Sanford Hospital (Berkley Street Series Book 4)

by Ron Ripley

  “Try to stop her then,” the stranger sneered. “We will protect her right to grant death to whom she sees fit.”

  Shane slipped the backpack off one shoulder and slid it around to the front of his chest. From an exterior pocket, he removed his knuckledusters. He put them on, flexed his fingers several times, and then said, “Why don’t you go back to the Nurse and tell her someone will be along shortly to speak with her.”

  The young man stepped forward and the temperature dropped several degrees. He clenched his hands into fists, and the lights around them flickered. “You’re going to leave her alone.”

  “Take a hint,” Shane said coldly. “Go away. Find someone else to bother. I’ve got things to do.”

  The stranger sprang at Shane, hands outstretched.

  Shane treated him as he would any other headstrong opponent. With a quick step forward he slammed the knuckledusters into the dead man’s face.

  The lights leaped back to their former brightness, the air instantly grew warmer, and the young man disappeared.

  Shane’s hand trembled as he raised the cigarette back to his lips, took a long, desperate drag off it and thought, Well, now I know she’s not the only ghost around.

  Chapter 28: Matias, Sanford Hospital, October 21st, 1980

  Matias hung up the phone and rubbed the back of his neck.

  “Everything alright?”

  He looked up at his roommate, a man named Albert Chevalier.

  “Yes,” Matias said. “Thank you. I’ve an old injury in my hip and my wife’s afraid one day they’ll have to take the leg. So she worries.”

  “So does my ex-wife,” Albert grinned, flashing a smile full of yellow teeth and partial dentures.

  “Does she?” Matias asked, swinging his legs up onto his bed.

  “Yes, she does,” Albert said. “If I die, then the money stops. It’s kind of nice to know at least one person’s praying for me on Sunday.”

  Matias chuckled. “What are you here for, Albert?”

  “Shrapnel,” Albert replied. “I was in supply in Danang. One day the Viet Cong mortared us. That was, oh hell, eleven years ago now? Each year I come back, and they do an x-ray, see if any more of it can be taken out.”

  “And what about this year?” Matias asked.

  “Oh yes, yes they can,” Albert said, sighing with satisfaction. “Looking forward to it. I work for the State of New Hampshire as a truck driver hauling materials for all the new constructions they’re doing on the highways. They hate it when I have to go in for surgery. Messes everything up.”

  “Does it?”

  Albert nodded. “Especially when I schedule it during everyone’s vacations.”

  Matias smiled and shook his head. “I am getting the impression you are not a popular man.”

  “My good sir,” Albert said with mock indignation, “I have no idea what you mean.”

  The two men chuckled and after a minute, Albert asked in a serious tone, “What about you, what are you here for?”

  “Something’s gone wrong with my hip,” Matias said. “They think there may be bone fragments mixed in with the old shrapnel. They won’t know until they do a secondary x-ray. Even then they may not be able to get it all out.”

  “Do you mind me asking what happened?” Albert said.

  “No,” Matias replied. “We were patrolling, and doing some basic counter-sniper work. Evidently, the sniper disagreed with it.”

  “Korea?” Albert asked.

  “No,” Matias said, smiling. “Vietnam.”

  “Damn,” Albert said appreciatively. “I had you pegged for the Second World War, maybe Korea. Sure as hell didn’t think you’d have done time in Vietnam.”

  “I did,” Matias said. “Ended my career as well.”

  Someone’s scream cut off Albert as he started to speak. Both men looked at one another, and they quickly got out of their beds. Matias felt certain they looked foolish hobbling quickly to the door, but it didn’t matter.

  Something was wrong.

  In spite of his limp, Matias reached the door first. He pulled it open and both he and Albert looked out into the hall.

  A man who looked younger than both of them scrambled backward, terror etched on his face while his brow glistened with sweat. Up and down the hallway men looked out of their rooms, but none of the staff could be found.

  “No!” the man on the floor shrieked. “It’s not my time!”

  “What the hell,” Albert whispered.

