Episode 2: 36 Hours

While Louisa and Blaine prepared sandwiches and tea breads in the kitchen, Suzanne Carroll
dusted and vacuumed the guest rooms. Her watery eyes and runny nose were taking their toll on her, having been exacerbated by all the dust she kicked up helping her sister get ready for the Vineyards' grand opening.

Once again she sneezed, and once again she took her feather duster in one hand, tissues in the other. 

“Louisa didn’t warn me about the occupational hazards here,” Suzanne muttered to herself. “She needed a housekeeper, and I needed a job.”

She went to set a box of tissues down on one of the master vanities, but not before she grabbed a tissue herself.  Yet another sneeze racked her.   Suzanne could have taken an antihistamine before starting to dust, but that was a problem. The non drowsy ones would wire her to the ceiling, and the other ones would just make her go back to her room to kiss the day goodbye.

If I have to sneeze one more time, I swear…that sister of mine’s going to hear from me!

*****
"Clear Trauma one,"  a senior resident shouted.  "Incoming!"

Ryan MacPherson scrunched his face up as he surveyed the scene in the hospital's emergency department.  He had been awake thirty-five hours straight, and for what?  Just so he could go back to sleep?

He thought he'd seen it all during his ER rotation: gunshot wounds, broken bones, screaming children, drug overdoses...

This Canada Day was relatively quiet compared to the last two.  Ryan hadn’t seen anything today except the same four sterile, empty, and ugly faux-country-paper walls.  He longed to go back to Claypool to spend a little “quality time” with Dad, but the demands of a third-year medical student precluded that.   Claypool, at least, smelled like a real town, with real life.  Ottawa’s University Hospital, on the other hand,  smelled like nothing.

Ryan grabbed an elusive nap when he could in the doctors' on call area, but he would only be able to get thirty-nine of the forty winks he wanted. Dr. Maria Escalante, Ryan’s supervisor and the hospital’s head trauma surgeon, would help him get the rush he needed to get through the rest of his shift.

Who needed caffeine when adrenaline flowed freely here?

“Dr. Escalante?” Ryan calmly asked.  “You’d better come and see this one.  I think I’m gonna need some help here.”

*****
Louisa heard the doorbell ring and walked over to answer it.

“Seth! How wonderful it is to see you!”  They embraced warmly. She escorted him to the inn’s dining room, where she offered him a drink.

“What’s your pleasure?  Jasmine, Earl Grey, oolong?”

“Iced,”  Seth replied.

Louisa chuckled gently. “I should have guessed.  You always were a simple man, weren’t you? Haven’t changed a bit.  It seems like only yesterday since I’ve seen you.  How have you been?”

“What do we have here?”  Maria asked Ryan.

“Female,  approximately twenty-five years of age, multiple abrasions and contusions, possible concussion,  Vital signs normal, BP 120/80.   She was unconscious when the paramedics brought her in.  There may be signs of sexual trauma. That’s why I called you in.”

The patient blinked slightly and tried to speak when Ryan noticed who it was.  The familiarity shocked him.  Could this bruised and bloodied person be…?

No, it can’t!

“Uh…uhh…Ryan?”

“Noelle?  Do you know where you are?”

“I…I think so.”  She opened her eyes and looked around.  Though Noelle had been familiar with the emergency department and how it operated, she saw a completely different point of view lying down on a gurney.

  “Dr. Escalante?  Oh, no.  I’m in trouble. I’m so sorry…Ryan and I were supposed to go on rounds tonight.”

Maria spoke in a low, comforting voice. “It’s all right. Don’t worry about rounds.  Can you tell me what happened?”

Ryan’s anxiety heightened as Noelle was about to relate the gory details.  “I think I should probably leave now.”

Noelle grabbed Ryan’s arm.  “Please, Ryan.  Stay with me.”  She looked up at Maria.  “Please, may he stay here?”

Maria nodded, an assuring yet detached look on her face. 

“Will you promise?”  Noelle asked the two.

“Promise you what?”  Ryan asked.

“Promise me you won’t tell anyone else?”

*****
Louisa extended a comforting hand to Seth.  He took it gently into his. “I was so sorry to hear about Margaret.  She was such a sweet lady.    I really miss her.”

“I miss her too,” Seth said.  “We all did.”

“How are the kids, by the way?”

“Ryan’s doing well in med school. It seems like he lives in the emergency department.  Patrick is gone more than he is here.  That’s not so good when we have to get production out…I want to teach him all about the winery, but all he wants to drink is a six pack of Molson.  I wonder about him sometimes,” he sighed.

Suzanne had finally gotten her sneezing under control  when Seth and Louisa arrived in the dining room.  Well, I certainly hope Louisa and Blaine saved some tea and sandwiches for me.

“Room for one more?”

Louisa smiled. “Sure.  Seth and I were just catching up on old times.  Maybe we can get Blaine to join us.”

Suzanne smiled back. “If we can ever pry him out of the kitchen.  It seems like he lives there sometimes.”

Patrick MacPherson  sneaked into a pub at the bottom of Parliament Hill.  All he needed was to use their washroom.  The bartender, noticing something suspicious about the dirt underneath his fingernails, stopped him.

“I’m sorry, but you’ll have to make a purchase first.  What’ll it be?”

Patrick had to stall for time.  Something.  Anything.  

“A pint of Guinness.”

The bartender pulled the pint, Patrick slammed his money down on the bar and went into the washroom.    The bare light bulbs, the cracked mirror and the graffiti on the walls were sure signs the place had fallen into disarray.  No towels. No toilet paper.  No soap.

Nothing.

How the hell am I gonna get this stuff off my hands?

The damned commode won’t even flush. 

Patrick paused to take something out of his pocket. 

Blood, huh?  They don’t even have a place for me to wash off this crud?  I’ll show them what blood looks like!

He had to keep himself from retching violently as the horrible stench of human waste overcame him.  He had just enough time to leave his mark, and it would be a violent one.

Patrick walked out briskly.  The bartender tried to chase after him, but it was no use.  Another beer down the drain.

“Hey…hey, mister…you forgot your change.”

“Keep it,”  Patrick snarled.

The bartender shrugged,  put the change in the cash drawer, and began to clear the counter.  On a napkin he saw the ominous message:

Beware the blood of the Crimson Knights, for we shall spill it upon the earth.