LAB LABORS

LAB LABORS

Erwin Jones

LAB LABORS

TURNER’S NEW TENURE Autumn suits this part of the country. The rolling hills with their picturesque colors serve as a fitting preface for the magnificent statement of mountain ranges that loom majestically in the background. In this lovely hillside backdrop, resides a very small sleepy little town. Some neighboring counties, though not much bigger in stature, would characterize the town as a place frozen in time. Most of the buildings and other strictures were of the same old world decent. Much of the town hadn’t changed much since the 1800′s. That is, except for the fine new hospital complex that was completed just four years ago. The prestigious Union Hill hospital. What an odd contrast to an otherwise unfettered rural landscape. This modern structure of a hospital surrounded by other similar looking structures in its complex gave the appearance of a university or maybe even another type of institution..........a prison perhaps. Yet this complex serves as a medical research center. The most advanced and renowned of its kind in the eastern region. It provides a beacon of hope for the discovery of cures for such dreaded diseases as diabetes, hypertension and various forms of cancer. It is said research is also being conducted to help find the cause for genetic birth defects, however this is more rumor than a substantiated claim. The truth of it is that there are several genetic engineers on the staff of this facility, but the work that they are restricted to is genetic study as it relates to the aforementioned maladies. Birth defects, though a major health problem in our society, does not have a major funding source at this center. Still, there is a dedicated doctor and scientist that spends his down time working on the genetic implications of certain types of birth related abnormalities. Though working in secret, outside of the auspices of the administrative body, this dedicated individual presses on knowing that his reward lies in helping all children to have an opportunity to experience a normal life. The only unfortunate byproduct of such a philanthropic goal is the direction that research can take when it becomes an unsupervised, unattended labor........or possibly obsession. Moral values are adversely affected especially when testing and experimentation are involved. What’s safe? What’s unsafe? Who decides the difference between the two? Right and wrong become dangerously grey dependent upon which ideology is being observed that day. Since the administration has no knowledge of this work, the researcher is responsible for his own study.....his own experimentations........his own particular perceptions of morality. With this in mind, we introduce you to one of the most famous genetic researchers in the country. Dr. Bradford Turner is a thirty two year old scientific genius. He has degrees and certifications from Harvard, the University of Pennsylvania and the Mayo Clinic, where he served his internship. He was on the verge of some great breakthroughs in his field there until he met with a difference of opinion with the department head and a select few of doctors who, to this day, he believes were jealous of his rapid success in developmental research. The problem arose when he expressed his opinion in a very unscientific manner........he punched out the head of the department. Yes, the administration was sympathetic. After all, this rising young star was like an artist......temperamental as well as passionate. Understanding how passion can sometimes turn to aggression the chief administrator convinced the department head not to press charges and the hospital asked Dr. Tuner to resign. They promised that if he would, then no record of this unfortunate occurrence would show up in his files. His reason for resigning would simply be because of philosophical differences of opinion between himself and the hospital. This alternative suited Turner better than the other option he was given........to be arrested and to be charged with assault and battery. His professional reputation besmirched for all time. He grudgingly took the former. Dr. Turner kept his reputation in tact, however, it isn’t easy trying to get work without a favorable reference from your last place of employment. A philosophical difference of opinion doesn’t depict the type of character that most medical facilities look for in a doctor. He moved from town to town for a while before stumbling across this opportunity. A new hospital and a new start for him. His credentials far outweighed the issue about his philosophical opinions in a rural hospital with a desperate need for professionals. He was even able to convince the interviewer that the issue was more of a difference in ideology and he made himself out to appear to be a saint in the matter. So here our Dr. Turner, Brad to his friends, works on solving the genetic puzzle as it relates to leukemia in his new facility, tucked away in the beautiful mountain backdrop of western Virginia. His favorite pet project, however, is advancing the course embryonic development. He believes that with the proper treatment, he can eradicate the conditions that cause babies to be born with genetically transmitted illnesses and can provide the answers that will keep mongolism, or any other DNA driven defect from occurring. His goal, as always, is to make sure each child that is conceived has the opportunity to be born and to live a normal productive life. His goals are admirable. His methods, to say the least, are unorthodox. The hospital is his safe haven. He is free to pursue his professional and personal desires as he sees fit. Even now, he plans his evening activities in the lab. His intentions are to resume his research using an enzyme combination that he believes will stimulate cells. This way, the chromosomal abnormalities that cause mongolism and other genetic abnormalities, could possibly be averted by the cellular reaction to this enzyme “cocktail”. His thoughts delve deeper into genetic theory and mathematical probabilities, but they all come to a screeching halt in the lab when the irritating sound of the chief administrator’s voice abruptly intercedes. “ Dr. Turner. I need you to fill in for the physician on call tonight”, Mr. Davis said. “ We have to send him to a small hospital in [Spotswood] county. The head doctor there, who was very old, passed away last week and I promised we would help them as much as we could. You do understand don’t you?” Mr. Davis was a tall slender man that put Brad in mind of what Ichabod Crane might have looked like. He often wondered how this man was able to grab that administrative position, but that good-ol’ - boy mentality is the norm in this region. If you were “in” , you had it made. He would normally be upset about a last minute request that could have been as bothersome as this one may have been but Brad was unfazed by the news. “Sure Mr. Davis. It’s kind of short notice for me but I’ll help you out this evening.” This might even get him a brownie point or two with the boss, but that wasn’t his primary interest. The late shift gives him the perfect opportunity to work on his own project. No one to answer to because the administrators are all gone for the night. No other physicians to look over his shoulder so he can work without any questions being asked. Besides, he’ll officially be in charge in the hospital when the sun goes down. “ This will be a perfect time for the next battery of test for my new enzymes”, he thought. “I’ll be able to get a great deal of work accomplished tonight”. After bidding Mr. Davis good day, he walked back to the biopsy room to finish the autopsy that he had just started working on. Adult autopsies were usually done in the morgue, but this one was different. The doctors had to do autopsies for an infant in the biopsy room of the lab and this poor child was premature still born delivery. It always depressed him to do these particular procedures because of his personal concern for unborn children and because of the focus of his own research is to save them. He always felt that he had failed each child he must face on the table this way. He sighed sadly at this tragic sight and then attempted to gather his thoughts for the recorded entries that accompany the operation. The medical secretary will document his findings after he has done the autopsy . He stepped on the automatic record button on the floor, positioned his microphone to begin his work. He began by cutting a little Y incision into the fetus. “Making the incision into the chest cavity...pause.....spreading the rib cage.....pause..... The lungs seem under developed and a bit deformed...stop. The bronchial tube and the esophagus are fused at two crucial points of travel.....stop. There is a noticeable blockage in the placental canal at the navel....end.” He would save his prognosis until the report has