  Matias had no answer.

  The nurse he had seen years earlier, the dead woman in the old uniform, stood a short distance from the screaming man. She gave the patient an understanding smile, and it was then Matias realized how cold the temperature in the hallway was. Some of those who watched turned away and closed their doors. Soon only a handful of men, including Matias and Albert, remained.

  “It is your time, Jonathan,” the Nurse said patiently. “We’ve discussed this. It was no mere dream, our little conversation. I wanted you to prepare. To make your peace with God and your family. I will wait no longer. It is time.”

  “Help me!” Jonathan screamed, looking around desperately. “Please!”

  Matias tried to leave the room, but with a hand gesture from the Nurse, he and Albert were thrust backward. The door slammed shut. A heartbeat later, a terrible, keening wail rose up.

  In silent agreement, Matias and Albert grabbed hold of the door and tried to pull. Regardless of how hard they pulled, the two men were trapped in the room. Panting, they finally gave up the effort. They stood, heads hanging down, and listened. They could do nothing more.

  In the hallway beyond, the Nurse had murdered Jonathan.

  Albert and Matias turned away from the door. They exchanged no words as they returned to their beds.

  Matias reached out for the phone, but Albert stopped him.

  “It’s a ghost.” The man’s voice was hoarse. “Do you think anyone will do anything?”

  Matias put his hand down. “No.”

  Albert laid down and stared at the ceiling.

  Matias remained upright on his own bed. He looked at the door.

  Where’s the staff? he wondered. Why weren’t they here? Why was it Jonathan’s time?

  When will it be my time?

  The thought was cold and unpleasant.

  Yes, he thought. When will it be my time?

  There was, of course, no answer.

  He winced, brought his legs carefully up onto the mattress and stretched out. Matias left the light by his bed on, and so did Albert.

  In the stillness of the room, Matias couldn’t help but wonder how Jonathan had been killed.

  Chapter 29: Doc and Brett in Isolation

  “Have they said how long we'll be in here?” Doc asked, yawning as he sat up.

  Brett shook his head. “They’ll get through the blood tests pretty quickly I assume. They had to isolate the entire ward, clear people out. Last I heard there was a scrub team going in there.”

  “Good,” Doc said, getting off the bed. “I like you, Brett. But I don’t know if I want to end up spending a couple of days stuck in here with you.”

  “Thanks,” Brett said, chuckling. “You’re a real pal.”

  “I know,” Doc said, grinning. “So no real word as to what’s going on?”

  “No,” Brett said. “Nothing.”

  The room was small and hermetically sealed. The lights were exceptionally bright, and the room was a comfortable 72 degrees Fahrenheit. Whatever Brett or Doc wanted, someone would bring to them. The only trick was they couldn’t leave until someone cleared them.

  The door to the room opened, and someone walked in. They passed through the secondary seal and came to a stop outside the third seal.

  “Hello,” the stranger said. Brett thought it was a man, but he couldn’t be sure. The voice was muffled since the stranger wore a full-body bio suit. And the facemask was tinted.

  Brett glanced at Doc and saw the man’s attention was fix
ed on the visitor.

  “Hello,” Brett said, standing up. “What’s the word?”

  “The word is you’re still going to have to be in here for a while,” the stranger said apologetically.

  “Damn,” Doc muttered.

  “We wanted to tell you,” the visitor continued, “that you need to stop.”

  “What?” Brett asked.

  “You need to stop,” the visitor repeated.

  “Stop what?” Brett said.

  “Interfering with the Nurse,” the stranger said. Brett heard anger, low and hard, within the person’s voice. “She’s doing what she must. Doing what is right. You do not interfere with her, do you understand?”

  “Hey–” Doc started, but Brett cut him off.

  “Hold on,” Brett said, stepping closer to the thin plastic separating them from the visitor. “Who are you? What ward do you work on?”

  “None of those answers are necessary, Brett,” the stranger said. “You will do well to remember, however, that there are those of us who support the Nurse and her work. And we will ensure she continues to do so without interruption from the likes of you.”

