I have to.”
“But…why?”
“I can’t explain. I just have to go.”
Gary shifted his weight from one foot to the other while looking around
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anxiously. Then, to my surprise, he stepped inside and pushed the button for the second floor.
“You don’t have to come with me,” I protested.
“Please,” he said shooting me a look. “You couldn’t even find the elevators without me. I don’t know what you expect to find up here but I’m your best hope of locating it. Besides, if we’re caught and questioned I can always say you dragged me up here to rape and kill me.”
It was only when he flashed me another crooked smile that I knew he was kidding. I hadn’t realized how much I relied on my empathic abilities to read into subtext.
It made me wonder if I’d be the same person I was without it.
Fortunately, those musings were put to rest by the doors re-opening. We stepped out into a much more sterile and hospital like setting than the one downstairs. There was a nurse’s station (unmanned) at the far end and everything smelled of antiseptic. We were in a long hallway with nothing but doors on either side.
“Which way?” I asked.
“How should I know? This is your suicide run.”
Oh, right. “I need to get directly above where you found me. Can you get me there?”
He shook his head, obviously thinking I was crazy, but shrugged his shoulders in surrender. “This way.”
He led me through a maze of corridors and I was glad he came along. I have a terrible sense of direction and was lost almost as soon as we stepped off the elevator. We didn’t pass any staff in the hallways, but had to dart past a few open doors where we
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heard voices. Finally, we came to a stop and Gary gestured around him.
“This is it.”
“Are you sure?”
“Pretty sure, yeah. You want to tell me what we’re doing here now?”
“Just…stand back for a second.” I closed my eyes and tried to reach out with my empathic senses like I’d done with Gloria. It’d been easier then, since I was in physical contact with her.
Still, vibes like the one I was looking for were hard to miss. There were four doors in the immediate vicinity and it only took a few moments for me to center on the one to my left.
I motioned for Gary to stay back and gently cracked the door wide enough to peer in. Then I did everything I could not to scream.
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Chapter Five
The man in the bed was Sam Burleson. I only knew that because of the I.D.
bracelet he wore. And he was in bad shape.
As soon as I opened the door I knew it was going to be bad. The smell of excrement and urine almost shoved me down and even Gary took a few steps back and coughed several times. He didn’t run away though. When I stepped inside, he was right on my heels. That said a lot about him in my book.
The bracelet identified Mr. Burleson as 78 years old and an acute diabetic. The disease had robbed him of his mobility several years ago, turning his legs and feet into lumps of useless flesh that were prone to infection. He was totally dependent on others to help him up and out of the bed, and someone hadn’t been doing their job.
His withered frame lay in a puddle of his own waste. Red sores were already beginning to form on some of the exposed skin. As we approached, a soft moan escaped from behind his parched lips. Now the misery I’d felt downstairs made sense.
For a few seconds, I could only stand and stare. How could someone let this
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happen to their patient? How long had it been since someone checked on him? His eyes flickered open and found mine for a second, and the pain behind them jumpstarted me into nurse mode.
“Don’t worry, Mr. Burleson,” I said. “I’m going to take care of you. Get you straight as an arrow.” He gave no sign that he heard me, but drifted back off to a sleep filled with pain and torment.
I pulled on some gloves and started a mental checklist of what I’d need.
“What can I do to help?” Gary asked. I looked at him in surprise. “Oh, come on.
I’m not gonna leave him like this. Just tell me what to do.”
“Put on some gloves on and find me some clean linens.” He nodded and began checking the closets. While he did that, I busied myself by checking Mr. Burleson’s blood sugar. It was low. Like, really low. Jesus, he could go into diabetic shock any second. How long had it been since he’d eaten?
There was no way he could swallow anything. I was afraid he’d choke and aspirate it, giving us a whole new set of problems to deal with. There was only one thing to do.
“Gary, I’m going to start an I.V. I need you to raid the medicine cabinet at the nurse’s station and get me one ampoule of glucose. Can you do that?”
“I’m on it.” He started out, then stopped just inside the doorway and turned back to me. “Ava, how did you know?”