been transcribed. Looking at these birthing difficulties began to physically sicken him. His perceived failure to save this child began to seethe in him and he became upset. He picked up a box of sutures. “ No staples for this poor child”, he thought. “I will make him pretty for his parents if they intend to see him before they bury him”, if they choose. He retrieved a small surgical needle and began to close the incision. His anger swelled with each stitch. He started to think about his work and got even more frustrated. “What the shit is wrong with this damned serum I’ve spent half my professional life working on? I’ve theorized and postulated my ass off and I still haven’t found the key to make this shit work! And every day I have to live with this........more children on this goddamned chopping block……. and for what? Because I’m too stupid to see the answer? Because I’m too arrogant to share this work with someone else who could help me? Shit, if anyone knew I was still working on this thing without administrative consent, they would be throwing my sorry ass out the door.......or worse.......pressing charges against me!” “Maybe they would understand and, possibly, even help me if only I had been straight with them from the beginning. I’ve been stealing supplies, tissue and anything else I needed to complete this work. I’ve even been stealing time from the genetic research that they expect me to be doing. And for what..... FOR WHAT! I haven’t accomplished a goddamned thing!” He looked over at the vial of serum that he stashed behind some boxes of embryonic fluid. He knocked the boxes aside and picked up the vial and began to shake it violently. “How many children have to die because of my stupidity.......because of my ineptitude?!” He started to throw the vial across the lab, but he happened to glance down a moment and see that his foot was still on the recording button. He had effectively recorded his entire confession for the secretary to neatly type out for the authorities. “Damn...what a fool!” He tossed the vial back into the corner where he had originally hidden it. Some of the boxes were damaged and fluid was seeping out onto the table, but no matter. He had to erase the incriminating evidence on that tape. His initial thought was to leave it.......to let whatever happens, as a result of someone else hearing it, just happen. What good would that do? Others would know, but that won’t save a single little life in the process. The bastards will just prosecute me and my work would end. I may be an asshole, but I’ve got to keep working until I find the key! He never noticed that the cork in the vial was loosened with all of the activity and the serum began to seep onto the table as well. He searched for the hand controls for the tape recorder. When he found it, he rewound the tape and tried to find where his formal dictation ended and his tirade began. He heard a faint bumping at the door. It was as if someone was using something blunt to keep iambic pentameter against the bottom of the door jamb. He was wondering if the person out there had heard any of what he had said. Brad went to the door and slowly opened it. As he peered out of the small opening he had made, he saw a startled young janitor peeping back at him. “ Hi Dr. Brad! Did I make too much noise? I..I’m s..sorry. Are you mad?” Just little Warren Parsons. If ever Dr. Turner would need to be inspired to stay on course with his research, Warren would be that inspiration. The kid was eighteen years old with the intellectual ability of a child of ten. He was left at the doorstep of the hospital twelve years ago and became the legal ward of one of the more prominent hospital board members, Dr. Ellen Peterson. Normally, Dr. Peterson would be considered a saint for taking this child in and nurturing him, but Warren’s been a teen for some time now, and the staff at the hospital has yet to see the good doctor with anything less than a big smile on her face on a daily basis. Warren didn’t have many zits on his face either during his early pubescent stages. A saint indeed. “No Warren. I’m not mad at you. Have you been at this door very long?” “No sir Dr. Brad. I just got to here. Am I goin’ too slow? “Not at all kid. Come back to my office when you get a break and I’ll buy you lunch okay?” “Gee thanks Dr. Brad! You’re too good to me. I’m gonna work real hard now. See ya’ later!” Warren went back to mopping and Dr. Turner closed the lab door. He thought about the poor kid and shook his head. He and Warren became friends the first day Turner arrived at Union Hill hospital. He first saw the boy in the hall running the buffer. Athletically built, Warren had no trouble controlling the machine. His only problem was focus. He almost ran over Dr. Turner that day and, ironically, that’s how they met. After that first conversation with the boy, he knew that Warren was mentally challenged. He told Warren to call him, “Dr. Brad” because that would be simple for him to say and to remember. Then Brad heard the roomers about the kid and one of the hospital’s illustrious female board members........the old pervert. If what he was hearing was true, this woman, who is at least thirty years Warren’s senior, should have been arrested for corrupting the morals of a minor years ago. The boy is no worst for wear because of it though. He seems to be well kept and he has a permanent job at the hospital. The old girl had managed to keep herself in good shape too. She probably wanted to keep herself desirable for her young charge. “Charge” would seem to be more than the appropriate term under the circumstances. Yet, she doesn’t fondle him in the hallways nor any other publicly lewd display and Warren doesn’t try to, “ jump” any of the other female employees so she must have taught him about self control as well as about being discrete. Turner never had a real problem with the idea. He wished he had an older woman when he was a boy too. He thought about how every boy in the country was in love, or in lust, with their older female baby sitters. “What the hell. The kid’s probably better adjusted than most of us”. Brad was torn between both of his medical objectives.....his personal initiative with birth defects and his professional responsibilities with trying to understand and control the growth process of certain types of cancer. He took on a new resolve and went back to the business of cleaning up that tape recording. He thought about how foolish it was to toss that vial that way. Years of work might be lost just because of a few moments of self pity. He glanced over at the leaking vial and he grimaced. He would have to carefully clean up the serum without becoming contaminated himself. He picked up a pair of latex gloves, but found that he was too upset to proceed. He decided he’d get the recording straightened out first and then clean up his mess. Maybe by then his anger would have worn off. Brad turned on the recorder and found his last professional entry in a matter of minutes and then he erased his unofficial opinions. He went to the sink and washed his hands and then went back to the biopsy table to get the vial. The natural color of the spilled material had changed.......tinted a bit. “What the hell is going on here? What kind of reaction is this?” He carefully picked up the vial and put it in a nearby sample rack. Then he picked out a sterilized scalpel and cut a few millimeters of tinted tissue. He quickly went into his office with the sample. After locking the door, he put the tissue on a slide and then onto the microscope. His first glance caused him to turn the focus dial, but even after the focus, he found his first look to be justified...........there was distinct advanced cellular activity happening within the tissue. He was flabbergasted. A tear of joy slipped from the corner of his eye. “I was moments away from giving it all up and now this......this incredible break though. It’s just like the motivational speakers say. You can be moments away from success and give it all up because you can’t see it. Thank God I tossed the vial where I did or would have never discovered this. Thank God!” He had tested his serum using other media, but he never thought to test it on the very cellular tissue that he was attempting to restore. There was something he perceived a bit unethical about doing that. But now, he felt foolish for not examining that possibility first. The results of this “accident” needed more study and further observation, but Turner had finally gotten the type of scientific breakthrough that could advance his work dramatically. He was elated. At last I get a break! I’ve finally gotten something to build on. I feel like celebrating but I’d better try and keep a super low profile about this. I’ve got the rest of the night to study these findings. I’ll clean up that biopsy table and then I can get right to it. Just then, the public