Cradle Creek

Chapter 38, Losing My Religion

Dropping a stack of notes on the charge nurse's desk, Drew said, "Don't worry, I'm not asking you to do these. I need a spot to stash them until I can get to it. But first, sleep."

The blonde nurse had her hair in a high ponytail and she wore fig blue scrubs.

"I'm happy to help. You know that."

"Being happy to help and being asked to help don't typically go hand-in-hand. I've got to catch a nap before I am useless. Page me if there's a problem? I'll get to these as soon I wake up."

In the call room, he kicked off his running shoes, killed the lights and fell in total darkness. He closed his eyes and was asleep before his head hit the pillow.

Sometime later, he wasn't sure, the pager vibrated off the table, the flashing light and incessant noise jolted him awake.

Code Black

Well, this was not what he was expecting. Code Black is an active shooter alert. Hospital procedure dictates that all personnel are to remain behind a locked door until the "all-clear" is given. This was his third Code Black in as many years. The first two were false alarms: an undercover agent with a concealed weapon and the other was when a man wielded a toy gun in the ER waiting room. Okay, so maybe not the second one, but definitely the first one.

Even if it was a false alarm that was his team down there: his nurses, partners, and patients. There could be injuries and he needed to be with them. It's not like he was going to be getting anymore sleep right now as it stood.

Feeling a caged animal trapped in the small room, Drew put his ear to the door, silently unhinging the lock. He opened the door a crack and the hallway was still. A deep breath and he was in the corridor. A hundred yards away was a back staircase that required a badge. After that, he could go down a flight of stairs and be in the ER. Soundlessly, he walked down the white linoleum hall, pausing before the dead-end. An inhale and he peered out before turning: nothing. The usually busy hall was eerily motionless and quiet.

A quick turn, slight jog and he used his badge to unlock the door. Closing it tightly behind to reengaged the lock, he hustling down the steps. Opening the door to the ER he discovered that this third code black was, in fact, not a false alarm.

The blonde charge nurse in fig blue scrubs lay in a crimson puddle, a small hole over her left temple with an explosion of blood and brain matter out the right side behind her ear. His notes still sat on her desk, spattered.

What the...? He thought, bewildered. Drew backed against the wall, crouching low, assessing.

Out of his sight line, there was another body, a man unfamiliar to Drew. A second GSW victim, an apparent suicide. He wore dirty jeans, a dark pullover, and a large hole in the back of his head, again with blood sprayed across the wall. A splash of bullet holes ran across the wall.

The profound silence rocked his ear drums and the world was frozen. Looking around, he assessed the who and the what. An older female emergency doctor huddled in a ball under a metal desk. Crouched low, Drew ran to her, "What happened?" he asked.

She shook her head, shutting her eyes tightly, shaking her head from left to right.

Drew put his hands on her shoulder, "Was it just the one shooter?" he asked. An almost imperceptible head bob told him that he could assume they were out of immediate danger.

—

The police drove up to the ambulance bay, sirens wailing. Other doctors were running to the charge nurse, but Drew knew there was nothing that could be done. Even if she could survive this, her quality of life was gone. She'd be a vegetable.