Brain Trust

by A W Hartoin

  What I mean to say is go in a normal ICU. Mom’s wasn’t normal, not on that day. Two docs in scrubs and lab coats were nose-to-nose in front of Mom’s window, yelling about each other’s stupidity.

  At some point, I became aware that my mouth was open and I snapped it closed.

  “Doctors, please. Miss Watts is here and she’ll settle this,” said Takira.

  “Are you off your nut?” I asked her. “Call security or psych.”

  “I did, but you’re here,” she said. “Psych has a two-hour wait and security’s responding to unauthorized people in the surgical suites. Your grandfather requested these two and now we have this.”

  “Are you serious?” I asked.

  “Just another day in paradise.”

  A couple of nurses tried to pull the doctors apart to no avail. Neither of them was large, but anger was fueling them.

  “Call security again,” said Patsy, almost tumbling to the floor after losing her grip.

  “I’m calling,” called out another nurse behind her desk. All the doors to the patients’ rooms were closed, thankfully, but I’m sure they could hear that something was going on. There was a family member at every window. Tenne was at Mom’s, watching with calm fascination.

  The male doc grabbed the female by the scrub top. “You are a hack.”

  “You’re a sadist pig.”

  “Look at the printout.”

  “You look at the CT.”

  I pulled Takira aside. “What is their deal?”

  “They hate each other.”

  “I got that. Why?”

  “Dr. Nishi slept with Dr. Millikan’s wife.”

  I grimaced. “That’s bad.”

  “Then Dr. Millikan keyed Dr. Nishi’s new S-Class.”

  “Also bad.”

  “Seven times and he put super glue in the locks.”

  “Why wasn’t he arrested?”

  “Can’t prove it was him. Plus, Dr. Nishi jimmied the trunk of Dr. Millikan’s Aston Martin and threw fish guts in there.”

  “Can’t prove it?”

  Takira nodded. “It’s been like General Hospital around here for the last two weeks.”

  “Who agreed to put them on the same case? That’s just crazy.”

  “Your grandfather was warned,” said Takira. “And they are the best.”

  “And you want me to stop them?” I asked.

  “Yes, talk to them about your mother’s case and make a decision,” said Takira.

  It didn’t take a genius to look at those nutballs and know talking wasn’t an option. If only I had my taser.

  The ICU door flew open and a plump security guard ran in, red-faced from the effort. “Who called in a disturbance?”

  Three hands went up.

  “What’s the problem?” she asked.

  Everyone pointed at the obvious problem.

  “Oh, well, is that all?” The officer sauntered over and politely asked them to be quiet and stop smacking each other.

  They didn’t. Imagine that.

  I checked my phone. One minute left before I had to decide what to do—hold out for my father to help my mother or give up a serial killer to help strangers. Maybe it shouldn’t have been a painful choice, but it was. Damn the FBI and damn doctors.

  I walked over and grabbed a small fire extinguisher off the wall. I pulled the pin.

  “What are you doing?” yelled the officer. “You can’t do that.”

  People are always telling me what to do. Flirt with mass murderers. Solve murders. Eat crab. Enough.

  I sprayed her and the doctors. Not a lot, but it sure as hell got their attention.

  “What the frack?” asked the guard. “I could arrest you for that.”

  “You can’t arrest shit,” I said, handing the extinguisher to Takira. Aunt Tenne was clapping and the nurses were doing their best to hold in their laughter. “Now I’ve been having a very bad” —I had to think about it— “eight days. Now who wants to talk to me about my mother, Carolina Watts, a woman who had a stroke and deserves some doctors that aren’t psycho?”

  Dr. Millikan wiped the foam off his forehead. “I’m not psycho.”

  “I say you are and I just spent the morning at Hunt. Don’t make me go all Harvey the Head Case on you.”

  Dr. Nishi got herself together and said, “Who is this Harvey?”

  “He attacks people and eats their feet. I ate a crab hotdog this morning so I can eat me some feet. Who wants to try me?”

  Nobody moved.

