Sea Sick: A Horror Novel

“Okay, move him across and I’m page Dr Malone.”


The orderlies lifted the patient from the gurney onto the operating table while Vicky sent a page to the on-duty surgeon. Within minutes, Dr Malone arrived.

“Stab wound to the abdomen?” he asked, attaching the heart-rate monitor.

“Yes,” Vicky replied. “Paramedics called t in en route. Apparently the patient had crawled out of some woods and passed out on the side of the road. Someone driving passed found him and called 999.”

“Any identification?”

Vicky nodded. “Driver’s license. Nigel Moot, age forty-two. He’s on the database; blood type A negative.”

“Rare,” muttered Malone, already fast at work. “Get an IV prepared and a blood line.”

Two more nurses entered the room, obviously hearing the commotion. Without word they pulled on latex gloves and surrounded the operating table to make themselves available. Vicky came over and set a tray of surgical instruments. She handed a bottle of iodine to one of the other nurses and passed a scalpel to Dr Malone. She’s been doing the job long enough now that she knew what was needed when.

One of the nurses pulled down the irrigation hose and begun rinsing out the wound with sterilised water. The blood flushed away, replaced by flooding water. It looked like a puckered, pink mouth, stretching three whole inches across the patient’s torso.

Malone used the scalpel to open the wound very slightly, to get a better view of how deep the blade had gone. The heart rate monitor beeped regularly but slowly.

“No organ damage. He’s lucky, the blade just missed his liver.” Malone used his fingers to slowly part the wound. A brief spurt of blood overwhelmed the water for a moment. “Can we get some clamps on this? I need to suture this room before he bleeds out.”

Vicky grabbed the surgical clamps and secured open the wound. Malone got to work, suturing the wound.”

The patient’s vital signs dipped worryingly towards the end of the procedure, but by the end he was once again stable.

Dr Malone pulled off his gloves over at the wash basin and begun washing his hands. “Get him cleaned up and moved to the recovery ward. He’s going to be fine.”

***

Vicky had forgotten all about the stab wound patient by the following day. She was doing her rounds as normal when she saw the police officers. They were chatting with Dr Malone about something. After a view moments, one of the police officers separated from the group and headed in her direction. She made sure to stop him on his way.

“Anything I can help with, Officer?”

The man smiled, he was young and seemed friendly. “Yes, actually. I’m looking for one of your recovery rooms; room 7.”

Vicky thought for a moment. “Okay, I’d be happy to take you there. Is it to do with the stabbing?”

The officer looked at her with an eyebrow raised. “Have you had any dealings with the patient?”

Vicky shrugged. “He’s been unconscious since he arrived, but he’s stable. Came in with a stab wound late last night.”

The two of them began walking, with Vicky leading the way. The Officer had more questions. “Do you know what belongings were found on his person?”

Vicky nodded. She had processed the patient’s possessions herself. “There was a wallet. A photograph of a girl, and a necklace, I think.”

The officer nodded knowingly, but didn’t say anything. They reached room 7 and Vicky went to ope the door.

The officer grabbed her arm. “No need.” He peered in through the glass, as if to verify the patient inside. Then he took a plastic chair from a nearby reception desk and placed it beside the room’s door. He sat down on it.

Vicky was confused. “What? You’re just going to sit here?”

The officer nodded and smiled. He offered out his hand. “My name’s Tom. I’m going to be here until Mr Moot wakes up.”

Vicky knew the only reason a police officer would be posted outside a patient’s door was if that patient was…