Code Blue

by Janet Lane-Walters

  Susan nodded. "I owe you a dinner. Let me know when you're ready to collect." She reached for the district care plan book and motioned to one of the day nurses. As the woman began report, Barbara sauntered into the station and leaned against the counter.

  The early hours of the shift were hectic. Susan felt as though she chased the hours she'd lost on the airport runway and in crawling past construction barriers. With eleven unfamiliar patients, she had no time to dwell on the undercurrents she had sensed in the lounge or on her own restlessness.

  At six thirty, she finished second medication rounds and walked to the lounge for her dinner break. As she entered the room, Barbara lit another cigarette.

  "Go out and watch for call lights," Susan said.

  "Will you be finished by seven?" Barbara asked. "I want evening care to be done before you drop out for nine o'clock meds."

  "My break begins when you're out of here."

  "I'm going. I'm going." Barbara stubbed her cigarette and slipped the butt into a silver case she said one of the patients had given her. "Isn't it about time for Leila to make rounds? Wouldn't want the supervisor to think I was goofing off."

  "Goodbye, Barbara." Susan carried a salad and a cup of coffee to the table. Fifteen minutes later, the lounge door opened and Leila walked in.

  "You're late," Susan said.

  Leila poured a cup of coffee. "It's been one of those evenings. ICU had a visitor who refused to leave. The OR needed four units of blood stat. A patient on Five Med/Surg fell." She sat across from Susan. "I like the hair. It's about time you colored the gray."

  "That's what my mother said, plus a lot of other advice." Susan closed the salad container. "Why don't we get together for lunch tomorrow and I'll fill you in about the state of nursing practice in Florida?"

  Leila lit a cigarette.

  Susan raised an eyebrow. "I thought you quit."

  "Stress."

  "And the rules?"

  "Will you turn me in?"

  "I might. About lunch?"

  "I can't. I have class. Just one more semester."

  Susan cleaned the area of the table she had used. "Wednesday?"

  Leila shook her head. "I'm picking up my new car. Do you have time to talk about one of your co-workers?"

  "Here? I wouldn't want to chance being overheard. What about Friday?"

  "I'll be away. It's a four-day weekend."

  "Joe?" Susan asked.

  A dreamy look misted Leila's dark eyes. "We're going to his hunting cabin."

  "Don't you ever get tired of spending so little time with him?"

  "Quality counts." Leila's smile brought an elegant charm to her pointed features. "It's a good relationship. We both know how much we're willing to give. I don't want him to leave his wife and marry me."

  A fleeting shadow in her friend's eyes made Susan wonder why Leila lied to herself. On the surface, her friend acted like a realist, but Susan knew the hidden romantic. For twelve years, she had watched Leila hide that part of her nature.

  Susan rose. "I'd better leave before Barbara comes looking for me. Wouldn't want her to think I was goofing off with the supervisor."

  Leila made a face. "She's at the top of my problem list."

  "Then we definitely couldn't talk here. I think she's bugged the lounge."

  "I wouldn't put it past her." Leila raked her fingers through her short blonde curls in a nervous gesture Susan had seen Leila use since her divorce.

  Susan stepped into the hall. "Let me know when we can get together."

  "Probably next week." Leila waved and ducked into the storage room hall used by the nurses as a shortcut to the elevators.

  As Susan neared the utility room, a cart shot from the doorway. Barbara caught the handle in time to prevent an accident. "Good," she said. "You're right on time."

  "And you're efficient."

  "Wasn't me." The practical's hands rested on her ample hips. "While you were loafing in the sun, the volunteer took over the job."

  Susan smiled. "How nice of him. Let's go."

  From seven until nearly nine, Susan and Barbara moved from room to room, straightening beds, rubbing backs and doing special treatments. Each time Susan stopped to explain a test of to do pre-op teaching, Barbara groaned and looked at her watch. Susan refused to be pushed and deliberately ignored the broad hints.

