Robin Cook - Marker

"Hold your horses," Thea shouted at her jangling phone. She was trying to fill out a supply requisition form. Giving up, she picked up the phone. It was the night shift OR supervisor, Helen Garvey.

"What's your bed count?" Helen demanded without mincing words.

"Occupied or empty?" Thea questioned.

"Now, that's one of the dumber questions I've heard tonight!"

"You're in a bad mood."

"I have a right to be. According to the ER, we're about to be inundated with trauma cases, and the first wave is on its way up. There was a head-on collision with a bus and a van, and the bus went over a guardrail. As I understand it, they distributed the victims, but we got the lion's share. I've contacted all the on-call people so we can be running up to twenty ORs. It's going to be a long night."

"I've got thirteen patients with only three empty beds."

"That's not encouraging. What are the patients' statuses?" Thea let her eyes roam around her domain while she mentally reviewed each case. "Everybody is in good shape except for an abdominal aneurysm re-bleed. He's got to stay, because he might have to be opened up yet again. He's still losing blood out of his drain." "So the others are stable?" "At the moment."

"Then clean house, because you're next for this tidal wave." Thea hung up the phone. She was psyched. Challenges like this were her forte. "Listen up!" she called out to her troops. "We're switching to disaster mode, and this is no drill."

The release of the wheels jolted Laurie from her drugged slumber to a semiwakefulness. Her eyes squinted against the bright overhead fluorescent lights, and for a moment, she was disoriented to time and place. There was another jolt when the bed began to move, and the jostling brought a brief but sharp reminder that she had had intra-abdominal surgery. All at once, Laurie knew where she was, and the large clock over the PACU room's door, which she was approaching, told her the time: It was twenty-five minutes past two.

Turning her head to the side in response to a babble of voices, Laurie caught a glimpse of the flurry of activity at the central desk. Bending her head back so she could see behind her, she looked up at the face of the orderly pushing her. He was a rail-thin, light-skinned African-American with a pencil-line mustache and graying hair. The muscles of his neck stood out as he strained to angle Laurie's bed toward the swinging doors.

"What's happening?" Laurie questioned.

The orderly didn't answer, focusing instead on stopping the bed's forward motion before backing it up a few steps. The PACU's doors had burst open. Another bed was coming into the room with a patient fresh from surgery. There was a person at the foot of the bed, pulling, and another at the head, pushing. An anesthesiologist walked alongside, maintaining the patient's airway patent by holding the individual's chin back. All three seemed to be talking at the same time.

Laurie repeated her question to the orderly behind her. She felt the stirrings of apprehension in the pit of her stomach. Something was up. Her understanding was that she was not be moved until Laura Riley came in to see her in the morning.

"You're going to your room," the orderly said, preoccupied with maneuvering Laurie's bed to allow the incoming patient to get by.

"I was supposed to stay here in the PACU," Laurie said with building alarm.

"Here we go," the orderly said as if he'd not heard Laurie. He grunted as he managed to get the bed rolling forward again.

"Wait!" Laurie yelled. The effort of her outcry made her wince with pain from her incision.

Shocked by Laurie's outburst, the orderly halted the bed yet again. He looked down at her with concern. "What's the matter?"

"I'm not supposed to be leaving here," Laurie stated. She had to talk loudly to be heard over the general level of conversation in the room. To keep the pain to a minimum, she had to press her hand gently over the upper part of her abdomen to avoid jostling the lower part. Earlier, when Jack had visited, she'd had very little discomfort from the operation. Unfortunately, that had changed.

"I got strict orders to take you to your room," the orderly said. His expression was half defiant, half confused. He took a piece of paper out of his pocket and glanced at it. "You're Laurie Montgomery, aren't you?"

Ignoring the orderly's question, Laurie lifted her head off her pillow and looked over at the central desk, which was a beehive of activity. Ahead, the doors to the hall burst open again and another patient, fresh from surgery, was whisked into the room. Once again, the orderly had to back Laurie's bed up to allow them to pass.

"I want to talk to the charge nurse," Laurie demanded.

With obvious indecision, the orderly looked back and forth between Laurie and the central desk. He shook his head with frustration.

"You're not taking me anywhere," Laurie stated. "I'm supposed to stay here. I need to talk with a supervisor. Anyone in control."

Shrugging his shoulders in resignation, the orderly walked over to the counter, leaving Laurie and her bed stranded in the middle of the room. He was holding in his hand the piece of paper he'd taken from his pocket. Laurie watched as he tried vainly to get someone's attention. When he did, the person pointed out a square-built woman with a helmet of blond hair. Laurie watched as the orderly showed Thea his paper then pointed in Laurie's direction.

Thea bounced her palm off her forehead as if dealing with this new problem was the last thing she needed. She rounded the edge of the central desk and walked directly up to Laurie, the orderly a few steps behind.

"What's your problem?" Thea demanded. She had her hands on her hips.

"I was supposed to stay in the PACU until Dr. Riley saw me," Laurie said as she struggled to think what to say. Coupled with having been just awakened by such an urgent situation, the lingering effects of the drugs and anesthesia were causing her mind to work in slow motion.

"Let me reassure you that you are doing just fine. You're as stable as the rock of Gibraltar. You don't need the PACU, and unfortunately, we have a slew of patients who do. We'd love to entertain you all night, but we have work to do. So, until next time, be well!" With a final reassuring squeeze of Laurie's forearm, she turned back to the central desk, immediately barking orders about another patient to one of the other nurses.

"Excuse me!" Laurie called after her vainly. "Can you call my doctor, or can you let me make a call?"

Thea didn't even turn around. She was already immersed in the next problem.

The orderly returned to his position behind Laurie's head and once again got her bed rolling. He aimed it at the PACU double doors, and the bed collided with them and pushed them open. Out in the hall, he struggled to orient the bed parallel with the corridor before getting it to move forward. Laurie noticed several gurneys parked against the wall, with patients waiting to be taken down to operating rooms.

"I need to make a phone call," Laurie said as they passed the surgical desk.

"You're going to have to wait until you get in your room," the orderly said. He aimed the bed at the doors leading from the operating room.

A sense of desperation gripped Laurie as they reached the bank of elevators. She was being rudely removed from her promised sanctuary and thrust out in harm's way, and she was powerless to prevent it. Suffering the double whammy of weakness from blood loss and pain with the slightest movement made it hard for her to imagine herself any more vulnerable. And remembering her list of how the patients in her series had been related, she knew she fit the profile. She was the right age, she was healthy, she was on an IV, she'd had surgery, and she was a relatively new subscriber to AmeriCare. Her only consolation was in statistics and the fact that Najah had been arrested.