  “She’s murdering people,” Brett hissed. “Killing them!”

  “She stops those who would stop her,” the stranger said calmly. “And she ushers others to the next world. She is as a nurse should be, do you not agree, Brett?”

  “No,” Brett snapped. “I don’t. She shouldn’t be killing anyone.”

  “Regardless of how you feel about the Nurse,” the visitor said, “you will no longer attempt to interfere with her. This is the last warning you shall receive.”

  Without another word, the stranger turned around and passed out of the room.

  Brett shook his head, hardly able to understand what had happened. He went back to his bed and looked at Doc. The young man sat and stared at the door. Finally, Doc looked at Brett. “What the hell was that about?”

  “I don’t know,” Brett said in disgust. “But I know it won’t stop me. She can’t kill anyone else.”

  Doc nodded, picked up the remote and turned the television on. Quickly, he flipped through the channels, stopping on New England Cable News. Then, without looking at Brett, Doc sighed and said, “Don’t worry, Brett. We’ll be out of here soon.”

  “I hope so,” Brett said and glanced back at the door.

  Chapter 30: Getting Reacquainted

  Dom Francis locked the door to his blue Camry. He heard a noise and turned around.

  A bloody young man, with his arms outstretched, charged a bald man. The bald man stepped forward and punched the attacker in the face and he vanished.

  Francis stood completely still and stared at the man who remained. He watched as the man exhaled a cloud of smoke into the evening sky.

  “Shane!” Francis called, recognizing the bald man.

  Shane twisted around and smiled wearily. He raised a hand, waved hello and began to walk to Francis. Francis met him halfway and paused as he was about to speak. Shane wore what looked like brassknuckles on his right hand.

  “I’m surprised to see you up here, Dom Francis,” Shane said, offering his iron-clad hand.

  Francis shook it. “I came up to expand my ministry. Why are you here?”

  “Treatment,” Shane replied. “Except the doctor who was supposed to work on me is dead.”

  Francis looked at Shane and hesitated briefly before he said, “Do you know why?”

  Shane nodded.

  “Does it have something to do with a nurse?” Francis asked softly.

  Shane’s eyes widened. “Yeah. As a matter of fact it does. How do you know?”

  Francis quickly told the other man about his meeting with Matias, and of how the Nurse had come in.

  “Yeah,” Shane said, nodding. “Doesn’t seem like she’s particularly fond of people interfering. And the guy you just saw, well, he wasn’t too keen on the idea either. There are a few others in here who want to get the Nurse to move on, though. Have you done this before?”

  Francis shook his head.

  “What did you bring?” Shane said.

  “Only my faith. I could think of nothing else,” Francis said. He nodded to the pack Shane carried. “What have you brought?”

  “Hopefully enough to do the job,” Shane said. He put his backpack on the hood of the nearest car and opened it.

  Francis peered in and whistled appreciatively at the double-barrel, sawed off shotgun. Shane had also removed the butt of the weapon, so it fit neatly in the pack.

  “It’s loaded with salt,” Shane explained. “I figured it was such close quarters I wouldn’t need accuracy as much as radius.”

  “I agree,” Francis said. “These are all for dealing with a ghost?”

  “Yeah,” Shane said. He zipped up the pack and slung it over one shoulder again. “I had been hoping it would be only one ghost, but the way it’s looking right now, I don’t think that’s going to be the case.”

  “You’re probably right,” Francis said. He looked at Shane and asked, “Are you planning on doing anything tonight?”

  Shane shook his head. “When I was here last time, the Nurse came to me in my dreams, and she was going to finish me off that way. I’m worried she’ll try to do the same with Brett and Doc if she figures out what we’re planning on doing to her.”

  “How are you going to stop her?” Francis asked.

  “I had been hoping, originally, to get a hold of her and beat her to death,” Shane said without any hint of sarcasm in his voice. “But if there’s one ghost who likes her, then there has to be more. If that’s the case, I don’t think I’d be able to do it. I wouldn’t be strong enough.”