address system blares out, “Dr. Turner....paging Dr. Turner! You’re needed in emergency...Stat!” “ Dammit!”, Brad mumbles. “That’s the story of my life. A series of untimely distractions. I wouldn’t be surprised if I was conceived during coitus interruptus. I’ll have to come back and clean up.” He quickly stepped from behind his desk while fumbling clumsily for his office door keys. As he snatches the keys from his pants pocket, he turns the pocket inside out and dumps his change and the rest of it’s contents onto the office floor. He pauses a moment to grit his teeth and gaze disgustingly at the ceiling. He decides to leave that for later as well and he locks his office door and runs down the hall to the emergency room. THE ENZYME EXPERIMENT The time came for young Warren to take a break from his work. He remembered that his friend, Dr. Brad, told him to meet him for lunch. He heard someone being paged, but he was so wrapped up in his work that he didn’t pay any attention to what was said. Warren was exited about his lunch appointment and walked swiftly down the long hallway towards the Lab. He walked up to Turner’s office and knocked anxiously......but there was no answer. The light of Warren’s wide boyish grin was dulled for a moment but he again smiled broadly as he remembered that the doctor was working in the biopsy room earlier. “I bet Dr. Brad is still back there workin’. Let me go ‘round and get him.” Warren turned the corner and peered into the small room where he had seen his friend just a while ago. The light was turned down low and the doctor was nowhere to be found. Warren never paid much attention to the loud speaker when announcements were being made. He felt as if it was a terrible interruption to his strained concentration and often dismissed what was being said as if one would ignore a fly speeding by their ear. Consequently, he missed Turner’s call to the emergency room and he became even more unsettled. He began to teeter back and forth like a little child and he started to hum and explanation to himself. “Dr. Brad left without me.......he musta’ got hungry and didn’t want to wait. Maybe he forgot about me......he forgot his buddy. How could he do that? He’s my best friend. He knows that. I wouldn’t never forget him. Oh!..... Oh! I know what happened. Dr. Brad is in the bathroom. He probably wants me to wait right here ‘till he gets back! How could I think Dr. Brad could forget his good friend Warren? No way!” Warren looked on the cutting board and saw something covered by a small hospital towel. “You left a mess Dr. Brad.....you musta’ had to go pretty bad.” He thought to take a peek under the cloth and walked closer to the table. The glass that Turner had broken earlier was still over in the corner of the table. The reflection of it caught Warren’s eye. “I’m gonna clean up for Dr. Brad! That’s what I’ll do! I’ll get everything a cleaned up while I wait for him to get back from the bathroom.” He reached over to pick up some of the larger pieces of broken glass and accidentally stepped on the foot controls to the tape recorder. The pedal made his balance unsteady and as he lost his footing, he stumbled forward. He tried to brace himself using his hand on the table to catch his balance.......the same hand he was about to clean the broken glass with......and then.... “Yow! Oh no! I cut it! Oh it hurts.....it hurts bad! Help me somebody! Help me.....I’m cut back here....I’m cut!!” The glass had cut a deep jagged trail down the center of Warren’s palm. He snatched the towel up off the table and startled himself even more when he saw the still born child. “Agggg......a baby! Oh God..... help me somebody! I’m cut in the lab!” He wrapped his hand with the towel, all the while wondering why no one would come to help him. In a fit of panic, he bolted through the biopsy room door into the main portion of the laboratory. He didn’t realize that the night shift only had a few people on call.....only two people in the lab, including Turner. The lab tech on duty finally heard the commotion and ran over to see what was going on. “Oh shit kid! What in the hell did you do to yourself there! You’re bleedin’ like a stuck pig!” “Help me pleeeease!” Warren moaned. Then he looked at his bleeding hand and passed out. He fell to the floor hard and it scared the tech considerably. “Maybe I should have lightened up on the ‘stuck pig’ thing”, he thought. He ran down the hall and got a wheel chair. He knew that he wouldn’t be able to drag that dead weight very far. He sped back into the lab, set the park break on the chair and then tried to get Warren into the seat. Just then, Dr. Turner walked back into the lab. He had just encountered another incident where there was a victim of a car accident that came in bleeding profusely. He felt like he was in the middle of a M.A.S.H. unit in the middle of a war zone. “Shit Warren! What the hell happened here Jessie?!” “I don’t know Dr. Turner. I heard all of this banging around going on down at this end of the lab and when I went to check it out, I found Warren with this towel around his hand and blood all over the place!” Turner helped the tech get Warren into the chair and then looked at his wound. “The damned kid managed to cut his palm at the heel and pierce his artery. Let’s get him over to the emergency room so I can stitch his crazy ass up!” They wrapped another towel around the first one and then zipped him down the hall. Warren was still unconscious but he could hear a buzzing in his ear. He instinctively wobbled his head to stop the buzzing, which looked like some sort of seizure to Turner. He was really worried at this point and he began pushing the wheel chair even faster. “Dammit boy! How the hell did you do this to yourself?!” As they ran down the hallway, the lab took on a strange insulated kind of silence; the kind of quiet that is similar to walking in a night time snow fall. The biopsy room was in total disarray and the cutting table was soaked with blood. The blood mixed with the serum that had leaked from the vial flowed down to where the small still fetus was resting on it’s side. It rolled down the side of it’s lifeless little face and soon created a small pool that encompassed it’s entire left side. The sight of it conjures up visions of a vampire-like blood letting as the infant corps lay partially immersed in the small pool. Such a tragic conclusion to such a brief life. If this final event was to mark the end of this baby’s troubled existence, then the next thing that was beginning to happen couldn’t possibly be........yet, if the trained eye looked very closely, it could see what would appear to be an unusually slow but reflexive rapid eye motion behind the fetus’ tiny underdeveloped eyelids. His stitches glimmered in the moisture created by the pool of blood and enzyme serum in which he laid. The glimmering seemed to mimicked a shallow intermittent breath. Then as suddenly as these things began, they abruptly stopped. Motionless again on the biopsy table. It would cause a person to question their own sanity.......did these things just happen or are they just an imagined occurrence of a sorrowed eye? The child is deceased.....no one could substantiate the actuality of these perceived movements, scientific or otherwise. One can only wonder while shuddering at the realm of unnatural possibilities. In the emergency room, Dr. Turner was wrapping up his work on poor Warren. The boy was still unconscious from the time he left the lab so he never saw the stitches being administered or felt the sting of the antiseptics that were used. It was like he was in a deep impenetrable sleep. Turner thought it a bit odd that Warren had been out for so long without any response at all. He attempted to wake the boy, but he continued to sleep deeply. Since Warren was no longer in any danger, he let Warren continue to rest. He couldn’t help noticing how Warren seemed to be dreaming. “Pretty extreme R.E.M. movement for someone not to speak or even to awaken from a dream of this intensity”, he thought. His eyes were moving so quickly that you’d think they’d surely pop out of his head. Turner dismissed it all as a slight irregularity and pulled the bed sheet up around Warren’s neck. “Let the kid sleep, would you? ”, he whispered to the nurse on duty. “He’s had a rough night and he probably needs it......hell so do I!” She chuckled as he began to leave the room. “I’ll be in the cafeteria getting some coffee if anyone needs me, uh......” He looked at her name tag and clumsily completed his sentence “Gwendolyn”. “ That’s Gwen sir, if it’s all the same to you. I can’t stand the long version, you know what I mean?” “With a first name like ‘Bradley’? I know exactly what you’re talking about. Gwen it is then.” Turner thought about how attractive this young woman was. He hadn’t noticed her before, but that wouldn’t be unusual for him. His mind is constantly