by Ron Ripley
Chapter 23: Shane Prepares for the Nurse
“Where are you going?” Carl asked in German.
Shane looked up from the desk in the library. The ghost stood by the door with an inquisitive expression.
“Back to the veteran’s hospital in Sanford,” Shane explained, also in German.
“What’s going on there?”
“There’s a ghost who seems to think she decides when it’s time for a patient to die,” Shane replied. He looked down at the items before him. A pump-action shotgun and twenty shells, loaded with rock-salt, the iron knuckledusters, several boxes of salt, lighter fluid, matches, a lighter, and a bag of steel wool. “Everything but a Bible,” Shane murmured.
“What was that, my young friend?” Carl asked, moving further into the room.
“Nothing,” Shane said. He collapsed into the desk chair. From a pocket, he took out his cigarettes and lit one. “This one is going to be difficult, I think.”
“How so?” Carl said.
“She‘s decided she knows best,” Shane said, exhaling the smoke through his nostrils. “And, from what I can figure, there are those who agree with her. Both the living and the dead, it’s the only way she’s been able to operate so freely for such a long time. If that’s the case, then it means I may be facing more than this nurse.”
“Will you have assistance?”
“I hope so,” Shane said. “There’s Brett on E Ward, the floor she likes to roam around on. Plus there’s Doc, a combat vet who’s dying of God knows what. He’s set. I think there may be one or two more. If we can work together and get it done, yeah, it’ll be okay.”
“And if not?” Carl asked.
“Then all of this,” Shane said, gesturing to the material on the desk, “well, it may be enough to get me out of the building and into the car. Then again, it may not. I’ll find out when I try.”
Carl nodded. “Have you told the others?”
“What others?” Shane asked, confused. “The people at Sanford?”
“No,” Carl said. “The rest of us here. Have you informed them of your intentions? Have you let them know you may not be returning from this excursion?”
Shane shook his head.
“If I may ask, my friend, but why?” Carl asked.
“Why would I?” Shane said. He looked at the shotgun. “I either make it back or I don’t, Carl. No need to worry anyone.”
“Let us worry, my friend,” Carl pleaded. “We are your family, are we not?”
“Yeah,” Shane whispered. He picked up the weapon, double checked the loads were in and said again, “Yeah.”
Chapter 24: Talking about Ruth
“How are you doing?” Nancy asked.
Matias looked at the younger woman and smiled. “I’m doing well, considering how old I am.”
She frowned. “I meant with what happened to the aide.”
“I know what you meant,” Matias said gently. “It was a sad sight, and I am sorry she died in such a way.”
“That’s it?” Nancy asked, shock in her voice.
Matias nodded and said, “Is there something more you would like me to express?”
She shook her head. “I don’t understand.”
“Don’t try to,” Matias said. “Let it be.”
Nancy hesitated, then said, “No. No, I can’t let it be. Matias, how can you be so cold?”
“I’m a killer, Nurse Platte,” he said softly. “I may be old, but I am still a killer. If I could have stopped the death, I would have.”
“Regardless, you couldn’t have stopped her seizure,” Nancy said. She took a sip of her coffee, the Styrofoam container shaking in her hand.
“It wasn’t a seizure,” Matias said.
“Of course, it was,” Nancy said. “What else could it be?”
“You’re asking the wrong question,” Matias said. “It is not a question of what, but of who.”
“You’re saying she was murdered?” Nancy asked, dumbfounded. “By who? You? There was no one else in the room, and you certainly don’t have the strength to do the damage she did to herself.”
“The Nurse did it.”
Nancy scoffed. “I’ve told you before, Matias, there’s no such thing as a killer nurse roaming the hallowed halls of Sanford.”
“Is it really so difficult for you to accept?” Matias asked, his own voice rising. “Do you think such an entity could not exist?”
“I don’t know,” Nancy snapped. “But I highly doubt a ghost could kill someone, Matias. It’s absurd.”