  While they worked, Barbara's mouth remained in constant motion. "Kit has a new boy friend. He's a real loser... The other night De Witt and Mendoza nearly came to blows over a patient's treatment. Julie blew up at Trish and defended De Witt. That girl sure is uptight these days. You saw the way she reacted this afternoon when I tried to warn her about his intentions...I think Trish is anorexic or something... Boy, Leila's sure looking smug these days. Wonder who she plans to stomp. Better not be me... I know..."

  By the midpoint of the district, Susan had tuned out the strident voice. She refused to request details or ask the questions Barbara's statements demanded. At nine, she left Barbara in the last room of the district and stepped into the hall.

  Trish pushed a med cart past the door. "Aren't you caught up yet? You should learn to cut corners the way the rest of us do." The thin nurse spoke so fast her words ran together.

  "Slow down," Susan said.

  As though Trish hadn't heard the warning, she moved away with the speed of the final runner on a relay team. Susan shook her head. One of these days, in her haste to finish first, Trish would make a mistake.

  Moments later, Susan entered the pentagon-shaped med room. Julie stood at the refrigerator. In both hands, she clutched plastic pouches of intravenous antibiotics. She closed the door with her foot. "Looks like you're almost caught up. Wish I could have helped you."

  "There wasn't any way you could have." Susan put her med book on top of her district's cart. "If Barbara does her share of charting, I'll be out of here on time."

  "Your idea of on time, no doubt. Have you ever clocked out at eleven thirty?"

  "A time or two."

  "What did you learn from Barbara? Any hints about her big story?"

  "Before I tuned her out, she rattled on and I've jumbled all her tales together." Susan unlocked the narcotic cabinet and removed a box of Valium. "If you want to help me untangle them, we could stop at the diner after work."

  "I can't. Larry's here to clear a patient for surgery tomorrow. We're meeting at the Oasis. Though Barbara doesn't believe me, I'm getting a ring for Christmas."

  Susan returned the Valium to the cabinet. Would there really be an engagement ring for Julie? What the younger nurse saw in De Witt puzzled Susan. In the two and a half years since the leonine young doctor had joined his uncle's practice, De Witt had dated most of the hospital's available nurses and a few who weren't. Did Julie really believe he'd marry her? Julie was young enough to think she was different from the other victims of his charm.

  Five minutes later, Susan pushed the med cart into the cull de sac off the main corridor. The patients in the private rooms along the short hall were being treated for bone infections and she had to hang the first round of IV medications.

  The volunteer stepped out of the first private room. "Mrs. Randall, welcome back. How's your father?"

  "Doing nicely." She smiled.

  "I'm glad." A matching smile softened his chiseled features. "You've been busy this evening."

  She nodded. "It's a matter of settling into the routine again. Tomorrow will be better." She entered the room he had just left.

  After hanging the medicine, she left the room and halted in the doorway. The volunteer leaned against the wall across from the door with a hand pressed against his chest. His dark eyes held a glimmer of fear.

  "Mr. Martin, are you all right?"

  As she spoke, his stance relaxed. "Angina. Took a nitro."

  "Is there anything I can do?"

  He shook his head. "I'm fine now."

  She watched him walk away. His short clipped hair suited his bearing and his gait. He seemed to hav
e recovered from the brief attack, but she decided to check him when she finished the first round of antibiotics. She entered the room next to the patients' lounge.

  Barbara stepped away from the bed. "She's on the bedpan. Take her off. I'm going on break and I'm late."

  As the practical left the room, Susan saw a gold bracelet. Glimpses of the unusual piece had tantalized her all evening and she wanted a closer look. Was this another gift from a "grateful" patient?

  * * *

  He stood in the shadows just beyond the brightly-lit Emergency Room entrance. She was here. A series of quickly inhaled breaths brought a feeling of euphoria. He caught his lower lip between his teeth and savored visions of what was to come.

  He felt the softness of her skin and of his fists pummeling her body. Susan would be with Mommy and he would be free. There would be no one to scold him for doing the things that made him feel so powerful and so strong.