on his work......and on hiding it. He asked himself when was the last time he was in the company of a lovely young woman and his answer surprised him......then ticked him off. “I’d love to buy you breakfast when you get through your shift Gwen......uh, that is if you.......” “That would be great Dr. Turner. I’ll be off in another hour. Should I meet you at the cafeteria?” “Come by the lab and give me a shout. I’ll be back there by then and it’s Brad...... that is versus ‘Dr. Turner’.” “Okay...Brad. I’ll stop by the lab as soon as my relief gets here. I really appreciate the offer.” “You haven’t had breakfast with me yet Gwen. You may want to reserve judgment until afterwards.” They both laughed and Gwen said, “It will just be nice to be in a gentleman’s company. I haven’t for a while. With work and my hours and all......well you know what I mean.” “Yes. Unfortunately I do know. But I think that is about to change for me. At least that’s what I’m hoping.” It was nice to see a woman blush because of something favorable that he had said for a change. Her smile was like a potion for him. It made him think she felt the same way and changed the complexion of his guarded existence from that point on. “I’ll see you soon Gwen.” “Okay...see you Brad.” Turner walked through the swinging double doors of the emergency room headed back to the lab. Gwen patted herself on her chest and then began fanning her face as if she was sitting on a space heater. She walked back over to the nurse’s station to sit and plan for her topics of breakfast conversation with the good doctor. She sat in her stylish swivel chair and gave out a girlish sigh, swooning over her new found ‘Brad’ but her thoughts were interrupted by a curious low level groaning coming from one of the patient’s beds. There were only three patients in the emergency room’s thirty patient facility, so finding the origin of the noise was made quite simple for her. She initially thought that the patient in the car wreck was coming around and was feeling the pain of his injuries. She peeked around the partition and saw that this man was still sleeping from the sedative. She then walked over to Warren’s bed and looked in to find him tossing his head from side to side and moaning. She went over to try and wake him but, as she approached the side of his bed, he hopped up to a sitting position, grabbed her skirt and screamed aloud. “Noooooooo!” They both scared each other as she grabbed his hand with both of hers. She shouted, too and they looked in each other’s face as they yelled. Then they both saw that they were in no danger. Warren was having a nightmare apparently and now he was awake and in the safe company of his nurse. Their yelling gradually subsided and then turned to laughter as they both realized what was going on. “I’m sorry nurse”, Warren said and he quickly released the end of her dress. He was red-faced with embarrassment as he looked into Gwen’s smiling face. “It’s okay Mr. Parsons. You scared the living daylights out of me but you were obviously having a terrible nightmare. Are you alright?” Yes. I’m fine thanks ma’am. I just feel a little.......different...strange. I wouldn’t be surprised about your feeling strange Mr. Parsons. You just had a bad cut stitched up. Dr. Turner fixed you up just fine. Do you remember anything about what happened after your accident.....maybe anything about your nightmare? Warren thought and when he did he startled himself. He never remembered being able to speak the way others spoke to him. He always spoke a kind of broken English which, only now he recognized to be childish and uneducated. He scratched his head in disbelief. “ What was happening to me? Why am I able to reason and understand the way I am doing now? All this started happening after I cut myself, but why would that change the way I think? Now I see that the nightmare is more like a fairytale. Yet, what I was dreaming was far from pleasant.” Nurse, is Dr. Turner still on duty? Yes he is Mr. Parsons. Would you like to talk to him? Yes I would but I don’t know what he’ll make of what I’m saying or how I’m saying it! Gwen had never met Warren before tonight and she was unaware that he was mentally challenged. She looked at him curiously and smiled. “Don’t worry Mr. Parsons. Dr. Turner will be happy to hear that you’re okay.” Thanks, but please call me Warren. Nobody I know calls me mister. There’s no need for someone as lovely as you to do it. If you help me to the phone, I’ll call the doctor. She blushed as she thought how wonderful a shift she was having. Two gorgeous men showing her a personal interest. She felt like she’d hit the jackpot. “Just wait right here.....Warren and I’ll bring you the cordless. Lay back and try to relax.” Dr. Turner was mulling around in the biopsy room trying to recapture his thoughts. He couldn’t remember whether he was in his office or at the cutting table when he was first called emergency. Blood and glass was on the table and the trail had splattered onto the floor and out the access door. He scratched his head as he glanced in the corner of the table where he had thrown the vial of his enzyme serum. Shards of glass were still left unattended and the blood was beginning to congeal on the flat surfaces of the glass and the table. He smiled when he remembered that his work was locked safely away in his offices. He quickly stepped around the corner and into the hallway while eagerly pulling his keys from his lab coat pocket. When he opened the door, he found everything as he left it; the vials were still on his desktop, the microscope was still on with the slide carefully placed and his eyeglasses, that he rarely used, were sitting on an old equipment and supply catalog beside it. “Ahh....now, back to work!” He sat down just at about the same time the office phone rang. The nurse in the emergency was calling. “ Dr. Turner....uh...I mean Brad, this is Gwen in the ER. Your patient just woke up a moment ago and he wants to speak to you.” “ You mean Warren Parsons?” “ Yes! He seems excited about something. Do you have a minute?” “ Sure, Gwen. Put the kid on the phone.” When Warren began to speak, he absolutely floored the good doctor. “ Hello, Dr. Turner is that you? I’ve got a bit of a surprise for you.....for me too, for that matter.” “ Warren? What the hell happened to ‘Dr. Brad?’! I....I don’t know what to say kid. How are you putting together phrases that way? I don’t believe what I’m hearing. This is absolutely amazing.” “ I don’t know Doc. I was hoping you could tell me. The only thing I remember was slashing my hand in the biopsy room. When I came to, I was talking like a rap star! I don’t know what it is, but I like it! I want books and journals and.........” “ Damn boy, give me a minute to process this stuff first. I can’t believe what I’m hearing and now you’re telling me you want to update your literary knowledge. Just let me think for a.......better yet, I’ll be right there to start conducting some blood tests. Just stay put, I’m on my way alright?” “ Sure Brad. I’m as anxious as you are to find out the why’s and wherefores as you are. Besides where would I go anyway?” Brad was too flabbergasted to try to answer Warren. He dropped the receiver in the chair and took the short route to the main hall.....through the biopsy room. He passed the cutting table and paused for a second. As he slowly looked over to the table, he realized that the still-born fetus was gone. “ That boy must have moved the baby while he was cleaning up in here. Where in the hell did he put it? I’ll ask him later......this kid’s miraculous transformation is much too important to put on hold. I’ve got to find out what happened to him. It could well have been triggered by trauma and might not have anything to do with a scientific transformation. Shit! Let me get over there before he screws up and reverts back to my sweet-but-slow former lunch buddy.” He turned and trotted out of the door thinking, “ It had to be the enzymes......It just had to be! We’ll be internationally famous! This is the greatest day of my life!” THE NEW KID ON THE WARD Turner walked into the emergency room and looked around frantically for a familiar face. The new duty nurse had come in and taken her station at the front desk, so there was no Gwen; the ER was quiet as a tomb, not a moan or groan from any of the patients; the curtains were all drawn around each bed as if the entire emergency room was filled with patients. “ What the hell is going on? I just got off the phone with these people!” Then he heard a faint snicker, possibly muffled by a hand. The duty nurse interrupted her busy jotting to look out the corner of her eye at Turner and point the business end of her pen at the last bed a the end of the ward. He glanced down the row of glorified shower curtains and saw the motion of a head retracting behind the last drawn curtain. Then a burst of laughter