“Perhaps,” Matias said. “But I will tell you this, Nancy. Last night was not the first time I have seen the Nurse. I pray it is the last, mind you, although I doubt it. She will inevitably be the death of me.”
Nancy put her coffee down on the table, stood up and walked to the new door. She looked at it for a moment before she turned around and faced him. “Mark in maintenance told me they asked if you wanted a different room. You refused.”
“I did,” Matias agreed.
“Why?” she demanded.
“This was my room before, and for an exceptionally long time,” Matias said. “Why would I move because of death?”
“But it was a terrible death,” Nancy said in an imploring tone.
“Do you know so little about me?” he asked.
She frowned, a look of confusion flickering across her face. “What do you mean?”
“Have you ever looked at my file?” Matias said.
Nancy shook her head.
“What war do you think I fought in?”
“World War 2,” she said. “You’re the right age for it.”
“You’re correct,” Matias said. “I also fought in the Korean War.”
“Alright,” she said. “You fought in two wars.”
“And Vietnam.”
Nancy hesitated and then said, “Three?”
He nodded.
“Why?” she asked though she feared she already knew the answer.
“Because I liked it,” Matias said. “Because, quite frankly, I was good at it.”
“What?” she asked.
“Haven’t you ever wondered what I did?” Matias said.
“No,” she said, shaking her head. “Why would I?”
“Perhaps you should have.”
“Matias,” Nancy said. “Lots of men feel guilt over their roles. It doesn’t mean they did anything.”
“Nancy,” Matias cut in. “I did something. Lots of somethings. I killed men with my bare hands. I killed them with knives. I shot them. Garroted them. Blew them up. And I drowned them.”
Nancy looked at him, horror growing in her eyes.
“I killed them when I was a teenager, as a man in my twenties, thirties, and forties,” Matias continued. “I butchered them in their sleep, then I went home and raised a family. Baseball? Wonderful. Taking out a guard by puncturing his lungs? Fantastic. Are you beginning to understand?”
“Yes,” she whispered.
“As you can see,” Matias said, “I had an extremely marketable skill set. I happened to remain with the Army for the entire time. Don’t believe that I did it for love of country. First, it was the thrill of fighting, then it became an addiction. A need. Had I not been injured so severely in Vietnam, I would have done as much time there as possible.”
A long silence filled the room and the horrified look on Nancy’s face saddened him.
“You really don’t care?” she said softly.
“It’s not that I don’t care,” Matias corrected. “It doesn’t bother me. The manner of her death depresses me. But it doesn’t bother me.”
Slowly Nancy walked back to the chair, sat down and picked up her coffee. She brought the cup up to her mouth, and then, without taking a drink, lowered it. Nancy looked hard into Matias’s eyes.
“You’re telling me the truth about the Nurse?”
“Yes,” Matias replied.
“Do you know who she is?” Nancy asked.
“I know who
she was,” Matias said. “Or, rather, I know a good deal about who she was.”
“Why was she here yesterday?” Nancy said.
“She warned me that it would be my time soon,” Matias said.
“What?”
“My time to die,” Matias said. “She said she had made the decision.”
“What? Why?” Nancy asked.
Matias shrugged. “I wish I knew.”
Nancy nodded her agreement. “Tell me.”
“Tell you what?” Matias asked.
“Everything about yesterday,” Nancy said. “I need to know.”
Matias nodded, and he began to talk.
Chapter 25: Sweet Dreams
Karen Conlon loved the beach.
She lay on her back, sunglasses on and the warm sun beating down. In the background, she heard the crash of waves and smelled the strong, pungent scent of the Atlantic Ocean. The towel beneath her was thick, brand new and purchased especially for the trip to Ogunquit. The radio was playing a soft R&B song she didn’t quite catch, but it had a beat that made her smile. She adjusted her position slightly and wondered how the day could get any better.
A shadow fell across her face, and Karen opened her eyes. Through the dark lenses of her sunglasses, she saw a woman. A nurse.
