Page 6 of Resolution
In the morning they dressed silently and had a quick breakfast washed down with synthcaff at the military commissary before going their separate ways for the day. Melly located the infirmary with no trouble, took a deep breath and pushed the door open. I feel like an intern again. The place had been the fair’s first aid clinic and evidently the military had enlarged the building somewhat. There were a few people moving around the halls and Melly stopped the first woman she saw, who was cleaning the floor. Before she could get a word out, the janitor said, “We’re not open yet. Come back at nine.”
“I’m Dr. Jericho, newly arrived. I was told to report here at eight so here I am. Can you tell me where Dr. Sharpton’s office is? Do you know if he’s come in yet?”
“The doctor never leaves,” the woman said with a laugh. “His apartment is on the second floor here. Has his meals brought in. Says if he steps outside the clinic he gets too many people wanting medical advice.”
“Oh, I see.” Melly wondered if the lady was always so chatty. “And his office is where?”
“I’ll show you.” Abandoning the mop and bucket, the other escorted Melly down the hall and made a right turn. “I’m Rochelle by the way.”
“Pleased to meet you. How many people are on staff?”
“Doc’s the only real doctor. Except for you now of course. Doc’ll be glad to have you as backup I’m sure. We have three nurses and two clerks. And the cleaning crew. Clinic’s not open at night.”
“What about emergencies?”
“General Quantike says we try to avoid emergencies. The general has an aversion to unplanned events. Everything runs on schedule and as expected or else. You’ll see. Newly arrived in the camp, are you?” Rochelle eyed her with approval.
“Yes, my husband and my assistant and I came yesterday.”
“I’ve been here since right after Glastine opened. Used to be a janitor at the fairgrounds so it was easy to get this job. Extra benefits, you know, being connected to the medical unit.” Rochelle eyed her. “You want to know anything, just ask. I’m wired into how this place works.”
“I’m sure. Thanks for the offer. My husband is military.” Melly tapped her purple bracelet. “I guess we get perks too.”
“Doc’ll give you a pink bracelet for being Medical.” Rochelle slid hers around on her wrist. “Be sure you ask him.” She stopped at a door near the end of the hall. “Here’s his office. If he authorizes an office for you I know just the place. Let me know and I’ll clean it up and get it organized.”
Melly speculated to herself why Dr. Sharpton wouldn’t give her an office but decided not to ask. As Rochelle was about to return to her duties, Melly caught her sleeve in a light grip. “When my assistant Tamsyn arrives, can you let me know?”
“If I see her, sure. Once you know what exam room you’ll be assigned I’ll put her there.”
“Thanks.” Taking a deep breath, Melly knocked on the door. Hearing a muffled sound from inside she opened the door and crossed the threshold. At first glance Dr. Sharpton reminded her of a wizened elf or a gnome from a children’s tale. Wisps of white hair around his bald pate, age freckles on his face and hands, wrinkles…his eyes were piercing green though, shrewd and not friendly. Warning herself to be on guard, she moved to the desk, holding her hand out. “I’m Dr. Jericho, newly arrived.”
His handshake was limp and his flesh cold. Without waiting for permission, because after all they were colleagues, Melly sat in one of the two chairs and waited to see what the man had to say.
He grunted, looking her up and down. “Where did you train?”
She recited the list of her Inner and Mid Sectors hospitals as well as the medical school. Sharpton seemed impressed in spite of himself. “And you came from the capital city?”
“We—my husband and I—were landed at the spaceport by a robo shuttle and found ourselves in the middle of the infected apocalypse,” she said. “We were lucky enough to escape and eventually made our way here. I’m so grateful the camp exists,” she added, hoping to butter him up a bit.
“Yes, well, at least the government did something right,” he replied. “Putting General Quantike in charge. We’re quite busy here at the clinic so I’ll assign you to be the primary physician, which frees my time up to concentrate on the more challenging cases and other duties I carry. I have three nurses on staff.”
“I have my own assistant,” Melly said. “She’ll be here soon. Captain Briskinn assigned her to work with me subject to your approval of course.”
Sharpton had made the obvious assumption Tamsyn must be a nurse and Melly didn’t correct him. He eyed her critically. “If the woman is skilled then yes, we can use another staff member. I’ll give her a week to show me what she can do but she works with you, not me. I have my ladies trained in how I like to do things.”
I bet you do. Sharpton was like many older doctors she’d worked with in the past. Stuck in his ways with no desire to change or upgrade his skills. She’d endure this for as long as it took for Jeff to gather enough intel to be satisfied about Glastine and then she’d be happy to leave. “How do we chart? Is there a computer system?” She nodded at the unit on top of his desk, which he’d been working at when she entered.
Sharpton laid a protective hand on the hardware. “I’m the only one who accesses this system.”
“You do all the data entry yourself?” she said in surprise.
“The data we need to capture, yes. Charting is by hand. We keep minimal records. You can ask Ledalia to show you—she’s my senior nurse and in charge of the support staff, including your assistant when she gets here. We open the doors at nine promptly each day and close at six. You’ll be on call for emergencies at night now, with me as backup.”
Realizing the doctor was planning to offload a lot of his duties onto her shoulders, Melly suppressed her immediate irritation. “Of course.”
“Questions?”
“I’m sure I’ll have some as the day progresses but for now, where is my office to be?”