burst forth..... loud and mischievous. He ran down to the end and snatched the curtain back to reveal Warren and Gwen giggling and bouncing around on the bed like two little children. They had successfully played their prank on the doctor and were quit pleased with the exasperated look on his face. Gwen wiped the grin off of her face and straightened up enough to point at Warren and mutter, “ It was his idea.....It wasn’t my fault!” They both blasted out with a loud laugh, but Turner was mystified. “ That’s what’s most amazing to me children”, he thought. “ He probably did think of it!” “Come here kid! Let ol’ Doc Brad take a look at you.” The playful pair hopped off the gurney and Warren walked briskly over to where Turner was standing. “Be careful with that hand, Warren! You might accidentally rip those suchers open and start gushing again!” “Okay Doctor Turner. Sorry about that.” “I can’t get over the ‘Doctor Turner’ stuff.....does that mean no more Doc Brad? I’ve kinda gotten used to it.” “If it makes you feel any better sir, I can continue to refer to you that way. You know, I can’t believe I just said that! How is it that I’m speaking and I’m hearing someone else’s voice.....someone else’s thoughts. They must be someone else’s, because I’ve never had them before. To tell you the truth doc, I’m a little scared. What’s happening to me?!” Turner was placing the stethoscope on Warren’s chest like he was planning to get a clue from listening to his heartbeat. “I don’t know for certain Warren, but I’ve got a few ideas.” “You’re not gonna find out by listening to my chest doc.” “Okay, okay kid. I miss that innocent little soul already. You’re beginning the initial stages of becoming a skeptic. Now what I need to do is take a few blood test. Sit back down on the gurney and I’ll get the phlebotomy tray. And there’s no need to be afraid.......you’re doing better than fine.” “I don’t know doc. I heard Dr. Peterson say knowledge is sorrow.” “Not today, my boy.......not today.” Turner thought about the kid’s reference to his guardian as ‘Doctor Peterson’. Could that be the result of the metamorphosis or was that part of the old girl’s demented turn on. She’s in for a bit of a shock now! He went brought the tray over and positioned the needle in the vial. He notice that Warren was watching everything intently, as if he was trying to learn. The boy stuck his muscled arm out like a little child. He still had that grin on his face and said, “I could do that for you if you like Dr. Turner. I think I understand how to do it now.” Turner thought about it and then glanced around to see if Gwen was near. She was at the phone taking a call, so he motioned to Warren to come to the other side of the bed, out of plain sight. “Okay Warren. You’ve probably seen it done enough to do a draw. Why don’t you give it a try. The boy grabbed the tourniquet and wrapped his arm around his bicep. He tapped his arm a few times and then eased the needle into the protruding vein. “Easy as pie, huh kid?” “It doesn’t even hurt Doc. I might be able to do this for a living.” “Okay doctor Warren, just be careful not to make any sudden moves while you’re filling that vial. Just take your time, if you don’t want to cost me a malpractice suit.” “Don’t worry Doc, I won’t prosecute you. We’re friends right?” “Damn straight pal. Now do me a favor and fill another one of those things up for me, will ya?” Turner was overjoyed. He had discovered the cure for whatever form of mental retardation that Warren was suffering from. He wasn’t aware of the nature of Warren’s condition, but he knew that the boy had been challenged since his pre-adolescent years. Now he was the look-out for his newly assigned phlebotomist. If Gwen, or anyone else was to see him, his days as a physician would be numbered. He glanced around to see who else might be looking in their direction. The patients were quiet and Gwen was still on the telephone. He was suddenly startled by Warren’s voice. “All done Doctor. You’ll find everything in order I believe.” “Great job Warren. Let me get you in a regular room......private of course. Nothing but the best for my new resident genius.” “Okay Doc......just let me tell Gwen that we’re leaving. It would be rude to leave her without letting her know. It is her watch.” “Of course kid. We’ll tell her before we leave. I’ll get her to get us an orderly to wheel you up to your room.” Gwen placed the receiver carefully on the cradle of the phone. Turner could see that she was bothered by something and was lost in thought. “Gwen! Are you alright? What was the call about?” She turned slowly to face him and a tear trickled down her check. She opened her mouth to speak, but she was noticeably overwhelmed by emotion. Turner walked quickly over to where she was standing. She looked a little faint and it appeared as though her legs wouldn’t hold her. Warren was quicker and was behind the counter holding her shoulders. She finally mustered enough strength to reveal the cause of her anguish. “That was the receptionist at the front desk. Ssshe.....she said that Corrine Johnson was found in the parking lot just now. She’s.......been killed......she’s dead! Someone found her on her near her car. She was........” Gwen burst into tears and buried her face in her hands. Corrine Johnson was the other duty nurse that was to take over after her shift. She and Gwen were good friends and she had looked forward to seeing her and telling her everything that happened that night. The call hit her like an anvil and her legs wouldn’t hold here any longer. Warren sat her down into a nearby chair. Turner, realizing that Gwen was far too upset to speak, called security for the details. The security officer spoke with a low tone of voice and in a subdued manner that would rival any funeral director. “There was a housekeeping employee that was leaving for the night and he found Ms. Johnson about ten feet away from her car. He called another security officer and the officer told me that she had been killed.......cut with a knife or something. That’s all that I know at present, sir. The orderlies were supposed to be carrying her to the holding room in the morgue. They’re going to need you down there sir, since your the only doctor on the premises tonight. I was going to page you after I called the local police and filed my report. I spoke to nurse Powell, but she hung up on me. Is she okay?” “Nurse Johnson death must have been a considerable shock for her. Tell the attendants that I’m on my way right now!” “I’ll call them right away Dr. Turner.” Warren was trying to comfort Gwen as best he could. Turner looked over at him and knew they would be able to take care of each other for the moment. “Stay here with her Warren. Make sure she’s alright. I’ve got to go and see what I can do.” They both realized that there was nothing more to do but examine poor nurse Johnson and try to determine the cause of death. “I’ll stay with her Doc. She’ll be okay.” “I’ll be back as soon as I can, alright? Don’t leave this ward until I get back!” Warren shook his head affirmatively and turned his attention back to Gwen. Turner ran out of the ward and headed down to the morgue. The halls were hollow and quiet. He didn’t run into anyone between the emergency room and the morgue, over a hundred yards away. He thought about the big city and the activity in the last hospital where he worked. He longed for more social contact, but tonight he would have to settle for the unusual activity level he was experiencing tonight in the least likely of places............ IN THE DAMNED MORGUE! DAWN’S EARLY LIGHT Turner slowed down as he reached the doorway to the morgue. He thought, what the hell am I rushing for.....there’s nothing more that can be done for poor nurse Johnson now. He opened the door and saw one of the attendants standing beside the tray where the nurse’s body was lain. She was still fully clothed and her uniform was saturated with the dark blood of arterial bleeding. The attendant was crying and holding nurse Johnson’s right hand. He was speaking softly to her as if whispering to a sleeping child. “You’re gonna be alright, honey. The doctor’s here now and he’s going to wake you from your nap. He’ll know what to do. You don’t belong in here......the doctor’s going to get that straightened out right away. He’ll know what to do. He’ll know.......” Tears were soaking his clothes now and, as Turner got closer to him, he was able to se the name plate of the attendant............. ORDERLY TIMOTHY JOHNSON The nurse was this poor guy’s wife. The town is so small that the one of the only two attendants on duty was married to the murdered woman. Not only did he have to live with the death of his wife, but he had to deal with the memory of finding her mutilated body and personally taking it to the morgue. Turner thought that this might be enough to drive any sane person right into dementia. Of