Chapter Thirteen - Part Three

I couldn’t help but grin at her juvenile lip-biting and blushing.

“Well, I’m not really supposed to let anyone behind the desk. It’s not allowed…”

Ethan looked up and down the hallway in a secretive fashion that he had somehow found a way to make intimate.

“I don’t think anyone’s paying attention. So, you can do it just this once, right?”

The wink was all it took – the icing upon the cake.

“Um, ok I guess.” Amanda said, with her face exceptionally red as she pushed her chair back a little, allowing Ethan to hop skillfully over the counter. He leaned down close to her, as they both gazed at the computer screen together, shooting me a quick wink over the top of her head. And with a smirk of approval, I watched Ethan expertly rest his right hand on Amanda’s shoulder. He then brushed his fingertips softly against the exposed skin of her arm, and her eyes went wide as she felt him.

And as Amanda turned to look (googly-eyed and mystified) at his hand on her arm, Ethan took his opportunity. Deftly, Ethan snuck his left hand to her bet loop and yanked a small ring of keys from their place at her side. The keys and his hand then disappeared, quick as a flash, into his pocket.

“Wow, thank you so much Amanda.” Ethan said smoothly, re-hopping across the desk.

“Of course, you too! No, I mean, have a good day! Yeah – have a good day.”

Ethan looked back at her as he walked, giving her a cute little smile and a wave. But he insisted on being charming for just two seconds too long, because when Ethan turned his face again, he walked smack into a pillar.

Quickly, I stuffed my fists against my mouth to muffle the sound of my scream of laughter. Even Amanda had to look away and pretend very hard that she hadn’t noticed her boyfriend walk into a column.

“Very smooth, sailor,” I said, tousling Ethan’s hair as he walked around the corner.

“No, I meant to do that,” he insisted, rubbing the middle of his forehead, which had gone a little red. “Can’t have her thinking I’m perfect, now can we?”

“Right,” I said. “We’d better get out of here, before she notices her keys are missing.”

So, back to the elevator we went, where the fourth key was the charm, turning easily in the slot. I pressed the button, and down we headed, finally on the right track again.

*  *  *

The elevator opened into a spacious, uncluttered room filled with an exceedingly uncomfortable number of pointy, metal instruments. Two neat rows of cold, steel trays occupied the space in the center of the room, but only three of them had bodies. With a shiver, I noticed that one of the sheets was stained with fresh red blood in some places.

But I ripped my gaze away from the sheets to study the freezers as a substitute. They were stacked in rows on the far wall of the room, with black rubber handles for greeting inhabitants to their chilly new homes. Death was all around in here. You could feel it crawling up the insides of your nose, and pressing against the backs of your eyeballs. Even our wolves could smell it, and we felt them cower.

“Hello?” I called, rubbing my arms against the cold in the air, but knowing the wolf would warm me soon. “Just looking for the bathroom. Anyone here?”

But a few, quick sniffs told us that there was not another living soul in the room, besides ourselves.

“Alright,” I said, determinedly stepping from the elevator. “I’ll start checking that computer over there, and you can get started on the filing cabinets.”

With a nod in agreement from Ethan, we split up, and I headed to the computer. But immediately, I noticed that it was really more of a, dirty, freakishly outdated monitor with a clunky-looking box to go along with it. Sighing, I looked down at the sticky, black keys with the faded lettering, and was a little intimidated by the grossness of it all. But I squared my shoulders, gave myself a firm pat on the back, and wiped the keyboard with the elbow of my jacket. And after a five second lag, the screen came to life, with a grey login menu that was asking for Mr. Harris’ password. With a sigh of concentration, I hung my head a little, pausing to think.

“Hmm,” I murmured, and clicked the cancel button instead. This time, a new screen popped up, asking for logins under Dr. Harris, Mr. Grey, and Guest. And with a smile, I recalled the two names of the doctors from my father’s autopsy report.

With renewed inspiration, an idea was formed, and I clicked the Guest login. The screen blackened for a few moments and then another fuzzy, grey background was loaded. I recognized the wastebasket, tan folders, and other random icons of the home screen, and knew that it had worked.

“Gotcha,” I whispered, scanning the various folders and selecting the one marked ‘Patients Deceased’. The file loaded, albeit slowly, and then an extremely long list of patient names was loading, beginning in the A’s. Eagerly, I began to scroll fast, but with every swipe, the screen had to take several seconds to load the next few names, lagging and freezing horribly. This went on for quite some time (and I had just barely made it to the C’s) when Ethan’s whispered “Hey!” caught my attention from across the room. He put a finger to his lips, and then placed a folder quickly back into one of the cabinets, closing its drawer soundlessly.

I was about to asking him what was wrong when I heard it – a faint humming and whirring sort of sound.

The elevator. The elevator was going up, and soon it would be coming back down.

Temporarily frozen, I watched Ethan sprint toward me. He grabbed me by the arm and then yanked me downwards as the sounds of the approaching elevator became louder.

“Crap. What do we do?” I whispered.

“We need a diversion,” he whispered back.

The elevator stopped with a solid thump and a pause. And then the next second, two arguing men stepped out.

“You’re prettier than me,” Ethan whispered. “Distract them.”

“What?”

“Just do it!” he said, and gave me a shove.

I was sent scrambling from behind the desk, straightening and then lurching again before I gained my balance. Swiftly, I took a few steps forward to keep their attentions focused on me and away from Ethan, who was still hiding beneath the desk.

“Who the hell are you?”

