Boys and girls, another short story for your enjoyment. I hope. "The Doctor Is Out" is what I think of as the companion story to "Not In My Neighborhood," as it was published by The Murder Hole at the same time. This story was inspired by the loads of pulp fiction I was consuming at the time. Word count ~ 1400. Estimated reading time ~ 7 minutes.
The Doctor is Out
The drunk driver roared down Main Street. He cruised from lane to lane, blasted his horn at those who dared to challenge him, and punched the gas to beat the yellow lights. Yes, it’s true, Victor was not going to win any good driver awards. Hell, Victor was three sheets to the wind and late for a date. Getting the hell out of his way was the most prudent course for all those whose path he crossed.
***
The doctor was doing well. He had recently finished his residency, was named Chief of Emergency Medicine, and had just asked his girlfriend of three years to be his betrothed. She said yes, of course. Maybe next Dr. Thomas Ridley could trade in his old Saturn Coupe for something a little more fitting of a world class doctor. World class? Yes, he was that good. His car meant something to him, though. It represented the hours he committed to becoming a doctor. He purchased it used at a lot just outside of town with money he’d earned as a waiter. Trading in this old car would not be easy. He was a sentimental sort.
It was early evening and Dr. Ridley had enjoyed a rare afternoon off. He was to work tonight, but that didn’t dampen his mood. Dr. Ridley worked in several hospitals in the area and tonight he was on his way out of town for a shift at Creator General Hospital. It should be a slow night; it usually is in Creator, Arkansas.
Yes, the doctor was on cloud nine. He and Laura had spent the day picking out an engagement ring and discussing wedding plans. Seeing Laura happy made Dr. Ridley happy. Simple as that. In his car, Dr. Ridley punched buttons on his cell and told the hospital he’d be there within an hour. His sweet Laura was framed in her doorway as he pulled the car from the drive. She waved and motioned for him to roll down the window.
“Yes, dear?” Dr. Ridley said in his most submissive voice, sustaining an inside joke that had been carried throughout the day. Her musical laugh brought a smile to his face.
“Ha, ha. Very funny, Tom. I just wanted to tell you that I love you and to please drive safely.”
“I will. I love you too.” He pointed the Saturn in the direction of Creator and was off.
Unfortunately, no matter how safely you drive, you can’t protect yourself from everything or everybody. Laura would forever keep her new engagement ring on a chain around her neck. The next time she’d see her fiancé was at the morgue, though he was hardly the handsome doctor with whom she first fell in love.
***
Victor couldn’t believe his luck. He’d just torn through six consecutive green lights and thought he might make it out of town with time to spare. Making Darla wait was not a good idea. She expected to be paid whether he was on time or not. A full hour. Eight to nine. No exceptions.
Somewhere in the back of his mind he knew he should be taking it easy. His ulcer was not going away on its own. He just couldn’t adhere to the doctor’s orders: stay off the booze and the fried food, alleviate stress, relax at home with a good book, yada yada yada. His doc said a man’s heart can’t take all that. Victor seemed intent on finding out. And even now, en route to bliss, Victor was in agony. The pain in his gut was very real, but so was Victor’s desire for Darla. He just had to get there on time.
Still, he knew he couldn’t continue like this. No way. This was his last great fling. He was going to walk the straight and narrow. Get healthy. Everything the doctor said, he’d do. No questions asked. But, tonight, he was headed to Darlatown, and did not intend on letting anything get in his way.
The light a block up was yellow. He’d never make it. After a moment’s hesitation and a tap on the brake, Victor pushed the gas pedal practically through the floor. If his Suburban couldn’t get up and go through this intersection, what the hell good was it? The light turned red when Victor’s rig, traveling along at a cool sixty-eight miles per, was still ten feet from the intersection. Damn shame, too.
The black sports coupe turned right in front of Victor. The big Suburban slugged the smaller car in the front right fender, sending it spinning out of control and into oncoming traffic. Victor felt the initial impact but raced on. He glanced in his rear view to see a complete and total mess.
