Four

Shambles, thought Angie as she stepped into the waiting room and looked around. Chairs were moved. Paper coffee cups were stacked everywhere. Magazines appeared to have been tossed around at random.

To Angie's left stood the reception desk, and Velma stood behind that. Velma had worked reception since Angie was a girl. Two men stood in front of the desk, talking to Velma. One clutched a wounded arm. Angie overheard that his name was Moe.

She moved past them and started cleaning. One of the men, the unhurt one, was complaining about having to wait to see the doctor. He sounded like a jackass.

She collected up several half-empty coffee cups and took them to a nearby trash can. Lukewarm coffee splashed on her hands as she dumped the cups inside. She cursed and wiped her hands on her smock. She looked around and saw at least three magazines nearby. She picked up two off of a nearby chair and went toward one lying on the floor just by a large window.

She knelt, picked up the magazine, then jerked back when something brushed the glass.

She stood, her heart skipping, and saw a woman pressed against the window. The woman moved feebly, writhing against the glass. Like she was trying to walk through it.

The poor thing's drunk, thought Angie as she tried to direct the woman to the doors. But the woman wasn't looking at her. The woman wasn't looking at anything, really. Her eyes were a milky yellow and her slowly opening and closing mouth revealed a swollen, gray tongue.

“Oh my god,” Angie said, stepping back.

She heard movement behind her. Her back tightened and she spun around.

Dr. Gordon stood there. He was a short man with a lean face and a comb-over.

“Dr. Gordon,” she said, breathing out. “Um, Nurse Ruby told me to clean up...”

He gave a little shake of his head to indicate he wasn't interested. “Ms. Land, I was just talking with Mr. Paulson's family.”

“Oh, right,” Angie said. “Mr. Paulson's saying he doesn't want...”

“Mr. Shuab told me you're trying to give medical advice.”

Angie's cheeks tightened with heat. “No, sir, I was just...”

He shook his head again, dislodging his thin bangs. “You don't seem to realize what your duties are. And I must say I'm tired of complaints about your attitude.”

Angie's first thought was to punch him. She'd never hit anyone before, but this little fucker had asked for it night after night. She needed this job, but damn it would be fun to...

Something bumped the glass behind her. She'd forgotten about the woman at the window.

“Sir, I think there's a woman who needs help,” she said, turning to the window. The woman was gone. Only smears on the glass remained.

“Ms. Land!” Dr. Gordon shouted.

Angie spun back to see him fuming and readjusting his hair. “I'm afraid that's all I can take. If you can't even do the courtesy of looking at me while I'm talking to you, then...”

“Sir, please...”

“No, I'm sorry. I'm going to recommend the hospital board fire you.”

“What?” Angie said. “You can't...”

“Now I hate to be a man who uses his connections, but I'm afraid I have no choice. If I were you, I'd start looking for other work.”

He turned and walked toward the emergency room. Angie watched him go.

He couldn't.

Dr. Gordon pushed the emergency room doors open and walked through. The doors swung shut.

Angie blinked. She opened her mouth, then shut it.

He couldn't. He didn't have the authority.

But he did have the friends. A whole board-of-directors full.

So maybe he could after all.

Shambles, thought Angie as she sat down in the closest chair she could find, next to a soda machine. It hummed in her ear, but she barely noticed. She stared at the floor.

Call home.

Why not?

She took out her phone and started dialing.

* * *

Ten Minutes Earlier

“I don't believe this,” said Park, drumming his fingers on the reception counter. “Can't you see how bad he's bleeding?”

“Be nice, Park,” murmured Moe, clutching his arm. “It's not that bad.”

“I understand, sir,” said the fat old bitty behind the counter. “But we are unusually busy tonight. Just have a seat and the doctor will be with you as soon as possible.”

“Great,” said Park. “Just great.” He paused to watch a woman in a hospital smock walk by. Angie, her name tag said. He turned back to the fat old bitty. “Thanks for the heaping help of jack fuck.”

“Come on,” said Moe, wincing slightly. “Let's sit.”

Park grudgingly followed Moe to a chair and plopped down next to him. He ran a hand through his long hair, scratched at his stubble and absently watched “Angie” pick up magazines and cups around the room.

“Damn it,” he muttered to no one in particular.

“Just try to relax,” said Moe. Park turned back to see Moe looking at his red-stained palm. Moe put his hand back on his wound. “I'm the one who got bit.”

Park sighed. “Yeah, I know. I'm just in a shitty mood.”

Moe chuckled. “You're always in a shitty mood. You were born in a shitty mood. You wake up every morning in a shitty mood. And when you die, the doctors will tell your wife 'At least he died peacefully, in a shitty mood.'”

Park grunted. “Ex-wife. And I doubt she'd work up enough of a shit to show up.” He hiked up one hip and fished around in his pocket for change. He cursed, switched hips and tried the other. This time he found some coins. “I saw a soda machine on the way in. You want one?”

“Don't know what I'd do with a soda machine,” said Moe. “Doubt I could even carry it in my condition.”

“Hey, it's the funniest fuck in fuck town,” said Park. “You know what I mean, dipshit. Do you want a soda?”

“What I want is a beer,” said Moe.

“You're in a hospital, Moe.” Park looked around for the machine. Angie was talking to a balding man. She looked pissed.

Park looked back to Moe and smirked. “So you obviously can't have a fucking beer. What you can fucking have is a fucking soda.” He rattled the coins in his hand. “Do you want one or not?”

Moe smirked back and shrugged. “Sure.”

“Fine,” said Park. He started to stand. The balding man walked past him on the way to the emergency room. Park sat back down and watched him go.

Park grunted. “Sure,” he said loudly enough for the fat old bitty to hear. “He gets to go in.”

“That was the doctor,” said the fat old bitty.

“You shitting me?” said Park. “That was the doctor? Thanks for fucking telling him we got a hurt man here.”

The fat old bitty sighed. “Please, sir, just be patient. I will let you know when he can see you.”

Park snorted and stood. “Yeah, well, don't fucking hurt yourself rushing to help.” He turned and walked to the soda machine.

Angie was sitting next to the machine. She stared at her cell phone as she slowly punched numbers in.

“Hey,” said Park. “Not to interrupt whatever chat you're about to have, but my friend is hurt pretty bad. Are you people gonna get off your asses and do something?”

Angie looked up at him. She was mad, and Park was used to people being mad at him. But there was something else in her eyes. It took Park a second to recognize it.

Despair.

Then it was gone. “Sure,” she said, snapping the phone shut. “But I'm just an aide. At least for tonight. I'll get you a nurse.”