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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/167417-The-Underbelly-6-Emergency-Waiting-Room
Rated: 13+ · Fiction · Action/Adventure · #167417
One scene from a medical mystery in progress. These chapters can be read out of sequence.
Note: The character, Dirk, has been previously introduced in another chapter.


A piercing shriek shattered the air as people were suddenly running, like stirred up ants, in every direction and in no particular direction. A quick clearing of the crowd inside the doorway unveiled a single person completely covered with dark clothing and a ski mask, jerking from the repeated kicks of an automatic machine gun as it sprayed across the room like an oscillating fan. Brownish smoke bellowed up from the gun in short puffs with every shot. Alex realized what was happening. Plaster exploded off of the wall in quick short bursts. He dropped to his knees behind the counter. His hard breaths were drowned out by the louder mayhem. He knew he was marked for death. He flattened himself into the back of the counter. The squall of horror was intensified by the roar of weapon fire, the screaming, and the repeated whip-like cracking blasts as bullets hit walls and ceilings. Alex could smell the burned gunpowder as he looked up and saw a young woman wearing nursing whites frozen behind a computer monitor. Both of her hands were pressed up against the side of her head as she shrieked in panic, but she was practically silent as her voice was smothered by the melee. Alex reached up toward her arm, instinctively wanting to pull her down behind the counter. Suddenly, there was the gunman. He had leapt like a cat onto the counter top and stood looking down at the Alex and the nurse, his fist wrapped around the gun handle and the rectangular butt cradled under his left arm. Alex stopped reaching for the woman and felt his stomach drop as he choked down a wave of nausea.

At that moment, Alex again thought about being killed, and it hit him like a deja vu. He had felt this before. Once, while scuba diving, he had run out of air too far below the surface, and while surfacing slowly, holding his breath, several thoughts filled his mind: how stupid he'd been to let that happen, his buddy who wasn't there when needed, and how not to get the bends. But the strongest sensation had come from the same thought he had right now, the thought that he could die, right now. His buddy had appeared in time to share his tank, but the near miss was enough to make Alex give up the sport. This was no sport, and there was no buddy. He knew it was all up to the gunman.

The attacker hopped down behind the counter, wrapped his right arm around the nurse's neck, and pressed the barrel against her temple. She went limp and let out puffs and squeaks as the rest of the room fell into an eerie quiet. He pulled her backward and around the corner as she paddled her feet to avoid being dragged. Alex ached with the thought that he should have tried to pull her below eye level a moment earlier. Maybe he would have passed her by. Or maybe he would have just grabbed someone else. Alex peered around the edge of the wall and could see the nurse emptying out the narcotic cabinet into a black satchel held by an orderly, as the gun remained trained on both of them. The attacker then grabbed the satchel and sprayed another series of shots into the wall above the cabinets. Shrieks and screams again filled the room as the assailant ran out of the emergency room and disappeared into the darkness. Now, police sirens, their long whines a contrast from the usual sound of chirping ambulances, could be heard outside.

Alex, shaking, pulled himself up and stood to face the waiting room. He expected to see countless bodies littering the floor and draped over the furniture. Surprisingly, everyone was standing. Puzzled at how so many shots could be fired without hitting anyone, Alex walked into the waiting room, and there he saw it. A crowd circled and hovered over a lifeless body on the floor. Someone had been hit. Someone with a white coat. As Alex moved closer and pushed through the crowd, he recognized the victim. It was Dirk. Nausea again hit Alex, and his knees almost gave way. Dirk had just come into the emergency room to start his next shift. Dirk was his classmate, his colleague, and his friend. And after all the years of study, training and work, there he lay. Dead at the hands of a junky with a machine gun. And it could have been Alex lying there.
To be continued . . .

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