“I should lay off the booze,” he muttered to himself as he rocketed toward Darla.
***
“Darla, baby, am I late?” Victor asked as he stood on the slanted porch connected to the slanted trailer perched on the side of a hill. He had one hand on the trailer’s side to hold him upright.
“Victor? What’s wrong with you? You look like hell!”
"It’s nothing, really. I’m just, I don’t know, just anxious to get here to see you, that’s all.” Darla took Victor by the elbow and led him to the all-purpose futon. After he plopped down, Darla extracted several tissues from the box she kept next to the futon and dabbed Victor’s brow. Sweat poured off Victor as if he was standing in the rain.
“Oh, you are sweating up a storm, sweetie. You’re all clammy. Yuck.” Darla reached for more tissues. “Victor, maybe we should hold off tonight . . . I may be the death of you.”
“But, I drove all the way out here for you! Don’t make me go home. I can’t go home without a taste of you. Come on!” Victor pleaded like a six year old demanding an ice cream cone.
Darla considered her visitor. At once, she knew that there would be no taste tonight. Victor leaned his head back into Darla’s hand and let out a gasp. Mid-gasp, “Darla. I drove all the way out here!” He clutched at his chest and slumped into the fold of the futon.
Getting Victor into the car was difficult. He was hysterical, alternating between fighting Darla and trying to kiss Darla. Once Victor was safely in the passenger seat, Darla aimed the dented Suburban toward the hospital and hauled ass. She looked at her rider and thought what have you done, you silly man? What have you done?
***
The little hospital was quiet until Darla and Victor showed up. She parked close to the emergency entrance, which was no more than a double door on which the word “Emergency” was painted. The parking spot read “Reserved for Chief of Emergency Medicine,” but Darla had no time to worry about such things. She’d apologize later. By this time, the amorous yet fitful Victor had settled down. He slumped against the door of the Suburban, breathing heavily with his right hand over his heart.
Darla barreled out of the car and to Victor’s side. She opened the car door and had to catch Victor as he fell. She was strong for her size, but Victor was still a little too much. He half fell to the gravel and half fell into her arms. She was able to drag him to the nearby entrance leaving a wake of dirt and pebbles. Darla looked around. Nobody. She screamed, “help, this is an emergency!” As she was trying to get Victor inside, the doors opened.
A little old lady stepped out. She was wearing a starch white uniform complete with a nurse’s cap and name tag that read “Gertrude.” She’d been crying and was now dabbing at her face with a handkerchief.
“Help us. Get a doctor!” Darla screamed at the old lady.
Tears again welled up in Gertrude’s eyes. She briefly glanced at Victor, who was gasping but unable to say anything. “The doctor’s not here.”
“Get another doctor,” Darla begged.
With tears running unabashedly down her cheeks, Gertrude said, “Dr. Ridley’s the only doctor tonight and he’s dead! A hit and run in the city! Someone ran a red light and killed him!” Gertrude sunk to the ground mourning the loss of such a good and talented young man.
Darla looked at Victor. A flicker of acknowledgment registered in Victor’s eyes. He was sitting with his back up against the faded wood siding of the small hospital. Darla knelt down next to Victor, holding his left hand with both hers. Although the decibel level of his voice would not have registered a one on the scale, she heard his final words.
“What have I done?”
Good story, sir.
I like the way you put "estimated reading time" up on there. I regard this as a challenge. 7 minutes? P'shaw! I finished this one in 96 seconds.
It sure was a shame about Dr. Laura and Gertrude Stein getting into an wreck with Victor Borge on Saturn while asking each other Ridles about Creationism in Arkansas.
Very interesting read, thank you.
When can i expect the next one?
Posted by: NeffCo | May 11, 2005 at 04:41 PM
Finally, someone gets the story. Nobody has ever understood the symbolism of the Saturn and how it relates to creationism. It's deep, man.
Posted by: DTS | May 11, 2005 at 11:39 PM