Final Mercy

by Frank J Edwards

  “Here we are, Eleanor.” He yanked open the door and wheeled the stretcher in. At the central station, he stopped in front of Kathy.

  “Jack?” she said, half-standing. “What the heck’s up? Who’s this?”

  “Don’t ask—extreme emergency. Find out if Suite X is clear.”

  Like the fine person she was, Kathy sprang to the other side of the station and checked the locator board.

  “It’s clear,” she told him. “Do you need any help?”

  “Please call the respiratory tech and have him meet me there with a ventilator, super stat. And please page Dr. Wick, the toxicologist.”

  He turned the corner to the left, where he ran straight into Randy Delancy.

  “Dr. Forester? You’re not supposed to be here today.”

  “Too busy to talk, Randy. Out of my way, please.”

  “Who’s this?” Delancy leaned over the stretcher. “Why is she breathing into that tube?”

  “We can continue this discussion later. Step aside. Don’t do that, Randy.”

  It was too late. Delancy had lifted up the blanket. A look of dismay blossomed on his face.

  “Is that Dr. Gavin?”

  “That’s right.” Jack began pushing again, forcing the younger man to jump aside.

  “What’s going on?”

  Jack didn’t answer. He rounded the corner into the side corridor. Another voice hailed him. Steve Brasio came toward him carrying an x-ray film.

  “Dr. Forester, have you got a minute?” he said, coming up alongside Jack and keeping pace. “Are you coming on duty?”

  “No time to talk now, Steve. Listen, help me get this stretcher into Suite X, would you?”

  The intern grabbed one of the side rails and leaned into pushing.

  “Sir, could you give me a hand with a weird case I’m seeing?”

  “Isn’t Sue Redwater your attending today?”

  “She is, but this patient is demanding that all his physicians be male. He won’t even let a female nurse in the room.”

  “I’d love to help, but I can’t let go of this case right now,” Jack said. “Give him another breath, Eleanor. We’re almost there. Tell you what, Steve—you help me, and I’ll help you.”

  They reached the wide entrance to Suite X. All three curtained cubicles were empty.

  “Steve, move out one of those stretchers so we can fit this one in. We’ll put it there in the corner.”

  Once the old stretcher was out, Jack slid in the one carrying Eleanor and Gavin. He closed the curtain and looked at Brasio.

  “Brace yourself, Steve.” And he pulled the blanket down.

  Brasio’s eyes bulged. Before he had a chance to ask a question, however, John Kellogg, the respiratory tech, slipped in through the curtains.

  “What’s up, Dr. F?” he said. “Kathy said there was a super stat emergency here. You needed a ventilator?” Kellogg then looked down at the stretcher and gaped. “Holy shit.”

  “You’re not kidding,” said Brasio. “That’s Dr. Gavin, isn’t it?”

  “Yes, it is,” said Eleanor, sitting up. “And I’m breathing for him.”

  Jack flew through an explanation, telling them as concisely as possible why he believed Gavin’s coma was due to intentional overmedication.

  “Just trust me for now. We need to get him back on a ventilator. Could you do that for us, John?”

  “You bet.”

  “Great. And listen, there’s going to be some political chaos hitting this place real soon. Let me handle that end of things.”

  “You got it,” Kellogg said.

  “One more thing—do not leave him alone with anyone else. Especially not Dr. Witner, do you understand?”

  Jack helped Eleanor off the stretcher while Kellogg hooked up the ventilator and Steve Brasio, still carrying the x-ray film, attached monitor leads to Gavin’s chest. With that done, Jack turned to the surgical intern.

  “Steve, I don’t have much time, but what’s the story with this weird case you’ve got there?”

  “Thanks, Dr. Forester. This guy came in a little while ago with belly pain and vomiting.” Brasio handed him the film. “Take a look.”

  Forester held it up to the ceiling light. “No wonder he doesn’t want a female physician. He’s got a vibrator in his rectum.”

  “He says it was an accident,” said Brasio.

  “It’s always accidental."

  “What do I do?” asked the intern. “I’ve never dealt with anything like this before. Does he need to go to the OR?”

