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PART
ONE
"Am
I free to use whatever method of correction I choose...in light of
your special orders?"
"Those
special orders," he informed her sharply, "are from Lothos,
himself. But just so
there's no misunderstanding, Jessica, you may correct her as you see
fit," now Peter Hugen's tone darkened with a warning.
"Don't overstep those orders, or you may find yourself in
a cell. Is that plain enough?"
Seeing the way the TM's dark eyes flashed as she nodded to him
was all the answer he got; it was all the answer Peter needed. He
glanced once more at Tala; naked and chained facing the back wall of
the cell then turned and exited the cell.
As he walked away from the cell, Peter neither hesitated nor
looked back when he heard the crack of a lash, followed
instantaneously by Tala screaming.
It was going to be twenty-four of the longest hours of her
life.
Tala
tried to relax herself before Jessica began, but as soon as the whip
bit into her skin, the tension flew back into her body with a
vengeance and she couldn’t help but scream at the pain of the first
bite of the whip. The
pain was the only constant reminder of what Lothos had done to her …
what Zoë had done to her… what Edward had done… how everyone had
deceived her… keeping her in the dark.
She clamped her mouth shut, grinding her teeth together, not
allowing herself to scream any longer.
‘Lothos has hurt me more than the whip has and if I can
bear that hurt, this should be a breeze,’ she thought to herself
as the tears began to flow down her cheeks.
Jessica
deliberately delivered each lash with a certain precision, overlapping
each stroke slightly over the one before as she kept a sharp watch on
Tala’s breathing patterns. She
noticed that after the first scream, Tala only whimpered from time to
time. Only the tears
falling down her face told Jessica that she was getting the effect
that she wanted.
Finally,
the first session, save for five minutes was over. Jessica walked over to the narrow table by the door and
dropped the whip. Getting
a cup of water, she took it to Tala.
“You want some water?” she asked plainly.
“How’s your breathing?”
Tala’s
head was hanging down, her tears rolling down her cheeks and she
finally let her mouth open to release the tension in her jaw. But when Jessica offered her the water, she turned her eyes
to her. She couldn’t be
mad at the woman standing beside her.
She was just doing her job, but the wheezing that was being
emitted from Tala’s mouth told her how her breathing was.
“Please,” she requested as she glanced down at the water in
her hand.
Jessica
assisted her in handling the glass and she gladly swallowed the warm
water. She coughed
roughly but turned back to answer the woman about her breathing.
“I’m okay,” she said softly as the wheezing began to get
a bit louder.
“Don’t
play games with me,” Jessica told her not too unkindly.
“Do you need that inhaler?”
It was in that moment that Jessica saw the stubbornness in her
eyes. “Look,” she
told her as she grabbed a handful of her hair and turned Tala’s face
to her, “You’ve got twenty-three more hours of correction coming.
Whether you get it all at the same time or spread it out over
three days, you’re still going to get it.
Now, let’s save both you and I some time and you two extra
days in here. Do you need
that inhaler?”
Tala
understood exactly what she was saying and even though she didn’t
care to be whipped for the next two days, she knew when and if she
needed the inhaler. She
looked firmly into Jessica’s eyes.
“Ma’am,” she began softly, respectfully, “I heard what
Dr. Hugen said as well as you did.”
She wheezed softly and cleared her throat.
“I’m not going to get anyone in trouble because of my
asthma. I give you my
word that I will inform you as to when I need it.
At the moment, I don’t need it.”
Tala saw the wary look that Jessica gave her and she blinked at
the woman before her she said, “I’ve never gone back on my word.
Why would I start now?”
Jessica
took a deep breath and slowly let it out.
She had never had any dealings before with Tala, but there was
something in her voice that she trusted.
“Very well,” she finally replied to her.
Holding up the cup once more, she asked, “You want some more
water?” she helped Tala once again then turned and walked to the
table and placed the cup on the table.
She then picked up the whip once more.
For
the next hour, Jessica watched Tala ‘dance’ in the chains.
Everybody, men and women, they always danced whenever the tip
of the lash bit into their flesh, especially the backs of their legs.
The lash biting into sweat-dampened skin caused a unique sort
of pain, and nobody didn’t dance.
Nobody.
As
the hour passed, Tala’s thoughts were directed at Lothos-her father.
Reviewing her life, she had come to realize that he had been
there for her. Whenever
she had a question, a fear, a need; he was there to give the
information, calm her fears and give the undivided attention that she
needed. His words echoed
plainly in her mind, ‘I’ve always been here watching you as I
will in the future, my child.’
It was as the last lash was given in the session that she
realized why Lothos had punished her.
She had been very insolent; and this she accepted.
Tala
saw the surprise in Jessica’s eyes when she brought another small
glass of water to offer to her. Tala
accepted a small sip of the water but shook her head when she offered
the cup to her again. Tala
watched as she turned away and she tried to prepare herself again for
the next lash about to be given.
