“OWHOOOOO! OWOOOOHOOO!”
Dixie McCall paused in front of the door to the treatment room. I hate working Halloween. I should have called in sick. Dixie took a deep breath and pushed the door open.
A disheveled man with jet black hair squatted on the gurney. A large amount of dark curly body hair protruded from beneath the rolled-up shirt sleeves, and open collar. Thick, fuzzy eyebrows met at the center of his forehead. His head pointed towards the ceiling as he let out another ear-splitting howl.
“Hey!” yelled Dixie. “Can you keep it down a little? You’re disturbing the other patients!”
“You’ve got to help me!” The man sat on the edge of the stretcher.
“That’s what we’re here for,” said Dixie in her best soothing voice. “What seems to be the problem?” She took the blood pressure cuff from the wall and wrapped it around the man’s arm.
“Can’t you tell?” The man thrust his left arm out, which nearly dislodged the intravenous line. “The transformation...it’s started!”
Dixie secured the line before she took the man’s blood pressure. Dixie removed the blood pressure cuff and returned it to the holder on the wall. I don’t really want to know the answer, but, I’ll ask anyway. “Transformation?”
“Yes!” nodded the man vigorously. “I’m becoming a Werewolf! Isn’t it obvious?”
“Sorry, I’m not terribly familiar with Lycanthropy.” Dixie placed her hand on the patient’s wrist to check his pulse. “I wouldn’t know what to look for.” Dixie was at a loss for words. “Do you have any allergies?”
“No.”
“Are you taking any medications?”
“Well, I take something called...um...chlorpropa-something. It helps stop the change.”
“You mean chlorpromazine?”
“That’s it! It made me so tired, and my nose so stuffy, I stopped taking it. Now it’s happening again!”
“I’ll let the doctor know.” Dixie jotted her findings in the patient’s chart and walked out of the treatment room. She ran into Doctor Brackett in the hallway. A bright smile played across Dixie’s face as she handed him the patient’s chart. A high-pitched howl emanated from the treatment room.
“What the hell is that?” asked Doctor Brackett as he flipped open the chart.
“Man turning into a Werewolf.” Dixie looked at her watch. “He hasn’t had his Thorazine in a while, and well, Kel, there is a full moon tonight.” Dixie looked at her watch. It was 7:30 p.m. “I’d like to get him admitted before midnight, if you know what I mean.”
“Let’s start with 50 milligrams of chlorpromazine, IV,” Brackett said as he reviewed the record. “Better give Psych a call.” Brackett flashed a smile at Dix as he opened the treatment room door. “Just think, the night is still young.”
Dixie gave Brackett a sour look. “That’s what I’m afraid of, Doctor.” Dixie walked to the medication room and prepared the injection. She looked at her watch again. It was 7:42 pm. Maybe I should call the kitchen to see if there are any garlic cloves hanging around. You’ll never know when Dracula might show up. Dixie tapped the air bubbles from the syringe and returned to the treatment room.
The patient lay half on his side, and half on his stomach. His head rested on his arm. The man’s breaths came in dog-like pants. He raised one eyebrow as Dixie uncapped the syringe.
Dixie smiled at the man and administered the injection. “This is some medication to help ward off your transformation. You may feel a little sleepy. I’ll be back to check on you, later.”
The man thumped his leg on the stretcher in reply. Dixie disposed of the syringe and left the treatment room.
###
“Rampart base, this is Squad 51.” Roy DeSoto’s voice filtered over the radio.
“51, this is Rampart, go ahead,” Doctor Brackett put down his coffee cup and started taking notes.
“Rampart, we have a male patient, approximately 40 years old, who fell approximately 10 feet. Pulse is 90, blood pressure is 110/70, respirations are 18. Patient has a compound fracture of the left wrist and a fractured right radius and ulna. We have initiated c-spine precautions and immobilized the extremities. The victim appears slightly intoxicated.”
“10-4, 51. Start IV, D5W, TKO, apply oxygen via a nonrebreather. Transport as soon as possible. 51, what was the victim doing when he fell?”
“”Rampart, the victim was attempting to fly.”
Doctor Brackett crinkled his face in surprise. “Repeat your last transmission, 51. Did you say your patient was attempting to fly?”
“Affirmative, Rampart,” answered Roy.
Brackett shook his head. “10-4, 51. Transport as soon as possible.”