course he thought his wife was alive. He was waiting for her to arrive to work and meet him as he was preparing to wrap up his shift. They were both young and must have been recently married. Turner was weak on bedside manner, but he had decided to ‘bust his butt’ to help this poor man to get through this horrible thing. “Come with me please, Mr. Johnson. I’ll need to check the patient out and you shouldn’t be in here right now. Where is the other attendant?” Johnson didn’t speak. He was still numb and in shock and he couldn’t process the words that Turner was saying. “Son, where’s the other attendant? Do you know where he went?” The orderly finally let the words into his mind and considered the question the doctor was asking him. “He’s in the bathroom.......throwing his guts up......the worthless bastard!” “Maybe you can go and find him......help him out. I’ll take over in here. When you finish helping him, meet me in the main lobby and I’ll give you an update. Will that be alright, sir? “That will be fine doctor. I’ll go and find Jimmy. He’s probably scared shittless.” At that point, Turner realized how strong this kid was. Not only was he able to handle his personal sorrow, but he was of a mind to help someone else to work through it. He hoped that Johnson didn’t find his partner. He didn’t know how delicate the illusion of hope was in this poor boy. To have someone else tell him that his wife was dead may push him over the edge. He could tell the orderly to meet him somewhere else that may provide more privacy, but it was a small hospital with limited staff. The lobby will be okay as opposed to asking him to meet in the chapel. The very nature of that place spells out the finality of the incident in a particularly morbid way. He’s not ready to deal with that right now, Turner considered. The young attendant walked toward the swinging doors and, as he approached them, he turned his head around. “Thanks doctor. You take good care of my Corrine now and I’ll talk to you as soon as your through.” He wiped his tears and then he was gone. As Turner pulled the curtain, he found himself weeping for the poor kid. He could only imagine the kind of grief that the boy will have to deal with. He thought about how young this staff , specifically the night shift was and he shook his head. “ I’m the old man on duty here. I’m the one they’re going to look up to and I’m the one they’re going to hold accountable.” Thoughts of being the young rebel.........the free thinking, anti-establishment new wave scientist died a little that night......right beside this beautiful young newly wed. He checked her vitals as a matter of protocol, realizing from his visual examination of the body that she was dead when he walked through the doors. He pull a report for the death certificate and filled out the necessary time. Then he put the clipboard down and quickly cut away her blood stained uniform and bagged it. He then cleaned the body for further examination. His eyes widened with shock when he noticed that the gashes slashed into this poor girl’s body were produced by a scalpel-like instrument. She had been slashed on her legs, across her arms and back and her throat had been cut at the carotid artery. She probably lived only minutes after she had fallen. The placement of the incisions would lend to the theory that the murder was committed by a homicidal surgeon. There was no wasted motion by the assailant. Then Turner noticed something that caused him even more revulsion.....he noticed that there were little bruises near each of the incisions. The pattern of the bruises were finger-like and very small. There’s a murderer in Spotswood and that person could well have a medical background. “I can’t even wrap my head around the possibilities I’m considering. I’ll leave that stuff to the local cops.” He picked up his clipboard and filed in the cause of death portion of the report..... death by stabbing. The long night was coming to a close on a bizarre note. He tagged and covered the body and headed to the lobby to await the police and to talk to the bereaved husband. With the evidence he had uncovered, he walked the halls with a new found sense of paranoia, looking around every corner and occasionally over his shoulder. He headed for the lobby to meet Tim Johnson and, as he headed to the entrance way, he still was unaware of how he was going to make him understand his wife was dead......he wasn’t sure if he wanted to try at this point. Tim Johnson found Jimmy Smith, the other orderly on duty, still wiping his chin with a towel while standing over the sink in the first floor men’s room. He walked up to him with an exasperated look on his face, but Smith thought he was coming to slug him. “Wait a minute, Tim! Don’t hit me.....it wasn’t my fault. I couldn’t stand the sight of Corrine that way. I’m sorry, man. I wanted to help, but....” “Can the whimpering, Jimmy. I just came in to tell you that doc Turner is in there with Corrine now and everything is going to be fine. You ought to be tough enough to handle a little blood by now, man. You’re an orderly, for Christ sake!” That’s when Smith understood that Tim thought Corrine was still alive. He knew full well that his friend’s wife was dead when he first saw her in the parking lot. He stared at Tim, trying to find a way to make him understand that Corrine was gone. He couldn’t find the words. “Look, Tim. Maybe the doctor’s finished now and he’s looking for us....let the doctor tell him.....that’s what they pay him for. Where were you supposed to meet him?” “He told me to meet him in the lobby, after I found you. Are you gonna be alright?” “Yea, man. Let’s find the doctor.” Brad reached an empty lobby and breathed a sigh of relief. He had time to plan the way he would approach Tim without putting him into shock. “The boy’s pretty big and he could do some serious bodily harm if this wasn’t handled as delicately as possible. I think I’ll simply tell him that she was found in the parking lot and that she was badly hurt. I’ll tell him that we’re waiting on the police to come and then we can tell you more. I don’t think he’ll accept such limited information, but I’m going to play things by ear according to his initial responses. Let’s just see how he handles that much.” Brad sees Johnson through pane in the swinging doors of the hallway, leading from the main entrance to the lobby. He detects the sweat of his own anxiety now but he can’t waver now. “We’ll start slowly, just as I planned”. Suddenly Timothy Johnson looked to be growing even bigger as he walked closer to him. “I don’t think the plan is going to save me from sever contusions in the next few minutes. “Hey doc!” ,Johnson’s voice booms, “ here’s Smith tell him what’s going on will ya ?” Brad starts, slowly and deliberately, to explain what happened to Johnson’s wife. He glances at the other orderly, who has the look of complete confusion on his face. Brad flashes him a glare and a nod to attempt to keep him from responding and keep them both in one piece. The doctor explains that further examination will be needed to find out the nurses’ present condition. He and Smith both know the condition warranted no further examination, but shock is a delicate thing and the balance should not be shifted right now. Johnson doesn’t seem to concern himself with Brad’s signals. His eyes are glazed over and expressionless. “Tim…why don’t you have a seat right down here and we’ll be back to talk to you when the police arrive”. Brad and Jimmy guide Johnson into the worn leather chair behind him and the doctor puts his hand on Johnson’s shoulder. “I’ll be back as soon as I can, alright?” Johnson gives him a slow nod which mirrors his vacant stare perfectly. Smith, you come with me a moment. Brad gets Smith in the hallway and explains his intentions. He lets Jimmy know he’s not to say anything about Johnson’s wife. That might be handled by the police once they arrive. “We’ll need a nurse present in case Tim needs medical attention and I just want you to sit quietly with him. Keep him in the lobby...that’s your assignment, got it!” “Don’t worry doc. I’ll take care of him until you get back. I’ll get him some coffee.” As Smith walks to the cafeteria, Brad can’t help but hope the police get to the hospital before Jim gets back to the lobby and upsets the delicate balance that he worked so hard to establish with the orderly. At least the doctor leaves the lobby in one piece. REACTION TO STIMULUS? Warren was still holding Gwen as she was shaking from the grief of nurse Johnson’s death. He was also sorrowful, but he found himself becoming aroused by his close contact to Gwen. Her smell, her tears, her trembling. He tried to put that into the back of his mind and found that there was something else that bothered him as well. He was feeling the same type of arousal right before hearing about the nurse’s murder. It’s just a reaction