But it didn’t come. Turning
her head, she saw Jessica nodding her head and whispering.
“Yes,
Lothos. It will be
done,” Jessica whispered softly as she set the cup on the table once
again. She turned around and went to Tala and released her from the
chains. She watched as Tala stood still then slowly turned her head
to look at her curiously.
“I’m
taking you to the personal facilities,” she told Tala blandly.
As she spoke she turned back around to go to the small locker
at the door. Opening it,
she pulled out a length of white cloth and held it out to her.
“Wrap this around yourself.”
Seeing the puzzled look, she responded, “Lothos has ordered
that you are not to be taken into the halls naked.”
She watched as Tala’s cheeks reddened slightly as she
wordlessly wrapped the cloth around her body.
It covered her from just above her cleavage to about mid-thigh.
“There’s
no fastener.” “Then I
suggest you keep a firm hold on it,” Jessica snapped at her as she
went to the door and opened it, indicating that Tala would step out
before her.
The
personal facilities were just down the hall and around the corner, but
this section of the correctional facility, where minor infractions
were addressed, was busy. Glancing
back at Tala, now walking a couple of steps behind, Jessica noticed
that from the way she kept her head down along with the fiery red
embarrassment in her face, told her that Tala had never been this
exposed in public before. Now she was walking amongst others in the same state of
dress… or total nudity. Though
Jessica was about the same age as Tala, she felt a degree of maturity
and acceptance that she obviously never had to encounter.
In the facilities, Tala hastily took care of her business and
Jessica returned her to the cell again.
Tala
couldn’t help but keep a mental countdown.
She knew that she had been out of the cell for longer than five
minutes and it made her wonder if she’d get another break from the
next session. Without
questioning it, and as soon as they entered the cell, she unwrapped
the cloth from her body, as painful as it was, and placed it on the
table then walked over to the wall once more.
Standing there quietly, with her hands down at her side, she
felt her breathing slowly begin to calm. Even though she had been
whipped for two hours, totally embarrassed in front of others; she was
accepting it. She nodded
to her own thoughts, ‘I deserve it.’
By
the time twelve hours had passed, Jessica could tell from Tala’s
expression and body language that she was beginning to feel like
everyone else receiving punishment or correction.
Will this ever end?
Tala’s
used the inhaler twice in the past hours.
She was weary from the correction; however, Jessica was just
getting settled into a pattern. Twenty-four
hours was nothing to her. She
had learned early on those long hours were a part of her job.
For Tala, and most others, it wasn’t and she was succumbing
to fatigue, a little at a time.
Amazingly
enough, throughout the whole ordeal thus far, Tala had found the
pattern that Jessica used. She
felt like a roast being turned very two hours, and for two sessions,
even though the pain was combining with her asthma, she counted each
and every lash given. Amazingly,
she found that it had been fifty lashes each time.
Tala
didn’t want to think anymore, but her brain wouldn’t stop.
IT wouldn’t stop thinking about her parents.
She had been thinking about Zoë: The woman who gave her up in
the hour of her birth, not having a second chance to think over her
decisions. Amazingly
enough, she found that she was pitying her – especially now that she
was paralyzed.
Even
as the correction continued on, Tala knew that she was about to
succumb to the exhaustion that was threatening to over take her.
But when she tried to keep herself awake and in control of
herself, she found herself in the dark recesses of her mind; and what
happened – even she was shocked.
She began to softly sing a song that she hadn’t heard in
years.
When
Jessica heard a sound coming from Tala, she didn’t hesitate with the
lashes, she just listened more closely.
Upon hearing her singing to herself, however quietly,
thoroughly surprised and infuriated her. ‘The pattern’s too predictable,’ she thought to
herself. ‘I can
change that!’
Throwing
the whip aside, she took a ‘little cat’ from one of the drawers on
the table by the door. Tala
stopped singing with the first lash. Jessica had to admit to herself that the touch of her temper
was driving her to sing the ‘little cat’ faster, the pattern being
less predictable and almost out of control.
She was certain that the only thing was Tala’s mind was, ‘How
much longer?’
There
was slightly less than three hours left of Tala’s punishment when
Jessica again unchained the correctee and handed her the cloth.
This time though, because she was so tired and every nerve in
every exposed area of skin on her body was screaming in agony, Tala
kept her head up as she walked through the halls.
By
this time, Tala had walked the brief route a total of five times.
As Jessica walked beside her now, she observed her not only
seeing the other correctees she was walking amongst, males and females
but also looking into their faces and seeing them.
Jessica also saw in the ‘untouchable one’ that she was
learning a lesson about herself.
