Click, Clack, Click, Clack
The woman's high heeled shoes clattered along the empty airport halls. Cheap lights lit the space brightly as the woman carried her small carry-on bag on her shoulder. Pushing her glasses further up the bridge of her nose and pursing her lips in annoyance the woman eyed what little people roamed the halls suspiciously. Some of them looked back at the woman's glasses in confusion finding them odd, why was she wearing them when it was 8pm and extremely foggy outside. She tried not to dwell on their glances, that wasn't important, she needed to get on the next plane, her life depended on it. Sweat beaded her forehead lightly, as she took deep calming breaths, trying in vain to steady her respirations. What was wrong with her? This was what she was trained for, in a few hours she would be safely in London ready to board her next flight home and this would all be over.
Walking up to the security check she fumbled for her passport and ticket. The security guard who had been standing idly by, waiting for his shift to end, eyed the beautiful women with his eyebrows knitted. He could see her hands were shaking as she searched through her pockets. Her brunette hair was pulled back in a high ponytail, as she presented the documents and took her glasses off. The guard took in her attire, she was extremely well dressed, wearing a button down pink silk shirt and a expensive looking tight knee length skirt, gold adorned her ears and neck, bracelets tinkling on her wrists with every movement. The security guard found himself wondering if she was rich and trying to avoid recognition, he had seen it before and she seemed the type. Scratching at his chin the guard took her passport and studied the woman skeptically. In a second, he handed the passport back and allowed the woman to step through.
Putting the bag in the bin she took the heels off her aching feet and sighed in relief, taking a moment to rub her ankles before stepping up to the scanner. Within minutes she was sitting with the few remaining people in the airport waiting to board the next flight. Eyes closed, the woman began to dose in her seat, clutching her bag and starting when an announcement came over the loud speakers, 'This is an announcement for all passengers of flight number 586 eastbound to Charles De Gaulle, Paris. The flight has been delayed due to bad weather conditions. The flight crew has already arrived at the gate, but due to the dense fog they are waiting for clearance. Our new departure as of this time is 1:30AM."
The woman's eyes shot open upon hearing that her 9:30pm flight had just been delayed by 4 hours. All around her there were sounds of discontent and unease. Meanwhile the woman's stomach tied in knots as she stood up feeling sick and walked to the nearest employee. "Excuse me Amanda," she said with a clear English accent, reading the employee's name tag. Unbeknownst to the employee the woman's accent was entirely fake.
"How can I help you?" the bored employee asked a all to fake smile plastered on her face.
"Is there any way we can leave any sooner than 1:30Am, the fog will clear sooner than that, don't you think?"
"Unfortunately the fog advisory doesn't end until 1:30Am and it is far too thick to fly at this time."
"This is outrageous, completely disgusting, I paid for a 9:30 flight not a 1:30 one!" others behind the women mumbled their agreements. If only they knew what this delay might have cost them… "I apologize, however, the safety of our customers is of the utmost importance and at the moment it is unsafe to fly." Amanda said this calmly, maintaining her smile, the complete picture of control. Working in a airport this wasn't the first time someone had been unhappy with a flight change and certainly wouldn't be the last. Would it? Before Amanda could say more, the woman turned on her heels and stalked back to her seat, her stomach in a mess. She drew out her phone and sent a single message in another language, 'I won't clear in time, projected time is 1:30am. Will await further orders.' This message would never be received or responded to. Unbeknownst to this young beauty, at the moment, she was entirely on her own.
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A metallic scent filled the alley, as thickly as the fog that touched even the places never seen by light. A dim lamp flickered above a trash can in an attempt to pierce the darkness.
DRIP, DRIP, DRIP, DRIP
The only sound besides the far off wails of sirens was the sound of liquid dripping onto the pavement. As 11pm fast approached, those left on the street beyond the alley slowly dispersed going to their respective homes. The ones left behind heading into bars and clubs. It was at this moment that the only door in the alley swung open; a burst of neon lights, laughter, and music broke the quiet for a split second before slamming shut behind a tall, lengthy, blonde haired, beautiful woman in her early 30s. She wore a bright pink juicy jacket over a belly shirt with a club logo on it and booty shorts. Taking out a cigarette the woman attempted to ignite the lighter. CLICK,CLICK,CLICK,CLICK. A pause as she readjusted her hand then, CLICK,CLICK,CLICK,CLICK.
Shaking the lighter and hearing the sound of the lighter fluid within she cursed, "Come on you stupid thing! Don't do this to me now!" CLICK, CLICK and finally, as frustration tore through her body, a small flame came on top of the lighter and she quickly took that opportunity to light her cigarette.