from seeing my own blood or maybe it’s just natural somehow, he thought, but he remembered a sense of elation and dread when these feelings surfaced. It was as if he was feeling something allowing him to experience something completely evil down in his soul, which created the dread…..but why the elation? Why was I excited in that way? Exited by evil and dark horror. He considered the nature of his new found intellect. “There are obviously some things that I don’t understand yet.” he thought. “ Some things that could be part of that strange chemical reaction that caused me to be more aware of myself and my surroundings. But I know the difference between right and wrong…….I always have and this feeling was more than wrong. It was profane.” Gwen sniffled and raised her head from Warren’s shoulder. “I’ve soaked your shirt Warren. Let me go get you another smock.” She walked to the supply cabinet and Warren couldn’t help but feel a moment of relief from the thoughts swimming in his head. He centered on Gwen….her beauty and compassion touched him deeply and he was grateful for his new found intelligence knowing that, without it, he wouldn’t understand the intricacies of human nature that would allow him to see these precious things. Doctor Turner swung open the emergency room doors and everyone abruptly turned to him in surprise which turned instantly to expressions of sorrow. He looked over to the bed where he left Warren and Gwen and saw Warren sitting alone. “Where’s Gwen, Warren? Is she okay?” “She’s fine doctor Turner. She went to get me another smock. She’ll be back in a moment.” “Hey kid” Turner joked, “I haven’t gotten used to you calling me anything but ’doctor Brad. I just want you to know that it’s alright with me if you continue to do so, okay?” “Sure doc Brad. I understand. Thanks for not looking at me like some kind of freak.” As Turner walked closer to his bed, Warren continued to explain how the staff had been looking at him like he was the carrier of some kind of plague. When they walked near his bed, they made a wide turn as not to get, ‘infected’. How uncomfortable that kind of treatment made him feel and how condescending the rest of the staff had been when he was mentally challenged. This had given him a feeling he was unfamiliar with but was natural as breathing…..contempt. Just then, Gwen turned the corner with a new smock for Warren. He thought it better to table this discussion for another time. Gwen hadn’t reacted that way. She never looked down on Warren and she respected his ability to provide her with a stable shoulder to cry on. That accounted for something. Not everyone thought that way about him. “Thanks, Gwen. I’ll just pull the curtain and change. We can talk about the other stuff later doc Brad, okay?” “Sure kid. Whenever you’re ready.” Turner looked at Gwen and notice she seemed no worse for ware. It was obvious that she had shed grief filled tears, but she seemed to be fine. “How are you, Gwen? Is you feeling alright?” “I’m fine, doctor. How is poor Mr. Johnson taking things? It must be terrible for him right now.” “He’s experiencing classic symptoms related to shock. He’s seen her body and still is in denial about her death. Frankly speaking, do to the size of the guy, it’s best we don’t try to alter his perceptions just yet. At least, not until the police arrive and we can provide a safe environment for everyone.” Turner was about to ask Gwen abut a cup of coffee or if she wanted to go somewhere and talk when there was a loud crashing of an aluminum treatment table coming from behind curtain where Warren was changing. He quickly pulled the curtain back to see Warren laying on the floor. He was on his side and he had his arms wrapped around his knees and was pulling his knees into his chest. He was writhing as if in pain and making guttural sounding noises in the depths of his throat and chest. Turner thought he was having a seizure and turned to the staff standing unresponsively at the front desk. “Get over here and help me get him on the bed!” and his shout seemed to animate the frozen staff members. Gwen, Turner and two other nurses came over to lift Warren’s quivering body to the bed. Turner grabbed a blanket to cover Warren. As he draped the blanket over him, he noticed that Warren was experiencing a full erection. Warren began to clutch the blanket and muffle out, “no…..no…..no” in a low monotone. “ What could be happening to him?” Turner’s panic stricken voice gave way to his training. “Has his blood work been completed? What was found?” And then the panic gave way to frustrating anger when no one responded. “Gotdammit, somebody better tell me something or this will be your last day on the job!” An attendant grabbed the chart with Warren’s name across the top. “ Everything came up as normal, Doctor. There was nothing irregular in his work up.” Turner was only briefly relieved to hear the results. Now there was something else that had to be wrong. Something outside of the test that were conducted. He saw that Warren was beginning to show signs of calming and his body wasn’t so rigid. “I want this kid in a room and a series of diagnostic test initiated right now. I want the test that were originally done to be redone. Is that in any way unclear!?!” Gwen gently touched Turner’s shoulder and that one act commanded his full attention. “We’ll take care of it right away, doctor. Don’t worry, I’ll see to it myself.” She knew Turner had a special connection with Warren. She realized that this is what was driving his indignation. He saw all of that in her eyes. He thanked Gwen softly and gave the staff an apologetic glance as he left the emergency room. It was time to go back to the morgue…time to see if the local police arrived….time to try to help Tim Johnson come to grips with the worst day of his life. Warren was sent to the ICU so that he could be monitored regularly. He was fitted with electrodes on his chest and his temples. He was breathing shallowly as Gwen pulled his bed sheet over him and then she began taking blood samples for the next series of test. He seemed to be unconscious and oblivious to where his was and what was happening. She would come back to get tissue samples and then, when he was awake, she would get urine and fecal samples from him. They had to know what Warren was dealing with. She quietly left the room with the sample vials. Warren was asleep. He was in a R.E.M. cycle that was exceedingly more active than typical dream cycle sequences. His eyes were moving feverishly behind his eyelids in all directions. Meanwhile, in the maintenance room of the hospital basement, there was shallow breathing in the corner of a secluded shadow. There were raspy metallic scratching on the floor of the room. There were a small set of eyes rolling uncontrollably back and forth and a small crooked smile on a tiny angular face. ONE MAN’S LAMMENT Brad Turner met the two police officers in the main hallway. They were average size men, but clearly no match for Paul Johnson unless the use of deadly force was used. “Officers, do either of you have a stun gun or something like that in your possession?” “Yea doctor, I’ve got one in the car. Why do you ask?” “I take it you came through the lobby?”, Turner quizzically asked. “Yep, we sure did.” “Then you couldn’t have missed that extraordinarily large gentleman sitting out there with blood on his shirt. That’s Mr. Johnson, the husband of the dead nurse in the morgue. He still believes she’s still alive moreover, he refuses to believe that she’s dead, even though he has seen her and held her in his arms. I fear that, when his mind lets him realize the truth, he could be less cooperative than his been up to now. I’ll go get the gun.” When the officer returned, concealing the weapon in a compartment on his belt, the four men went down that lonely hallway to the morgue. Both policemen flanked Paul as Turner lead the way. Inside the room, nurse Johnson’s body was on the first of the three tables, a sheet covered her to her neck. Turner didn’t have the heart to cover her head. Tim walked over to his wife and took her hand from under the sheet. He held it in his two hands and patted it ever so gently. His eyes welled up and tears streamed down his face just moments before his sobbing began. It was clear to the others that he had realized his poor Corrine was dead. Turner couldn’t determine when he awakened to this reality but he knew that, right at this moment, Tim Johnson was aware that his wife was gone. The officer with the stun gun slowly fingered the weapon with his right hand. The heal of the gun was exposed and his thumb and forefinger were poised on the gun’s handle. Just then, Paul turned to face the trio of sad onlookers with Corinne’s hand still in his. The unexpected then happened…..he fell to his knees crying. “Who would do this doc Turner”, he muttered. “Who would do this to this poor harmless