That no matter how aloof Tala’s been to others, that there
are things and times in life… like now… that would remind her that
she was not beyond the reach of correction or pain, and that those two
items will always be a part of her life from time to time.
Back
in the cell, Tala seemed to have found somewhere inside herself to
grit and determination to endure the last three hours of punishment in
silence. Jessica once
again picked up the single lash whip and maintained a steady pattern.
At this point, Tala’s body jerked at each lash, but not a
sound, not so much as a whimper passed her lips.
At
last, Lothos spoke into the room saying only, “Time.”
Without
comment, Jessica put the whip away and then went to release Tala from
the chains. As with every
correctee, she had to sign the correction order, acknowledging that
she understood why she was punished.
When she laid down the pen, Jessica again handed her the same
towel and waited for her to wrap herself with it.
Then, retrieving her uniform, underwear and her boots from the
small clothes locker next to the table, Jessica opened the door.
This
time, Jessica took her to the whirlpool area of the infirmary and gave
her to the attendant on duty. Like every other correctee at the end of his or her
punishment, Tala would have a medicated bath before being allowed to
dress and return to her quarters.
As Jessica left the whirlpool area, she didn’t even turn to
look back when she heard Tala’s gasp as she got into the tub. She
just went to her quarters and crawled into bed after a long hot
shower. As she fell
asleep, her last waking thought was, ‘I’m sure that it will
probably be a very long time before Tala sees the inside of a
correction cell again.’
PART
TWO
For
a moment he had stood in the doorway leading into the unit, watching
the handful of nurses attending to the few unfortunates who needed to
be in this place. When
none of the medical staff made any move to order him out, Thames took
the chance and moved slowly and quietly further into the I.C.U. Luck was with him as he discovered when he glanced into the
first open unit and saw a familiar shade of red hair against a snowy
white pillowcase. Not
wanting to distract the nurse as she finished her duties of caring for
Zoë, Thames waited for her to leave, he, too had jumped a bit when at
last the woman turned and saw him.
He took a quick step toward her then stopped.
“I
just wanted to stop by and see how she... how Z...Dr. Malvison is
doing?” Thames’ dark
eyes once more returned to the motionless – save for the ventilator
breathing for her – form of the most conniving and skilled leapers
and leaping instructors he had ever known.
Shifting his gaze back to the nurse who was now standing almost
in front of him, he asked softly, “So...how is she doing?”
Deborah
Henderson wasn’t breaking any land speed records getting back from
her break even though she knew she needed to get her butt in gear and
get to the ICU to relieve Sara Ann Lutherson.
When she finally made it back to the ICU, she saw Sara at the
main station desk. She
grinned when she saw the relief on her co-worker’s face then looked
closer and saw that the other young woman looked a bit tense.
"Sara Ann what's wrong?"
Hearing
Sara rattle off in one long breath, “I'm so glad that you're back.
I don't like it that Dr. Malvison is in the ICU Room.
Thames came by to check in on her... he came with flowers...
and you know how Dr. Hugen is about flowers in there,” Deb
understood. Having
someone as high profile in the complex as Zoe Malvison in the ICU was
enough to make some a bit edgy. Considering
the reason that had landed the demanding, sharp-tongued leaper trainer
and observer in the ICU also meant that Lothos’ observation of
everything and everyone working near Dr. Malvison was more than likely
even more intense. She
just nodded at Sara’s words, guessing at the rest of what her
co-worker was about to say.
"Hon,”
Deb began, as she glanced down at the open chart on the desk – it
was Dr. Malvison’s. “Instead
of going into it about how you had to talk with Thames about how he
couldn't take in the flowers and how he took them in anyway along with
all the other things, then why don't you go ahead and to get some
supper. I'll talk with
him about it. Okay?"
There
was no mistaking the relief in Sara Ann’s grateful smile as she
stood up from the desk, saying, "Sure thing."
She reached to pat her friend on the arm as she hurried out of
the ICU.
Glancing down at the open
chart again, Deb’s sharp, brown gaze skimmed over the notes the
other nurse had just made. Nodding
at what she had just read, she closed the file and looked up and
across the way to the wide-open doorway of Unit 2 that Zoe Malvison
was occupying. She also
noted the black man standing at the foot of the bed and studying the
patient. Moving around
the desk, Deb murmured, “"All right, Dr. Malvison.
Let's see if you are awake, " and started toward the room.
As she approached the room, she noticed how Thames moved around to one
side of the bed then just stood there, looking down at the sleeping
redhead. Seeing the way
he reached out to touch the patient’s cheek so sweetly, Deb cleared
her throat a bit to hide the smile that appeared at his action.
She
didn’t speak immediately, instead moving to the other side of the
bed. With a light, sure
touch, Deb reached to put her fingertips on Zoe’s wrist, counting
her pulse; it was strong and steady.