Then, as she did every night she worked, she leaned up against the wall beside the door. Her head pushed back against the cool tiles and her eyes closed as she inhaled the carcinogens in her hand. At this moment she was so absorbed in her thoughts of her boyfriend at home with their 3 year old and the way her daughter cries whenever she leaves for work, that she didn't notice the scuffle on the ground, the singular scrap of a shoe on pavement before silence. She didn't notice the light beginning to flicker once more over the garbage, nor the shadow that fell over her.
Seconds later a scream pierced through the air lasting a mere few seconds before turning into a gurgle, then a thump and finally melting into silence. The bulb that barely held onto its light bursts, plunging the entire alley into complete darkness.
A half hour later, not much further into the city a sleepy young doctor dragged himself from his car. Straightening his button down shirt and tucking the blue fabric into his black work pants he locked the car behind him. Jogging in place for a second, he shook his limbs in a feeble attempt to awake his body. It was his 5th, 13 hour shift in a row and while this was a common occurrence for him he couldn't be anymore exhausted. Many of the other hospitalists had recently left, choosing to move further out west away from the hustle and bustle of New York City, leaving him and a few other older loyal hospitalists to pick up the slack. He himself was a relatively young doctor at only 29 years old, he had entered college at 16 had his bachelor's by 19, gotten his doctorates shortly after, before finishing his residency by 26. For the last 6 months now he had been working at the hospital and had started to regret his profession entirely. He had received a phone call today, on his day off, that he was needed and so here he was hurrying into the hospital and walking through the ER doors, his feet dragging.
The ER was in full bloom tonight and you would not have guessed that it was already 10:30pm. The waiting room was packed, every admission tech talking to a variety of people. The ER was nowhere near quiet with nurses and doctors running back and forth with medications and papers unable to keep up with the flow; every bed had someone in it. A nurse practitioner with long auburn hair pulled back in a high ponytail announced that an ambulance was enroute with a critical patient who was fast losing blood. She directed her colleagues to prepare boluses of normal saline, get all testing kits ready and an IV kit set stat.
"Doctor Ackerman, thank God you're here," the Auburn haired woman, Juliette, sauntered up to the young doctor as he entered. A gleam of sweat coating her skin, a few strands of hair falling out of its clip, her beautiful blue eyes shining with determination. He could tell from looking at this normally cool collective woman that she has been having a hard night.
"Dr. Rider was looking for you, there are currently two intubations occurring, one in bed 17 and the other in 32. Consent was given by the family of bed 17, his saturation is 72% and he is being bagged, however, there isn't anyone who is both available and qualified to perform the intubation. Everything is prepared and set up, the ADN is in there with a resident and 2 nurses at the moment. Dr. Rider is in bed 32 if you wish to speak to him." With that the nurse practitioner shoved the patient's file into his hands and with a swivel of her hips set off towards the only empty bed, bed 9, where a single emergency tech and nurse were prepping the area for the incoming patient, an IV pull fluid warmer and fluid pressure cuff at the ready to administer the rapid boluses.
Reading the file Dr. Ackerman hurried towards bed 17. He was pleasantly pleased to see the nurse practitioner had put the signed consent forms on top, the boy in question was under age, only 16 years old, and suffering from an overdose of Fentanyl he had gotten from one of his friends. He had been wheeled into the ED 10 minutes ago by his mother, he had gone into respiratory distress 4 minutes later while being admitted to the ED. The respiratory therapists and doctors trained in intubation were dealing with a few situations upstairs leaving Dr. Ackerman to deal with this one only minutes after arriving.
As doctor Ackerman washed his hands and prepared to intubate, DNP Juliette Martinez accepted the EMS into the ER and a patient with blood tangled in her blonde hair was rushed in. Large amounts of skin and flesh torn from multiple places on her body. What little bits of clothing she had on was in tatters and soaked. The nurses instantly went to work, and within 5 minutes an IV was placed and the patient was being cleaned, a vile of blood sent downstairs for typing. Dr. Rider came over and began to suture the patient. Juliette, upon seeing Dr. Rider taking over the patient's care, hurried off to care for another newly admitted patient. The woman Dr. Rider was treating at the moment had been attacked in the back alley of a club she worked for. Her name was Michelle Donaldson, her coworker had come out back when she hadn't returned after 20 minutes and had found her unconscious and slowly bleeding out. To Doctor Rider, it appeared as though the woman had been attacked by a wild animal…
"Michelle! Michelle!" a young man called out, carrying a 3 year old baby girl, as he hurried into the Emergency room, because the same coworker who found her had called her boyfriend. Juliette walked up and gently talked to the man begging him to calm down and telling him that his girlfriend was stable at the moment, sympathetically while, informing him that it was inappropriate for the 3 year old to see her. As Juliette spoke Michelle's eyes flew open, a yellow hue to them, red blood vessels visible throughout the entirety of the white area of her eyes. Michelle's looked towards the doctor who had begun washing his hands in the sink beside her.