Threshold

Part one

Claire sat alone in the rickety chair at the nurse’s station. The smile on her face came unexpectedly. The squeaking was a sound she came to expect and almost savor. She was the newbie night nurse after all. Faith was charge during Claire’s first three night shifts in the ICU. The fifty-year-old Filipino woman was a hard ass but she was also sweet and had a sense of humor. Faith took Claire under her wing for several reasons. Faith knew Claire’s mother. The three of them had gone to the same nursing school. To give the appearance of objectivity, Faith made Claire sit in the rickety chair in the center workstation which had the slowest computer and the oldest monitor. Alan was an overweight single father of twin girls who resorted to putting an ear plug in his left ear by night three. Claire annoyed him to no end as she constantly shifted side to side in the chair. Faith sat on Claire’s left, critiqing every nursing note she wrote those first two nights. After six long hours, Claire was glad for the peace and quiet. She returned from the bathroom with tears still in her eyes. The sticky note on her keyboard said that Alan and Faith had ran down to the cafeteria for more coffee and sustenance. Faith promised to bring two heaping plates of tater tots drowned in cheese and ranch dressing. Claire was a health nut but even she agreed the fried spuds were to die for.

The two computer monitors on either side of her had pitch black screens that were the exact shade of night like the scrubs she was wearing. Claire was feeling tired and anxious which meant it was time for her evening rounds. She snatched the sound away from her watch before the alarm went off. Claire grabbed her ID lanyard off the worn mousepad and looked at the patient board. There was only one name on it. As she walked the empty hall of the dimly lit ward, her footsteps echoed against the walls. Claire’s watch said it was 2:03 by the time she reached the end of hall. The world outside felt like a distant memory. Her life before she became a nurse felt like a dream. Claire paused outside room 3.

Behind the closed door lay Gable Ramirez. He had been admitted through the ER two nights ago after experiencing a grand mal seizure. No family came along on the ambulance ride. There was no spouse, no kids, and no caregiver to provide any background or medical history. His driver’s license said he was born on June 6th, 1959. After his third epileptic episode in the unit, Mr. Ramirez fell into a coma. Claire looked up and down the empty hallway. There was one empty gurney parked crookedly against the wall. The wheelchair she had pushed Mr. Ramirez in was still stained with urine. After midnight, Faith had dimmed the overhead lights that gave the unit an eerie quality Claire didn’t quite like. She swallowed hard, listening for any voices or any other sounds besides the beeping machines inside room 3. Claire’s hand trembled as she grabbed the ice cold handle and opened the door.

As soon as she was inside the room, Mr. Ramirez’s eyes snapped open, unnaturally wide. He began chanting in an ancient language Claire didn’t recognize, his voice deep and guttural. The air grew cold. The chill somehow made it under her long sleeves and caused the hair on her forearms to stand on end. The lights the room flickered which send gooseflesh up and down her back. Claire’s heart pounded as she approached the gurney. Mr. Ramirez stared at her, through her, with an empty, icy gaze. The equipment beeped wildly. Mr. Ramirez’s arms and legs jerked upward at odd angles as if pulled by invisible strings.

Claire tried to call for help, but the door slammed shut, trapping her inside. Mr. Ramirez’s voice grew louder. He chanted faster and faster in…Latin Claire realized. The words echoed with such force that she felt them inside her head. Claire reached for his hands, whispering soothing words which were as much for her as they were for him. His large hand grasped her lanyard and pulled her cheek down toward his mouth. He slapped her in the back of the head until her ear was on his nose. The chanting suddenly stopped. Mr. Ramirez breaths came raggedly. Then he stopped breathing altogether. The next six words he spoke came out of his mouth choked off and sounded desperate.

“Grab the necklace. In my shoes.” he whispered.

