Psych Ward Zombies Read Free Page B

would notice him. Maybe he could duck under a table. As soon as he entered, however, it became clear that all eyes were on him. Devlin had been speaking forcefully about the quality of the doctors’ handwriting in the medical charts, but he stopped abruptly in mid-sentence as Dave tried to tiptoe into the room. Dave searched for an empty seat at the conference table and located one at the far end of the table. The uncomfortable silence was broken by the shrill squeak of the chair.
    “Why, Doctor Hexer, how kind of you to grace us with your presence.” Devlin’s voice was icy cold, but with a hint of hostile playfulness. It made Dave feel like a mouse being toyed with by a hungry cat .
    Devlin continued, “ In the parking lot, you said you would be here short ly.  In some ways, it appears you were telling the truth.” Devlin let out a small snicker and then continued, “I suppose my warning to you in the parking lot fell on deaf ears?” The overgrown eyebrows knitted together menacingly, like two giant woolly caterpillars locked in hand-to-hand combat.
    “Um ... yes.” Dave replied hesitantly. “I mean, no. I got held up on the ward. Um, there was a patient emergency I had to attend to.” Dave tossed this lie into the center of the room like a hand grenade, hoping an explosion of empathy would negate all the tension he was feeling. It was a dud.
    Devlin looked straight through him. “I will make a note in your personnel file about your skills in handling emergencies, Doctor Hexer. It will be right below the note about your disregard for mandatory staff meetings.”
    “Wow, a note in my personnel file! I’m so scared! Why don’t you shove that personnel file up your butthole?!”
    Those are the words Dave wanted to say, but did not. Instead, he knew that Devlin had already sensed victory in this brief verbal skirmish, so Dave decided to just keep quiet before things got worse. He bit his tongue and stared at his clipboard . Anger boiled inside him.
    As Devlin resumed his monologue on quality standards for medical documentation, Dave raised his eyes just enough to take a quick glance around the room. He was surrounded at the table by the other four physicians who worked in the hospital. From the left to the right sat Doctors Horton, Golski, Hassan, and Thompson. He generally liked his coworkers. They seemed to be good people and they worked hard to help their patients, though in general they were all a little odd. Shrinks can be a flaky bunch. Dave thought the old saying was true, that to become a psychiatrist you had to be a little crazy yourself. Of course, Dave rationalized that the saying did not actually apply to him.
    Horton was a good friend, and maybe the most normal of the bunch. He and Dave shared the same sense of humor. The two were able to recognize the idiocy of the hospital administration, and they often commiserated over painful topics such as staff meetings. Dave glanced over at Horton and gave an almost imperceptible grin as the two exchanged knowing looks .
    Golski had emigrated from some Eastern European country as a young child. He had become very Americanized through his adult years, yet he retained just enough of his foreign accent to give him an exotic flair. He was a brilliant man and a very good psychiatrist .
    Hassan was another immigrant, coming to the US after medical school. He had a much harder time than Golski with the language and culture barriers. His patients appreciated his friendly personality and warm interaction enough to forgive his weakness with the English language .
    Thompson was an odd duck, definitely the most eccentric psychiatrist on staff at the hospital. She was very short, almost as wide as she was tall, and had a booming laugh that would reverberate through the halls. Her sense of humor made all the staff and patients love her. She was well-known for dressing in brightly adorned sweaters with holiday themes. This year’s “Martin Luther King Jr. Day” sweater