Mask of Flies Read Online Free PDF Page B

locale for
some of the more active residents. An annex extended the main lobby
and housed the administrative offices. A rear annex added storage
that accessed each of the patient hallways. To preserve the
historical integrity of the facility, the new additions where
constructed with in the same complex Victorian stylization as the
original building.
    Rick tried guesstimate
the amount of tax dollars dumped into the place every time he pulled
into work. He parked his car and double timed it into the facility to
warm his cold bones. Stopping at the ancient time clock, he punched
in and headed to the supply area to stock his cart for his rounds. He
passed the manager’s office and saw Steve, Tony’s nightshift
counterpart, with his feet propped up on the desk, watching a
handheld television. This morning Rick crossed the office’s line of
sight undetected.
    With the roll around
cart stocked, Rick made his way over to his first, and most difficult
patient’s room: Will Samuelsson. Will
is not going to be happy.
    “What the hell are
you doing here so early?” Will sat up in his bed, working a
crossword puzzle. His bifocals magnified his eyes to nearly triple
their normal size.
    “Jim wanted me to get
an early start today to prepare for an auditor coming from the city.
I gotta’ take your vitals—your blood pressure has been a little
high, you stressed out?”
    Will was quite healthy.
He was only placed in Summer Hall for going fisticuffs with another
resident over a flirt named Ethel. He apparently knocked the other
man’s dentures clear across the activity room with a left hook.
Rick simply dropped in to keep him company a few times a day.
    “Nah, just going stir
crazy in this hallway. There’s no eye candy over here, unless you
prefer the corpse look. That new one down the hall is quite a looker
huh?”
    Will was 88, but he
looked beyond ancient lying in the bed. Rick knew, contrary to his
haggard appearance, Will was spry as a tree-climbin’ Chinaman—as
Will would put it—powered by the unknown force utilized by the
busybodies of this world. Rick could only imagine what the man was
like in his 20’s. But, now, old Will’s appearance was akin to a
Shar Pei: his wrinkled skin forced an expression that was seemingly
brought about by a perpetual sour taste in his mouth. He had to be
careful not to think of this when in Will’s presence, or he would
have a laughing fit in front of him. However, this characteristic
made Will’s wry humor substantially more palatable; Rick had once
described Will to Allie as Gilbert Godfrey’s Grandfather.
    Will held his boney arm
out to the BP cuff. “Why the long face? Did somebody piss in your
Raisin Bran this morning? I remember when I was your age; I was
chasing skirts, runnin’ all around town. After getting out of the
shit, I deserved to enjoy myself . . . So what’s the matter, your
old lady not taking care of you?”
    When bombarded by
Will’s usual rhetorical questioning, Rick tried to answer the most
offensive question in a civil fashion, which more often than not,
quelled the old man’s outbursts. “She is taking good care of
me—thanks for asking. One-twenty-five over eighty five, not too bad
. . . It’s just too early in the morning is all.”
    “We all have our
days, but it sounds to me that you don’t have any justification for
acting all pissy to a beat up old man like me. You got time on your
side boy. Lighten up and enjoy what good days you have left.”
    “Sound advice, I
apologize. I will swing by later and pick up a game of Chess.” Will
Sammy was a decent Chess player that enjoyed competition. He made the
mistake of letting Will win once, and the old man caught on to it,
and gave him hell for it over a month.
    “Alright, you lose
the shitty attitude, or I’ll play with Marco instead.”
    The remainder of the
rounds didn’t go as smoothly: Millie forgot where she was and
defecated in her closet; James Fergusson hacked up what appeared to
be a