New Year's Eve Kill

by Hudson Taylor

  “Did I say something wrong?”

  “I should check on Mr. Grant first.”

  Missy disappeared behind Mr. Grant’s curtain and returned minutes later. “Ok, he’s good. I can chat for a couple of minutes.”

  Ethel was happy to have some conversation. Most of her Clover Court friends had come to visit her. The only person who didn’t was Detective Vince Carpino. She wondered if he was with his wife, or with some other babe. The hunky detective was a known womanizer. In the last year, they had been through so much together. Her heart still ached for him sometimes but she’d given up on falling for men who prided themselves in being bad boys. It still didn’t stop her from feeling a pain in her stomach when remembering when they had kissed.

  “—we were happy for a while until I found out he was married.” Missy sobbed again. “And I found out today I’m pregnant with his baby.”

  Ethel couldn’t help but judge Missy. If a nurse didn’t know that she should use protection when having sex, then the world was screwed. Maybe Missy thought the man would leave his wife for her? Her mind flashed back to Vince and his marriage. It was good not to think about it. Even if Vince left his wife, she couldn’t be with the kind of man Vince is and think every-day of her life that he was bedding some easy female.

  “I’m sorry, Missy. Did you tell the man?”

  “Yes, that’s why I’m so upset. See we work together…”

  “Nurse Cleveland! I didn’t know gossiping with sick patients was part of your duties.”

  Ethel looked over to see a stern looking woman with her red hair in a loose bun.

  Missy looked like she would cry again, but she left quickly.

  “Now Ms. Cunningham, I hope you weren’t leading a young girl astray.”

  “She’s already been lead, and probably ran all the way!” Ethel mumbled.

  “Excuse me?”

  “Oh nothing. I assume you are the head nurse?”

  “Yes. My name is Gita.”

  The nurse preceded to erase Missy’s name and rewrite it, but only smaller. She added hers above Missy’s on the white board on the wall. With a stiff lip, the nurse preceded to take Ethel’s vitals just as Missy had just done.

  “Here is your medicine.”

  Nurse Gita stood over her like a drill sergeant as Ethel swallowed the blue pills.

  “What were those pills for?”

  “For the pain and discomfort. And they will help you sleep.”

  Ethel didn’t want to tell the grim faced nurse that she was tired of sleeping, and really wanted to walk around.

  “Now Ms. Cunningham, I hope you have a pleasant stay with us.”

  “I hope a quick one. How is the gentleman in the next bed? He seems to be trying to talk or something.”

  Gita looked sharply towards the curtains and then faced Ethel with an odd smile.

  “Now dear, I’m sure you’re imaging things. Mr. Grant has been out for days. Bad stroke. I’ll be in to make my rounds later.” She turned on Ethel’s TV and left the room.

  Ethel thought about getting up and peeking on Mr. Grant but she did feel relaxed. There was something odd going on but she couldn’t put her finger on it. Instead she focused on a rerun of NCIS. She never watched this TV series but was always suckered into it when she was changing channels.

  A scratching on the curtain from where Mr. Grant was made her jump. When she heard the creepy sound again she took a moment to locate the call button for the Nurse. After waiting for ten minutes it didn’t seem like the button was working.

  Another scratch went down the ugly curtain or so she thought. It was hard to tell where the sound was coming from. That her mind was going wasn’t lost on her.

  Mr. Grant could be in pain or dying and it didn’t seem like the hospital staff cared, she thought. She had to do something but what? Ethel had to take her time when she tried to sit up. The room seemed to be spinning.

  Did they put something in her food to make her sleepy? Luckily, she only nibbled at the stuff the hospital called edible. No it was the pills! She was sick of waiting for a nurse to respond. There was something going on at the hospital and her curiosity was eating at her mind. She knew they were short staffed, due to a nurse’s strike, and it was New Year’s Eve. Still, to not seem to care about Mr. Grant. If only Anita would come and visit, Ethel thought, maybe she could help the man. But in hindsight, Anita couldn’t do much, she was the head coroner, and had no power over the doctors or nurses.

