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Death of a Ballerina – Part 10-

For more installments see the novel index. All posts and pages on this blog are the exclusive property of Citystreams; Copyright 2006-2008; All rights reserved.

The silent TV cast an eerie glow over the room, and sent strange shadows up the walls. Honey Armitage lay convulsing on the bed. The muscles in her back constricted suddenly causing her large belly to raise four inches. Both arms jerked on either side of her body. Her hands clenched and unclenched involuntarily. Suddenly, her abdomen fell back to the bed and jerked to the side.

Clary’s mind barely had time to process her observations before she moved to act on them.  She started barking orders to Dora. “I need four grams of magnesium sulfate. Bring it fast. Then go back for Valium just in case.” Dora disappeared and another part of Clary’s brain took over for the time being. She moved to the bedside with her penlight. The small fluorescent light cast a blue light on Honey’s face as Clary pulled one eye open. The eyes had rolled back, which did not surprise Dr. Anderson. She shoved the penlight back in her pocket and pulled a tongue depressor out of her pocket. She ripped the paper sheath off and pried Honey’s mouth open. Blood oozed from the tip of her tongue, and Clary forced the piece of wood in place to protect her from further damage.

Dora materialized with the loading dose of magnesium in a syringe. She glanced up at Clary, received a quick nod, and inserted the needle into the patient’s IV port with ease. The clock above the bed ticked in agony for ten seconds, and Honey continued to convulse. Without a word, Dora moved grimly towards the door to head back to the medicine room. She reached the doorway before she realized that she didn’t know what dosage the doctor wanted. She turned back and observed that the Valium would not be necessary. Honey’s body was smoothing out on top of the bed. Her hands unclenched and remained still. The nurse exhaled. Clary lifted a hand to pull the sweaty tendrils back from the patient’s forehead. Sensing Dora behind her, Clary quietly said, “We’ll need to prep the OR immediately. I’ll call Dr. Johnson and page the anesthesiologist. She’s going to need a c-section.”

Without a word, Dora slipped out of the room, breathing a prayer of thanks on behalf of her patient. She feared that worst was not over yet, but she methodically carried out the doctor’s order. She rounded up a few other nurses to prep the OR for surgery.

Clary stayed in the room a moment longer, remembering her earlier conversation with Honey. She wondered if the patient would wake up before the surgery, or if she would need to get Ronnie’s consent instead. Her eyes widened as she looked up in surprise. Where was Ronnie? She glanced around the room looking for any sign of him. Her surprise turned to anxiety.  A cold knot of worry settled in her stomach. She moved hastily to call security first, and then Dr. Johnson.

——- ——- ——- ——- ——- ——- ——- ——- ——- ——- ——- ——- ——- ——- ——-

Regina glanced at the clock over the stove and pulled the stir-fry to the back burner.  She picked her glass of water up from the counter before moving to the kitchen table. She had spent the afternoon grading papers and her kitchen table was covered in neat stacks of paper. She grabbed the nearest pile and sorted through her folder of answer keys. Then after glancing at the clock one more time, she continued her tedious chore.

Greg walked in the door thirty minutes later.  “Sorry I’m late. Right after I called you, Maine found a clip of the victim on the security tape. This case is going to have me working night and day for who knows how long. This murderer must be really smart …” He paused to study Regina’s face while he removed his jacket. She was rigid with worry.

“Aww, I’m fine. Don’t give me that look.” He opened the first two buttons on his dress shirt to reveal the thick black material underneath. “I’m still wearing my bullet proof vest. Just like I promised.  So what’s for dinner?”

Regina smirked at her husband. “Your favorite. Soggy stir fry with cold rice.”

Greg grimaced. “Maybe we should just order take-out instead.”


2 Responses

  1. I love the way everything’s happening at once! Just wish there were more Sundays in the week…

  2. I am hooked. Every monday, and I do mean EVERY monday I log on here just to read your newest part of the story. You have me addicted!!!

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