Carson Fells 2

Part 2 of the short story. Part 1 here. After Part 3, a post of my thoughts, good and bad, about it ...


Charles grimaced and studied his right hand, flexing and examining it. “Damn but that doctor has a hard skull.”

“Well, help me get him into a chair.” Gilchrist hauled the heavy man up into a sitting position. “Grab me the smelling salt from my briefcase.”

The doctor stirred, tenderly testing the back of his head, a sleepwalker searching for a light switch in the dark.

Simultaneously Carson shrieked out – both Gilchrist and Charles jumped – and then was silent, as in a deep coma.

Heywood struggled to his feet, but Charles walked over and pushed him down into the chair, heavily. “Doctor, time is of the essence. Please answer all my associate’s questions, or I’ll kill you.”

I always get jazzed when we say that to people, Gilchrist thought, somewhat ashamed. The doctor’s eyes grew wider than quarters, interior emotions still on full display, and both agents noted a slight tremble to his hands that wasn’t there before. Good. Maybe they’d get this all over with before it was too late.

He sat down quietly close to the doctor and nodded to Charles, who nodded back after turning on the recorder.

“Okay, doctor. When was this man brought in?” He flipped opened his notepad to confirm facts and fill in information.

Heywood licked blood from his lips. “Uh . . . little before midnight. My shift started at midnight – ”

“Good. Who was the admitting doctor?”

“. . . Baines.”

Charles was at the door, ostensibly checking the security.

“Who brought him in?”

Heywood held up his hands. “Look, fellas, it happened before I got here. I don’t know what else I can say.”

“Just tell the truth,” Charles grumbled from across the room.

“I can tell you what the nurse told me.”

“That’s Nurse Kelley?”

“No, Walters. Kate Walters. She said that some – two other gentlemen, miners, uh, with, uh, Slow Range Ore Refinery, brought him in. They knew him, found him on the highway, in this condition.”

“That jibes,” Charles added, approaching.

I wish that gorilla would find some more cigarettes, Gilchrist thought sourly. He’s frightening the subject. Out of the corner of his eye he watched Charles poke around Carson, in morbid fascination.

“Are these miners still here?”

“No. I don’t think so.”

“Would Nurse Walters have taken down their names? We’ll need to see them, too.”

Heywood massaged the back of his head with a shaky arm. “I – yes. They supplied her his name, where they found him. Kate would have gotten their . . . ”

“Are Baines or Walters still here?”

“Baines? Lord, no. Nurse Walters is still on shift, though.”

“See if you can fetch me this Walters,” Gilchrist said to Charles, who slowly obliged and left. “All right, Doctor. Just a few more questions. Was Carson conscious when he was brought in?”

“In and out.”

“What did he say?”

Heywood hesitated, and Gilchrist caught it. “He was babbling,” the doctor remembered, slowly, “mostly nonsense. At least, it didn’t make sense to me.”

Gilchrist leaned back and felt a pang of regret. Heywood would have to be taken care of, and soon. Quite soon. Though the doctor came off a pompous pain, the agent felt a deep distaste for this area of the job. Oh well . . .

“One final question, then you can go. Did Carson have anything . . . unusual about his demeanor?”

Heywood rubbed the scruff of his beard. “What do you mean? Even in Nevada radiation poisoning isn’t an everyday occurrence.”

Gilchrist chuckled with reassurance. “What I mean to say, Doctor, is, was there anything unusual in the process of stabilizing the patient? Anything out of the ordinary?”

The doctor smiled, brow wrinkled. “Yes! Now that I think about it, yes! The man’s heart rate was through the ceiling! Two hundred beats a minute! Incredible. Incredible that the man didn’t immediately go into cardiac arrest. We stabilized it with some Diginamin, an intravenous relaxant. But it must have happened as soon as he got into the emergency room. He would never have survived if it was happening out in the desert, where they found him, thirty miles north or so. Imagine that! I don’t know why I overlooked that.”

Gilchrist grinned and stood, helping Heywood to uncertain legs. “Thank you for your cooperation. Your government would appreciate it if you forgot completely about this little incident.”

Backing towards the door, Heywood nodded vigorously. “Oh, yes, sir. You don’t have to worry about me.”

You don’t know how right you are, Gilchrist smiled to the walking dead man.

Heywood, in his hasty attempt to exit the room, almost bumped into Charles, entering. Their dance was quite comical, and Charles took sadistic glee in seeing the cringing doctor flee. He closed the door behind him, locked it, and the two agents approached the figure on the bed.


Last part later this evening ...