  “No. Put him on a pelvic table in stirrups and sedate him with a little midozolam. Then insert a small vaginal speculum in his anus. As soon as you open it, you should be able to visualize the foreign body. Pull it out slowly with a Magill forceps and stand back because there’s often a lot of fecal material behind it and the colon may go into spasm.”

  “Got it, thanks, Dr. Forester.”

  Jack turned to Kellogg. “John, I’m going to go find a nurse to help us, and I need to locate the toxicologist. We need drug levels. Eleanor, do you want to stay here with Dr. Gavin?”

  “I’ll volunteer for that job any day.”

  “You’ve done beautifully.”

  Jack checked his watch. Almost twenty minutes had elapsed since they’d left Gavin’s room. Things would have to explode soon.

  Striding back to the nursing station, he nearly bowled over Randy Delancy.

  “Dr. Forester, what are you doing? This is way out of line. Even I know that.”

  “Out of my way, you little ass-kisser. And, by the way, you can clear out of my office. Your boss is through.”

  He saw Darcy McFeely and called to her.

  “What’s going on?”

  “Darcy, if you aren’t involved in something life-or-death right now, please help take care of the new patient I just put in Suite X. John Kellogg will explain. It’s Dr. Gavin.”

  “Come again?”

  “No time to talk.”

  He marched to the secretary’s station.

  “Kathy, any luck reaching Dr. Wick yet?”

  “He hasn’t returned the page.”

  “Page him again.”

  “You will do nothing of the kind,” said Bryson Witner. “Put down that phone, or you’re fired.”

  Jack swung around. The interim dean strode toward him, Nelson Debussy at his side.

  “What in the name of God is going on here, Forester?” sputtered Debussy, his face purple, jabbing his finger at Jack. “I run into Dr. Witner in the hallway and he tells me you’ve kidnapped Jim Gavin. You are going down, sir. All the way down!”

  Everyone within earshot turned to gape.

  Witner cleared his throat.

  “What you did was very unwise, Dr. Forester,” he said. “Unwise.”

  “I’ll say it was unwise,” Debussy thundered. “If anything untoward happens to Gavin, I will personally rip your license to shreds.”

  “Dr. Gavin is doing fine,” said Jack. “Not only is he doing fine, but there’s a good chance he might be awake by tomorrow.”

  “What kind of garbage are you blithering!”

  “Do you want to keep screaming at me, or would you like an explanation?”

  “I want him back where he belongs. Now!”

  “I’m afraid that can’t happen yet,” said Jack.

  “What!”

  “We’re going to run some tests first.”

  Debussy turned to Witner. “Did he just say no to me?”

  “Easy, Nelson,” said Witner. “We’ll get this straightened out. First of all, Forester, where, exactly, is Dr. Gavin?”

  “Suite X,” volunteered Delancy, who had come up next to Witner. “He’s in Suite X, sir. I just saw him myself.”

  “Which is where he’s going to stay,” Jack said, “until we run some tests.”

  “Oh, I think you’re wrong about that,” Witner replied.

  “You want to bet?” Jack took his cell phone off his belt. “I’m going to ca
ll the police. They can help us settle this.”

  Witner raised his hand. “You’ll do nothing of the kind. We’ll deal with this internally. I’m sure Mr. Debussy will agree we’ve had more than enough adverse publicity. Do not make that call.”

  “That’s right,” Debussy chimed in. “Put down the phone, and get that man back upstairs.”

  Ignoring him, Jack punched in three numbers—911. Witner reached for Jack’s hand, but Debussy stopped him.

  “Let him, Bryson. Let him cook his own goose.”

  “What’s happening?” said Gail Scippino, striding into the station, crowded now as more staff stopped working and gathered around. “I was at a meeting. Why didn’t someone page me?”

  “Dispatcher?” said Jack into the phone. “This is Dr. Forester at the New Canterbury ED. There’s an attempted murder going on here. That’s right. Please send the closest unit immediately. Straight to the ED. No delay, please. That’s right, it’s Dr. Forester, medical director of the ED.”

