Eric Dimbleby: White Out

“Violence, Violent disturb…” the clerk was cut off.

“CODE ORANGE, MAIN HALLWAY, SECOND FLOOR. CODE ORANGE, MAIN HALLWAY, SECOND FLOOR. CODE ORANGE, MAIN HALLWAY, SECOND FLOOR.”

“You fucking BITCH!” It was Slagle, still in his OR gown. His surgical mask was around his neck. The gown was bloody, very bloody, and he was holding a surgical Liston knife. “I knew this would happen! I told you he would die! Now I’m gonna have my cases pulled. They’re gonna be up my ass, pulling my charts and running my numbers because of this! You got your way, YOU HAPPY NOW?” The staff stood frozen looking at him. Slagle was walking toward Deeta with absolute rage in his eyes. He was short and pudgy with thick, naturally strong arms. His right hand held the large knife at his side and his knuckles were white from his grip.

Everyone in the room froze, except Deeta. She was slowly walking backward, fixated on the knife. “Why did he have a Liston knife?” she thought. “What the hell kind of OR kit did he open? I don’t think I’ve even seen them when I was in training. What the fuck is he doing with THAT?” Then she thought, “What happened in the OR?” She had no idea where he got it or what had happened in the operating room. All she knew was that he was dangerous.

“Dr. Slagle?” Lori said. He looked at the nurse and brought the knife up with a backhand motion. She instinctively leaned backward, avoiding the weapon, then turned and ran. The surgeon was after her. The rest of the staff was scattering to get away, while Deeta ducked behind a counter. After Lori ran past, Deeta kicked out and tripped the surgeon. He fell hard, hitting the tile floor with a sharp crack. The knife was still in his hand as he started to get up. Before he could get his balance and bearings, Deeta kicked his left knee from the outside. She felt it give inward and something snapped. He crumpled and fell with a scream. Rolling on his back, he slashed wildly with the knife, coming nowhere near her. He swung again as he tried to get up, but his left leg would not support his weight. He stumbled and put his right hand, the one with the knife, on the ground to support his weight. Deeta kicked him as hard as she could and caught him right in the middle of the throat. The tissue of his neck could be felt against the top of her shoe about half way up her foot. She felt her toe hit something solid.

That stopped him. He choked and tried to cough but couldn’t. Then he dropped the knife and grabbed his throat with both hands. Everyone stood still with their backs against the walls, watching. Deeta kicked him over and grabbed the knife by the handle. Slagle’s face was already turning red, then bluish purple from the lack of oxygen. He was trying to inhale between the reflexive attempts to cough, but absolutely no air was getting through that crushed airway in either direction. She turned around and looked. Everyone was staring at her. She walked over to and put the scalpel on the counter. “Call the ER and get them up here. Call the fucking police.” Then she sat down and cried.