Play@YSDC

Doctor Bernard Scott led Daniel Carter down the warm, sterilized corridor. The crisp white light flooded the corridor, seeming to kill every shadow and expose every surface. Daniel Carter's soft shoes rasped across the linoleum, nearly buried beneath the hustle and bustle of a public hospital. Patients wandered past. A pair of nurses stood by a corner, checking things off on a clipboard they both held, their heads ducked, their eyes seeming lost in their own little world.

The pain killers worked to suppress the pain he was in but every so often he'd feel a sharp spike in his belly. At least he had Bernard Scott as a doctor. He had worked at a private hospital that Daniel Carter had attended and the two had gotten on as well as a doctor and a client could. Doctor Bernard Scott was an extremely conscientious and clever man. Being in his astute care was worth suffering a public hospital. At least he had his own room.

There was a hospital bed in one of the corridors. A man writhed on the bed, his face twisted in pain, an arm hanging over the edge of the bed. Doctor Bernard Scott walked straight past him but as Daniel Carter started to go past, the man grabbed hold of his jacket sleeve. His eyes were small and black, like little marbles, the whites of his eyes were barely seen.

"Where are you going?" the man rasped. "Daddy?"

Daniel instinctively yanks his sleeve away and backs away from the man in revulsion.

He accelerates into a half jog to catch up with Doctor Scott, glancing back at the man, his forehead wrinkled in confusion at the patients outburst.

Doctor Bernard Scott turns and gives Daniel Carter a wink and a half-smile before jotting something down on his clipboard. "The man's obviously delirious." He walks backwards a few steps, then turns and throws open the door to his office. The doctor was always somewhat excitable but now he seems a little more manic then usual. He gestures to one of the smaller, less comfortable seats, then shuts the door and sits in his comfortable, black leather chair.

The room is chaos incarnate. Piles of paperwork are mounted precariously on filing cabinets and shelving. An eye chart partially covers the corkboard, obscuring several layers of notes, reminders, posters and flyers. The desk itself has coffee cups and folders teetering around the computer itself. A magazine appears to have been folded up and tucked between monitor and keyboard. Judging by what he can see of the cover, it appears to be some kind of medical journal. The heat in here is suffocating, the air stuffy, it doesn't seem to be circulating. In fact, the ventilation duct overheads appear to have been blocked with something that sticks within the grille squares.

"Not supposed to meet with patients much in here," says Doctor Scott. "However, we've known each other a long time, haven't we? So I thought I'd make an exception for you. What appears to be the problem, hmm?" Without waiting for an answer, he starts folding back pages on the clipboard and marking things off. Then he pauses, and looks at Daniel Carter. "Well, sir?"

"Its this bloody ulcer still." As if on cue Daniel is wrenched by a stabbing pain in his gut, curling him over and twisting his face in agony. "How am I supposed to work like this? I'm in the middle of the Monroe deal, I cant afford to be away like this. Isn't there anything more you can do? Those tablets do fuck all, to be frank."

Doctor Bernard Scott merely steeples his hands on the desk and smiles, then reaches down and pulls open the large, bottom drawer. Several large bottles of glue fill the drawer. He looks at them in confusion, then nudges the drawer shut. "I must remember to speak to the janitorial staff... My desk is not a place for their refuse." Then he turns his attention back to Daniel. "I'm so sorry about this. We've been rushed off of our feet all week. The Monroe deal, hmm? What did we talk about when it came to stress management? Often that can be just as good as medication. Have you been to that cognitive therapist I told you about?"

"There's no time for that," says Doctor Bernard Scott sadly, shaking his head.

"No time? I don't get it. What do you mean no time? Make the goddamn time" Daniel liked Doctor Scott but this conversation was getting him agitated. He started to continue but another stab from the ulcer cut him short.

"Attention emergency personnel," says an unfamiliar voice over the intercom. "An emergency situation has developed. Will everyone who is not otherwise occupied, please go down to Accident and Emergency. I repeat, an emergency situation has developed. Will everyone who is not otherwise occupied, please go down to Accident and Emergency."

"You might want to stay here," says Doctor Bernard Scott. "You wouldn't want to leave now. Not with your pain as it is. Why don't you spend the night?"

The pain has wearied Daniel, and he sighs in resignation, his face drawn as he anticpates another stabbing pain.

"Fine, I suppose. I'll wait here. Don't leave me here all boody day though."

Doctor Bernard Scott sits and smiles at him, his fingers steepled together.

Daniel looks at Doctor Scott in confusion.

"Don't you have to run off to A&E?"

"Sorry?" asks the doctor.

"The announcement - some sort of emergency. Maybe you need to get your ears checked, Doc!"

Daniel laughs to try to break the tension he is feeling.

"Oh yes, you're quite right," says the doctor, seeming to tremble for a moment. "Er... Have you noticed the weather, though? Seems like a storm is coming in. Quite a storm front... Have you checked the television in the past fifteen minutes?"

"The weather??!? Um, Doc, emergency, A&E, ring any bells?" Daniel says, gesturing to the door. Daniel noticed he had started perspiring - a combination of the stuffy air and an increasing sense of agitation and unease.

"Did you bring any food with you?" asks the doctor.

"Food?!? No. Listen doc, you want to slack off, that's fine by me, but I'm gonna get some air. If anyone asks I'll tell them I saw you rushing down to A&E. I've got calls to make, I'll check back with you later."

Daniel heads towards the door.

"Careful, Carter, if we don't operate soon, you'll die," says the doctor. When Daniel glances back from the closed door to the doctor, he sees Doctor Scott is clutching a small gun in his hand, his long finger wrapped almost daintily around the trigger. "But then, that'll hardly matter soon anyhow. I'm so sorry, Mr. Carter. I never meant it to come to this. None of us did. But here we are. Why don't you take a look out the window? I shut the blinds but I'm sure you could easily open it."

Daniel puts his hands up, because, well, that's what you do when someone points a gun at you, then lowers them again, palms down in a reassuring gesture. The stress of the docs job has clearly gotten to him, thinks Daniel. At least some of us have the decency to get ulcers rather than guns.

"Whoa there doc, calm down, calm down."

His eyes flick towards the door, wondering if he should just make a run for it, but a rumble from his ulcer makes him quickly abandon the thought. Seeing the doctors serious face, Daniel edges carefully towards the window and twists the thingumajig which opens the blinds.