  He stared over at Witner, whose face had darkened.

  “Attempted murder?” said Gail Scippino. “Jack, what are you talking about? Why is everybody here?”

  Debussy threw up his hands.

  “For God’s sake, would somebody go see how Dr. Gavin’s doing?”

  Darcy had just appeared from the corridor toward Suite X.

  “He’s doing fine,” she called over. “Everything’s stable. The respiratory tech’s with him.”

  “Excellent,” said Witner. “If he’s stable, then there’s no reason why we can’t take him back upstairs. Let’s go, Randy. You and I will personally wheel him up.”

  “Over my dead body,” said Jack, stepping to block the corridor.

  The ambulance port slid open, and in ran two gray-uniformed state troopers, handcuffs clanking on their belts.

  “Where’s the problem?” one of them demanded.

  “There’s the problem,” said Debussy, pointing at Jack. “That man right there. He kidnapped a patient from upstairs and is now refusing to let him be moved. Arrest him.”

  The troopers stopped, confused expressions on their faces.

  “Arrest Jack Forester?” one of them said.

  “Yes. Immediately. He’s endangering the life of a patient.”

  “And who are you?”

  “I’m Nelson Debussy, president of the university.”

  “Sir, that doesn’t sound like the Dr. Forester we know” said the other trooper.

  “Enough talk,” said Debussy. “Just take him away.”

  “Hold on just a minute,” the trooper ordered. “What’s your side of this, Jack?”

  “Thank you,” Jack said. “The patient in question is Dr. James Gavin, the former dean, who is supposed to be in a coma. But I believe he’s being criminally overmedicated by Dr. Witner. That’s Dr. Witner, right there.”

  A murmur went around the central station.

  “Which proves he’s off his rocker,” said Debussy. “You can arrest him on my authority. Just do it.”

  Tim Bonadonna pushed through the crowd.

  “Jack Forester is telling the truth, officers. We believe Dr. Witner is trying to kill Dr. Gavin. He may have killed others.”

  “And who the hell are you?” Debussy demanded.

  “That’s the security guard I found in Dr. Gavin’s bed,” said Witner, whose face was composed but abnormally rigid and pale. “He’s an accomplice.”

  “Well, I’m no accomplice,” Eleanor Lane announced. Hearing the commotion, she had left Suite X and had been listening from the sidelines. “Dr. Forester is just trying to do what’s best, and I’m helping him. You can arrest me, too.”

  “What?” Debussy said.

  “I’m a thirty-five-year veteran of this hospital’s volunteer service, young man, and you need to listen.”

  “Oh, my God, what’s next?” said Debussy.

  Jack held up his hands and raised his voice.

  “Everybody—all I ask is to keep Dr. Gavin here in the emergency department until we can run some blood levels and get a toxicology consultation. He’s perfectly stable, and he will get exactly the same care here he would upstairs. I promise we can have this sorted out in less than two hours.”

  “By which time,” said Debussy, “you’ll be behind bars.”

  “Sir,” said the trooper, “we don’t arrest people just because you’d like it to happen.”

  “What the devil do you do then?”

  Witner cleared his throat.

  “All right,” he declared, pointing toward the troopers, “seeing as I’m being accused of something here, I deserve a word.”

  “Go right ahead,” said the trooper.

  “I agree with Dr. Forester.”

  “What are you talking about, Bryson?”

  “That’s right, Nelson. I see no harm in keeping Dr. Gavin here for a short while, if that’s what it takes to clear the water. Any deleterious effects from dragging him here will already have occurred, I’m afraid. So, he can stay here, and let the chips fall where they may.”

  Debussy gazed around, speechless.

  “It’s all right, Nelson,” Witner reassured him.

  “Well, Bryson, if that’s what you’d like. Ms. Scippino, as the nursing director, do you agree to keeping Dr. Gavin here for a while?”

  “My head’s still spinning. Certainly. I believe we can spare the room. We’re not too busy.”

  “It’s settled, then,” Witner said. “Now, if no one objects I would like at least to check on my patient.”

