Draculas

Her thoughts were interrupted when the automatic doors opened and a clown entered the ER. At first, Je

A distressed woman followed the clown and the child, patting the girl's back, and when she locked eyes on Je

Je

"You have to help my daughter," the mother demanded.

Je

"Oasis's braces are stuck," the woman said.

"Oasis?"

"Oasis. My precious little girl. This horrible clown ruined her eighth birthday party, and now he's going to ruin five thousand dollars' worth of orthodontia."

Je

In a low, shaky voice barely above a whisper, Be

Je

"This terrible clown squirted my little girl and she defended herself. Now she's stuck on his filthy clown hand."

The little girl said something that came out like, "Mmmmhhhggggggggg."

"I was making the birthday princess a balloon poodle," Be

Je

Even with the painted-on grin, Be

Je

Just do it. Get it over with.

Je

Before the first ring ended, Randall was on the line. "Jen, is that you?"

The last thing she expected--or wanted--to feel was comfort at the sound of his voice, especially with all the chaos going on around her. But it was so familiar, like they'd just spoken yesterday. The comfort died in a surge of anger at the memory of all the heartache his drinking had put her through.

"Hello, Randall. How are--?"

"You coming to visit?" Randall interrupted. "I'm in room Three-One-Eight."

Je

"You listened to them? All of them?"

"All thirty-eight, Randall."

"Thirty-eight? It couldn't have been anywhere near that many. But I wasn't sure you were getting them. You been having a problem with your phone?"

Yeah, you keep calling me. "I've just been busy. So how are you doing?"

"Dry ninety-seven days now. I don't even want to drink anymore, I swear. I'm a changed man, Je

So he'd said in all thirty-eight messages. She was impressed if it was true, but he'd done a lot of lying in his drinking days. And even if it were true--too little, too late.

"I meant your injury, Randall."

"Oh." His voice suddenly lost the excited, almost child-like tone. "I got seventy-seven stitches. Everyone thinks it's real ironical that I cut the back of my leg."

"You mean ironic, Randall," Je

Winslow--a wisp of a woman who became head nurse when Je

Should have put on your face mask, Dr. Jack Ass.

Je

"Je

Je

Full of shame at the selfish thought, she forced herself to look back, to say a final, silent goodbye.

She was shocked to see Mortimer--standing--on top of the gurney, restraints broken off and dangling from his ankles and wrists, his mouth wide and--

Is he hissing?

The sound came from deep in Mortimer's throat, less like a threatened cat, more like a tea kettle coming to boil. It kept rising in pitch until it became a shrill whistle, the noise unlike anything Je

It was inhuman.

"Je

"Oh my God."

"What? What, Jen?"

Mortimer's teeth. Something was happening to them. They were falling out--no--he was spitting them out, spitting them at Lanz and the nurses who were frantically trying to coax him off the gurney.

"Randall, I have to go. There's something happening in the ER."

"You're here in the--?"

She hung up the phone and started toward Mortimer. No doubt Randall would be trying to call her back on her cell, but she had the ringer turned off--the hospital took its no cell phone rule seriously.

Mortimer abruptly stopped hissing, and Je

Stiff as a plank, Mortimer fell face-first onto the floor.

Je

She pushed her way through the nurses surrounding Mortimer and knelt at his prone body.