Do No Harm

"Where's Elisabeth?"

David brushed his hands off above the small metal trash can in the corner. "Leading a nudist hike on the Appalachian Trail."

"M amp;M's," the cockatoo squawked. David headed from the room as the bird continued to hop about the cage. "Where's Elisabeth? Where's Elisabeth?"

David paused by the door, hand on the frame. "She's dead," he said.

Chapter 61

THE ER was a madhouse. Broken arms. Unusual rashes. A few flu cases. Three patients asked David about the cut on his lip. Carson still hadn't returned-when David called, he got his machine. "I wanted to check in on you and remind you we're a med student short," David said, after the beep. "We need you here. I hope we'll see you soon."

David's alienation was high-school apparent. His colleagues only spoke to him in brief, informational exchanges, and the nurses and interns had taken to not meeting his eyes when they spoke with him. He'd always been a popular attending, so he'd found his rapid estrangement from his own staff over the past five days to be unsettling. With both Carson and Diane missing from the ER, he felt suddenly without allies. And the press had ensured that his plight in the division was mirrored elsewhere. Alienated. Vilified. His reputation shattered.

David barely had time to update the board before a family of five came in on stretchers after their van overturned. Don was supposed to be providing double coverage, but David had to dispatch a nurse to find him in the cafeteria. By the time Don showed up, David and the two residents had everyone stable. Without apologizing, Don retreated to the CWA, where he lounged at the back counter, checking his stocks in a twice-folded section of the LA Times. Knowing that his general stress level had stretched his own patience to the point of snapping, David elected not to confront him.

Despite his vigorous efforts, he had trouble finding his way back into his routine. He continued seeing patients, somewhat distracted, thinking of Clyde's flat eyes sunk in his doughy face, the way he'd stood in the abandoned lot and calmly watched David drive away. He was relieved that Ed planned to install security devices in his house.

The sleeplessness caught up with him eventually, making him irritable and more intolerant than usual. A wailing toddler came in with a pro wrestling action figure's head wedged up his nose. An overwrought Beverly Hills mom with tonsillitis droned on at adenoid pitch. David found himself taking less time with patients than he ordinarily did.

Jill caught up to him washing his hands in Trauma Twelve. "That urine came back for McKenzie in Six, you've got a-"

"Slow down, Jill."

"-food poisoning in Two, and there's a football player with a ruptured spleen in Four."

"I have my hands full, Jill. Where's Dr. Lambert?"

"We haven't seen him for about fifteen minutes."

"Fifteen minutes? Again? Are you kidding?"

Throwing his stethoscope across his shoulders, David stormed toward the doctors' lounge, drawing several stares from workers and patients. He flung the door open, and it struck the wall with a bang. Black marker in hand, Don was standing by the far wall near the composite of Clyde. Target rings were drawn around Clyde's face, beneath which was written: wanted dead or maimed-$1000 reward.

Don's deep blush grew visible even beneath his five o'clock stubble. He cleared his throat, lowering the marker. "Look, Dave-"

"You've been missing from the floor for fifteen minutes-again-and I catch you drawing pictures like a sadistic little bully."

Still flushed, Don slid the marker into his pocket. "I didn't write that," he said.

David felt drunk with fury. "Don't insult my intelligence."

"You've been a bit on edge lately, Dave. Let's not jump to hasty conclusions."

"Get the fuck out of here." Gripping Don firmly around the biceps, David pulled him toward the door. "I want you out of my ER. Right now."

Don pulled his arm roughly from David's grasp, but kept walking toward the door at David's prompting.

"All right, Chief," Don said. "I'll let you flex your muscles and be the big ethical guy again since it worked out so well for you last time."

Ignoring him, David guided him through the door into the ER, his hand on the base of his back, hurrying him. By the time they reached Hallway Two, Don's uncomfortable expression and David's propelling him toward the door made the situation quite evident. Nurses watched with gleeful interest; patients stared; a girl with a teddy bear tittered. The phone rang and rang in the CWA, but no one reached for it. Don slapped David's hand from his back and walked faster toward the swinging doors.

David's face still burned with anger. When Don paused at the hall's end, David raised his arm, pointing at the doors.

"Imagine that," Don said. "A guy who pulled the plug on his own wife without hesitation getting all worked up over some acid-throwing psycho."