He looked at Priscilla for a moment. “Who saw
her?”
“A couple other nurses, maybe all of them.”
“Did anyone else speak to her?”
“No. I took the initiative and dragged her out.”
“That’s good. We have to be careful.” The doctor
took a sip of the soft drink. He was a baby-faced man who looked
young and old at the same time. Small wrinkles around his eyes
heightened his weary appearance. His amber hair was in need of a
trim.
As Priscilla watched, she could sense their tension.
They shared a secret that held repercussions. “Look, I’m sorry if I
did something wrong. I don’t know much about hospitals and I didn’t
think it would hurt to talk to—”
“The fault is mine,” the doctor said. “I’m Dr.
Robert Ailes, the chief resident. I’m the one responsible for your
being here.”
“How so?” Priscilla asked.
“I asked Nurse Hobbs to call your station.”
Priscilla looked at the woman next to her.
“Not me,” the nurse said, “my sister. She works the
night shift. I didn’t come on duty until 7 this morning.”
“Your sister called? Where is she now?” Priscilla
asked.
“Home probably. She was pretty shook up.”
“Would she talk to me?”
“That depends,” Ailes said.
“On what?”
“On how you handle what we’re about to tell
you.”
Priscilla shook her head. “I’m confused. I thought I
was about to get chewed out for walking in uninvited.”
Ailes chortled. “Actually you deserve to be chewed
out, but we’ll skip all that if you promise not to go charging into
any more restricted areas. As it is, we don’t have the time to give
you a proper tongue-lashing.”
“Let’s get to it,” Hobbs said. “I don’t want to be
out of the ward too long.”
“Agreed,” Ailes said. Motioning to a chair next to
his desk he said to Priscilla, “Sit down.” As she did so, he
continued, “I have only a few minutes before the head of every
department comes down here. If they find out we’ve been talking to
you, there’ll be a huge price to pay and I, for one, am not willing
to pay it. So listen fast.” Ailes leaned over the desk and lowered
his voice. “Since you’re here, I assume that you have a basic idea
of what’s happened.”
“Someone was healed in a strange manner.”
“Strange is a good word. Amazing might be better.”
Ailes pulled the clipboard in front of him. “I’ll not bore you with
all the details, but here it is in a nutshell: Lisa Hailey, an
eighteen-year-old female in good health, was in an auto accident.
The gas tank of her car ruptured and the gas ignited. She was
trapped inside. When she arrived at the hospital, her vitals were
tenuous. She had third-degree burns over 60 percent of her body,
second-degree burns over the remaining 40 percent. Her trachea was
burned and swelling shut. The emergency room staff did an amazing
job keeping her alive. To everyone’s surprise she lived through the
night and for several days after. Despite her tenacity the medical
staff agreed that she would die soon. She was beyond hope.”
“Until last . . .” Priscilla said.
“Until the early hours of yesterday,” Ailes said.
“About 6 that morning one of our nurses checked in on Ms. Hailey.
What she saw was . . . unbelievable. Lisa Hailey was whole. Fully,
completely, and utterly whole. No burns, no scars, just pink
flesh.”
“And you’ve never seen anything like this before?”
Ailes and Hobbs looked at each other. Hobbs spoke, “Do you know
what a third-degree burn is, Ms. Simms? It is the destruction of
all the layers of skin and often the tissue beneath. This means
that the skin is utterly destroyed and must be replaced by skin
grafts. Lisa’s skin is whole. In short, we don’t know where it came
from.”
“It?”
“The skin, Ms. Simms,” Ailes said. “Where did the
new skin come from? For that matter, where did the charred flesh
go?”
Priscilla could see the confusion in Ailes’ eyes. He
was truly puzzled, maybe even frightened. “Would I be able to speak
to one of the nurses from that night’s shift?”
“Absolutely not,” Hobbs snapped. “We shouldn’t be
talking to you. The hospital is clamping down on this. They want to
keep it secret, and I half agree with them.”
“Then why are you talking to me now? Why did you
have your sister call the station?”
The doctor and nurse looked at each other for a
moment. “Honestly, Ms. Simms,” Ailes said leaning back in his
chair, “I don’t know. Keeping it secret just didn’t seem
right.”