  He slapped his jacket pocket and growled. No hard piece of metal pressed against his hip. Susan was here. What had he done? He had planned this event so carefully but somehow, he had forgotten a vital piece of the plan. He pulled off his gloves and shoved his hands into his pockets.

  What would he do now? He rocked from his heels to his toes. It had to be tonight. He couldn't wait.

  The glow of anticipation faded. He struggled to renew the fire.

  Susan was like Mommy. Until he closed her eyes, he couldn't act. Before he had a chance to make those people pay for what they had done to Mommy she had to die. He knew she would tell on him.

  "I'll never leave you. They'll have to kill me first."

  "Mommy, don't leave me."

  At ten fifteen, Susan pushed the med cart into the nurses' station. "If anyone wants me, I'll be in the back." Her feet ached. She needed the lift a cup of coffee would bring.

  When the unit secretary turned in her chair, her red hair swirled like a matador's cape. "Bad news," Kit Carbonari said. "When I got back from break, I found a note about an admission. Guess who has the empty bed? It's a seventy-year-old with a fractured hip."

  "Murphy's Law," Susan mumbled. No break tonight. The next half-hour would be spent with the new patient. She abandoned the med cart in the middle of the nurses' lounge, strode across the room and opened the door.

  "Barbara, let's go. We're getting an admission."

  No strident voice answered. No acrid aroma of cigarette smoke tainted the air. Where was the practical?

  As she retraced her steps to the nurses' station, her shoes slapped against the dark green carpet. She paused at the desk. "Has anyone seen Barbara?"

  Kit shook her head. "She didn't take break with us. Acted like she had a hot date."

  "Guess it's gossip rounds tonight." One of the practicals giggled. "Think of all the juicy stories she'll have when she gets back."

  "And the ones about us she'll spread." Trish reached for another chart. "Someone should plug her mouth."

  Julie turned in the chair at the doctors' desk where she sat beside De Witt. "Is there a problem?" she asked. "Can I help?"

  "Just an admission and no Barbara." On her way to the clean utility room, Susan paused beside the younger nurse.

  De Witt captured Julie's hand the way a lion grasps its prey. "Don't be late." As he rose, he smoothed his ash blond hair and slung a black leather jacket over his shoulder. He strode down the hall.

  "Go get the equipment," Julie said. "As soon as I finish this chart, I'll meet you in the patient's room."

  Moments later, Susan entered the semi-private room and dropped an egg crate mattress on the foot of the bed next to the door. Leaving the hospital at eleven thirty had become an impossible dream.

  "I knew it was too good to last." The patient by the window raised the head of her bed. "Sure hope she doesn't snore."

  "You'll soon know."

  "What's wrong with her?"

  "You know I can't tell you. After she arrives, you can share tales of your adventures."

  "Maybe she'll be as jolly as my last roommate."

  The traction apparatus from the former patient remained in place. Susan moved the weight bar from the right to the left. As she worked, she mentally listed the equipment she'd need. A foam Buck's boot, weights, ropes, elastic bandages, Barbara's help.

  The clot of anger she had hidden from the other nurses loosened. The moment she saw the practical, Susan knew she would explode. Barbara had been away from the unit for more than an hour. Had she been the one to take the message about the admission? How typical of Barbara to leave without preparing the bed.

  Susan pulled the sheets to the bottom of the bed. She lifted the foam mattress.

  "I'll do that," Julie said. "Get the weights and stuff. Kit's calling around for Barbara."

  "By the time she returns, the work will be done."

  "Does that surprise you?" Julie asked. "You can always report her for being off the unit so long."

  Susan sighed. She could, but would anything be done? The practical had been reported more times than the rest of the evening staff combined. She had never been warned let alone disciplined.

  With quick steps, she headed for the storage room. To her surprise, the door was locked. "Why? Had Kit forgotten to open the door after the day shift left? Susan pulled the large ring of keys from her pocket. She unlocked the door and flipped on the lights.

  The disorder made her groan. Why had the orthopedic cart been left in the middle of the room? The stench of urine assaulted her. Who had left a dirty bedpan behind?