  “No takers? Good. Let’s talk diagnosis.” I walked around and plopped down in Takira’s chair, glaring at the docs.

  Patsy whispered behind me. “I think she’s lost it. Call Dr. Lindstrom.”

  “Already did,” said Takira.

  I threw up my hands. “Well?”

  The doctors made their cases and it was fairly simple. Nothing had changed since the day before. What had caused Mom’s stroke, a dissection or Afib? Dr. Nishi, the internist, believed it was a dissection. Dr. Millikan, cardio, thought it was the heart. They both had merits. Mom’s heart monitor showed unusual activity consistent with Afib and her CTs showed the right carotid with thirty percent occlusion.

  “There is no need to put your mother through a TEE,” said Dr. Nishi. “It’s a dissection.”

  Dr. Millikan gritted his teeth. “We think she threw the clot during the attack or shortly after. That’s the heart.”

  “The attack could’ve caused her to throw the clot from a previous dissection.”

  “That is patently ridiculous.”

  “No more than your theory.”

  “I have data,” said Dr. Millikan.

  “So do I.”

  I stood up and said, “Show me your data.”

  They did and I had no idea which side to fall on. Lucky for me, Pete walked in just as the doctors were starting to insult each other again.

  Pete took over in his calm, confident way. Even though he was junior to both of them, they piped down and listened.

  “I think you should do the TEE,” he said after examining the CT.

  “What?” asked Dr. Nishi.

  “If she were my mother, I’d have to rule out the heart, although I think a dissection is likely.”

  Dr. Nishi beamed. “That is exactly what radiology said.”

  I shooed them through the ICU. “You should go talk to radiology. Maybe they made a mistake.”

  “That is highly likely,” said Dr. Millikan, bursting out the door.

  “You have a screw loose,” said Dr. Nishi, chasing after him.

  I sighed and craned back my neck. “Ten bucks says they sleep together at some point.”

  “Please don’t say that,” said Patsy. “The repercussions, I can’t imagine.”

  “Somebody call Radiology and warn them,” said Pete. “Why is there foam on the floor?”

  Takira rushed up with a mop. “I’ll get that.”

  “What did you do?” Pete asked me.

  “I solved a problem,” I said.

  “With an extinguisher?”

  “Could be.”

  The guard tried to take me by the arm. “This isn’t in the handbook, but I think I have to escort you out of the building.”

  Pete took her off me and steered her to the exit. “I’ll take responsibility for Miss Watts.”

  “I have to report this to my supervisor.”

  “We understand, Joanna,” he said and politely pushed her out the door. “Alright then. Who wants coffee?”

  Pete took orders and called it in to the cart in the lobby. I asked for a mega latte. I didn’t know how big it was, but I doubted it would be big enough.

  Aunt Tenne came out of Mom’s room, smiling. “She slept through the whole thing. She’s going to be so disappointed that she missed you in action.” She hugged me and another weight was lifted off my shoulders. Aunt Tenne could handle things and she wouldn’t hit me with a cane. On the other hand, Dad hadn’t called. I couldn’t believe it. The bas
tards welched on me.

  Pete came over and shook Aunt Tenne’s hand. “They’re going to bring the cart up.”

  “They can do that?” I asked.

  “Sure. Have coffee, will travel. It’s just easier to bring the cart.” He touched my shoulder. “Are you okay?”

  “Not really. I sprayed them,” I said. “I can’t believe I sprayed them.”

  Takira came up and said, “And you threatened to eat their feet.”

  Aunt Tenne and Pete stared at me.

  “I was just out at Hunt. It does things to you,” I said.

  “Clearly,” said Aunt Tenne. “I don’t think you should go back there if you’re thinking about eating feet.”

  “I’m not. I lost it.” I went in Mom’s room and picked up her good hand. Her eyes fluttered and she murmured, “Tommy?”

  My eyes filled and I kissed her forehead. “No, Mom. It’s me.”

  “Where is he?”

  “I’m working on it.”

  “Are you?”