“Can I talk to the family?” Priscilla asked. “Will
you let me speak to Lisa?”
“No. This is as far as I go, and it’s probably too
far.”
“How’s the family responding?”
“They’re ecstatic, of course,” Hobbs said. “It’s
taken every bit of persuasion we could muster to keep Lisa here for
tests.”
“Tests?”
“It’s what doctors do,” Ailes said. ‘We’re a curious
bunch. We don’t like surprises and we hate mysteries. They mock
us.”
“Any guesses as to what the tests will reveal?”
“Normal. They’ll all come back normal.” Ailes took a
sip of soda.
“How do you know that?” Priscilla pressed.
“I don’t know. You asked for a guess.”
“Dr. Ailes, what do you think happened?”
Ailes rubbed his eyes. He looked tired. More than
that he looked shaken. His orderly world had been challenged,
leaving him not only without understanding, but without even
rudimentary speculation. “I truly don’t know.”
CARL FULLER DIDN’T SIT, nor did he offer a seat to
Priscilla. He stood in front of his desk with his arms crossed over
his barrel chest rumpling his yellow Yves St. Laurent tie. “There’s
nothing I can tell you, Ms. Simms.” His voice was deep and
resonant.
“Something unusual has happened here.” Priscilla was
careful to sound confident, but not insolent. She needed a
statement from someone in administration, and after talking to a
receptionist and two secretaries, she found herself standing in the
office of Carl Fuller, the hospital’s public relations man. Both
Dr. Ailes and Nurse Hobbs had expressed concern when she told them
of her intent to question administration. It took her several
minutes to convince them that she would not use their names.
“If anything newsworthy had happened here, I would
be the first to know; it’s part of my job.”
“I’m sure you’re very good at your job, but I have
reason to believe that a significant event occurred here sometime
yesterday.”
“I’m not sure who has been telling you stories, but
you can rest assured that nothing of consequence is going on. If it
were, I would be happy to help you.”
“So nothing happened in the burn ward?”
“Many things happened in the burn ward, Ms. Simms.
Many things happened in the coronary unit too. This is a hospital
where something is going on all the time. All those things,
however, are routine and not worthy of your viewers attention.”
“What does the name Lisa Hailey mean to you?”
“Nothing.”
“She’s a patient here.”
“She may well be, but we have 600 beds in this
hospital, most of which are occupied. We have lots of
patients.”
“She’s in your burn ward. She was healed of her
injuries.”
Fuller sighed. “Did you speak to this patient?”
“No, but—”
“Did you talk to family members?”
“Well, no.”
“Did one of our staff tell you that this healing
actually occurred?”
Priscilla was ready for the question. She didn’t
want to directly lie, and she certainly didn’t want to compromise
her sources. “Mr. Fuller, I don’t see what all this has to do with
my questions.”
“Simply this, Ms. Simms. A hospital is like a small
village. Close friends are made here as well as enemies. Like all
small towns, hospitals are subject to their fair share of rumors
and gossip. What you’ve heard is the result of a practical joke or
unsubstantiated rumor that has grown out of proportion. I’m sorry
if you’ve been inconvenienced by all this.”
Priscilla smiled. “Thanks for your concern, but I
don’t feel inconvenienced at all. In fact, I feel confident enough
to go forward with the story.”
Fuller’s countenance darkened. “That wouldn’t be
wise.”
“Not wise? Is that a threat?”
“Threat?” Fuller smiled. “Oh, no. I was merely
concerned about your professional reputation.”
“So you refuse to confirm the incident?”
“There’s nothing to confirm.” He looked at his
office door.
Priscilla took the hint and left.
Tuesday, March 3, 1992; 1:00
P.M.
“YOU’RE NOT GOING TO BELIEVE IT.” Unlike her
deliberate drive to the hospital, Priscilla was weaving through
traffic, car phone pressed to her ear. “The hospital’s
administrators were closemouthed, but I was able to find a nurse
and one doctor willing to spill their guts. This tale is straight
out of
Amazing Stories
.”
“When can you have the story ready?” Irwin Baker’s
voice sounded mechanical and fuzzy through the receiver.
“I want to run it on tonight’s broadcast.”