After a minute, she made a mental note of Zoe’s pulse rate
before looking across at Thames. Seeing the small bouquet of flowers
in his hands, her tone was pleasant but firm as she told him,
"Sir, I'm sure that you're aware that you are not supposed to
bring those in here." The way Thames’ expression altered at her
words told the nurse quite clearly that he didn’t like what he was
hearing. Ticked off was
the even more accurate description that sprang to her mind.
After
prowling around the lecture hall for ten minutes after sending Johanna
and Vaughn off on their first testing, Thames figured that instead of
staying put and going stir crazy for the next four hours bouncing
echoes off the walls, he'd go check up on Zoe, see how the aggravating
redhead was doing. He
hadn’t seen her since she had been whisked off to surgery that
morning and he was genuinely concerned for her.
After
leaving the lecture hall, he made a specific detour to Blooms &
Things, one of two small flower shops in the shopping mall that took
up the entire the second level of the complex. Thames purchased a small bouquet of the white roses that he
knew Zoe loved then continued to the ICU located in the west side of
the infirmary level. At
the entrance to the unit, the flamboyant observer was kind of hesitant
to enter but when no one tried to stop him, he went in.
Luck was with him when he peered into the first wide-open room
door on the right and saw Zoe's sleeping figure.
Stepping quietly, he entered the room, just standing at the
foot of the bed for a moment. His
solitary visit was interrupted a moment or so later when a nurse
appeared, informing him, “I’m sorry, sir, but flowers aren’t
allowed in ICU.”
The
look in Thames eyes said one thing even as he said softly in a winning
tone, "Honey, you don't know this woman like I do.
If she finds out that somebody brought her white roses and she
didn't get them...." then let the sentence trail off.
The brief staring contest that ensued lasted perhaps a minute.
Thames didn’t think twice about grinning triumphantly at the
nurse and then after her when she finally left the room in a not so
well disguised snit.
"Get
used to it, baby," he murmured under his breath then turned back
to his partner. He mused
silently that Zoe would likely have clipped his ears for saying that
but it was true. Thames
smiled softly to himself as tilted his head slightly to one side as he
continued to study Lothos’ chief leaper and leaper trainer as she
slept. You like to
think, or at least tell people, you operate alone,’ he thought.
‘I damn sure want to be there the day you tell that to
Lothos.’
Thames
was still considering his thoughts and watching his partner sleep when
he heard footsteps moving toward him. 'Round two' he thought, shifting his gaze from Zoe's sleeping
face to another nurse. She,
like the other before her told the observer the same thing that
flowers weren’t allowed. And
Thames rehashed what he’d told the first nurse, smugly satisfied
when the second nurse also left in a snit.
A minute later, when he heard footsteps once more approaching
him, and by this time, feeling very certain and satisfied that he had
the routine and situation in hand, turned, ready to face another sweet
young thing to set her straight.
Only it wasn’t some sweet young thing of a nurse.
This time Thames faced off with a dragon he had encountered on
a few previous occasions, just not in the ICU.
Glancing at her nametag - Dorothy Hendricks, Senior RN, ICU –
he took a deep breath, deciding that he wasn’t going to let her get
the best of him. That’s
what he thought, anyway.
"Look,"
he began, deciding that his best bet was a good offense.
"I just came to bring Dr. Malvison some flowers...."
Dorothy
Hendricks had worked, primarily, in the ICU for the better half of her
thirteen years as a nurse in the complex’s medical facility. She wasn’t exactly Vogue cover material to look upon but
she had proven her skill and dedication to her chosen profession time
and time again, and she was a stickler for rules and protocol.
She had learned to deal with all sorts of people, and when
Josie Tanner had reported to her about a “…problem in Room 2”
followed by the younger nurse advising, “It’s Thames, ma’am.
He brought flowers to Dr. Malvison….”was all she needed to
hear.
Placing
the chart for the patient in ICU Room 5 on the central desk counter
she gave the younger nurse a firm look.
“You can’t let any visitor, I don’t care who they are,
buffalo or dictate to you, Josie,” she reprimanded the young woman.
“Not even senior leapers.
I’ll take care of him this time,” she said point blank.
“But you’d better stiffen that backbone and do this aspect
of your job better.” That said Dorothy walked briskly around the nurses’ station
and directly to Room 2. She
didn’t react in any way to the undecided smile Thames gave her.
"Get
out," she told him rather plainly.
Glancing at the flowers he held she added, “And take the
flowers with you. If
nobody ever told you, Thames, I’m telling you now.
NO FLOWERS OR PLANTS OF ANY SORT ARE PERMITTED IN ICU.”
She didn’t misinterpret the look the man leveled at her that
said plainly that there was no way in hell that he was actually going
to leave.
"Perhaps
you didn't hear me clearly, Thames,” Dorothy said, moving around the
bed to confront him, taking care to keep her voice modulated.