  After a minute or so, Ethel took her time getting up and out of the hospital bed. The curtain that separated the beds looked like a wall of depression with its ugly colors and stiff material. A slow hissing sound was coming from beyond the fabric and Ethel new it was now or never. With hesitation, she took four steps over to the yellow and blue curtain that separated the beds. With bated breath, she put her hands on the curtain and ripped it aside.

  Her eyes opened in terror. Was the old man dead?

  Chapter Two

  Ethel stared at the balding older man propped up in the bed. Mr. Grant almost looked like he was a prop and not a real human being. Tubes were coming and going throughout his body in various directions. She saw his chest breathing in and out gently, and felt relieved. Mr. Grant was alive, but how was he scratching against the curtain? He would have had trouble getting up, and she would have heard that.

  After feeling satisfied and embarrassed that she let her imagination bother an old, sick man, she quickly pulled the curtain closed.

  About an hour passed, and Nurse Missy came into the room. She was on Mr. Grant’s side for about fifteen minutes, keeping the curtains closed. Ethel was curious about Mr. Grant. How old was he, and did his family come see him? She forgot the idea when she thought of the nurse with the red hair, Dita. Ethel had seen hungry bears with better personalities. She’d hate for her to walk in and catch her asking about Mr. Grant. Dita seemed like the kind of nurse who took delight in sticking someone with a big needle.

  “How are you doing, Ms. Cunningham?” Missy asked, without much effort, quickly closing Mr. Grant’s curtain.

  “I’m feeling OK. Took another nap. How are you? I’m guessing it must suck working on New Year’s Eve.”

  “Yeah…It’s been an interesting evening already.”

  Ethel couldn’t help notice that Missy had looked over to Mr. Grant as she said ‘interesting evening already.’

  “I’m sorry to put you on the spot, but how is Mr. Grant doing?”

  “Oh—he’s doing good. A heart attack can take a lot out of you.”

  “But Nurse Gita said he had a stroke.”

  Missy’s eyes looked like she wanted to tell her something but she soon forced a smile, “Oh, don’t mind my silly head. That’s right Mr. Grant had a stroke. So sad, and in the prime of his life.”

  Ethel had got a quick look at her roommate, and the man looked near ninety-years- old. Still, vital, yes, but prime? Ethel didn’t think so. There was something definitely sinister going on at Christmas hospital besides the food. She knew now she wasn’t imagining things. She wanted to call Detective Vince Carpino and have him investigate. But what would she tell him? That the hospital was scary, and the old man in the bed next to her was being neglected in some way? Vince would tell her she had an overactive imagination. And what proof did she really have?

  “Here is your medication. It will help the pain.”

  Ethel took the pills, reluctantly. Five pills seemed like a lot of medication, but she didn’t want to fight with the nurse. Who really liked to take pills anyway, unless they were drug addicts?

  “Now if there’s nothing else you need, Ms. Cunningham…”

  “Nurse—Missy. You know if you need someone to talk to, I’m here. I’m really a good listener, and I am stuck here in this room. Mr. Grant is not much of a talker.” Ethel smiled with her eyes, and Missy seemed to relax for a moment, until she heard footsteps from outside the room.

  “I have to go make my rounds. I suggest you rest, and befo
re you know it, your stay in this hospital will just be a memory.” Missy left the room quickly.

  Ethel spit out the melting pills that the nurse had given her in a tissue. Some of the medicine had dissolved in her left cheek where she stored them but at least she wouldn’t be totally knocked out. She felt pain at certain times on the sides of her skull but felt too anxious to be passed out in the weird hospital if she took the drugs.

  Minutes passed as she took turns watching TV and staring out her window from her bed. Her mouth was feeling dry and a little numb. Ethel was about to close her eyes, when a slow, hissing sound seemed to be coming from beyond the curtain. Ethel sat up in her bed and leaned over and tried to listen more closely. Peaking towards the door, the half view of the outside hallway looked even darker and mysterious than before. The overhead fluorescent lights seemed to be buzzing and blinking their last breaths. She thought she should just get up and leave the room now and find an exit. And run until she got a cab or a bus. The place was starting to drive her mad and she started to feel like she didn’t know what was real or fake anymore.