  “Yes. I’ll think of something,” I said.

  Aunt Tenne took me by the shoulders and pushed me out of the room.

  “What?” I asked as she closed the door.

  “You’re about to go to pieces,” said Aunt Tenne. “She doesn’t need that.”

  “I’m okay.”

  “Your hands are shaking.”

  They were. I was. My whole body. Pete put a warmed blanket over my shoulders and sat me in Takira’s seat. “Carolina’s doing very well. We’ll figure out where the clots came from.”

  “It’s not that. I mean, it is, but I can’t get Dad for her. I had something to offer in exchange. They signed a contract and everything. They still didn’t give him up.”

  “He must be worried sick,” said Aunt Tenne.

  “He probably has no idea what’s happened. He goes into the field and we fade away. It’s like he thinks we get paused when he’s not around.”

  “You’ll think of something,” said Pete. “You always do.”

  “I could go back out to Hunt. Maybe I can get Blankenship to tell me something else that they want.”

  “Don’t do that.” Aunt Tenne pushed the hair off my forehead. “You should go home and rest.”

  “I can’t rest. You heard Mom. She needs him.”

  My phone rang in my pocket and I almost jumped out of my skin. “Dad?”

  “Dammit,” said a vaguely familiar voice. “He didn’t call.”

  “Who is this?” I asked, my heart sinking so hard it felt like it hit the floor.

  “Gansa,” he said. “Shit. I thought they’d do it. You really have something big, don’t you?”

  I put my head in my hands. “It’s huge and I want to tell you. I really do.”

  “Is there anything you can give me, a hint to whet their appetites?” asked Gansa.

  Short of saying, “Drive halfway through Kansas and turn right,” I had nothing.

  “Did he give you any proof?”

  “What, about the Cranmer lead?” I asked. “That’s panning out, isn’t it?”

  It was panning out. They were running the DNA, but the blood types matched. Gansa’s boss wouldn’t tell him or Gordon what was going on though. They’d been locked out.

  “I don’t know if they don’t believe you or if they don’t care,” said Gansa.

  “I have to make them believe so much that they have to care.”

  “Sounds good or you could just whisper right now. That works for me.” Gansa had a sense of humor. Who knew?

  “Fat chance,” I said.

  “I had to try.”

  Proof. I needed proof. What proof did I have that didn’t give it away? Then it hit me. The CNN article had a headline that said, “Proof of Atrocities.”

  “I have proof,” I said.

  “Let’s hear it,” said Gansa.

  “Give me a minute.”

  “Wait—”

  I cut him off and called Uncle Morty. I asked him to use the satellite imagery of that field in Kansas to give me proof. He had to crop it so you couldn’t tell where it was. Just a field that looked like a burial site. It could be anywhere. Sure, they might be able to use some program to figure it out, but that took time. Time was something they didn’t have the luxury of. I’d call some reporters Dad knew. I’d give them the image. I’d tell them what was happening. This wasn’t the kind of publicity that the government enjoyed.

  Uncle Morty texted me the image. Actually, five images, a large one of the whole site and four individual grave sites. He’d managed to clean up the graininess somewhat and they looked like graves. It might’ve been my exhausted imagination, but I think I saw a foot.

  “Is that a foot?” asked Pete, peering over my shoulder.

  “I don’t know, but I hope the FBI asks the same question.” I texted the images to Gansa and he came back with a “What the hell is that?”

  “Guess.” I texted back.

  “Graves?”

  “A lot of graves.”

  Gansa said he’d take the images and my threat to his boss personally. He told me to hold tight. I couldn’t have gotten any tighter. Every muscle hurt. Breathing took effort to care about.

  “Good,” said Takira. “Carolina’s awake.”

  I didn’t think it was good. Awake meant she’d be missing Dad and thinking about her stroke. “Yeah, great,” I said.

  “Takira just means that we can start her anti-coagulants,” said Peter like that was a good thing.

  “Swell.”

  Pete frowned at me, his smooth face filled with concern. “You want her on anti-coagulants.”