She didn’t, however, change her tone or attitude as she
matched stares with him. “Take
those flowers and get out. Dr.
Malvison will be moved to general care when she wakes and then, if
you'd like to give her the roses, you may... or you may put them in
the general area right now. I'll
make sure that she obtains the roses."
Seeing him open his mouth and shifting his feet as if to
indicate that he wasn’t going to be moved before he told her
something, Dorothy now wagged a finger at the end of his nose.
"Nuh
uh, Thames. I said out
and I meant out." Stepping
back from him, her jaw set, the floor nurse for the night maneuvered
her body so that she could take him down easily if need be.
She was ready for any attack that he could give.
Raising an eyebrow at him, she waited for his response, never
taking her gaze from him, watching him glance back over at Dr.
Malvison.
For
a minute Thames weighed his options.
Should he tell Nurse Hendricks what had dispensed with the
others, and risk a scene, which might or might not get him called to
Central Control? The
observer didn’t want to think about what such a summons might result
in. Or should he just
take the flowers and leave? Ultimately
he opted for the one that would entail the lesser amount of possible
physical pain. Glancing
over a Zoe again, Thames turned, giving the ‘dragon nurse’ just a
polite smile as he, and the white roses, left the ICU.
Going
to the central nursing station nearer the main doors leading into the
infirmary proper, he stopped one of the nurses there and handed her
the roses to her, saying, "Put them in some water. They're for
Dr. Malvison, providing she gets over here before they wither."
That done, he went off in search of a Coke and a stop in the
men's room, not necessarily in that order, before heading back to the
lecture hall.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Working
up in the gardens, one didn’t get much time to gossip about the
people in the complex below. But Max Robinson preferred it that way.
He enjoyed his work so much that once into it, he was quite
content to stay there. For
him, his work was more relaxing than anything else.
Some might not have thought so but this young man found mowing
actually was part of his duties as one of the gardeners that he
enjoyed the most. Being
able to walk around all day outside with his shirt off, sweating in
the sun... as far as he was concerned, it was the best feeling that a
guy could get... well... other than having a beautiful woman under
him. But manual labor of
mowing, the sweating, and even better, being out in the fresh air
twelve or fourteen hours a day, was something, a sort of penance, if
you will, that could take all his "sins" away.
However,
‘penance’ or not, on a hot day like this one, even guys needed a
break, and need the sweet refreshment of something cold and wet to
keep them blowing and going. Wiping
at the sweat that was dripping down his cheeks, he ran his hand
through his hair and started toward the complex entrance where the
guards were stationed, and where he always left his daily supplies --
lunch, and lots of cold bottled water.
Entering
the door, he saw Senior Officer Kennith Derby. The grin plastered on
the somewhat older man’s face was one that he saw often.
To the officer’s smirk and quip, "How's it hanging,
sweat-monger?"
Max
told him back, "As well as it can be, Kenny.
Give me some of my water will ya?
Or do you really want to smell me up close and personal if I
have to come around there and get it myself?"
Kennith
Derby’s idea of the ideal day was to come on duty, let a few people
in and out of the main topside entrance to the gardens, no hassles,
enjoy the sandwich and a couple of soft drinks his wife Judy fixed for
him every day, and then check out at six.
And that's what this day had been - as close to ideal as it
could get. After being in
security for five years, Kenny had that the duller the day, the better
he liked it.
Since
about seven that morning he had watched the gardeners, among them Max
Robinson, coming and going as they cared for the complex’s
impressive gardens. Max
had spent most of the morning mowing the huge yard before the
entrance. The gardens and yards of the complex were huge, requiring
four gardeners working two on, two off staggered shifts to keep them
the way Lothos wanted them kept.
Young Max had been one of those four gardeners for the last six
and a half years. He was a likeable guy whom, Kenny had noticed on
more than several occasions had quite an impact on the ladies.
What’s more, the young man knew it, but, didn’t,
surprisingly enough seem to have too much of a swelled head about it.
As
the day progressed, it had gotten steadily hotter.
By the time Max came through the main entrance, and to his
station a few feet inside, the young gardener had stripped off his
shirt. From his head to
the low-slung waistband of his jeans, he was dripping sweat; his hair
plastered to his forehead with sweat, his face a bit flushed, he was
so hot. As for his
question...
"Here,"
Kenny said, opening the small cooler that Max usually left by the
guard's desk when he went out in the morning.
Grabbing a liter bottle of chilled water, he tossed it across
to him, letting the cooler lid drop into place again.
"You and your smell just stay where you are," he
grinned at him. "If
I want to smell something bad, I'll take my shoes off."
Max
couldn’t help but grin at Kenny and chuckle.
"So a hug is out of the question, huh?"
The look on the guard’s face was priceless.
