Before I went to bed the other night I had an idea to keep pen and paper by my bedside in case I had some moments of inspiration. I brushed this thought aside and went to bed anyway. Sure enough, throughout the night I had many ideas come to me and woke up after each of them telling myself I would remember them in the morning. Needless to say I do not remember any of them unless the things I have written today were subconsciously coming back to me. For those of you reading my work, here is my current excerpt. This one is also a very rough draft without any editing or additions.
" “We
needed those transfusions yesterday nurse!” Doctor Lewis Craig, always stable
under pressure, was now losing his nerve in the ER at the Howell’s Cove
hospital only twelve blocks from Campbell’s apartment.
There was a makeshift
wing that nurses, doctors, and receptionists, recruited to help, had
constructed with hanging curtains and cots that were retrieved from the
emergency supply room in the basement. Emergency stations were built every
third cot containing supplies found for the victims of the latest inexplicable
epidemic. Many current patients have been transported to other nearby medical
facilities to make room for new arrivals that were coming in waves. These
civilians requiring severe and urgent medical attention were bleeding
excessively from every orifice of their head; eyes, ears, mouth, nose, etc…
Police
were on scene putting up barricades and checkpoints to allow a screening for
the press that arrived no later than ten minutes after the first case of this
rare occurrence was reported.
“What
seems to be the cause of this latest epidemic?” inquired reporter Glenn Pratt
of the local paper, Bellview Tribune, to
a nearby staff nurse. He was one of many blurting out questions to the hospital
staff, desperately looking for any information of this curios event.
“There
seems to be no clue to what is causing all this.” replied the staff nurse.
“If
you will please excuse us, our staff needs to be left to the task at hand.”
With
a disappointed and defeating sigh he began to weave his way through the crowd
of news reporters. This didn’t satisfy Glenn’s needs for his latest scoop. He
began to look for a better opening in the pack of ravenous journalists when he
was suddenly inspired with a scheme that would make the great undercover
reporters of yesteryear’s devices look like mere child’s play. As he began his
journey toward the stairs he scanned each room along the way with a surveying
glance for anything to get him past the press. He came to the end of the east
wing to an office door, stenciled in the glass was Dr. Lewis Craig, M.D. His heart was pounding with anticipation as
he looked around for any approaching hospital personnel. Glenn grasped the
cold, metal door handle to the doctor’s office and gave it a silent turn as if
he were back in his youth, attempting to sneak back into his house without
waking his unsuspecting parents. He was in! Closing the door carefully behind him,
he slipped his yellow-paged notepad into the pocket of his coat.
Now
standing with curiosity in the Doctor Craig’s office, he licked his lips and
thought to himself, what’s my endgame
here? Perhaps he could find a physician’s coat or security badge to get him
passed the hospital staff? He searched through Dr. Craig’s desk but found
nothing to aid his security breaching efforts, nor was there any sort of usable
disguise readily available. He heard the footsteps of an unknown approaching
him and panicked. Glenn leapt for the door and flung it wide open only to
greeted by one of Howell’s Cove’s security guards,
“You can’t be in there sir!” the
security guard authoritatively attempted to stop Glenn with his voice.
Glenn
sprinted for the stairs, fleeing frantically, faster than he ever has in his
adult life. As he ran, he recalled many instances in which he had to flee from
an aggressor. Often times in his line of work he took chances and did whatever
it took to obtain even the smallest, yet most crucial, piece of information for
his latest story. Both men descended three flights of stairs before Glenn
started to hatch a plan. Glenn was far ahead enough allowing the advantage of
concealing himself under the last set of stairs to the lobby. He waited for a
brief moment for the security guard to come flying down after him. In a
split-decision, Glenn appeared from the shadowy cove and swung his balled up
fist, fortified by his free hand, into the knee of the security guard.
Simultaneously, Glenn heard his pursuing assailant’s knee cap turn to powder as
he tumbled violently down the last few steps and into the brick wall. Glenn
paused to make sure the security guard was out for good. When the coast was clear,
Glenn exited the stairwell trying to catch his breath. Surprisingly, no one in
the lobby was rattled by the commotion in the stairway. He took a moment to
collect himself and anonymously left the building through the front entrance.
Glenn
Pratt peered up at the sky and embraced the warmth of the sunlight on his
cheeks. He started down the sidewalk and hailed a cab for his departure. Glenn
opened the door of the cab that pulled right alongside him, set his messenger
bag on the seat and got in.
“Can you take me to Vineyard
Heights please?” he asked of the cab driver.
The
ride seemed to go on forever due to the discomfort in his hand he sustained
from assaulting an officer. He saw many familiar places along the way. There
was the restaurant, Frankfurt’s, now
with a “for lease” sign in the window. He did a story about their poor
sanitation two summers ago. Glenn was told by his source Dave Helm, a city
health inspector, they had the worst upkeep of their kitchen he had ever seen.
On the other side of the street there was the Winter Walk Café. He remembered the one and only time he went
there; after he was finished paying, he turned around to leave and bumped into
the most gorgeous woman he had ever met, spilling his coffee all down the front
of his newly cleaned and pressed shirt. Glenn was so embarrassed he never went
back in fear of running into that woman again and making a bigger ass of
himself. Finally, the cab pulled up in front of his apartment building.
“Vineyard Heights sir.” The cab
driver informed Glenn.
Glenn
gathered his bag and stepped out onto the sidewalk while clumsily reaching for
his wallet. He handed the cabbie fifteen dollars.
“Thank you, sir.” the cab driver tipped his
hat to Glenn and drove off.
Suddenly,
as Glenn stood outside his apartment building he began to sniffle
uncontrollably. He felt around his nostrils to investigate the source of his
annoyance. Looking down at his fingertips he saw the glistening crimson glaze
of blood."
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