  “I assume you’re starting her on Lovenox or something?” I asked.

  Takira looked at Mom’s orders. “Lovenox and warfarin.”

  “She’s gonna love that. Shots in the belly are always good fun.”

  “I can do it,” said Pete.

  Takira and I both laughed, causing Pete to cross his arms. “Hey. I’m training to be a neurosurgeon. I think I can give a shot.”

  “Of course, you can,” said Takira with a sly smile that made a dimple appear in her left cheek.

  “I know you’re humoring me, but I’ve given shots before.”

  “Oh, yeah?” I asked. “How many?”

  “I’ve given…it doesn’t matter,” he said.

  “It will to Mom. I’ll do it.”

  Takira shook her head. “I’ll do it. It’s too hard on a family member.”

  “I’ll be doing it when she goes home,” I said. “There’s no way on Earth that my dad can handle it. He couldn’t take out a splinter she had last year. I had to come over and do it.”

  Takira took off to get the meds and Aunt Tenne said, “I don’t know. How are your hands?”

  “You want to do it?” I asked.

  “Never mind.”

  “That’s what I thought and I’m fine. This is what I do, after all.”

  “Not to your mother,” she said.

  “I do now.”

  Takira came back with a syringe and a video on anti-coagulants for Mom to watch.

  “I can’t believe that Millikan and Nishi agreed on this,” I said.

  She laughed. “It’s the only thing they agreed on. That and that each other should drop dead and rot.”

  I chuckled and went in Mom’s room.

  “Have you heard from your dad yet?” asked Mom, moving the head of her bed into the upright position.

  “Not yet, but I’ve put a plan in motion,” I said.

  Mom didn’t look convinced of my ability to get the job done, which was oddly encouraging. That was the Mom I knew and loved.

  Aunt Tenne gave Mom a kiss on the forehead and said she was going to go since we weren’t supposed to have two visitors there, but the real reason was the shot and I didn’t blame her. Takira and Pete explained the anti-coagulant thing to Mom while I practiced the positive thinking that my therapist, Dr. Witges, gave me. It worked. I was totally positive that this was going to suck.
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br />   “I can teach you how to do it yourself,” said Takira, applying an ice pack to Mom’s belly.

  Mom just looked at her in horror.

  “Or Mercy can do it.”

  Mom glanced at me.

  “I’ll do it,” I said as a security guard poked his head in Mom’s door. “Excuse me, is this Carolina Watt’s room?”

  “Yes,” said Takira. “Can I help you?”

  “Actually, I’d like to talk to Miss Mercy Watts, if I may,” he said, straightening up and looking incredibly formal.

  Ah, crap!

  “I’m Mercy.” I raised my hand like a bad kindergartner.

  “If it’s about the incident with the fire extinguisher,” said Pete, “I can explain.”

  “Fire extinguisher?” asked Mom. “Did you hit someone with a fire extinguisher?”

  “No,” I said.

  “It sounds like something you’d do,” she said.

  I rolled my eyes. “‘Cause I’m such a violent person. Come on, Mom.”

  “You punched that boy in your freshman year of high school. We had to go to a meeting.”

  “He grabbed my breast.”

  The guard smiled and look down.

  “Well, you shot that boy in New Orleans.”

  “He was a gangbanger, trying to kill me.”

  The guard was no longer smiling but looking at me like he’d rather not talk to me after all.

  “What about Paris? You could’ve hit a tourist when you shot at that terrorist,” Mom said.

  “No, I couldn’t. I—”

  The guard cut me off. “It’s not about the fire extinguisher. Can I see you outside, please?”

  I went out with Pete and he gave me a quick hug. “I have to go. I’ll check back later.”

  Pete left and I turned to the guard. He introduced himself as Will Snyder and closed Mom’s door. “There’s been an incident, Miss Watts,” he said.

  “As long as we’re not talking about my incident, I’m totally okay with that,” I said.

  He gave me a look that was somewhere between gas pain and explosive diarrhea.