Twisting the cap off the bottle of water, Max chuckled then put
the bottle to his lips and took a long drink from it, draining almost
half of the water before he lowered the bottle.
"Ohhh... that's some good stuff..." Glancing over at
Kenny and seeing him smiling, Max shook his head.
"So... what's been going on down in the salt mines while
I'm out in the heat?"
"Well,
you heard about Dr. Malvison…right?" the guard began, glancing
at him. Seeing him shrug
and shaking his head and saying, "Should I have?"
Kenny got up from the desk and walked around it to stand near
the gardener. "You
don't know, then?" He
watched Max shake his head again.
"Boy, where have you been in the last thirty odd
hours?"
Max
frowned at his last question. Setting
the water bottle down, he shrugged, saying, "Asleep.
And then out here at the break of dawn, mowing, and keeping the
yard." Tilting his
head back slightly, he asked, "What's up with Ms. Zoe?"
Just from the look the guard’s face, Max knew that whatever
that something was, it was bad, something really bad.
Officer Derby didn’t
waste time with further inane comments, instead getting to the heart
of the matter. Fixing the
young gardener a straight, no bullshit look, he told him, "She's
in the ICU, fighting for her life," nodding when Max's mouth
dropped open. "Yeah, that's what I a lot of people thought when they
found out." He shook
his head, thinking about it. "I got it from one of the interns
yesterday morning in the cafeteria.
She was shot while on a mission.
In the back, can you believe it?"
Max’s thoughts were in a
whirl. Zoe Malvison -
shot in the back? He
vaguely considered that he was giving the guard one of the wildest
looks in my life. He
blinked as he worked to get his mind around the information, then
immediately pulled his shirt from where he’d stuffed it partially
into his back pocket and shook it out as he started toward the door
back out the way that he had come in.
Hearing, "Hey, Max, you forgot your water!" he called
back over his shoulder, "Put it up for me, will ya... I've got an
errand to run."
Max
knew that Officer Derby was probably thinking that he was totally nuts
but that didn’t matter to him.
What mattered to Max Robinson was that if Zoe Malvison was
still fighting for her life, she was going to do it with something
that he knew she adored near her.
Outside
again, Max went to one of the many rose bushes that he tended to,
especially the ones that he had planted especially for Dr. Zoe
Malvison. Grabbing the
clippers from his other back pocket, he glanced at them as he knelt
down beside one of the two rose bushes – one a creamy white, the
other a deep blushing pink – that he had surprised Zoe when he had
planted them just for her three or four years before. Placing the
clippers down for just a moment, Max pulled his shirt back on and
shook his head. 'You'll
fight and win, Ms. Zoe,' he thought as he picked up the clippers
again.
Looking
at the softly fragrant pink flowers, Max touched one of them softly
before carefully clipping it from the bush.
As he selected and clipped only the best blooms, Max thought
about his friendship with Zoe Malvison.
They had first become acquainted some six and a half years ago.
He smiled as he thought about how every time that he saw her, she
always hit on him... not that he minded, always giving her a hug after
the ‘hit.’
Reaching
through the bush and not caring that he was getting scratched up
pretty badly, Max counted out 14 of the most beautiful, full pink
roses and carefully gathered them together.
Standing up with the flowers in hand, he started toward the
complex with the purpose in mind to take them directly to Dr. Zoe
Malvison.
When
he hit the door, Ken Derby was behind his desk, his feet up on the
desk as well. "I'll
be back,” Max called, never breaking his stride as he headed for the
bank of four elevators about a hundred feet directly across from the
entrance. “Consider
this part of my lunch break."
Ken
Derby had followed Max to the door when he went charging back outside
just after telling the young man about Zoe Malvison tragic situation.
His only thought as he watched the younger man marching off
through one of the entrances to one of the gardens was, 'So how did
you get to be on a first name basis with the queen bitch of mean, Max?'
Of course, that thought had never touched the air, but Ken knew
good and well that were a whole lot of people who privately referred
to the redheaded spitfire by that title.
The
guard waited a couple of minutes to see if Max was coming back.
When he didn't, the guard returned to the desk, dropped into
the chair behind and proceeded to prop his feet on it and get
comfortable again. Lothos
didn’t mind the guards being relaxed when things in there assigned
area was quiet. Just so long as they didn’t get too comfortable.
So, when Max returned a few minutes later and headed for the
elevator, a bunch of pink roses in one scraped and scratched hand, Ken
Derby just waved a hand to acknowledge him. "I'll mark your card for you," he called out.
Doing as he had said, the guard resumed his relaxing.
