of taps on the shoulder. Leaving her room, he headed in the direction of the formal living room with full intention of getting back to the NFL game he'd been watching with Durell. But while he walked, his mind went back to his disturbing episode with Veena.
Despite her being their best employee, he wondered if he should bring up with the others her obvious emotional instability. What gave him pause was that he knew Petra, who was against any dalliance between Cal or Durell and any of the nurses, would end up gloating and torture him with her invariable "I told you so" routine. On top of that, it was also downright embarrassing to have been used so flagrantly. Suddenly, Cal stopped. His mind had replayed Veena's last comment that she "wanted once in her life to prove her father wrong."
Why once? Cal questioned. He raised a knuckle to his mouth and absently chewed on it.
"Oh my God!" he voiced suddenly. Turning from the direction of the formal living room, he raced toward the guest wing, where the nurses were housed. Arriving at Veena and Samira's room, he pounded on the door as he yelled Veena's name. When she didn't answer immediately, he tried the door, all the while hoping that his fears would prove groundless. Unfortunately, they didn't. He found Veena peacefully sprawled on her bed, her eyes closed. In her hand she clutched an empty plastic container of Ambien.
Grabbing Veena's shoulders, Cal rudely sat her up. Her head lolled, but her eyes opened with heavy lids.
"God, Veena!" Cal shouted. "Why? Why did you do this?" He knew that if she died, the whole enterprise he had so carefully set up would be over.
"It's appropriate," Veena murmured. "A life for a life."
Veena tried to lean back, and Cal let her flop back onto the bed. He pulled out his cell phone and speed-dialed Durell. When Durell answered, complaining about being interrupted while watching the game, Cal blurted out for him to get an ambulance ASAP
as Veena had just ODed and would need to be pumped out.
Tossing the phone aside on the bed, Cal dragged Veena's limp body to the edge, allowing her head to hang down, he used his index finger to get her to vomit. It wasn't pretty. The good part was that more than a dozen intact Ambien tablets as well as a few broken ones appeared on the doomed carpet. The bad part was that he ended up puking himself.
Chapter 1
OCTOBER 15, 2007
MONDAY, 7:35 A.M.
LOS ANGELES, USA
(SIMULTANEOUS WITH VEENA'S BEING FORCED TO VOMIT)
It was a glorious day in Los Angeles. The heat, smog, and smoke from the inevitable wildfires of late summer and early fall had finally been blown inland to be replaced by the first clear air in months. Not only had Jennifer Hernandez been able to see the nearby Santa Monica Mountains on her way to the UCLA Medical Center, but she'd even caught a glimpse of the more distant San Gabriel range, beautifully backlit by the rising sun.
Jennifer was excited on this crisp morning, and not just because of the weather. It was the first day of a new rotation in general surgery. Jennifer was a fourth-year medical student at UCLA who'd enjoyed the third-year program in surgery enough to consider it as a specialty, but she felt she'd not been exposed to enough surgery to make the decision. Although more women were studying surgery than did in the past, they were still a minority. It was not an easy decision. General surgery was particularly demanding time-wise, particularly for a woman with goals of having both a career and a family, and Jennifer thought she wanted a family. Needing more experience so she could make an intelligent decision, she'd selected general surgery as one of her fourth-and-final-year electives. On the plus side, she was confident she was decisive of mind and good with her hands, both qualities needed for surgery, and from her experience during her third-year course, she knew that surgery was both challenging and exciting.
The plan for the first day was for the assigned medical students
Despite her being their best employee, he wondered if he should bring up with the others her obvious emotional instability. What gave him pause was that he knew Petra, who was against any dalliance between Cal or Durell and any of the nurses, would end up gloating and torture him with her invariable "I told you so" routine. On top of that, it was also downright embarrassing to have been used so flagrantly. Suddenly, Cal stopped. His mind had replayed Veena's last comment that she "wanted once in her life to prove her father wrong."
Why once? Cal questioned. He raised a knuckle to his mouth and absently chewed on it.
"Oh my God!" he voiced suddenly. Turning from the direction of the formal living room, he raced toward the guest wing, where the nurses were housed. Arriving at Veena and Samira's room, he pounded on the door as he yelled Veena's name. When she didn't answer immediately, he tried the door, all the while hoping that his fears would prove groundless. Unfortunately, they didn't. He found Veena peacefully sprawled on her bed, her eyes closed. In her hand she clutched an empty plastic container of Ambien.
Grabbing Veena's shoulders, Cal rudely sat her up. Her head lolled, but her eyes opened with heavy lids.
"God, Veena!" Cal shouted. "Why? Why did you do this?" He knew that if she died, the whole enterprise he had so carefully set up would be over.
"It's appropriate," Veena murmured. "A life for a life."
Veena tried to lean back, and Cal let her flop back onto the bed. He pulled out his cell phone and speed-dialed Durell. When Durell answered, complaining about being interrupted while watching the game, Cal blurted out for him to get an ambulance ASAP
as Veena had just ODed and would need to be pumped out.
Tossing the phone aside on the bed, Cal dragged Veena's limp body to the edge, allowing her head to hang down, he used his index finger to get her to vomit. It wasn't pretty. The good part was that more than a dozen intact Ambien tablets as well as a few broken ones appeared on the doomed carpet. The bad part was that he ended up puking himself.
Chapter 1
OCTOBER 15, 2007
MONDAY, 7:35 A.M.
LOS ANGELES, USA
(SIMULTANEOUS WITH VEENA'S BEING FORCED TO VOMIT)
It was a glorious day in Los Angeles. The heat, smog, and smoke from the inevitable wildfires of late summer and early fall had finally been blown inland to be replaced by the first clear air in months. Not only had Jennifer Hernandez been able to see the nearby Santa Monica Mountains on her way to the UCLA Medical Center, but she'd even caught a glimpse of the more distant San Gabriel range, beautifully backlit by the rising sun.
Jennifer was excited on this crisp morning, and not just because of the weather. It was the first day of a new rotation in general surgery. Jennifer was a fourth-year medical student at UCLA who'd enjoyed the third-year program in surgery enough to consider it as a specialty, but she felt she'd not been exposed to enough surgery to make the decision. Although more women were studying surgery than did in the past, they were still a minority. It was not an easy decision. General surgery was particularly demanding time-wise, particularly for a woman with goals of having both a career and a family, and Jennifer thought she wanted a family. Needing more experience so she could make an intelligent decision, she'd selected general surgery as one of her fourth-and-final-year electives. On the plus side, she was confident she was decisive of mind and good with her hands, both qualities needed for surgery, and from her experience during her third-year course, she knew that surgery was both challenging and exciting.
The plan for the first day was for the assigned medical students
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