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Authors: James Novus
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it’s contagious,” she suggested. “Like the flu or strep throat. I think that’s why Amber got it. I didn’t mention it before, but I saw Amber and Luther making out at the end of the hallway. That was about a half hour after he left the restraint room the first time.”
Dave was flabbergasted. The idea of some sort of death-rot kissing disease spreading through the hospital was bizarre enough, but he was also amazed that Amber could have been so quick and aggressive in latching onto the smelly serial killer.
“ So, it must spread by mouth contact,” Dave said. “Kissing, licking, biting, or anything like that could spread it.”
Janet turned to Dave with a look of terror. “Oh my God. What about Jason?”
Chapter Eight
Eric caught up to Chester as they reached the outer door to D Ward, the geriatric section of the hospital. The sound of screams emanated from within. Chester hitched up his pants and turned to give Eric a nod. Placing his foot flat on the door, he gave a mighty shove and the door banged open wide. He and Eric walked into D Ward like Wild West gunslingers entering a saloon brawl.
They had expected to see chairs flying and people duking it out in the corridors. This riot, however, was no riot at all. The first thing Chester and Eric spotted was a group of four patients standing at the tall countertop of the nursing station. The group of patients stood shoulder to shoulder, staring into the chart room. They all had their back turned toward the entrance.
In one of the day rooms, an elderly man slumped forward in a motorized wheelchair. He probably would have fallen out of the chair but he was held in place by a seatbelt. The patient appeared half-asleep, and his arm was moving erratically on the joystick of the motorized wheelchair. The wheelchair rolled forward and then back in an irregular rhythm. With each forward motion the chair would hit a couch, and with each backward motion it would hit a table. It reminded Chester of a teenager learning to parallel park for the first time.
Chester and Eric stopped just inside the entrance corridor, pausing to assess the situation. All was quiet, except for a low-level grunting of the patients at the desk and the repetitive “whirr-bump-whirr-bump” pattern of the wheelchair gently bouncing off the furniture. Nothing seemed all that unusual, aside from a large assortment of papers scattered on the floor around the nursing station.
Suddenly a medical chart came flying out of the chart room and hit one of the patients in the face. A shower of papers erupted from the chart and fluttered down to the floor with the others. A couple more charts followed in quick succession.
“Someone’s in the chart room throwing charts at the patients. That must be our riot!” Eric laughed. “I’ve got this.” Feeling suddenly emboldened again, Eric headed toward the conflict.
“Wait, hang on. Something isn’t right,” Chester warned. He reached out to grab Eric’s shoulder, but Eric had already started toward the nursing station. Eric walked up behind the group of four patients at the countertop and draped his arms over the shoulders of the two in the middle. He recognized one of them as Jason from B Ward
“Who’s in there causing trouble?” he asked, expecting to find a feeble elderly patient tossing charts from behind the desk. Instead he saw a nurse and five other patients huddled together in a single terrified mass. They were pulled back into the corner as far as they could go, with eyes wide and mouths agape. The nurse was holding a medical chart in her right hand, as if preparing to throw it at the patients standing beside Eric. She looked to Eric and her face drew into an even more terrified expression. She lifted her left hand and pointed at the group with a visible tremor.
“It’s not us! It’s them!” she blurted, her voice hoarse from screaming.
Eric looked at the nurse for a second and wondered if perhaps the stress of her job had
Dave was flabbergasted. The idea of some sort of death-rot kissing disease spreading through the hospital was bizarre enough, but he was also amazed that Amber could have been so quick and aggressive in latching onto the smelly serial killer.
“ So, it must spread by mouth contact,” Dave said. “Kissing, licking, biting, or anything like that could spread it.”
Janet turned to Dave with a look of terror. “Oh my God. What about Jason?”
Chapter Eight
Eric caught up to Chester as they reached the outer door to D Ward, the geriatric section of the hospital. The sound of screams emanated from within. Chester hitched up his pants and turned to give Eric a nod. Placing his foot flat on the door, he gave a mighty shove and the door banged open wide. He and Eric walked into D Ward like Wild West gunslingers entering a saloon brawl.
They had expected to see chairs flying and people duking it out in the corridors. This riot, however, was no riot at all. The first thing Chester and Eric spotted was a group of four patients standing at the tall countertop of the nursing station. The group of patients stood shoulder to shoulder, staring into the chart room. They all had their back turned toward the entrance.
In one of the day rooms, an elderly man slumped forward in a motorized wheelchair. He probably would have fallen out of the chair but he was held in place by a seatbelt. The patient appeared half-asleep, and his arm was moving erratically on the joystick of the motorized wheelchair. The wheelchair rolled forward and then back in an irregular rhythm. With each forward motion the chair would hit a couch, and with each backward motion it would hit a table. It reminded Chester of a teenager learning to parallel park for the first time.
Chester and Eric stopped just inside the entrance corridor, pausing to assess the situation. All was quiet, except for a low-level grunting of the patients at the desk and the repetitive “whirr-bump-whirr-bump” pattern of the wheelchair gently bouncing off the furniture. Nothing seemed all that unusual, aside from a large assortment of papers scattered on the floor around the nursing station.
Suddenly a medical chart came flying out of the chart room and hit one of the patients in the face. A shower of papers erupted from the chart and fluttered down to the floor with the others. A couple more charts followed in quick succession.
“Someone’s in the chart room throwing charts at the patients. That must be our riot!” Eric laughed. “I’ve got this.” Feeling suddenly emboldened again, Eric headed toward the conflict.
“Wait, hang on. Something isn’t right,” Chester warned. He reached out to grab Eric’s shoulder, but Eric had already started toward the nursing station. Eric walked up behind the group of four patients at the countertop and draped his arms over the shoulders of the two in the middle. He recognized one of them as Jason from B Ward
“Who’s in there causing trouble?” he asked, expecting to find a feeble elderly patient tossing charts from behind the desk. Instead he saw a nurse and five other patients huddled together in a single terrified mass. They were pulled back into the corner as far as they could go, with eyes wide and mouths agape. The nurse was holding a medical chart in her right hand, as if preparing to throw it at the patients standing beside Eric. She looked to Eric and her face drew into an even more terrified expression. She lifted her left hand and pointed at the group with a visible tremor.
“It’s not us! It’s them!” she blurted, her voice hoarse from screaming.
Eric looked at the nurse for a second and wondered if perhaps the stress of her job had
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