  As more scratching came from beyond the curtain Ethel clutched her hands on the white hospital sheets. She was going to lose her mind if the sound didn’t stop. At last she couldn’t take it anymore and tried to get out of bed but her legs felt strange. Almost like she had weights strapped to them.

  Did Missy give me drugs to paralyze me?

  She felt lucky she didn’t swallow all the pills, but knew they must have been strong to start working already. Is this what they had given Mr. Grant and that’s why they knew he was definitely out for a while? She thought in horror. Fatigue was taking over and she wondered if she should just give up. The clock on the wall said it was getting closer to the New Year and that woke her up. This was not the way she wanted to die.

  Ethel took every ounce of strength she had to get out of bed. When she did get out, the white sheets went with her to the cold floor. It took her a moment to entangle them out of her feet. As she crawled across the floor, tears fell from her eyes. She didn’t know why she was crying but guessed the stress of everything was getting to her.

  She was about to crawl pass Mr. Grant’s bed when she heard talking outside in the hall. Were they coming to get her? She quickly lifted some of Mr. Grant’s curtain up and rolled under as it fell back down like quicksand. The footsteps came into the room and walked past Mr. Grant’s bed and over to where her bed was. Ethel had another quick look at Mr. Grant and slid herself partially under his bed and closed her eyes. The footsteps were getting closer to the outside of Mr. Grant’s side of the room. Then Ethel heard movement from the other direction by the door and someone saying something that sent the mysterious feet scurrying out of the room.

  Ethel let out her breath and opened her eyes. A scream almost left her mouth but she swallowed it and almost choked.

  There was a body lying under Mr. Grant’s hospital bed. The bed was raised in such a way you wouldn’t have noticed if you were standing or even sitting close by, but being on the cold floor you could see the horrible sight. Ethel closed her eyes and thought when she opened them the dead face would be gone, and she would tell friends later how her imagination had been running wild.

  If Ethel lived through the evening she would be telling a story to her friends, but not the one she had first envisioned. Under the bed was the very stiff body of Dr. Dutter. His dark eyes opened wide in shock and terror. The doctor had a clear plastic bag wrapped around his face. But there was a tiny hole around where his mouth was. She knew she shouldn’t touch him but she had to see if he was still alive.

  It took her a couple of minutes to move. Her legs were still heavy, as well as her lower body. Her hands felt a little numb but she could still move them, for now. Dr. Dutter was warm but he had no pulse or signs of life. He must have been the one making the odd sounds. Did Missy murder the doctor and why? Could he have been her married lover? And who was making the sounds? If it wasn’t Dr. Dutter, it had to be Mr. Grant, though he seemed passed out. Ethel decided she didn’t have time to overanalyze things. She had to two choices. She could crawl back to her bed and get her cell phone and call the police. Or she could somehow escape and alert the police.

  Both choices were not the grandest. If she called the police from her room, how long would they take to get there? New Year’s Eve was one of the busiest times in New York. Whoever killed the doctor could come and shut her up, for good. She would have to make a run for it, or if you will—a crawl.

  When it seemed like she couldn’t hear any sounds from outside the room, she rolled from under the curtain and to the doorway. The hallway was still dark with certain spots being lit up with a buzzing noise and light. Her legs seemed to be getting worse and felt even heavier. How long would it be until her whole body was numb?

  Ethel tried to close her red and yellow kimono. The outfit was so fun but really didn’t offer much warmth in the cold hospital. Ethel had a taste for odd fashion and wasn’t the type of person who wore something for practical reasons. Maybe her crazy fashion style would finally get her killed, she thought—by giving her pneumonia before some murder happy loony got to her.

  If she even survived the night.

  Looking down the hall, she tried to find the exit door but couldn’t see much. Ethel didn’t want to take the chance and run into anyone. Finally, the overhead lights flashed to the left of her and she could see an exit sign about fifteen-to-twenty feet away from her room. She was about to make a left turn when she saw a tall figure coming down the hallway. It was the hulking orderly that she had seen before. She didn’t want to know if he was a good or bad guy. She was determined to get out of Christmas hospital for good.