Getting
to the elevator and punching the few buttons to get to the complex’s
medical facility that encompassed the entire twelfth level, Max was a
bit unnerved that he hadn't found out sooner about the woman he always
fondly addressed as Ms. Zoe. As
the elevator descended toward the twelfth level, it occurred to him
that he should have known something was up when she hadn’t come to
see him yesterday or today. If pressed, Max couldn’t really point to
a date when the slender, lovely red-head with a tongue as sharp as a
razor and a fondness for roses had begun paying a daily visit to the
gardens to see him, even if only long enough to chat for five minutes.
The
several times that the elevator stopped and stopped, Max politely
stepped back, trying to keep his distance from the ladies of different
calibers that entered then left elevator.
The few that were going to the twelfth level where the
infirmary was, he was sure that they were tired of smelling his sweaty
body. When the car
finally arrived at the twelfth level, as they all exited the elevator,
he shook his head. "Excuse
me ladies. Sorry... I just heard about someone laid up."
A
few tsked and looked sad while the other two seemed ready to put their
fingers over their nose. It
was a good thing that they restrained themselves. Max, raised by his
Aunt Josephine and because of such, well steeped in good manners,
would have hated to have told them where they could stick they’re
bad manners. It was a
good thing that Aunt Josephine didn’t know how certain aspects of
her nephew’s manners had acquired a definitely more modern attitude.
Walking
into the waiting area and up to the nurses/information station was
located near the elevators Max asked the woman behind the desk,
"Has Dr. Malvison been moved out of ICU yet?”
When she looked up at him, he continued.
“I know that ICU can't have flowers, but if she's in the
general ward, I'd like to give her these.
Please... Ms..." I
stop to look at her nametag. "...
Baker. Any help would be...wonderful."
Nurse
Hazel Baker had just stopped by the reception/information desk a
couple of minutes before she heard a polite, somewhat deep voice
asking about Zoe Malvison. Looking
up, she couldn’t help smiling at the very easy on the eye young man
watching her with the dark blue eyes she had ever seen.
She also didn’t miss the roses he held.
"Well
you seem to have excellent timing, young man," she told him when
he finished. Glancing at
the perfectly gorgeous bouquet of deep pink summer roses, their soft
perfume reaching her, for a moment Hazel had to envy Dr. Malvison’s
acquaintance with this man. Shaking
that notion off, however, she told him, "She's being settled in a
semi-private room as we speak."
Seeing how the young man's dark blue eyes lit up at that, she
was glad he had no way of knowing how his smile caused her heart to
skip a beat. ‘Some
women have all the luck’ she thought enviously, then brushed the
thought aside, and finished her answer to him.
"But visiting hours aren't for another four hours.
However, if you like," she offered, "I'll put the
roses in a vase and put them in her room for you."
Casting another appreciative glance at the lovely flower, the
nurse then took a closer visual inspection of him.
'Forget the flowers and the Red Witch’ Hazel thought
to herself. ‘I'll
settle for you, hot stuff.' As
the young man responded, she thought it was good that mind reading
wasn’t a common trait. "That's the best I can do for you at the moment."
Hearing that he wouldn't be
able to give them to her himself, at least for another four hours,
Max’s shoulders dropped slightly as he leaned toward the desk.
Nodding at her comment he said, "I was hoping that I'd at
least get to give them to her today myself.
I have to be back up in the gardens in about 20 minutes, and
I'll be up there until dark."
Carefully he placed the roses on the countertop, a frown of
disappointment creasing his brow. Lightly Max ran a finger over one of
the blooms. "Thank
you," he said at last, lifting his gaze to the woman watching
him. Turning, he started to walk away from the nurses’ station,
wondering how Zoe would know that the roses were from him, but at the
same time, he knew that it didn't matter.
Her favorite flower would be there to brighten her room and
that's all that mattered, right?
With that thought uppermost in his mind, Max straightened up
his shoulders and cleared his throat as he started toward the door
that opened out into the hall and the elevators situated there.
The
moment the good-looking young man began to speak, Hazel had prepared
to be firm with him but didn't get the chance.
All she had to do was watch as he placed the roses on the
counter, thanked her politely and turned to go to the elevators.
A thought occurred to her and she toyed with it for about
twenty seconds. Then gently scooping up the lovely roses - and pausing to
take a deep breath of their heavenly perfume – she turned to Judy
Stevens, the receptionist. "Judy,
do me a favor, put these in some water then keep them here on the desk
till later." Seeing
the girl’s puzzled look as she agreed and took the flowers.
Moving
around the desk, Hazel hurried after the young man with the come
hither dark blue eyes and a body that was killing her to look at;
never mind where her imagination was at that moment.
"Sir,"
she called out, keeping her voice quiet yet clear.
Seeing him pause then turn back, she offered him a small
tidbit. "I was just
about to go in and check to see if they finished settling Dr.
Malvison. It would only
be for a minute, but...you're welcome to come in with me."
Max
didn’t need a second invitation, wheeling around to face the nurse.