“10-4, Rampart. IV D5W, TKO, oxygen via nonrebreather and transport.”
“Dix, better call Ortho, and have x-ray available.
“Right Kel. I’ll get room three set up.”
“You know, this is turning into a very strange evening,” Brackett took another sip of his coffee.
“Of course it is, Kel,” Dixie answered as Betty entered the base station. “Not only is it Halloween, it’s Friday, and there’s a full moon.”
“Don’t forget the Curse of Doctor Mackintosh,” offered Betty as she filed a chart. She pulled out a small vial of water from the pocket of her uniform dress. “That’s why I carry this, for protection. Carol’s mother brought it back from the grotto at Lourdes.” Betty put the vial of holy water back into her pocket. “Doctor Brackett, the Roller Derby Queen in room four is casted and ready to go.”
“I’ll be right there,” said Doctor Brackett. “I take it her ride showed up?”
Betty nodded. “Yes, Doctor. Her boyfriend Spike just arrived.”
Doctor Morton entered the base station and poured a cup of coffee. “What’s this I hear about a curse?”
Doctor Brackett rolled his eyes and put his mug down. “It’s just an old wives tale. I can’t believe anyone thinks it’s true.” He shook his head and left the station.
“It is NOT an old wives tale,” Betty raised her voice slightly so Doctor Brackett could hear her. “It’s the God’s honest truth.” Betty folded her arms. “This place is haunted.”
Doctor Morton looked curiously at Betty. “Haunted?”
Betty shook her head vigorously. “Yes. The ghost of Doctor Mackintosh walks these halls, especially on Halloween.”
“Why? What’s the story?” Doctor Morton took a sip of coffee.
“Doctor Mackintosh was a former Director of the E.D, during the Depression,” answered Dixie. “He spent a lot of his spare time in a small laboratory in the basement. Nobody really knew what he did down there, but rumor had it that he either made moonshine, or he was working on some new drug.”
“Some people say he tried to create a potion that would bring eternal youth and possible immortality,” interjected Betty.
“Could be,” shrugged Dixie. “Anyway, one Halloween night, he was working in the lab, when his concoction exploded. He was hurt quite badly, but survived long enough to make it to the E.D. for treatment.”
Betty chimed in excitedly. “The Assistant Director, Doctor Michael Headly, was Attending that night. Doctor Headly was an ambitious man, and thought Doctor Mackintosh was a bit touched in the head. Needless to say, there was no love lost between the two.”
“Go on,” said Doctor Morton.
Betty waved her arms animatedly as she spoke. “Right before he died, Doctor Mackintosh accused Doctor Headly of tampering with his equipment. Mackintosh accused Headly of causing the explosion so Headly could take over the Department. Mackintosh claimed that everyone else, including the nursing staff, laughed at him behind his back. With his dying breath, Mackintosh cursed Rampart, the E.D., and everyone who worked here.” Betty looked at Dixie and Doctor Morton. “It was a night just like this, a Friday, with the brightness of the full autumn moon to light the sky. Ever since he died, strange things have happened. It gets worse when there’s a full moon, or when Halloween falls on a Friday. This year, with all three happening at the same time,” Betty sighed, “we’re doomed.” She patted her pocket. “I’ve got my insurance policy.”
Dixie looked at her watch. “Come on, Betty. There’s no such thing as ghosts. Excuse me, folks. 51 will be here any minute and I need to set up the room.” Dixie left as Betty turned conspiratorially towards Doctor Morton.
“That’s not all,” Betty said. “Over the years, several people said that they’ve actually seen Doctor Mackintosh roam the halls at night. He walks in and out of the treatment rooms as if he still worked here. Equipment disappears, or turns up in the strangest places.”
Doctor Morton looked beyond Betty. “Hmm. That might explain why I keep losing my pens.” He noticed Doctor Brackett waving from one of the treatment rooms.
“Betty, I think Doctor Brackett needs you.”
Betty turned around to see Doctor Brackett beckon her to join him. “I’ll be right there, Doctor.” She turned to Doctor Morton. “If you want any of this holy water, let me know. I’d be happy to share.”
###
Roy held an I.V. bag aloft as he accompanied the stretcher into the E.D. Dixie looked at the sleeping man dressed in the Superman costume and sighed.
“He tried to fly like...?”
Roy grinned at Dixie and said “Superman.”