  The cart blocked the path to the shelves at the end of the room where most of the supplies she needed were stored. She pushed the cart toward the wall. The wheels caught on an obstacle. She tried a different angle with the same result. With a jerk, she yanked the cart toward the door and edged around it.

  Her eyes widened. A harsh gasp escaped. "Barbara!" Guilt over her earlier anger warred with fear. She stepped closer. "Oh God!"

  The streak of red on the practical's white uniform spoke of violence. Susan had seen death many times, but never like this. A soundless scream reverberated in her thoughts. Who had done this and why? She stared at Barbara's battered head and face and fought the need to flee.

  Several minutes passed before the scattered hundred dollar bills registered. Susan blinked but the money remained. Who had given Barbara the money? Had it been her killer?

  She inhaled. She had to do something. Like a robot programmed to perform a series of tasks, she knelt beside her co-worker. She pressed the bell of her stethoscope against Barbara's chest and stared at the sweep second hand on her watch. One minute passed. Then two. She heard nothing.

  With a shudder, she rose. Questions fomented in her thoughts. The desire to bolt grew stronger. The clutter in the room impeded her escape. Step by step, she backed around the ortho cart. Three more steps took her into the hall. She held back the fear-generated sobs that threatened to burst free and hurried to the nurses' station.

  There for stability, she grasped the counter of the U-shaped desk. She swallowed convulsively.

  Kit held the phone to her ear. The two practicals sat at the long section of the desk. Trish lounged in the med room doorway. The mundane scene failed to erase the bizarre picture in the storage room.

  "In...in..." The words emerged as a harsh whisper. She gulped a breath.

  Julie stepped out of the semi-private room across from the desk. "What took you... Susan, what's wrong?"

  "In...in..." Susan couldn't force her frozen tongue to form the words.

  Trish strode across the green carpet. "You look like you've seen a ghost."

  Susan cleared her throat. Her knees buckled. Only her grasp on the counter kept her erect. "In the storage room... Barbara..."

  Chapter 2

  Trish pushed past Susan and trotted down the hall. Julie and the pair of practicals scurried after the thin nurse. Unable to move or think, Susan leaned against the counter.

  A piercing scream pulled the unit secretary from her chair a
t the desk. The scream thawed Susan's frozen thoughts. If someone didn't take charge, the unit would dissolve into chaos.

  "Kit, you can't go yet. Call Security and the house doctor. We need them stat. Then call the Nursing Office. I'll speak to any supervisor who answers."

  "What's wrong with Barbara?" Kit asked.

  "She's dead." Susan glanced up. Above nearly every door, a call light shone. A patient on crutches swung down the hall. Immediately behind him, a woman walked with crab-like movements. Susan left the desk to intercept the pair.

  "What happened?" the man asked.

  "Who screamed?" The woman stumbled and put her hand on the wall.

  Susan paused and considered how to make them return to their rooms without frightening them. She couldn't tell them about Barbara's death, but she had to say something. "One of the nurses had an accident."

  "Is there anything I can do?" the woman asked.

  "Go back to your room and let your roommate know everything is being taken care of. A nurse will be in soon."

  After the patients left, Susan strode to where her coworkers clustered around the storage room. Trish blocked the doorway. A thin smile appeared on her face. The practicals jostled each other and peered into the room. Julie huddled against the wall with her hand pressed against her mouth.

  "Close the door and start answering lights," Susan said. "It looks like Christmas at the desk."

  "What should we tell the patients?" Julie asked.

  "That one of the nurses had an accident," Susan said.

  "What if one of them wants to know who she is?" one of the practicals asked. "Shouldn't we tell them she's...well...you know?"

  "Use your common sense. Say that one of the nurses had an accident and is being seen by the house doctor."

  From the corner of her eye, Susan saw the stocky house doctor stride past the end of the hall. She hurried to catch up with him. "Dr. Mendoza, one of the nurses had an accident. She's in the storage room. You need to check her."

  His dark eyes flashed irritation. "Why do you not take her to the Emergency Room? I am here to care for the patients, not the nurses."