"The Passing" -- my latest work in progress -- it's a thriller!

[Merri Hiatt]

Here's the first little section of a new book I'm writing. Thoughts?

All Jennifer could see of her grandmother’s body was one frail hand peeking out from under the patchwork quilt. She hated the acrid smell in the room. It always made her nose hairs stand on end. She sighed as she sat down in the uncomfortable hospital chair. Did she dare touch her grandmother’s hand? She knew it would be warm to the touch. Oh how she wished it would go stone cold.

“She’s looking quite well today,” the nurse said, adjusting the covers and repositioning Mirabella James’ body in the bed that appeared to envelop her.

Jennifer nodded. She looked the same. She always looked the same. For three years she’d looked the same.

“I don’t think we’ve met. My name is Karen,” the nurse introduced herself.

Jennifer nodded. Where had her voice gone?

“I know this time must be very difficult for you and your family,” Karen empathized. “It can be a challenge to know what to do when someone has been in a coma for so many years,” she paused. “Have you given any thought to the possibility of taking her off life support?”

Given any thought? Given any thought? That’s all they had done is think. Did this woman really believe the thought had never occurred to them?

“We can’t,” Jennifer managed to mumble.

“I understand. I didn’t mean to upset you. I shouldn’t have brought it up. Sometimes families just can’t bear the thought of losing a loved one,” Karen tried to backtrack. She wished she hadn’t started the conversation. Why couldn’t she just keep her big mouth shut?

“No. You don’t understand. We can’t. We aren’t able to turn off the life support equipment.” Jennifer’s eyes were shadowed, haunted.

“I’m not sure I understand you, dear.”

Jennifer sighed and ran her hand through her hair in frustration. “Whenever we try to disconnect the life support, bad things happen…” her voice trailed off. “I don’t really want to talk about it.”

Karen wasn’t sure how to respond to Jennifer’s disclosure. What kind of bad things happened? She had heard rumors when she first began working at the hospital a week ago that Mirabella James’ room was like no other. None of the nurses even wanted to enter the room. Karen never considered herself easily spooked, so she offered to work in Mrs. James’ room. She hadn’t experienced anything unusual. People’s imaginations often went wild when a good story was to be had.

Changing the subject, Karen said cheerily, “I guess she won’t be needing the television on.” She crossed the room and reached for the remote control.

“No! Don’t!” Jennifer’s body tensed as she quickly advanced on the nurse to make sure she didn’t touch the remote.

Taken aback, Karen stared at Jennifer’s wild expression. Families often were on edge when a loved one was in a coma, especially for such a long time. She had never experienced such a strange reaction to simply turning off the television, though. Karen produced a thin smile and then left the room. Maybe the young woman needed some time alone with her grandmother.

Jennifer looked at Mirabella’s face. She seemed at peace, yet she knew all too well that looks could be deceiving. “I hope you’re okay in there, grandma,” she whispered.

The air thickened in her lungs and Jennifer couldn’t catch her breath. She had to get out of the room. She hurried to the doorway without a backward glance.

Karen watched Jennifer as she made her way down the corridor to the bank of elevators. Compassion welled up inside her. Poor thing.

“Check vitals in 428,” the head nurse’s voice boomed at Karen.

Just once I’d like to hear a please or a thank you out of that woman, Karen thought to herself as she frowned and made her way back to Mirabella James’ room. The t.v. volume seemed to be up even louder than she remembered the last time she was in the room. Karen picked up the remote control and turned down the volume, then decided to turn the t.v. off altogether. The quiet was a nice change from the normal din.

She turned to wrap the blood pressure cuff around Mrs. James’ arm when she heard a pop and then the television came back on. She turned her head to view the screen and blackness did not meet her eyes. Must be something wrong with the battery in the remote control. She pressed the off button again and the television went silent. Karen stared at the screen for a few moments as if she half expected it to turn itself back on again. It didn’t.

She finished checking Mrs. James’ blood pressure, temperature, pulse and oxygen level and left the room to make notations in the chart outside her door. Was it break time yet? She needed a cigarette like crazy.

As Karen headed for the outside smoking area, the television in Mrs. James’ room clicked back on. An eerie blue haze filled the room and the door gently swung closed, as if a window had suddenly been opened and the air flowed about on a current that had a mind of its own.

It took all of Mirabella’s strength to move her hand closer to her body. Her fingers fumbled desperately as she reached beneath the sheet and nightgown. She felt the comfort of the cool beads as her hand wrapped around the cross that dangled from one end. The rosary was the one thing within her grasp that helped her feel grounded to time and space. Most of the time she had no control over the shell that housed her spirit. Agatha was too strong now. Maybe if she had fought harder in the beginning. Spoke the words that couldn’t seem to pass her lips.

“Sleep sweet Mirabella,” Agatha cooed. “Sleep.”

Mirabella tried to stay in the present, but she could feel herself slipping away again. As her spirit waned, her hand fell from the rosary, back into the position it was in before.

“How did this door get closed?” Karen asked aloud, pushing the door to the room open and making sure it wasn’t going to close again by putting a metal trash can against it. She put her hands on her hips, set her chin and furrowed her brow. The t.v. was on again. “What in the hell is going on here?” she asked, confused.

The temperature in the room dropped significantly. So much so that Karen could see her breath. She felt a palpable malice building inside the confined space. Her heartbeat quickened to a frightening pace. Was she having a panic attack? She needed air, that’s all.

Karen turned to leave and before her very eyes saw the trash can release the door from its position. She knew in her very soul that she must get out of the room before the door closed. Karen took one step before being flung across the room by a violent wave of air. She hit the wall with a resounding thud and her breath seemed to leave her body. She gasped for air, but none filled her lungs. Karen tried to call out, but no sound came from her throat.

Just before her eyes slid closed, she saw a black cloud hovering over Mirabella’s body. Sharp flashes of light speared from the darkness toward her.

“No…” was all she could manage to say before her body seized. She felt as if she was gripped in a vise and her heart was being squeezed. Help she screamed inside her head. No one could hear. And then her heart stopped beating.

Julia Campbell was the young nurse who found Karen’s body. Her scream brought several other hospital staff to her side. The death was determined to be natural, a heart attack. There was nothing natural about it.

None of the nurses wanted to step one foot in Mrs. James’ room again. Karen’s demise marked the twelfth death in room 428 in three years. The only other time so many deaths had occurred in one room of the hospital was 44 years ago. The patient, Christine Portello, had also been in a coma for three years. In that instance, thirteen people had met their death. Every nurse on the floor wondered if they would become corpse number thirteen.