  “Certainly,” Debussy told him.

  “But not alone,” Jack added.

  “I’d be happy to have an escort, if you think that’s necessary,” Witner agreed.

  Jack stared at him. He had to be bluffing. There could be no doubt he wanted to be alone with Gavin. It was obvious from the smug look on his face Witner didn’t think the game was over.

  Something occurred to him. There might be a way to flush him into the open.

  “Listen, I realize I could be wrong about all of this, Dr. Witner. You’ve been kind enough to let us keep him here, and I appreciate this. If you want to examine Dr. Gavin, that’s your prerogative. I won’t try to stop you.”

  “Jack?” Tim protested. “Are you sure?”

  “Well, finally, we are hearing some common sense and consideration,” Witner said. “Thank you, Dr. Forester. This may speak in your favor.”

  Jack nodded. “Listen, the respiratory tech is in there now. When you go in, would you tell him I need to speak with him?”

  “Yes, I can do that, no problem.” Witner held Jack’s gaze for a moment, then turned and strode toward Suite X.

  * * *

  The window was closing fast, but a razor-thin chance still existed, glimmered on the horizon like the sun about to set. And the opportunity was courtesy of Dr. Forester himself.

  Witner eased aside the curtain. The respiratory tech was adjusting ventilator settings. He looked up with a startled expression.

  “Dr. Witner?”

  “Where’s the nurse?” Witner said, entering the cubicle.

  “She had to check on another patient. She’ll be back in a minute.”

  “How’s our patient doing?”

  “Fine.”

  Witner bent to read the man’s name tag.

  “Mr. Kellogg, Dr. Forester wants to see you. He’s out by the nursing station.”

  Kellogg looked skeptical. He went to the wall, where a small intercom device connected to the central station.

  “Dr. Forester, this is John,” he said, pressing the button. “Did you want to see me?”

  Jack’s voice crackled back after a moment.

  “It’s okay, John. I need to speak with you for a minute.”

  “Dr. Witner’s here.”

  “I know.”

  “I’ll be right back,” Kellogg told Witner, and stepped out.

  He had to get the potassium in fast. The moment the tech disappeared, he took the
syringe from his pocket. The potassium would work almost instantly, but it would not do for him to be in the room when Gavin’s heart fibrillated.

  A small bag of saline hung from an IV pole, slowly dripping into Gavin’s arm. Perfect. He gave a quick look back at the curtain then reached up, slid the needle into the port and injected the entire contents of the syringe into it. He then turned the plastic flow regulator to wide open. The fluid began running in a steady stream. In fifteen minutes, there would be no more James Gavin.

  The syringe back in his pocket, he stepped away from the bedside—and just in time, for he heard footfalls approaching. Someone was running. His muscles tensed.

  Jack burst through the curtains and lunged for the IV bag, clamping off the tubing with his fingers and turning the bag upside down. The curtains parted wider and wider, and there appeared a number of faces, all staring at him—Debussy, the two troopers, Gail Scippino and Randy Delancy.

  “Is something amiss?” Witner said, clasping his hands behind his back.

  Jack didn’t reply. He was busy disconnecting the IV tube from the catheter in Gavin’s arm.

  “Nelson.” Witner turned toward Debussy. “What’s going on?”

  Debussy released a sigh that seemed to deflate his entire body, and he shook his head, his eyes glistening. There was an expression on his face Witner had never seen there before. Intense shame.

  He heard the sound of handcuffs being opened. His eyes went from the trooper back to Debussy.

  “Bryson,” Debussy said, pointing to where the wall met the ceiling. “That’s a video monitor. Dr. Forester turned it on a moment ago.”

  Witner saw the purplish eye of a camera lens, and the blood drained from his face.

  Jack was staring at him, the IV bag in his hand, his hand trembling slightly.

  “I’m not sure what you put in there, Witner, but it won’t take long to find out. Or would you like to tell us?”

  “For God’s sake, all you’ll find is an antibiotic.”

  A cacophony of whispers filled his ears. So, the window had shut. Or had it? Perhaps not completely.