The tallest one had spoken. He was an ugly, thin, old man with the name of Doctor Harris – according to the tag pinned to the outside of his dark blue lab coat. Which meant that his short, portly companion, was none other than Mr. Grey.

“Well, this is awkward,” I said. “I could’ve sworn that this was the bathroom….”

“That’s complete rubbish. You came here with a purpose.” Dr. Harrison snarled. “Only hospital staff have access down here, and I’ve never seen you before. George, call security!”

George began to turn and I knew he was headed in the direction of the hospital phone.  It was tacked to the wall, only a few feet away, and I knew he could reach it in seconds.

“Ok, look. Everybody just hold on.” I said, thinking fast, as George and Doctor Harris hesitated.

“Look, to be honest, I came down here because I need to find out information on someone who was admitted here once. His name was Jack Noble.”

As I spoke, I edged my way in a circle around them, so I could stand with my back to the elevator. Subsequently, they revolved with me, determined to keep me under their watchful gaze. And soon enough, their backs would be to the desk, which meant that they wouldn’t be able to see Ethan.

“Do you remember him?” I asked, as the two shared a dark, telling look.

Meanwhile, Ethan was peeking carefully from behind the desk.

“We don’t have any bodies under that name,” George said. Unlike the more imposing voice of Dr. Harrison – who was clearly George’s boss – Dr. Grey’s voice was wracked with self-doubt and hesitance. I could smell the lies all over him.

“Not now, maybe,” I agreed. “But you did, didn’t you? A little more than a year ago? August twenty-third?”

“What of it?” Doctor Harrison asked, coldly. “His autopsy report would have been transitioned to a public file six weeks after his death – just like all other deceased. You could get the file from the library, if you wanted.”

“Ding ding ding!” I replied, with sarcasm. “We have a winner! You know, that report you wrote and then chopped up might have actually worked if you didn’t have a dinosaur for a computer. You two morons forgot to re-number the pages before you deleted four others from the original file. And anyway – isn’t Word supposed to do that for you automatically? What the heck? Is your computer, like, from the Dark Ages?”

“Well, uh, something like that,” George said sheepishly, with a gulp.

“Shut-up, you clown.” Mr. Harrison commanded. “We shouldn’t be talking to you.” he said, directing his focus back to me. “What we should be doing is having you locked up for trespassing.”

And, surprisingly swift for a man of his age, Mr. Harrison darted to his right. He picked up a small, yet lethal-looking scalpel from a nearby table, and waved it in warning.

“Or maybe, I should just take care of you myself…” he said, looking as though he were seriously considering attacking. But behind him, I could see Ethan creeping his way along. He nodded to me once, and noiselessly picked up something metal-looking and round as he passed a nearby cart.

“Well, that makes it sound like you have something to hide, Mr. Harrison.” I said, undaunted, but still keeping a careful eye on the scalpel. “What did you take out of that report that you didn’t want anyone else to see?”

“I don’t answer to you,” Mr. Harrison said, sneering. “You have no authority here. And besides, whatever it is you think you know – it can’t be proven. None of it.”

“Mmm, yeah, about that, Doctor…” I said, with a sigh of pity. “I think you might be wrong.”

“Really? Interesting.” The amusement in his voice, and the almost lackadaisical way in which he wielded the knife, let me know that Ethan was poised at the perfect moment. “And why would you think that?”

There was a strong, resounding “thung”, and Mr. Harrison dropped like a sack of heavy potatoes. Ethan was revealed, standing determinedly behind him, and George jumped like a fat, frightened rabbit.

“Ethan, gross. Is that a bedpan?” I asked.

“Uh… maybe.” Ethan said, dropping the pan immediately, and wiping his hand across his jacket.

“You.” I said, turning to the speechless George. “Help my friend get Mr. Harrison on that table, over there.” I said, indicating a nearby, empty tray.

“And make sure you strap him down tight.” I advised, as his knees wobbled.

But despite his clumsy, bumbling appearance, I could see why Dr. Harrison would keep the company of such a gauche companion. Because George was extremely adept when it came to following directions, it was revealed.  Quickly, he helped Ethan to hoist Mr. Harrison’s useless, albatross of a body onto a cold, empty slab. And the same straps that George might have used on one of his cadavers were now used on his colleague, the unconscious Dr. Harrison.

“There! I’ve done all you want! Now, will you let me go? I-I haven’t got any money on me – I swear.”

I sighed with impatience at George.

“You silly man, I’m not here for your money – I’m here for answers.”

“Ok,” he said. “But are you going to tie me down too?”

“Why would I do that?” I said with rhetorical glib, heading back to the computer.

“Bro, you aren’t exactly what we’d call a threat.” Ethan replied with a grin, folding his arms.

Back at the computer, I retook my former task of name-scrolling. It was a tedious, and painfully slow operation. But, somehow I just knew that my father’s name would be there.

“George.” I called, still scrolling. “You seem like a smart guy who knows what his best interests are. So I’ve got some questions for you that you’re going to answer, agreed?”

“Yeah, but, well… what if I didn’t? A-answer, I mean.” This was his meek, albeit challenge of a reply.

I suppose it could have been his residual attempt to prove that he truly was the threat that Ethan had refused to mistake him for. Or maybe he was just plain senseless. But for whatever reason, it was still an indication to me that fear could be powerful – even in the weakest of characters.

“Ethan,” I said, straightening and flashing my friend an encouraging smile. “Why don’t you show George why it is he should participate…?”

*  *  *