  Her feet felt like she had sand bags for shoes as she moved slowly into the direction of the door. Turning to her right she saw the orderly break the glass on a square box on the wall. The lights went dark on him for a moment until they hissed back on. The orderly had taken a fireman axe off the wall for emergencies and was coming for her.

  Bad guy.

  Ethel moved her feet so fast the pain engulfed her but she wouldn’t stop. The orderly waved the axe around like it was a baton. Ethel left her slippers with fuzzy pink balls on them in her wake as she reached the exit door and slammed it behind her. The orderly bent down and looked in the small glass window and gave an evil laugh. It was almost comical to see the hard features of the man through the cheerful looking Christmas wreath that was hanging over the window on her side.

  Ethel knew she was no match for the big man but couldn’t think of anything else to do but try to hold onto the door handle with her feet dragging so the brute couldn’t get at her. The monster of a man almost got the door open several times but luckily for her the door had springs and kept closing. The orderly made an obscene noise and decided he was sick of playing with her and stood back. Ethel picked up her dead feet and fell over, just in time as the axe ripped through the small window, shattering glass everywhere and knocking the wreath from the door, sending it rolling down the stairs like a tire.

  The axe was stuck in the door window and it gave Ethel a few seconds to go down the stairs. She was moving so fast that she tripped over her dead feet and fell down about ten steps. Picking herself halfway up she raised her hands up and pulled her body down each step as the sound of the orderly’s axe got freed from the door.

  “I was going to kill you quick but now since you made me run after you, you’re going to die slow, and painful.”

  The orderly’s words chilled every bone in her body as the sound of his heavy footsteps made their way down to the landing that Ethel was at.

  “Why are you doing this?”

  “It’s all because of Missy—stupid Missy.”

  The orderly raised his axe as Ethel covered her face.

  Chapter Three

  Ethel opened her eyes and saw the Christmas wreath from the door had tumbled down the stairs next to her. The orderly had put down the axe for a second because his ph
one kept ringing. With her right hand she grabbed the wreath and put it in front of her just as the axe came down and split the wreath in two. The few glass ornaments that had been left on the wreath had crashed to the ground around her. Luckily, the axe was stuck again, this time in the wreath. Ethel used the minute before the orderly tore it free to dig around in the debris on the stairs with her hands. Her fingers were getting pricked but she worked fast until she found the sharpest piece of glass to jam into the orderly’s thin hospital scrubs.

  “Ouch! You bitch! Oh!”

  The orderly pulled the glass out of his crotch area as blood poured out of him. Ethel went by him and rolled herself towards the stairs. Her legs were getting a little better but still felt heavy and were hard to move. She used her backside to go down the last steps as the sound of the orderly’s cries and curses bounced off the enclosed walls.

  Ethel reached the bottom door and hit the bar to open it and found herself in an underground parking lot. There were tons of cars, but not a single person in the place. Just my luck. A huge, plastic mechanical snowman was waving and smiling by the door entrance with a sign on its chest.

  HAPPY HOLIDAYS. HAPPY CHILLY NEW YEAR.

  The whole idea of Christmas and celebrating New Year’s seemed crazy after what she just went through. Her heart started racing when she heard moaning coming closer from the stairs. She had slowed down the crazy man but there was no doubt in her mind that he still had the axe and a thirst for her blood.

  Ethel crawled around from car-to-car in the hopes that one door was open. Her legs were still heavy but getting better every minute. Whatever drug Missy had given her was wearing off and she wished she could run, or even walk faster. She was bleeding from several cuts and scrapes. The mixture and smell of the cement ground and car oil filled her nostrils and made her want to cough. She held it in as the terrible sound of an axe was being dragged across the concrete.

  “Where are you, my sweet? I’m not going to hurt you. I just want to talk to you. This has all been one big mistake. We didn’t mean to kill Mr. Grant. But before we could remove him, you were placed in the bed beside him. And then when Dr. Dutter got nosy, I had to tie him up and put him under the bed. It’s not my fault he smothered himself to death.”