“Room Three.” Dixie said. “What happened?” The party moved down the hall into the treatment room.
“He was the host of the annual neighborhood Halloween party. One family took the kids trick-or -treating and kept the kids for the night, while our patient had the party for the adults. He’d had a couple of beers, and jumped off the roof on a dare from some guy in a Batman costume. It was getting pretty wild when we left.” Roy helped transfer the man onto the gurney. “I lost sight of Johnny when we loaded the Man of Steel here into the ambulance. Last I knew he was surrounded by some guy in a chicken suit, a belly dancer, an Indian Chief and some girl dressed as Pocahontas.”
“Poor thing,” said Dixie as she gave Roy the oxygen tank. “Somehow I think Johnny will be just fine.”
“I don’t know, Dix. You know how obnoxious some drunks can get,” Roy commented as he opened the treatment room door. Doctor Brackett stood in the doorway. “He’s all yours, Doc.”
“Thanks, Roy,” Brackett answered as he entered the treatment room.
Roy stopped momentarily to let a well muscled man dressed in a ripped T-shirt, covered by a worn black leather jacket, pass by the treatment room. The man’s long brown hair hung loosely over his shoulders, and partially hid the small earring in his left ear. His denim jeans were ripped at the knees, and his black leather boots were worn. Roy could see the name “Spike” written on the back of the man’s jacket, above a large snake insignia.
Spike had his arm around a woman dressed in an orange jersey with the number “4” emblazoned on the front and back. She wore black jersey pants, and had a pair of roller skates slung over her shoulder. Her right arm was in a cast that she kept raised above her head.
Roy watched as Johnny walked quickly into the Department. Johnny stared
at a pretty nurse and ran straight into Spike. “Oh, shit,” muttered Roy. “I can’t look.” Roy half closed his eyes and cringed for his partner.
Johnny whipped around and looked at Spike. “I’m sorry. Are you okay?”
“Why you little...” Spike raised his fist, then paused and studied Johnny carefully. “John? Johnny Gage? Is that you?”
John nodded and grinned from ear to ear. “Elwin? Elwin Freemont?” Roy sighed in relief and opened his eyes.
“Yeah!” Spike grabbed Johnny in a bear hug that temporarily winded the paramedic. “How have you been? How are your folks?” Spike released Johnny, who caught his breath.
“They’re good. We missed you this year.” John pointed to Spike’s jacket. “You still roaming around on your Harley?”
“I did for a while, but she’s got me grounded here in L.A.” Spike jerked his head towards the girl. “I’d like you to meet my girlfriend, Beth Peterson. Beth, this is John Gage. His mother makes the best fry-bread in the state of Montana. I used to help out on their family’s ranch.”
Beth extended her good hand and John shook it. “It’s very nice to meet you.” She gestured with her casted arm. “I got body slammed during practice, and fell on my arm.”
“You’ll have to come watch her sometime,” said Spike. “She’s one of the best in the league.”
“I’m looking forward to it.” Johnny took out his notebook from his pocket and scribbled quickly on it. He gave the paper to Spike. “Give me a call some time.”
“I will. Give my best to your family for me.” Spike and Beth headed towards the door.
“I will.” Johnny put his notebook away and walked up to Roy and Dixie. “Hey guys. How’s flyboy?”
“Kel’s examining him now,” said Dixie. “He should be fine. So, you and Spike are old friends? Poor Roy thought you were going to get killed.”
“Spike’s really a great guy, once you get to know him. He’s traveled all over the country. We hired him a few years ago to help move the herd from the winter pasture. He really hit it off with my parents and he’s returned nearly every year since.”
“So what happened after I left the party?” asked Roy. “Sorry you got stuck like that. I thought we could get out of there with the ambulance. It looked like that Indian Chief had you pinned down.”
Johnny raised his eyebrows. “Well, he was pretty drunk.” Johnny scratched the back of his neck. “He wanted to know if he and his wife looked authentic.”
“Did he?” asked Dixie.
“Not really. No self-respecting Indian I know would be caught dead in a war bonnet with purple feathers. At first, I agreed with him, but they didn’t buy it,” John sighed. “So I gave them a few pointers, took out the purple feathers, and here I am.”
“I hope they appreciated your help,” commented Dixie.
