Child of Mercy (37 page)

Bridget didn’t know how to do subtle with makeup, and I could see the heavy dark eyeliner on her eyelids and deep red ‘vixen’ lips from a mile away.  It was a little surprising the hospital didn’t care how she altered the dress code to suit her tastes, but when you worked the graveyard shift, things were more lax, I supposed. 

I guess you could say I’ve always been a little bit classical and she was a little bit rock and roll.  Not that I didn’t want to be rock and roll myself… I did like rock music, I just hadn’t had much opportunity to pursue that kind of lifestyle, not even in college.  But at least I knew who Linkin Park was.  I should get points for that, right? 

Making a beeline for the nurse’s desk, I was gratified to find it deserted, except for the two of us.  The entire floor was silent, but for the soft drone and beeps of equipment in the background.  Her head bobbed to the music, casually flipping through a magazine on the counter, completely unaware of my approach until I touched her elbow and she jumped a foot. 

“Jesus Christ, what are you trying to do, give me a heart attack?” she gasped, hand flying to cover her heart.  I could practically hear it beating too, thump, thump, thump, it was almost hypnotic.  “Hello?  Earth to Anja…”  She waggled her fingers in front of my face, and I snapped out of it.   

“Oh, sorry.  I was just… I’m having the weirdest night.”  Talk about an understatement.  Now that I’d found her, I wasn’t sure where to begin.  It was obvious she had no idea I’d been down in the morgue.  Hopefully that meant my family was blissfully unaware of the fact as well. 

“Ah, it’s a little early for Halloween isn’t it?  What’s with the ensemble?”  Her fingers waved again in the general direction of my outfit. 

“That is the least of my worries right now.  Do you think we could sit down and talk for a bit?”  I could see the aversion on her face.  Maybe she thought I was having boyfriend troubles.  Bridget wasn’t big on heart to hearts.  “Please?  It’s important.”

“Fine, you don’t have to be so dramatic,” she rolled her eyes, slouching against the counter.

My eyes darted up and down the length of the corridor.  “Can we talk somewhere more private?”  Anyone could come along and spot me at any moment and I still dreaded the questions that would come with it until I had more answers myself.

Another roll of the eyes was given, but she led me into a patient’s room.  “Is this good enough for you?”

I looked at the old man occupying the bed, his eyes watching us with vague interest.  “What about him?”

“Oh, don’t worry about him, he’s deaf as a post.”

“But won’t we keep him awake?”  The idea of barging into his room didn’t sit well with me.

“Old people don’t sleep,” she scoffed as if it was a well known fact.  “Hi, Mr. Gutterman!” she yelled.  “Just ignore us, we’re having a little girl talk, okay?” she nodded and flashed him a thumbs up sign.  The old man gave no indication he’d heard a single thing she said and Bridget turned her back on him.  “See, we’re fine.  So spill, what’s so important it’s got you out of bed past ten o’clock?”

My tongue darted out to moisten my lips.  “I think… I think I died.”