“That’s not much time. I don’t think—”
“I can do it.” Priscilla was adamant. “I’ll need a
camera crew as soon as possible. Oh yeah, see what you can do about
getting me the home address of Lisa Hailey.”
“Do you know how many Haileys there are in San
Diego?”
“Lots, but only one who has a daughter nearly burned
to death in an auto accident. We ran a story on it. You can start
by checking the files.”
“In case you’ve forgotten, I’m the news director.”
The irritation in Baker’s voice was evident.
“Then get someone else to do it for you, but
whatever you do, save three minutes for me on tonight’s program.”
Priscilla set her handset back in its rack.
Wednesday, March 4, 1992; 10:00
A.M.
DR. EVAN MORGAN POPPED TWO antacids into his mouth,
returned to the window, and gazed down at the massing crowds eight
floors below. The whole scene was too surrealistic for him—the
gathering crowds, the wheelchairs, people on crutches. It seemed
that all the infirm of San Diego were on the doorstep of his
hospital.
“Dr. Morgan?” Mary Rivers said, stepping into the
office.
“Where have they come from, Mary?” Morgan asked
without turning from the window. “Why are they here?”
“I imagine they’re here because of last night’s news
report.”
“Of course they’re here because of the news report,”
he snapped. “My question was rhetorical.”
“I’m sorry,” she replied timidly. “I didn’t mean to
offend.”
Morgan turned from the window to face Mary. She was
an attractive woman with an appealing smile. Her brown hair and
brown eyes reminded him of his twenty-two-year-old daughter.
Perhaps that’s why he hired her. Since his daughter’s marriage two
years ago and her subsequent relocation to Houston, he had felt
lonely. His wife provided all the companionship any man could ask
for, but somehow his life was different without Terri.
“Of course you didn’t,” he said apologetically.
“This whole situation has me on edge. After years of study in
college and medical school to save lives, I now find myself barring
the doors of my hospital to those who need it most.”
“But, sir, there is no way the hospital could admit
that many people at once.” She walked to the window. “It is an
amazing sight. I understand people are checking out of hospitals as
far away as Los Angeles and attempting to admit themselves here.
Last count from Security is 150, and more are expected.”
Morgan didn’t reply, he simply gazed vacantly out
the window.
Mary continued. “There have been quite a few
requests from the media to talk to you.”
“Refer them to Carl Fuller in Public Relations; it’s
his job anyway.”
“I’ve tried, but they insist on speaking with the
hospital administrator.”
“Maggots.” Morgan spat the word out angrily. “They
wait with their camcorders for some crime or disaster so they can
crawl all over the scene and report every gory detail. Who do they
think they are to make demands of me? I don’t work for them, and I
won’t answer to them.”
Mary allowed a few moments of silence to pass before
speaking. “The board wants you to hold a news conference, don’t
they?”
Morgan turned and silently stared at his
administrative assistant. A grin slowly spread across his face.
“You know me pretty well, don’t you?”
“After two years, I like to think so,” she
responded, returning his grin.
“Well, you’re right.” His grin disappeared. “I want
you to schedule a news conference for 3:30 today. No, wait. Make
that 6:30. I don’t want the conference to air on the evening news.
It’s bad enough that it will be on the 11 o’clock.”
“It might also keep Priscilla Simms from attending,”
Mary said.
Morgan grinned again. “You’re right. It was her
snooping that started all this. Any word on the staff members who
talked to her?”
Mary shook her head.
“I want to know as soon as personnel finds out.
Also, I need someone to head up an in-house investigation. It needs
to be a medical person—say, Dr. Freedman.”
“I think he left on vacation last Thursday. He won’t
be back from the Bahamas for another three weeks.”
“Well, who’s running his department while he’s
gone?” Morgan’s voice revealed his irritation.
Mary walked to Morgan’s desk and opened a
blue-tabbed file marked Department Personnel. “Here it is, Dr.
Rachel Tremaine.”
“Yes, I know her. She’s an able doctor. Tell her I
want to see her this afternoon, before 3 if her schedule will
allow, and tell Carl Fuller I want to see him right away. We’ve got
to get this press conference pulled together.”
Without another word Mary turned and left the
office. Morgan returned his gaze to the scene below his window. As
he watched, another van with a large microwave dish antenna and the
call letters of a local television news station pulled into the
parking lot.