“I think he did,” answered John. “Turns out, the big Chief is a financial planner. He gave me a few tips about my retirement.” He sighed. “This has definitely been a strange night.” John looked at his watch. “We’d better get those supplies. I want to get back to the station before the movie starts.”
“What movie?” asked Dix.
“Chet’s favorite, ‘Terror at the Library.’ He’s making popcorn and some other munchies to celebrate,” said Roy.
Betty interrupted the conversation. “Dix, have you got a minute? I don’t know what Emma is trying to tell me.”
Dixie nodded. “Sure. You get supplies for Roy and John while I check your patient.”
“Thanks, Dixie.” Betty turned to John and Roy. “Follow me fellas. What do you need?”
###
Dixie entered the treatment room to find a frail elderly woman she recognized from previous visits. Emma Rood was a very nice widow with a very bad heart. Her heart failure would worsen with any deviation from her medical regime, or when she became constipated. She had been intubated for the third time in a year and awaited a bed in the CCU. “Hi Emma. What can I do for you?”
Emma smiled at Dixie and flapped her arms up and down.
Dixie looked curiously at Emma. “Is there something you need?”
Emma nodded and pointed towards the corner of the ceiling.
Dixie looked at the ceiling and saw nothing. “Do you want to know what time it is?”
Emma shook her head and pointed towards the corner of the ceiling.
“The weather’s still pretty nice. Your son shouldn’t have any problem getting here.”
Emma shook her head again. She continued to point to the ceiling.
Dixie looked at the ceiling again and saw a small black spot in the corner. “Is that what you wanted to show me? It looks like dirt to me. I’ll have someone clean it.”
Emma patted Dixie’s hand and shook her head. “Not dirt,” Emma mouthed, then started coughing on the breathing tube. “Bat,” she mouthed as she flapped her arms.
Dixie moved closer to the dirt speck and examined it closely. She made a face and returned to the bedside. “You’re right. It is a bat. I’ll get someone to get rid of it.”
Emma nodded and rested back into the pillow.
Dixie squeezed Emma’s hand and left the treatment room. She spotted John and Roy at the base station. Roy signed the requisition and handed it to Betty. “Johnny, Roy, can I see you for a moment?”
“Sure, Dix, what’s the matter?” John asked with a concerned look.
“I need your help with something. Follow me.” Dixie led them into the treatment room and introduced them to Emma. “We need you to get rid of an unexpected visitor.” Dixie pointed to the bat.”
“It’s a bat,” said Johnny.
“Uh-huh,” said Dixie. “I need you two big, strong, firemen to kill it for me.”
“Sure, Dix,” said Roy. “I wonder how it got in.”
Dixie shrugged. “They’re renovating the research labs in an old wing of the hospital. It may have gotten into the duct work and flew over here.”
“It probably got lost on the way to Blood Bank,” quipped Johnny.
Dixie gave him a dirty look.
“Can you get a mop and a dustpan?” asked Johnny.
“Certainly.” Dixie returned with Betty, who carried a floor mop and a dust pan.
Johnny took the mop and swatted the bat. It dropped onto the floor. He brushed it into the dustpan and carried it towards the garbage can.
“Don’t throw it in the garbage!” said Betty. “We should save it.” Betty opened a drawer and removed a specimen container. She unscrewed the lid and held it towards Johnny.
“What for?” asked Dixie.
“In case someone from Environmental Services wants to see it,” said Betty. “They’ll never believe we had a bat in here, especially on Halloween. I told you, Dixie. It’s Doctor Mackintosh.”
“You mean that ghost that supposedly haunts this place?” asked Roy. “I heard that story when we started the Paramedic program.”
“Yeah,” said Johnny. “Didn’t Bellingham say he saw some old guy in a lab coat disappear into a treatment room one night?”
“He did. I don’t think anyone believed him, especially Brice,” said Roy.
“I guess I should save our little friend.” Dixie crossed her arms. “I ‘ll have to have Environmental Services do something, like spray.”
Johnny dropped the bat into the cup and Betty replaced the lid. Johnny gave the mop and pan to Dixie and washed his hands.
“Thank you, Johnny,” said Dixie.
“No problem, Dixie,” said Johnny. “I’d do anything for you, especially when you tell me I’m big and strong,” teased Johnny.
Emma applauded. “And cute!” she mouthed. Johnny blushed.
“You have a good night,” Johnny said to Emma. She waved and smiled.
“Well, we always knew you were a little batty,” said Roy.
