I took the opportunity to give him a hard kick. Lower leg casts are really only useful for one thing: turning your foot into a club. My fiberglass-covered foot connected with the orderly’s gut. Aiming really wasn’t difficult; his knees had flexed in reaction to the pain in his throat, and he’d lined himself up with my foot perfectly. I couldn’t miss. He went down with a woofing sound.
“You’re right,” he said a few moments later while sitting on the floor. “They don’t pay me enough.”
“I need my clothes,” I said. “I’m checking out early.”
The orderly recovered somewhat, and I saw rage in his face. I’d hoped to have knocked all the fight out of him by now, but I could see I’d failed.
“Fuck you, man,” he said, his voice rasping. He attempted to rise.
His left hand came up with a small canister. I knocked it down before he could spray me. Pepper spray, garden variety. Somehow, he managed to get some of it on his own forearms, and he howled about that. Still, he didn’t stop coming at me. I could tell if he got the upper hand, he wouldn’t stop with strapping me into bed. He’d keep going.
I felt a little bad for him as I repeatedly bashed his head with my cast and fists. In the end, I took his clothes when he lay sprawled on the floor. If I’d had my wallet handy I would have left him a tip. He was a dedicated man.
I took a card key from his belt. When the corridor outside looked empty, I popped open the lock.
I ran into the night nurse at the desk down the hall. It was Miranda, the same woman who’d sent the orderly in after me. She did a double take that was almost comical. By the time she realized who I was, it was too late for her.
She reached for something under the desk, but I twisted it out of her grasp before she had the safety off. It was a .32 automatic, a compact but deadly weapon. I didn’t aim it at her face, not wanting to be rude, but kept it between us. I leaned over her desk and talked to her in a low, earnest voice.
“Is this whole place armed to the teeth?” I asked.
“We have a lot of dangerous patients here,” she explained, glaring at me and rubbing her right wrist. “We take in all the psychos the police drop off at night.” She looked at me pointedly as she said this.
I shrugged. “So, was I brought in under arrest?”
“No.”
“Then who paid you off? Who gave the order to keep sticking me with these drugs and keep me drooling?”
Miranda looked worried for a moment. Maybe, for the first time, she realized she might be the criminal here, not me. She shook her head slowly.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about. We just follow Dr. Meng’s orders. You were dropped off, like any other crazy off the Strip. The orders were a little odd…”
“You don’t say?” I asked. I helped myself to a handful of Halloween candy I found in a bowl on the counter. It was slightly stale, but now that I was off my medication, my stomach was working again and I was getting hungry.
“Did you kill Ron?” she asked, her eyes widening as she examined the surgical greens I was wearing, no doubt noting the dark stains and the name tag.
I glanced down at myself. “Is that his name? No, he’s just having a nap.”
Miranda glared at me. “What do you want?” she asked.
“Let’s see, kidnapping, unlawful restraint, illegal use of prescription drugs…oh, and let’s not forget about assault. I would say five to ten years each in the federal pen should do it.”
She swallowed. “I was just doing my job.”
“Is that why you went for a gun under your desk rather than calling the cops?”
“I’m not in charge here. I follow my employer’s orders.”
I smiled. “Not a novel defense. But I’ll accept it. Just cut this cast off me and take me to your leader, the honorable Dr. Meng.”
“She won’t be down until—”
I cut her off, pointing with the black barrel of her pistol at the clock on her wall. It read five thirty.
“Shift change at six?” I asked. “Things are pretty quiet around here. I’ve never seen such a quiet hospital at night.”
“We’re private, and Sunset isn’t exactly a hospital. It’s a sanatorium.”
I nodded slowly. That explained all the safety glass and the lack of external windows in my room.
“I get it. When does the good Dr. Meng get to work?”
Miranda chewed her lip. “Six,” she said.
“We have just enough time then. Cut this thing off me.”
Miranda got up and led the way. I humped along close behind her, expecting a trick, but she didn’t try anything. We went into an exam room and she produced a small circular saw built for the precise purpose of cutting off fiberglass casts. I sat up on the exam table and threw my leg onto it. I kept the pistol lying on my belly with my hand on top of it.
She pointed at my toes, which I could see in the brightly lit room were fairly purple. “Are you sure about this?” she asked. “The fracture is only about a week old.”