The hospitals are never very pleasant; and they are particularly depressing when you are there intending to see a friend. The interior of hospitals is a damned labyrinth built by a lunatic. Corridors on and below ground level, that connect a dozen of separate constructions, that form a hospital. In all the
corners, there are big green indicators pointing in all directions; but they don't serve a great purpose: the confusion continues.

I walked through a corridor, smelling the typical scent of a hospital, a combination of alcohol, antiseptic and soap.. a clean and intense scent. Two women in a nurses' outfits booth looked at me. I listened to them speak and I knew that I was in the correct place.

- My God! That must be him.

- I never believed that, being a nurse, I would meet somebody from the White House.

- I have heard say that he has a habit of chewing the hardest Republicans and then spitting their pieces.

- Shhhh! He's coming closer.

- Good night. Can I help you? - said me the nurse while she bit her lip.

- I'm looking for Sam Seaborn, – I said moodily.

She looked at me, examining me attentively.


- Yes...


She got up from behind her desk and walked towards me.

- My name is Sunny Sork. Doctor Craig Clatten informed us that you would come.


- Well. You already know my name, – I felt really violent and only wanted to know how and where Sam was.

The nurse remained looking at me for a moment and suddenly said.

- Dammit! - she exclaimed – they told me that you were rude, but now I can be sure they didn't make a mistake. I will accompany you to where the doctor is.

She walked before me and I followed her. I have a very bad temper. I know it and though she tried to control me, the truth is that I am gloomy and rough with
people, and more in tense situations .

We arrived to a room which a man who should be the Dr. Craig Clatten exited; he wore a white hospital jacket. He bent forward and I saw a stethoscope hanging
off his neck. His expressions were cold , very carefully chosen, and very diplomatic.


- Mr.. Ziegler, - he took off the stethoscope, bent it, and put in into the pocket, then shook my hand, - Dr. Clatten, I have heard much about you.

- I want to see Sam Seaborn, - I didn't want to see a damned doctor. He looked at me with a deep, inquisitive and examining expression.

- Mr.. Seaborn arrived to the ER at almost three in the morning. He was semi-conscious when he came; a taxi driver brought him here. His problem without a
doubt is a deep cut in the superficial temporal, he lost a lot of blood, but his hematocrite is almost normal,...

- How is he? - I interrupted.

- He is in one room , he will stay 24 hours hospitalized under observation so we can rule out a hematome...- the doctor saw me anxious, -... if you accompany me, I will take you to him.


We walked toward the Samīs room . My cellular phone rang.

- Toby Ziegler.

- Toby.

- CJ, what happened now?

- Now ? What else happened? How do you know that something happened?

- I donīt know, - I said in an exasperated tone, - call it persecutory mania.

- Toby, I have just talked with Danny. He says that Sam was attacked. And...

- How did he know that? - I interrupted her.

- Jesus, - she said, – it is true. Where are you?.

- In the hospital en route to seeing him.


The telephone began to make noises.

- I'm coming there now..

- How did Danny know it, CJ? - I raised my voice.

- Someone called the newspaper saying that the person who attacked Sam Seaborn would give a statement in a police station and... - the interference was heavier.

- Hello? CJ?

- Mr.. Ziegler, we are walking by the Diagnosis and Treatment Area; the teams of Camera Gamma and MRI emit waves that interfere with cellular phones.

- Dammit.

Next Chapter

 

 

Home        What's New        Author Listings        Title Listings