It wasn’t like in the movies. They rarely accounted forthe durability and elasticity of human skin. The first bite that the old manendured looked painful as hell, and the shriek he let out was an uncivilizedthing. The man in the jeans jerked his head violently back and forth until heactually managed to pull the flesh free from the man’s throat. The old man'sscream turned into a ragged gurgling as his arms and legs flailed upon thefilthy carpet. Teach noticed for the first time that it was green... an oddthing to notice considering the circumstances.
The bartender stood in shock as the old man’s bloodsquirted across the bar. The next squirt wasn’t nearly as strong. Withoutthinking, Teach ripped the phone out of the wall and charged the young man inthe jeans. It wasn't an effective weapon, but it did the job. When he was done,the phone dripped gore, and the young man twitched on the ground.
The bartender squatted next to the old man. The blood wasno longer squirting out of his throat; it merely dribbled. “I think he’s dead,Teach.”
Teach stood up, walked over to his beer, and drained itin one go. “Yeah, well, it looks like they both are. You got a cell phone? Iseem to have ripped your landline right out of the wall?”
The blood on his shirt had cooled, but a warmth still ranthrough his body. He didn’t know if it was shock, the beer, or the fact that hehad just killed somebody who was trying to take his life, but he welcomed it.
Chapter 5: Joan
Her phone rang at 2 A.M. Being on call was literally theworst thing that had ever happened to her... yet. There she had been dreamingabout swimming in warm ocean water as blue as a Smurf's bottom while shirtlessguys waded through the surf to bring her colorful drinks in hollowed-outcoconuts, then blam! That damn phone goes off, causing her to sit bolt uprightand sending her cat flying through her apartment, but not before it could digtwo painful furrows in the flesh of her legs. And for what? To go help thedumbest and the lowest that Portland had to offer. At 2 A.M. you were alwaysdealing with one of three things... some dumbass with something stuffed uptheir ass, some dumbass who had gotten too drunk or high, or the poor bastardthat had been run over by someone who had gotten too drunk or high...occasionally they had something stuffed up their ass as well.
She shrugged into her white doctor's coat and looked atherself in the mirror. It was going to have to be a ponytail day. Joan quicklybrushed her teeth, spitting mouthfuls of old, dead bacteria into the sink andwatching them whisk away down the drain to a place where no one ever had topull a grapefruit out of someone's asshole. She had learned long ago thatthere's absolutely no reason to look nice when one was working late at night atthe hospital. You didn't want to look pretty for some of the trash that walkedinto the place in the dead of morning. She plopped some wet food into her cat'sdish and walked out of the door, keys jangling and brown ponytail bobbing backand forth.
Her drive through the city was peaceful. 2:30 in themorning wasn't bad if you wanted to get somewhere. The night was cool, and theheat of the day had faded into a crisp, almost autumnish feel. But autumn wasstill a few months away. In the meantime, it was time to help stupid people whohad maimed themselves in one way or another. It was the time of barbecueaccidents, fireworks injuries, and rashes caused by the shaving of pubic hair,which people inevitably thought might be herpes. It was a glorious time to be adoctor. As soon as she walked in the door, she was inundated with anever-ending parade of dumbass.
Her first patient was drunk and burned. The man, who waswearing a Portland Timbers jersey, had a second degree burn on his arm. Inaddition to the burn he no longer had eyebrows and half his mustache wasmissing.
"Alright, what happened?" she asked.
"The barbecue..." he started. Then, having losthis train of thought, he merely made a noise imitating an explosion and thengiggled a bit. She straightened him up when he began to lean perilously to theside, as if he were going to pass out. He was in a daze mostly as she put thedressing on his arm, which was probably a good thing for him, as the pain mostlikely would have required some sort of sedative had he not already been threesheets to the wind. When she was finished, she left him where he was, and toldthe R.N. to find him a room, so he could be re-examined again later.
The next person she saw wasn't much better off, but atleast she wasn't drunk. She was just so ill that she had no idea what wasreally going on. She was an older lady, her hair white and curly, the fine graydown on her lips shone underneath the fluorescent lights, slick with her ownmucus. Her husband stood off to the side, wringing his hands in a concernedmanner. As she was examining the woman, who was clad only in a stainednightgown that clung to her sweaty body, she leaned to the side and depositedsome bile on the floor.
Down the hall, she could hear a commotion building. Sheheard the shattering of glass and muted yelling and thought, "Great...another junkie." As she installed an I.V. on the patient in front of her,she had no idea how wrong she was.
Chapter 6: Clara
The walls dripped moisture. The hot breath of the packedconcert hall's sweaty patrons clung to her own sticky body. The music thumped,vibrating through the air and her body as she ran through the circle, pumpingher fist and screaming along with the music.
Clara should be sleeping, or at the very least, deadtired. Tuesday night was not the time to
