As Society Demands
by Gary Clifton
It was Ashley’s first day as a summer intern at County General Hospital. Supervisor Meyers was showing her around. “Okay, Ashley, this corridor is the psychiatric unit, where we hold the criminally insane.”
“Sir, common criminals?”
Meyers replied, “Criminals who are nuts, Ashley. Most are dangerous, so just never unlock their door. But here’s an inmate who is basically a vegetable. Good one for you to get a gander at.”
He unlocked the heavy door. In prison orange, the patient sat on the edge of his cot. Big, blond, and fortyish, his dull blue eyes stared unblinkingly ahead.
“Good morning, Detective Gray,” supervisor Meyers greeted sarcastically. The patient didn’t move. “Ernie Gray was a decorated city homicide cop. When two dirtbags walked into a café where Gray was having lunch and shot the cashier, Gray chased them outside and killed ’em both.”
Ashley stammered, “Sir, that shouldn’t—”
“Gray fired a third round and blew off the head of an eight-year old girl on a playground next door.”
“Sir, an accident—?”
“The kid was the mayor’s granddaughter. The media tore Gray a new one. Convicted of murder... ten-to-twenty in the joint. His wife managed to get full ownership of their house, sold it, and disappeared. She left their twelve-year old daughter with foster parents, and the kid drowned in a swimming pool. ’Course they wouldn’t let him out for the funeral. County buried the kid in a pauper’s grave.”
“Why’s he in a regular hospital?”
“He’s been in seven years. Up for parole next week. They sent him over here for the routine physical exam prior to release.”
“Release?!”
“Ashley, he volunteered to be a tough guy cop. He can use the bathroom and dress himself. Prison needs the space. Hey, this chart on the door says it’s time for his morning toilet break. Okay, Gray, outside.”
Gray stepped into the hallway and held out his hands. Meyers tossed handcuffs to Ashley. “Here, kid, might as well get your first experience.”
Gray turned to her, hands still extended, his soft blue eyes fixed on something well beyond her.
Ashley stammered, “I’ve never—”
Supervisor Meyers, fifty, fat, balding, eyed the shapely young employee hungrily. “How old are you, kid?”
Ashley said, “Twenty. I’ll be a junior up at State this fall.”
“You look plenty hot waving those ’cuffs. Maybe we could get together for a drink this afternoon? You live alone?”
“Sir, I live with my boyfriend. He’s a cop.” She was lying.
The supervisor let the subject drop.
Gray saw Ashley struggle with the handcuffs, then took them and snapped one side onto his left wrist.
A terrifying sound of scuffling and screams erupted around the corner from the main lobby. An ear-splitting explosion of gunshots followed. A hysterical male voice screamed, “Gonna kill all you sumbitches!”
Supervisor Meyers fled in blind panic. Ashley froze.
Gray instantly shoved Ashley out of harm’s way and snapped to animated alert. His distant eyes were now fully lucid. He sprinted toward the sounds, using the handcuff on his wrist to smash the four overhead lights in the psychiatric ward hallway, leaving the area in darkness. Gray disappeared into the well-lit main hallway.
Ashley heard sounds of struggle, curses and shrieks from the same out of control voice, then two more gunshots. The heavy thud had to be the sound of someone hitting the floor. Great God, that poor Detective Gray has been killed, and now the lunatic shooter is free to rampage the hospital.
Ashley stood frozen in panic, terrified that if she dialed 911 on her cellular, the madman might hear her. Finally, she fled into the complexity of the hospital and found a telephone.
“We’re on the way, ma’am,” the emergency services operator said. “Barricade yourself wherever you can.”
The hospital had grown totally quiet.
* * *
A portly sergeant, pistol drawn, stood with two young patrol officers, peering through the massive hospital front glass. “The brass says wait for help, guys, but I’ll take the rap if it goes bad. Both youse wearing your Kevlar?”
The two uniforms grunted affirmative. “Sarge, I see one down just at the edge of my view. Another guy bent over him. I’d say it’s a doctor attending a wounded person, except the guy on top is wearing jailhouse orange.”
Guns drawn, the three cops walked quietly as possible into the entryway, carefully approaching the man in orange, who had a knee planted in the back of a large, struggling man face down on the floor.
The sergeant leveled his pistol. The man in orange, unaware of the approaching officers hissed. “Keep fightin’, asswipe, and I’m gonna rip off your left ear.”
The sergeant saw the man in orange was bleeding profusely from a wound in his left abdomen. The sergeant blurted, “Let him up, pal... My God, Ernie Gray!”
Gray looked up, alert and animated. “Hey, Fred. Better ’cuff this dickweed. He busted a few caps, but I don’t think he hit anyone.” He stood upright, the handcuff dangling from his left wrist.
“He sure as hell hit you, Ernie.” Sarge pointed to Gray’s stomach. “It looks bad.”
* * *
Surgery was successful. Gray, initially diagnosed as critical, beat the odds and survived. In ten days was sitting upright and eating a hearty diet. Ashley visited him daily. He’d returned to his original state, spending his waking hours fixated on a spot far distant, acknowledging nobody.
One day she peeked impishly into his room. It was empty! She rushed into the hallway, nearly colliding with Supervisor Meyers.
“Hey, babe, you got work to do.”
“It’s Gray, he’s—”
“Escaped? Naw, they jes’ paroled him out last night.”
“To where?”
“Dunno, prolly gave him ten bucks and dropped him off downtown somewhere. Maybe he can squat under a bridge.”
“That’s horrible,” Ashley sobbed.
“Hey, we didn’t make the system. Brain-dead murderin’ zombie cop gotta pay his debt to society.”
Copyright © 2023 by Gary Clifton