woman. What kind of monster would do this to my angel.” The next thing that happened was completely expected. He hopped to his feet and started by turning the other two tables over. He picked up a stool and threw it through the reinforce glass separating the morgue from the back hallway leading to the dock. The policemen were paralyzed. Doctor Turner looked at them in silence, secretly praying that the frozen law enforcement officer would use his stun gun before they were next to suffer Paul’s wrath. Tim turned away from them and began to pound one of the refrigeration units with both fist. Though the mettle was considerably thick, Paul began to actually bend it with his massive blows. With his last blow, he slumped to his knees, his hands bloody and his soul torn into. He was crying a painful howl that brought everyone to tears. “Paul, these two officers will take you home” Turner advised. “After that, they’ll come back here and get to the bottom of this.” He whispered to one of the officers that there will be no charges filed regarding the damage. The policemen mechanically nodded to Turner. It was not the doctor’s call to make but he was quite confident about the overall compassion of the administration. If he was wrong, he would shoulder the consequences. Cases like this usually identify the husband as the prime suspect. Craig and Paul had worked the entire shift together which provide a solid alibi. Turner informed the police officer of this information when he called earlier. “Come on Mr. Johnson. We’ll get you home and then we’ll find out what happened to your wife.” The policeman with the stun gun holstered and secured the weapon and Turner couldn't’ help but think that the officer would probably have stunned himself before using the gun on Paul. The two of them went over two Johnson and Turner toweled his bleeding hands. He looked at the doctor and told him softly, “Thanks doc. I appreciate it.” The three men disappeared down the hall heading to the dock. Jimmy, the other orderly on duty, was already cleaning up the shattered glass. He said nothing as Tim walked by him with his two escorts. Tim looked at him and managed to struggle out a little smile at Jim. Smith smiled and nodded at his extra-large friend. He was first staff member that he met when he started working at the hospital. Craig and Paul had spent significant time outside of the workplace as well. He was hurting for his friend’s loss and, for now, the best he could do was try to clean up behind his anger and grief. Turner saw Smith sweeping the glass and said, “You know that housekeeping will get that.” “That’s alright doc. I’ll take care of this. Be done in a minute.” Smith was sweeping with an attitude now, mashing the bristles of the broom vigorously into the carpet. Turner continued down the hall. Smith was now contemplating what else he could do for his friend. The best thing to do would be to find the murderer and somehow kill him. Jimmy Smith wasn’t a violent man, but this horrible crime deserved a retribution just as horrible. He began to sweat as he finished his sweeping and, though the glass was cleaned as much as possible with the tools being used, he continued mashing the broom…..and mashing and mashing……..

MURDER, AGAIN

The lobby door of the emergency room blasted open. One of the men leaving at the end of his shift found a hospital security guard bleeding profusely behind one of the hedges lining the driveway area. He lifted the guard in his arms and hurried to the nearest door. The clerk let out a scream and buzzed the emergency room for immediate assistance. The male nurse carrying the security guard was covered in his blood. The guard was slumping lifelessly in his arms. A gurney crashed through the double doors leading to the treatment area of the ER. Two attendants helped to get the man onto the gurney and the three of them rushed the man in for treatment. “Call doctor Turner on the P.A. As much as I don’t want to see him right now, we need his help.” “DOCTOR TURNER CODE BLUE IN EMERGENCY…..DOCTOR TURNER CODE BLUE IN EMERGENCY!” Turner was headed to the cafeteria for some coffee when he heard the page. “What the hell is going on tonight. Is there a full moon or something? This is a research facility, not a triage unit!” He darted down the hallway on the way to the ER expecting the worst……another death, another family will loose a loved one. Brad Turner reached the emergency room with a renewed vigor that morbidly surprised him. He threw opened the door expecting to see what he had witnessed all night long, blood and dying. The only question was, which poor soul was on the table this time? Gwen was still working, though her shift was to have ended thirty minutes ago. She was franticly waving him over to the treatment area where the security officer laid bleeding his last life’s blood out of his torn body. The staff had already matched his blood type and had hooked him to an I.V., but it appeared to be too late to save the man. Brad recognized him. He remembered that this man was here when he first started working at Union Hill. He was stationed in the lobby as Turner first came through the door. Brad Turner had become fond of this fellow. He had a serious nature about him as he first introduced himself. “Good morning, sir. My name is officer Robert Barber. I’ve been informed to expect your arrival and to direct you to the chief administrator’s office…” Then his whole military persona changed. “But if you’ve got a minute, I’ll show you to the most important site in the building….the cafeteria.” Brad remembered that this was the best ice breaker he had experienced in any position he had taken. They soon became fast friends. Now the man he had his first professional dealings with at Union was bleeding to death before him. He knew from his pale color and his shallow oxygen assisted breathing that he didn’t stand a chance for survival. He was unconscious. This aggravated Turner even more. He couldn’t even say goodbye to Barber in a way that he was sure to hear him, however, that didn’t stop him from doing so. He went through the motions, checking his vitals and the nature of his treatment. His wounds were bound, but too much had been lost. “Make him comfortable, Gwen. I don’t expect him to wake up but, if he does, notify me immediately. I’ll be in my office trying to find his home phone number. I’d better try to contact his wife and children.” Nurse Peterson saw that Barber was a close friend of the doctor and a tear rolled down her cheek for his loss. “I’ll monitor him myself, doctor. I’ll contact you if there’s any change.” She was so overcome with sadness that she nearly forgot to tell Turner about the other startling events that took place just before the guard was found and brought in. “Excuse me, sir”, she muttered. “What is it, Gwen? Are you alright?” “I’m fine doctor but I forgot to tell you about what happened to Warren.” His brief burst of initiative was almost instantly snuffed when her words finally sunk in. Now he had to prepare for another potential bombshell and he just wasn’t ready. Then fatigue started to overwhelm him and he was dazed as he listened to her account of Warren’s seizure. When she got to the portion of the story concerning the time of the attack and the time of Robert Barber’s discovery in the parking lot, Turner’s trance was abruptly broken. Turner thought, “ Barber had to be bleeding at the same time, according to the particulars regarding his trauma. He must have been attacked at the same time that Warren was having the seizure. Could Warren have sensed this somehow? Could he have known what was happening to Barber?” He thought about the changes that had taken place in Warren after his accident in the lab. His heightened intellect was all that Turner initially noticed. There seemed to be no change to his physiology. Could there be something more, something undetected that had also happened to Warren? If there were other changes that took place in the boy, then this development may be only the beginning. There must be a battery of test conducted on Warren Parsons but those tests had to wait. Mrs. Barber and her family had to be contacted. This was top priority in honor of his friend. He had to be available for them. He wanted to head to his office but he began to contemplate the strangest possibility... that Warren’s blood could hold key to Barber’s survival. If he was going to go down this muddy road then he knew that time was running out. He had to move quickly while Barber still was clinging to life. “Gwen, I’m going to the office. Get Barber to ICU and get someone upstairs to monitor Warren…and…..thanks for hanging around. I know your shift is over.” She smiled and assured him that his orders would be followed. Then Turner raced out of the emergency room with a renewed energy fueled by a renewed sense of purpose. Can he save his friend and does Warren hold the key?