  “So, what are you going to do?”

  “The next best thing,” Shane said, finishing his cigarette. “I’m going to find where she’s buried. I’ll dig her up, salt her down, douse her with lighter fluid, and then light her up.”

  “And that will get rid of her?” Francis asked, incredulity thick in his voice.

  “Yup,” Shane said. “It always does the trick.”

  “You’ve dealt with ghosts before?”

  “More times than I would like,” Shane said, his voice taking on a hard edge. “It would probably be best for us to go inside now. I don’t want to be out here any longer than I have to.”

  “Why?” Francis asked. “You think they’ll be back?”

  “Yeah,” Shane said. “Depends on how far away their bodies are. Or parts of them. Or if they’re attached to some item. Lots of variables.”

  Francis frowned. “You know what, come in with me, you can meet my friend Matias. If anyone knows about the Nurse, I’m sure he will.”

  “Fair enough,” Shane said.

  The two men left the parking lot, heading for the front of the building.

  “How are you feeling?” Francis asked after a minute of silence.

  “Me? I’m fine.”

  “And your arm?” Francis said.

  “Hurts,” Shane said. “But I was told by my previous doctor that a little bit of pain was a good thing. It means that the tissues are healing. All I really need is that damn skin graft.”

  “Think you’ll get it soon?” Francis asked.

  Shane shook his head.

  “Why not?”

  “Because,” Shane said, “I get the distinct impression that I’m not winning any popularity contests here.”

  “Not a shock, Shane,” Francis said, shaking his head.

  “No,” Shane agreed. “Usually isn’t.”

  The two men walked into the building.

  Chapter 31: Running into Nurse Platte

  Meg Ward was one of the few female patients in Sanford Hospital, which meant she had a room all to herself.

  And she hated it.

  At sixty-eight, Meg liked company, and she didn’t get nearly enough of it as far as she was concerned.

  And, she thought, frowning, they keep closing my door.

  I should probably open it, she tho
ught, contemplating the task. Then she shook her head. Nope. Too much effort.

  Meg picked up the remote control, turned the television off and flipped through the channels. There was nothing but news on. She had napped through all of her game shows.

  Well, she sighed. This is turning into a wasted night.

  Meg turned off the television and then picked up her crossword puzzle book and pen.

  Halfway through number thirteen down, she realized she was cold. Meg paused, pulled her blanket up around her swollen legs.

  Stupid diabetes, she thought angrily. My legs used to be stunning.

  With the blanket tucked in, Meg went back to her crossword.

  Soon she was shivering.

  The room’s cold, she realized. Her breath puffed out. What the hell is going on here?

  A shape stepped out of the shadow by the door and Meg stiffened.

  Oh Mary, Mother of God, she prayed, Pray for me.

  The Nurse moved closer into the room. Her face was hard, unforgiving. Whatever beauty and compassion had been there in life had been stripped away by death.

  The crossword puzzle book fell from Meg’s hands as she watched the Nurse approached the bed. Meg closed her eyes and screamed as cold fingers wrapped around her neck.

  Don’t fight it, she told herself. Don’t. It’ll be done soon.

  Yet as the dead woman began to squeeze the life from her, Meg fought. She writhed and twisted on the bed. The Nurse kept her pinned down, in spite of Meg’s efforts. Her breath was stolen from her and pain exploded in her head.

  “No,” the Nurse said in a low voice. “Not yet.”

  Then the hands were gone and Meg fell out of bed. She crashed to the floor and screamed hoarsely. Meg rolled onto her back, gasping for air. The door to the room was thrown open and Zoe, the second shift nurse, rushed in.

  The younger woman knelt down beside her, asking, “Meg? Are you okay?”

  Meg nodded. Zoe helped her sit up.

  “What happened?” Zoe asked. “Did you fall out of bed?”

  “The Nurse,” Meg croaked.

  Zoe smiled, a strange glimmer flickered in her eyes. “Really?”