“You’re just jealous because I’m the cute one,” said Johnny as he opened the door to the treatment room. “See you later, Dix.”
“Bye guys.” Dixie took the specimen cup from Betty and examined the bat.
“Kinda cute, isn’t he,” said Betty. “What should we name him?”
“I don’t know,” said Dixie. “Emma, what should we name your little friend?”
Dixie held the specimen container so Emma could see the bat.
“How about Johnny?” Emma mouthed.
Betty and Dixie looked at each other and burst out laughing.
“Johnny it is!” said Dixie.
###
Dixie softly opened the door of the treatment room. She wanted to check on “The Wolfman”, as she had silently christened him. The man slept quietly on the stretcher, curled up under a blanket. There were no available beds in the Psychiatric wing, so the man would stay the night in the Emergency Department. A hairy arm emerged from beneath the covers as the man turned over. Dixie looked, paused, then looked again. Is it my imagination, or does his arm look a little hairier than I remember? Dixie sighed. McCall, there’s no such thing as a werewolf. It must be a trick of the light.
###
Dixie left the treatment room and looked at her watch. It was 10:15pm. Her relief would show up in forty-five minutes, and she could go home to a nice glass of wine. She put her hand in her pocket and withdrew the specimen cup. I’ll have to stash little Johnny somewhere until morning. Dixie entered an empty treatment room and took a small brown bag from a drawer. She dropped the cup into the bag and folded the top to close it.
As Dixie left the treatment room, a frightened-looking man dressed in a hospital gown rushed past her. A trail of blood droplets indicated that he had just gotten off the elevator. The stairwell door burst open.
“Stop that man!” A surgical resident dressed in blue scrubs pointed to the fleeing patient. The resident was followed by two nurses, a respiratory therapist and a security guard.
“You’ll never take me alive!” The patient looked around frantically. Dixie noticed a growing blood stain on the man’s hospital gown, near the middle of his chest. The man bled from small puncture wounds in his arms and his neck. A capped off intravenous catheter had backed slightly out of a vein in the man’s hand.
An orderly wheeled a portable defibrillator around the corner. The frightened man shoved the orderly out of the way and grabbed the defibrillator from the cart.
Roy accompanied a stretcher that turned into a treatment room behind the man. He shot Dixie a curious look. Dixie shrugged.
“What’s going on?” Doctor Brackett emerged from his office. “What’s all the commotion?” he asked the resident.
“This is Mister William Bradley. He’s a fifty-eight year old man who had a three vessel bypass this morning. He was doing well, but became acutely confused and combatative this evening. He extubated himself, pulled his lines, his mediastinal tube and pacer wires. Then he accused us of kidnapping him and slugged his nurse.”
“Ouch,” said Dixie. She took a step towards the man. “It’s okay, we’re here to help you,” she said calmly.
“You’re in on it too!” The agitated man pointed to contingent from the ICU. “You’re with them!”
“Is he a drinker?” asked Doctor Brackett.
The resident nodded. “Yes. He admitted to drinking three manhattans a night. His last was about two and a half days ago.”
“D.T’s,” muttered Dixie as she stepped back to the group.
The resident nodded and sighed. “We need to get him under control and back to the ICU.”
“Dixie, get us 10 milligrams of diazepam,” said Doctor Brackett. “We’ll give him five to start.”
One of the nurses pulled a syringe from her pocket. “I have it here, Doctor.”
“Good,” said Brackett. “Now, we have to find a way to give it to him.”
The man shifted the defibrillator from hand to hand. He heard noise coming from behind him and swung the defibrillator. “No! I’m not going back to the space ship!”
Johnny turned the corner and was hit in the face with the defibrillator. He fell to the ground, unconscious.
Betty and Roy emerged from the treatment room at the sound of the yelling. Roy saw the man stare at Johnny then divert his attention to a vacant spot in the corridor.
Johnny moaned softly and turned his head. He rubbed his eyes and shook his head to get the cobwebs out. Johnny opened his eyes and looked at the man who had hit him.
The man stared at a vacant spot in the corridor. Occasionally he nodded and said either “yes” or “no”, as if he were talking with someone.
“It’s Doctor Mackintosh.” whispered Betty.
“Tina, see if you can get close enough to give him the diazepam,” said the surgical resident. The ICU nurse edged closer to the man.