What in God’s name is she wearing? Karen thought. Damn thing looks like it came out of a costume shop! It reminded Karen of the uniforms early nurses had worn. Really early nurses.
“Hey,” Karen said. “Not to be a jerk here or anything, but you’re standing directly in my sun.”
“Your sun?” the woman asked. Her voice was sweet, melodic. “I didn’t know it was yours alone.”
“It’s not,” Karen snapped. “But, you’ve got the whole beach to stand on. So, go stand somewhere else. You’re blocking me from getting a tan.”
“I don’t want to stand on the whole beach,” the strange nurse said. “I want to stand here. Next to you.”
“What are you, some kind of weirdo?” Karen asked, pushing herself up into a sitting position. She took off her glasses and looked at the woman. “Come on. Get out of here or I’ll call the lifeguard over, and he’ll deal with you.”
“What lifeguard?”
Karen turned around to yell to a lifeguard, and she realized there wasn’t one. In fact, there wasn’t anyone on the beach other than herself and the mystery nurse.
Karen looked around quickly. There were dunes, but no houses behind them. Waves and the expanse of the ocean, yet no ships sailed on it. Even the lighthouse was missing from the Point. Her mouth went dry, and she clambered to her feet. She stood up and saw her towel was gone.
“What’s going on?” Karen asked, her heartbeat quickening.
“You’re being called to task,” the nurse said, all trace of pleasantness gone from her voice. “You have been lax in the care of your patients.”
Karen’s anger flared. She pointed a finger at the stranger and said, “You listen to me–”
Before she could continue, the nurse looked at Karen’s extended digit, and Karen screamed.
Horrified, she watched as her finger bent backward at an unnatural angle. The bones broke crisply, and a pair of jagged ends suddenly protruded from her skin.
Gasping in pain, Karen dropped to her knees. She held the mangled finger in front of her as she began to hyperventilate.
The stranger smiled and asked, “Do you remember what the term hematemesis stands for?”
Karen shook her head. The pain was tremendous, a terrifying weight crushing her.
“Do you remember Sergeant Allen O’Hare?”
“No,” Karen said, gasping. “What are you talking about?”
“He was a young man, little more than a boy, really, at Sanford last month,” the woman explained. “He bled out. He called for you to help him. In the end, as I sat beside him, he called for his mother. Nothing more than a whisper. He could barely breathe; his throat raw. Do you remember now? The floor covered in blood?”
Karen remembered. The mess. The blood everywhere. The organs falling apart.
“He died,” Karen said, holding her injured hand. “Why does it matter?”
“Because,” the stranger said. “I didn’t wish it. I hadn’t decided it was his time.”
The woman straightened up. “Hematemesis, Nurse. What is it?”
Karen shook her head.
The stranger leaned in close and whispered, “Bloody vomiting.”
Karen felt her stomach cramp, and she doubled over, the strong taste of blood filled her mouth. She opened her mouth to scream and vomited instead.
Chapter 26: A Disturbing Event
Brett sat at the nurse’s station, frustrated as he shook Karen again. She opened her eyes, glared at him, and went back to sleep. No matter how many times he woke her, the woman refused to stay awake.
Brett resisted thoughts about the Nurse. He had a recurring fear about the dead woman stepping out of the room, and the old man from the elevator joining her.
Karen groaned beside him, and he glanced over at her. She twitched in the chair and let out a whimper.
Bad dream, Karen? Brett thought angrily. Maybe you shouldn’t sleep on your shift.
He turned away from her and focused on the crossword puzzle from the day’s paper. Brett tapped the pen on the desktop, whistled softly to himself, and was promptly interrupted by Karen. The woman hacked noisily, and Brett twisted to face her.
She needs to wake up, he thought, reaching out for her.
As his hand touched the light blue shirt she wore, Karen jerked upright. Her eyes snapped open, and she screamed, “No!”
No other words followed.