Claire ripped her ear away from his face and fell to the floor. Her chin collided with the linoleum, causing her to bite off the tip of her tongue. She swallowed blood as she dragged herself across the floor to the chair in the corner of the rom. Claire looked over her shoulder. Mr. Ramirez swung his swollen legs off the side of the bed. When his feet hit the floor, the entire room shook. He ripped the catheter out of his penis and bloody urine came spilling onto the back of Claire’s legs. She dragged herself as fast as she could, swallowing blood so she wouldn’t choke on it. Mr. Ramirez stepped on Claire’s ankle and then the middle of her back. She felt her ankle snap and her spine bend under his weight. He smashed her face into the floor when he stepped onto the back of her head. Claire’s vision swam and began to dim. She reached out with her right hand into the heel of the tanned dress shoe and grabbed hold of the crucifix. Claire grunted as she flipped over onto her back. Mr. Ramirez pounced on her. His gown had fallen off and his penis dragged against the waistband of her scrub bottoms. He opened his mouth and black bile dripped onto Claire’s heaving chest. She shut her mouth before the bile could spill into it. She screamed then pressed the cross into Mr. Ramirez’s forehead. He flew backward into the side of the gurney. He hissed then crawled back onto it. Claire forced herself onto her hands and knees then stood up onto wobbly legs. Mr. Ramirez growled like a wounded animal. He hid his naked form under the blood and urine-stained blanket. Claire could only see his eyes which had turned black. She lurched forward, dragging her injured ankle as she approached the gurney. Mr. Ramirez screeched as she came closer. The lights flickered again. Claire held out the cross like a shield. She grabbed hold of the end of the gurney and sat down on it with a grunt.

“Fuck you, whatever you are! Now get out of my patient!”

Claire turned away as she pressed the crucifix into the Mr. Ramirez’s forehead again. Strong hands pushed her backwards. The same strong hands shielded her head from slamming into the linoleum floor. She thought she was hallucinating when she saw Mr. Ramirez standing next to the gurney looking down at her.

“Thank you, Claire,” he said.

Mr. Ramirez pulled the crucifix out of her hand then jumped onto the gurney and began to choke the thing that was laying there. She looked behind her and saw a desk chair in the corner of the room. It squeaked like someone was sitting in it and rocking side to side. Her ankle and back throbbed with every breath she took. The door burst open and the lights in the room burned as bright as the sun. The sound coming from machines felt dreadful and familiar. Mr. Ramirez was flatlining. Alan and Dr. Singh practically fell into the room. Faith was right behind them with the crash cart. Claire rolled out of the way just in time. The wheels of the crash cart would have crushed her head. She listened as Dr. Singh barked out orders. Claire felt like her own heart was being shocked when they used the paddles on Mr. Ramirez. She grabbed hold of the arms of the squeaky desk chair and plopped down into it. Claire’s mouth fell open as she watched the heart monitor. He was still flatlining. She looked down at her balled up fists. When she opened her left hand, she found his necklace with the crucifix on it. She kissed it and then shut her eyes as Dr. Singh shocked him three more times. After what felt like an eternity of CPR, the necklace fell out of her head. The room shook when it hit the floor. Claire felt dread in her heart and a weight in her chest. She slumped over in the chair from exhaustion. Her eyelids drooped as she began to fall. The voice kept her awake.

Claire. Claire. Claire.

The voice began to distort. Large and impossibly strong hands squeezed her forearms over her sleeves. Her skin burned like all the times she grabbed a hot pan when she was a girl. She remembered all the times her mother yelled at her for being so careless and stupid and then giving her Tylenol and taking her for ice cream to make her feel better.

Clair opened her eyes and felt her breath catch in her throat. She couldn’t scream because a disembodied hand was wrapped around her neck. The disembodied black eyes staring at her belonged to no one. The black bile spilled down her throat. She felt herself swallow it so she wouldn’t choke on it. Faith, Alan, and Dr. Singh didn’t even know she was in the room. They were too busy trying to save Mr. Ramirez.

Dr. Singh wiped his brow on the sleeve of his white coat. “Time of death, 0213.”