Preston Child - The Babylonian Mask

“I–I have no idea what my name is, doctor. I know even less about what happened to me.” There was a long pause and Nina could hear nothing until the curtains were parted again and the two bureaucrats walked out. As they passed, Nina was appalled to hear one tell the other, “It’s not like we can put an identikit out on the news either. He has no bloody face to recognize.”

She could not resist defending him. “Oi!”

Like good sycophants they stopped and smiled sweetly at the well-known academic, but what she said wiped the fake smiles from their faces. “At least that man has one face, not two. Savvy?”

Without a word the two embarrassed pen pushers left, while Nina eyed them viciously with one raised eyebrow. Proudly she pouted, adding softly, “And in flawless German too, bitches.”

“That was impressive German, I must confess, especially for a Scot.” Dr. Fritz was smiling as he wrote in the young man’s file. Both the burn patient and Nurse Marx acknowledged the feisty historian’s chivalry with a thumbs-up that made Nina feel like her old self again.

Nina summoned Nurse Marx nearer, making sure the young woman knew that she wanted to share something discreet. Dr. Fritz glanced at the two women, suspecting there was some matter he should be informed of.

“Ladies, I shall be only a moment. Let me just make our patient comfortable.” Turning to the burn patient he said, “My friend, we will have to give you a name in the meantime, don’t you think?”

“What about Sam ?” the patient offered.

Nina’s stomach tightened up. I still have to get hold of Sam. Or just Detlef, even.

“What’s the matter, Dr. Gould?” asked Marlene.

“Um, I don’t know who else to tell or if this is even pertinent, but,” she sighed sincerely, “I think I’m losing my sight!”

“I’m sure it is just a byproduct of the radia…,” Marlene tried, but Nina grabbed her arm firmly in protest.

“Listen! If one more member of staff in this hospital uses radiation as an excuse instead of doing something about my eyes, I’m going to start a riot. Do you understand?” She sneered impatiently. “Please. PLEASE. Do something about my eyes. An examination. Anything. I tell you, I’m going blind while Sister Barken assured me I was getting better!”

Dr. Fritz heard Nina’s complaint. He tucked his pen in his pocket and left the patient he now called Sam with a reassuring wink.

“Dr. Gould, can you see my face or just the outlines of my head?”

“Both, but I cannot detect the color of your eyes, for instance. Everything was blurry before, but now it is becoming impossible to properly see anything further than my arm’s reach,” Nina replied. “Earlier I could see…” she did not want to call the new patient by his chosen name, but she had to, “… Sam ’s eyes, even the pinkish color of the whites of his eyes, Doctor. That was literally an hour ago. Now I can’t distinguish anything.”

“Sister Barken told you the truth,” he said as he pulled out his light pen and pried Nina’s eyelids apart with a gloved left hand. “You are healing up very quickly, almost unnaturally.” He had sunk his almost barren face down next to hers to check the response of her pupils when she gasped.

“I see you!” she cried. “I see you clear as day. Every blemish. Even the stubble on your face that is peeking from the pores.”

Perplexed, he looked at the nurse on the other side of Nina’s bed. Her face was full of concern. “We’ll run some blood tests later today. Nurse Marx, have the results ready for me tomorrow.”

“Where is Sister Barken?” Nina asked.

“She is off-duty until Friday, but I’m sure a promising nurse like Ms. Marx here can take care of it, right?” The young nurse nodded zealously.

Once the evening visiting hours were over, most of the staff were busy preparing the patients for the night, but Dr. Fritz had had Dr. Nina Gould sedated earlier on to make sure that she slept properly. She had been rather upset all day, behaving unlike her usual self because of her waning eyesight. Uncharacteristically, she had been reserved and a bit morose, as was expected. By lights out she was fast asleep.

By 3:20 a.m. even the subdued chatting between the nurses on the night staff had ceased, and they were all fighting the various attacks of boredom and the lulling power of silence. Nurse Marx was pulling an extra shift, spending her free moments on social media. It was a pity that she was professionally forbidden from posting the admission of her heroine, Dr. Gould. She was sure it would have provoked the envy of the History Majors and World War II fanatics among her online friends, but alas, she had to keep the awesome news to herself.

The light clapping sound of skipping footsteps came up the hallway before Marlene looked up and found one of the orderlies from the First Floor racing toward the nurses’ station. An unfit janitor ran in his wake. Both men wore faces of shock, frantically urging the nurses to hush before they reached them.

Out of breath, the two men stopped at the door of the office where Marlene and another nurse waited to receive an explanation for their strange behavior.

“There — th-there is,” the janitor started first, “an in-intruder on the Ground Floor and he is coming up the stairs of the fire escape as we speak.”

“So, call security,” Marlene whispered, surprised at their ineptitude at handling a security risk. “If you suspect that someone is posing a threat to the staff and patients, you know you…”

“Listen, sweetheart!” The orderly leaned up right against the young woman, sneering in her ear as quietly as he could. “Both security officers are dead!”

The janitor nodded wildly. “It’s true! Call the police. Now! Before he gets up here!”

“What about the second floor staff?” she asked, frantically trying to find a line from Reception. The two men shrugged. Marlene was dismayed to find that the switchboard tone was beeping incessantly. This meant there were either too many calls to process or a faulty system.

“I cannot get hold of the main lines!” she whispered urgently. “Oh my God! Nobody knows there is trouble. We have to warn them!” Marlene used her cell phone to call Dr. Hilt on his private cell phone. “Dr. Hilt?” she said wide-eyed while the anxious men constantly checked for the shape they had seen going up the fire stairs.

“He is going to be pissed that you called him on his cell phone,” the orderly warned.

“Who gives a shit? As long as she gets a hold of him, Victor!” the other nurse grunted. She followed suit, using her cell phone to call the local police while Marlene tried Dr. Hilt’s number again.

“He’s not answering,” she panted. “It rings, but there is no voicemail either.”

“Great! And our phones are in our fucking lockers!” the orderly, Victor, fumed hopelessly, running his frustrated fingers through his hair. In the background they heard the other nurse speak to the police. She shoved her phone against the orderly’s chest.

“Here!” she urged. “Tell them the details. They’re sending two cars.”

Victor explained the situation to the emergency operator, who dispatched the patrol vehicles. He then stayed on the line while she continued to obtain more information from him and conveyed it over the radio to the patrol cars as they rushed to the Heidelberg Hospital.

“Make zigzags! I need a challenge!” the rowdy, overweight woman roared as Sam started bolting away from the table. Purdue was too drunk to be alarmed as he watched Sam try to win his wager that the heavy-set, knife-wielding lass could not hit him. The nearest drinkers around them had formed a small mob of cheering and betting hooligans, all familiar with Big Moragh’s talent with blades. They all lamented, and wished to profit from, the misguided courage of this idiot from Edinburgh.