Johnny looked curiously at the agitated patient and at the vacant space. Johnny sat up gingerly. He shook his head quickly and opened and closed his eyes. He rubbed his arms as if he were in a cold draft.
The ICU nurse crept up to Mister Bradley. She quickly grabbed the intravenous catheter and injected half of the contents of the syringe into it. The man continued his discussion with the empty space. Tina looked at the resident for direction. “Give the other five?” she mouthed.
The resident nodded, and Tina injected the remaining medication into the man’s catheter. After a few moments, the defibrillator fell onto Johnny’s hand as the man crumpled to the ground. Johnny pulled his hand from beneath the machine and shook it.
Doctor Brackett, the surgical resident and the rest of the ICU team rushed to the patient’s side. Dixie knelt by Johnny. After a brief once-over, the group lifted the man onto a nearby stretcher.
“Thanks for the help,” the resident said as they hurried to the elevator.
“Any time,” said Brackett as he went to check John. “Let’s get him into a treatment room.”
Roy, Betty and Dixie helped the dazed paramedic to his feet. Johnny shivered slightly. Johnny noticed goose-bumps on his arms.
“L.A. this is Squad 51,” Roy spoke into his handie-talkie. We have a Code I at Rampart General Hospital. Will advise.”
“10-4, 51.”
“I’ll be fine, Roy,” protested Johnny. “It was a sucker punch. I can walk, honest.” Johnny took a few steps forward then stumbled against the door of the treatment room. Betty and Dixie supported Johnny as he shook his head again. They helped him into the room and onto the stretcher.
“Uh, huh,” said Doctor Brackett as he examined Johnny. John winced when he palpated Johnny’s right cheekbone. “I want a full skull series and hand films. I think you’ve got a broken cheekbone.” Johnny’s cheek was rapidly becoming swollen and discolored, as were the last two fingers on his left hand. “You probably have a slight concussion.” Brackett examined Johnny’s hand. “Your fingers are broken, too. We’ll get them splinted in no time. How many fingers am I holding up?” Bracket held up his hand.
“Aww, man,” Johnny said disgustedly. “Three.”
“Good,” replied Doctor Brackett, “at least your vision’s not affected. How do you feel.”
Johnny looked at Doctor Brackett. “Like I just got clobbered by some nut with a defibrillator. I’ve got one heck of a headache, and I’m a little dizzy.” Johnny rubbed his face.
“Betty, why don’t you get our favorite bat killer an ice pack for his face, and one for his hand,” suggested Dixie. “What would you like me to give him for pain?” she asked Doctor Brackett.
“Codeine, 30 milligrams,” answered Doctor Brackett as the x-ray machine entered the room.
The party stepped out of the room. Betty excused herself to get the ice pack. Dixie left to get the medication. “You’d better call it in, Roy,” said Doctor Brackett. “Since Johnny lost consciousness, I want to keep him the rest of the night for observation. You can pick him up in the morning.”
“Okay, Doc. Wait till the guys hear this one.” Roy shook his head. “Chet’s going to have a field day.”
Doctor Brackett and Roy moved aside as the x-ray tech pushed the machine from the room. “I’m sure he will. It’s not everyday someone gets hit with a flying defibrillator,” Brackett laughed. “I’ll check the films and be back shortly.”
###
Betty returned with the icepacks as Dixie watched Johnny swallow the pain pill.
“Looks like you’ll be spending the night with us,” said Dixie.
Johnny took the ice from Betty and held the pack against his cheek. He looked at Dixie. “Are you working all night?”
Dixie shook her head and looked at her watch. “I leave at eleven. My relief should be here any minute now.”
“Be careful going home. It’s getting pretty weird out there,” said Johnny. “I almost got hit on the way over.”
“Things are pretty weird in here, too,” said Betty. “I’ll bet that guy was talking to Doctor Mackintosh.”
Johnny looked at Betty. “You know, Betty, I never really believed that story. But, I swear I saw an older man in a lab coat talking to that nut. I wasn’t going to say anything, because I figured you’d think I was hallucinating. I got really cold, too.”
“You’re supposed to get cold when a ghost is near,” said Betty.
“Maybe it was Doctor Mackintosh,” Dixie said. “That patient was definitely talking to somebody.”
“Who knows,” said Betty. “Maybe the curse will be lifted since the Doctor was able to help a patient.” She snapped her fingers. “Maybe he’s not a vengeful spirit after all?” she suggested. “Maybe he’s watching over us, helping us?”