“Thank you,” he said, a grateful smile on his lips.
“A minute is about all I can stay anyway.
I just wanted to see for myself that she’s…okay.”
“Come with me,” Hazel
said and turned to re-enter the main doors leading into the vast
medical unit. Without
hesitation she turned left, moving briskly down the hall, making a
couple turns, one ear tuned keenly to the sound of the steady stride
slightly behind her. Reaching
a ward door marked ‘Rooms 12-55 through 12-75’ she opened it,
turned to the right and went to the end of the hall to the last door
on the right – Room 12-59. Reaching to push the door open, Hazel stopped short,
surprised when the door opened of it’s own accord.
Seeing a couple of orderlies maneuvering a gurney, Hazel, and
Max a couple of paces behind her, stepped back out of the way to allow
the orderlies to exit with the gurney.
Another man, a nurse she recognized as Damon Beechwood,
followed them out.
“Hey, Hazel,” he
greeted her.
“Hey, yourself,” Hazel
responded. Glancing at
the door, she looked back to him.
“Did they just put someone in the other bed in this room?”
Damon, a big man with dark
hair and brown and who looked like he would’ve been more at home on
a football field or wrestling bears, confirmed his colleague’s
question. “Yeah.
A Miss Tala,” he said, opening the chart he held to scan it.
“She had a twenty-four hour correction and ended up with
temporary hysterical amnesia.”
Hazel frowned.
“So why not keep her downstairs in the overnight ward?” she
asked.
Damon
didn’t need to look at the chart for that bit of information.
Meeting her gaze, he said, “Lothos ordered that she be
admitted overnight….and specifically,” he added when he saw
Hazel’s lips pursing as if to ask a question, “that she be put in
this room with Dr. Malvison.” There
was no such thing as Damon not noticing the puzzlement in Hazel
Baker’s eyes. “Go
figure,” was his only comment as before stepping around her and
starting toward the exit. “I better get back to ER,” he called back.
“Take it easy. Oh, I’ll leave her chart at the desk with Lynda.”
“Okay. You take it
easy, too,” Hazel just did remember to respond then just stood, a
musing expression on her face.
During the exchange
between the nurses, Max had remained quiet and out of the way.
However, once the male nurse had left, he expected that Nurse
Baker would continue on inside the room.
He tried to be patient and not interrupt her thoughts but a
glance at his watch told him he had about eight minutes of his break
left. Softly he cleared
his throat and then cleared it again before deciding to speak.
“Excuse me…ma’am?” he said, keeping his tone even.
“Nurse Baker?”
Hazel started at the sound
of someone speaking to her. “Hmm? What?”
Politely Max reminded her,
“I don’t mean to rush you, ma’am. But you said I could look in on Ms. Zoë for just a
minute.”
Annoyed with herself for
allowing herself to wonder why Lothos had ordered a correctee to be
placed in the semi-private room now occupied by the highest ranking
woman in the complex, Hazel brushed a hand lightly over her eyes
before looking at the young man waiting patiently nearby.
“I’m sorry. Of
course, come in, but don’t say anything.”
Pressing the door open, she entered the room that, except for
the ceaselessly low sound of the ventilator that was breathing for Zoë
Malvison, was quiet. Glancing
back at him, she whispered again, “Just for a minute.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Max
barely breathed his response as he stepped carefully into the hospital
room. Noticing that the
nurse was drawing the curtain between the two beds, shielding the
newest occupant from his sight didn’t bother him in the least.
Having set his eyes on his friend, a ventilation tube down her
throat and several monitoring leads attached to her body, Max didn’t
see or care about anything else.
“You
can come closer,” Hazel said, motioning for him to join her at the
bedside. When he came to
stand beside her, she stepped back.
“Soon as I finish checking these,” she indicated the
monitors, “you’ll have to leave.”
Max
nodded his understanding. Then for the minute that he had in here,
forgot about the nurse and focused solely on Zoë’s face.
The paleness of her skin was made more starkly evident by the
contrast of her dark auburn hair against the pillow.
Noticing a strand of hair that had fallen over her brow, Max
started to brush it back then saw his hand, scratched and a bit dirty
from his work, and drew it back.
“Don’t
you give up, Ms. Zoë,” he whispered under his breath.
“You’re strong. I know you can beat this.” Max held his breath, afraid he had disturbed his sleeping
friend when he noticed her eyebrows furrowing slightly. But the frown faded away and he decided his minute was up.
Without any prompting he turned and started for the door.
But as he reached the foot of the bed, something prompted him
to pause and turn and glance around the divider curtain at the
room’s other occupant. His
only thought was, ‘Wow…two redheads in the same room!’
A few minutes later as he rode the elevator back to the
surface, Max wondered idly if the young woman sharing Zoë’s room
liked roses, too.
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