New Year's Eve Kill Read Free Page A

pills for?”
       “For the pain and discomfort. And they will help you sleep.”
       Ethel didn’t want to tell the grim faced nurse that she was tired of sleeping, and really wanted to walk around.
       “Now Ms. Cunningham, I hope you have a pleasant stay with us.”
       “I hope a quick one. How is the gentleman in the next bed? He seems to be trying to talk or something.”
       Gita looked sharply towards the curtains and then faced Ethel with an odd smile.
       “Now dear, I’m sure you’re imaging things. Mr. Grant has been out for days. Bad stroke. I’ll be in to make my rounds later.” She turned on Ethel’s TV and left the room.
       Ethel thought about getting up and peeking on Mr. Grant but she did feel relaxed. There was something odd going on but she couldn’t put her finger on it. Instead she focused on a rerun of NCIS. She never watched this TV series but was always suckered into it when she was changing channels.
       A scratching on the curtain from where Mr. Grant was made her jump. When she heard the creepy sound again she took a moment to locate the call button for the Nurse. After waiting for ten minutes it didn’t seem like the button was working.
       Another scratch went down the ugly curtain or so she thought. It was hard to tell where the sound was coming from. That her mind was going wasn’t lost on her.
       Mr. Grant could be in pain or dying and it didn’t seem like the hospital staff cared, she thought. She had to do something but what? Ethel had to take her time when she tried to sit up. The room seemed to be spinning.
       Did they put something in her food to make her sleepy? Luckily, she only nibbled at the stuff the hospital called edible. No it was the pills! She was sick of waiting for a nurse to respond. There was something going on at the hospital and her curiosity was eating at her mind. She knew they were short staffed, due to a nurse’s strike, and it was New Year’s Eve. Still, to not seem to care about Mr. Grant. If only Anita would come and visit, Ethel thought, maybe she could help the man. But in hindsight, Anita couldn’t do much, she was the head coroner, and had no power over the doctors or nurses.
       After a minute or so, Ethel took her time getting up and out of the hospital bed. The curtain that separated the beds looked like a wall of depression with its ugly colors and stiff material. A slow hissing sound was coming from beyond the fabric and Ethel new it was now or never. With hesitation, she took four steps over to the yellow and blue curtain that separated the beds. With bated breath, she put her hands on the curtain and ripped it aside.
       Her eyes opened in terror. Was the old man dead?
     
     
     
     
    Chapter Two
     
     
     
     
    Ethel stared at the balding older man propped up in the bed. Mr. Grant almost looked like he was a prop and not a real human being. Tubes were coming and going throughout his body in various directions. She saw his chest breathing in and out gently, and felt relieved. Mr. Grant was alive, but how was he scratching against the curtain? He would have had trouble getting up, and she would have heard that.
       After feeling satisfied and embarrassed that she let her imagination bother an old, sick man, she quickly pulled the curtain closed.
       About an hour passed, and Nurse Missy came into the room. She was on Mr. Grant’s side for about fifteen minutes, keeping the curtains closed. Ethel was curious about Mr. Grant. How old was he, and did his family come see him? She forgot the idea when she thought of the nurse with the red hair, Dita. Ethel had seen hungry bears with better personalities. She’d hate for her to walk in and catch her asking about Mr. Grant. Dita seemed like the kind of nurse who took delight in sticking someone with a big needle.
       “How are you doing, Ms. Cunningham?” Missy asked, without much effort, quickly closing Mr. Grant’s curtain.
       “I’m feeling OK.