A muffled howl was heard from the hallway. An ear-piercing shriek emanated from the base station.
“Nope,” said Betty, as she shook her head. “We’re still doomed.”
“Wolfman’s at it again.” Dixie looked around the room and made a face. “I left Johnny at the desk.”
“Huh?” asked the confused paramedic. “Dix, I’m right here.”
“We, um, named the bat Johnny,” said Betty. “In your honor, of course,” she added quickly.
“Gee, thanks,” said Johnny. “Not only do I have a dead bat named after me, but I get knocked out by a defibrillator.” Johnny adjusted the ice pack on his face. “What else could happen tonight?”
“Don’t ask, Johnny,” said Betty. “Just don’t ask.”
###
Carol examined the specimen cup as Dixie entered the base station. “Hi Dix,” she said as she lifted the cup to peer at the bat. “What’s this?”
“A bat named Johnny,” answered Dixie. “We killed it in one of the treatment rooms.” Dixie took the cup and put it into the bag. She sealed the top with some tape and placed it in her office.
“Great,” sighed Carol. “It’s going to be one of those nights. Is the good Doctor walking the halls?”
“Doctor Brackett and Doctor Morton are here for the overnight,” answered Dixie.
“No, Dixie,” said Carol as she looked around quickly. “I mean, is Doctor Mackintosh here?” she whispered.
Dixie shrugged her shoulders. “Maybe. John Gage thought he saw our ghost talking to a patient in D.T.’s who slugged him with a defibrillator.”
“What?”
Dixie nodded and related the story to Carol. She also gave a brief report on the rest of the patients in the Department and the availability of beds in the hospital. “I for one don’t believe in ghosts, or curses. Strange things happen all the time. We’re more focused on it, because tonight is Halloween,” Dixie smiled gently. “Let’s make rounds before I go.”
Dixie and Carol left the base station and opened the doors to the treatment rooms to check the patients. Betty was folding John’s uniform pants when they reached his room.
“Good night, Johnny,” said Dixie. “Carol’s in charge tonight. Do you feel any better?”
“A little.” Johnny winced as he squinted slightly. “Where’d that black dog come from?”
“Dog, what dog?” asked Dixie, as she looked around.
“Not in here,” said Johnny. “There’s a big black dog in the hallway. It almost looks like a wolf, but I’ve never seen one that color.”
Dixie turned around in time to see a big black dog trot towards the exit. The animal turned its head towards Dixie and blinked. The animal ambled out of the double doors into the night.
Dixie, and Carol ran into the room where the man had been howling. The blankets were piled in a bundle at the end of the stretcher. The room was empty, except for the intravenous bag that gently swayed on the pole. Dixie and Carol looked at each other.
“He’s gone,” said Dixie. “We’d better call Security.”
“You don’t think...” Carol’s voice trailed off. “That...dog ...didn’t look like an ordinary dog.”
“I don’t know what to think, except that a cold beer would hit the spot right about now,” said Dixie. She looked at the ceiling. “Alright, already! Enough is enough! I believe you exist! Are you happy now?” Dixie shivered slightly as the treatment room door opened and closed by itself.
Carol looked around. “I think he heard you. What should I tell Security?”
“Just tell them we had a Psych patient leave without permission. You’ll have to give them a general description, because they’ll have to call the Police. Whatever you do, do not mention that the patient thought he was a werewolf. Tell Security the patient was delusional. You can slide the incident report under my office door.” Dixie pulled the treatment room door open. “Goodnight.”
Author’s note: Two of the incidents (the bat, the guy throwing the defibrillator) are based on true events that occurred during night shifts I worked. I got to carry a dead bat in a specimen cup and put it inside my nurse manager’s office until someone could look at it. It was kind of cute, and we did name it. The defibrillator throwing patient ran over from the SICU, but tossed the anterior-posterior paddles that they use to cardiovert a patient (they look like something you’d stick in a bed to warm it, not the paddles they use to defib, like on the show), through the first pane of the safety glass of a window on my unit. Mind you, we’re 8 stories off the ground! Ever since Rod Serling, the brain behind The Twilight Zone, died in the ICU across the hall from my own, strange things have been known to happen, especially in the wee hours of the morning. Who knows, maybe he’s haunting us?