“I need that glucose, Gary. He could crash anytime.” He nodded and went out while I started an I.V.
I knew he’d have questions when all this was over. Questions I wouldn’t be able
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to answer. But right now Mr. Burleson was my priority and I was glad to have a little breathing room while I worked on him.
It was tough finding a suitable place for the needle. His skin was paper thin and the veins underneath were fragile as tiny crystal tubes. I had to be especially careful not to blow the I.V. once I started running the glucose or the caustic effect could do more harm than good.
Nobody likes getting I.V.’s. Even the most stoic person gets antsy when they see that needle heading for their skin. That nervousness, in turn, tended to bleed over into me, causing my hands to become unsteady and my aim questionable. This time, though, with Mr. Burleson completely unaware of what I was doing, I was able to hit the vein perfectly on the first try. Once it was in and running smoothly, I taped it up and positioned it above his head so it wouldn’t accidentally fall down onto the soiled sheets.
I was feeling pretty good about my prowess when my patient started to speak unexpectedly.
“Sophie,” he murmured. “Dear, Sophie.” The anguish in those words caused tears to well up in my eyes. It was the kind of pain reserved for the deepest sense of loss a human could possibly feel.
“It’s all right, Mr. Burleson,” I said soothingly, brushing a few gray strands of hair away from his forehead. “Everything’s gonna be just fine.”
“No. No, they took her. They took my sweet Sophie.” He was getting agitated.
Little sparks of anxiety and frustration were exploding all around him. If he started thrashing around he’d pull the I.V. out.
“It’s okay, Mr. Burleson. We’ll find her. We’ll get her back for you.” That
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seemed to ease him somewhat, but my mind was more troubled than ever. Who was Sophie? His wife? Maybe a daughter? And who took her? What the hell was going on around here?
Before I could dwell on it too much, Gary reappeared with the ampoule of glucose, looking troubled. “Um, I got what we needed, but…there was a complication.”
“Complication?”
Mrs. Thornbirch appeared behind him and the look on her face told me all I needed to know about her mood, empathic powers be damned. “What the hell’s going on here?” she demanded.
I knew no answer I gave would be sufficient, so I took the glucose from Gary and started pushing it through Mr. Burleson’s I.V.
“We found Mr. Burleson like this and thought we’d help out,” Gary said. It wasn’t much of an explanation, but it wasn’t a lie either.
“Mr. Richards,” Thornbirch said i
cily, “considering you have absolutely no training as a nurse or caregiver, you have even less business on this floor than Miss Foster. And since she has none at all, that’s saying something. I suggest you return to your therapy room and confine yourself there for the duration of your time with us.”
“Uh, right.” He turned to go, but before he left he whispered to me, “If you’re not down there in half an hour, I’m calling the National Guard.”
“Have them bring the Air Force,” I whispered back with an apologetic smile.
“What was that?” Thornbirch said, glowering with all her might.
“Nothing,” Gary said, and left the room.
We were alone at last. I could feel the older nurse revving up for a good tongue
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lashing. She fully expected to have me on my knees in tears before I left. That’d be the day.
“Now, Miss Foster, do you mind telling me why you felt the need to disobey my instructions, trespass where you had no right to be and begin treatment on a patient without the approval or consent of the head nurse?”
I nodded down at Mr. Burleson who was beginning to come around. “He needed help.”
“Sophie. They took Sophie,” the old man said, still only halfway conscious.
I hadn’t expected Thornbirch to be moved by my explanation and wasn’t disappointed. “If Mr. Burleson needed assistance, all he had to do was press the call button.” She followed my gaze to the long cord that led from the call button to the wall.
It’d come unplugged. “Well,” Thornbirch snorted, “the two of you must have obviously done that when you were blundering around in here.”
It was a lie, plain and simple. I felt the deception in her words as clearly as I felt her anger and bitterness. I finished pushing the glucose and turned to face her. Cold fury was written on my face. Fury at the injustice done before me on someone so helpless.
This wasn’t my empathic senses bleeding over into my own emotional state. This time, as my Daddy would’ve said, it was pure southern fried bitch rising to the surface.