Instead, Karen fell forward, grabbed the edge of the station. She opened her mouth wide and vomited.
A dark red, arterial blood sprayed out of her mouth. It dripped from her lips and down her chin. The fluid stained her scrubs and misted out over the paperwork and the monitors.
Karen stumbled back, short of breath, and Brett watched as she caught hold of the chair. She looked at him, terror in her eyes, and she vomited again. The blood launched from her mouth and caught his neck and chin, soaking him instantly. The smell struck him like a fist.
She’s dying, Brett realized. He stepped forward, tried to take hold of her arms and she let out a scream. Her eyes darted about madly and for a third time she threw-up. Karen began to fall, and Brett eased her to the floor. He reached up under the desktop and hit the panic button.
She tried to roll onto her back, but he stopped her, forcing her to remain on her side. He kept her head tilted slightly, and she convulsed in his hands. From the rooms he heard patients calling, asking what was going on.
Doc arrived shortly and knelt down in the blood. He pried open Karen’s mouth, swept it with a finger and pulled out the tip of her tongue. Wordlessly Brett plucked a pen from the desktop and slipped it between Karen’s teeth.
“Brett,” Doc said. “Look at her pants.”
Brett did so, and he shuddered at the sight. The groin and rear were both stained with blood, more of the fluid leaking out onto the floor.
“She won’t make it,” Brett said.
Doc nodded.
“I don’t think she’s even here now,” Brett continued.
Doc nodded.
“It’s alright, Brett,” Doc said, putting a hand on Brett’s shoulder. “She’s okay where she is. They always are.”
In less than a minute the elevator doors opened, and the crash team raced out. Soon they had taken over, and Brett and Doc were removed to a separate room to be quarantined until it was determined what exactly Karen had died from.
Chapter 27: Going into the Hospital
Shane had gone through half a pack of Luckys by the time he reached Sanford. When he parked in the back lot, the sun had already begun to set.
Shane sat in the car for a minute and wondered, Maybe I should have come up in the morning.
Then a cold voice, which reminded him distinctly of Dri
ll Instructor Allen, said, Are you afraid of the dark now?
Yup, Shane thought. But he got out of the car anyway. He went around to the trunk, opened it, took out his backpack and slung it over his shoulders. Shane slammed the trunk closed, and the sound echoed through the nearly empty lot. He turned and faced the building. Somewhere, a ghost waited. She didn’t hide. She didn’t need to. Sanford Hospital was hers, and it was Shane’s responsibility to challenge her.
The men in Sanford were his brothers-in-arms. He couldn’t leave them to die at the hands of the Nurse.
Shane got out a fresh cigarette, lit it, and realized he wasn’t alone.
A young man stood in the shadow beneath a faulty lamp, and Shane knew the chill in the air wasn’t from an early autumn breeze.
Shane exhaled into the sky and asked, “Want a smoke?”
The stranger shook his head and stepped forward. He was young, maybe in his mid-twenties. His pajamas, decorated with the logo of the New England Patriots football team, were stained with blood; massive amounts of it. It looked as though someone had mopped up a casualty scene with them. The man’s lips and chin glistened with the liquid, his brown eyes fixed on Shane.
Shane watched as the young man drifted in and out of focus, like an old movie’s bad special effect.
“I know why you’re here,” the stranger said, his voice low and hard.
“You do?” Shane asked.
The young man nodded.
“Please,” Shane said, taking the cigarette out of his mouth and smiling at him, “let me in on the secret.”
The stranger didn’t smile. “You’re here to stop the Nurse.”
Shane chuckled. “Yeah, you’re right about that. Well done. How’d you find out?”
“The Nurse told us,” the young man said angrily. “You can’t stop her. She’s the only one who knows what she’s doing.”
“Hold on there, chief,” Shane said. “I’m going to say ‘no’ to that one. Seems like she’s killing whoever she wants, regardless of whether they’re sick or not. She shouldn’t be the one who decides when someone dies. She needs to stop.”