Paging Doctor Baxter Huntley —Part II

My name is Henry James and I’m a writer for Dark Sides of the Truth Magazine.

Part I, Part II, Part III, Part IV, Part V, Part VI, Conclusion

In a span of less than seven hours today I’ve been involved in a car wreck, broken my left arm in three places and sustained a mild concussion.

At least I’m still kicking.

All in all, not a total cluster until I factor in I’ve also had conversations with two doctors. One of them very much alive.

The other not so much.

I figured I wasn’t going to get much investigation done from a hospital bed so I grabbed my cell and thumb dialed Rick McDonnell, the Chief Editor for Dark Sides. As it rang an orderly dropped by to take my lunch order.

“Rick speaking.”

“Yeah, I’ll take the BLT and fries. Can I have that with mustard?”

“Sorry, wrong number.”

“Rick, don’t hang up. It’s Henry.”

“Henry, how’s my favorite writer? That Tooth Fairy story kick started the hell out of our subscriptions. We’re up almost fifteen percent.”

“Great news boss, but here’s the deal. I ran into a little snag this morning and I’m need some help. Actually, the snag ran into me.”

“What’s up?”

I told Rick what happened then said, “I was wondering if you could send somebody to give me hand, literally. With my left arm in a cast I can’t type for shit.”

“Where are you again?”

“County Medical. Just south of Conroe.”

“Uh huh, okay got it. That’s about a three hour drive right?”

“I’m thinking, yeah.”

I listened to several seconds of Rick breathing into the phone then he said, “okay Henry I think I can get somebody up there. Just stay put until the cavalry arrives okay?”

“Trust me Rick I’m not going anywhere soon.”

“Pretty sure you won’t James. Remember, they probably still have your pants.”

The same orderly who took my order stopped in with my food. As I ate, I tried to take stock on Doc Huntley’s visit this morning. Was it possible I’d imagined the visit? Had that knock on my head actually caused momentary delusions?

I shook my head. No, I told myself. There was no way in hell I could have hallucinated the conversation. It happened all right, but the bigger question is why?

Why was a doctor who’d been dead for almost twenty five years all of a sudden striking up a conversation with me?

After lunch I thought I’d get a little shut eye. I don’t know about you folks, but trying to sleep during a hospital stay is next to impossible. You don’t. It’s more like taking cat naps between visits as nurses slide into the room, check your vitals then vanish after a brief conversation.

At least during one of these visits they removed my head constraint and I was able to get up.

But not for long.

The trip to the bathroom was excruciating. Every muscle in my body screamed in protest. By the time I made it back into bed my legs were shaking and I was breathing hard.

I was tussling with the sheets when Doctor Suripurith pushed his way into my room.

“Good evening Mr. James how’re you feeling?”

“Like I’ve been run over by a Mack truck.”

“Considering the circumstances I would say that’s an accurate assessment. Let me take a look at your arm.”

I lifted my left arm and he quickly inspected my fingers. Then he placed his index finger in the palm of my hand and said, “squeeze my finger as hard as you can.”

I did. All along my forearm it hurt like hell, but I clenched my teeth and kept the pressure up.

“Good, very good. So you’re going to need to keep that cast on for at least six to eight weeks. I recommend you check in with your own doctor as soon as you get home. Okay?”

“Right.”

Then he took a penlight and checked my eyes. While he performed the inspection he asked, “have we had any more visits from the late doctor Huntley Mr. James?”

Oh, I so knew where he was going with that question.

“Nope, nada. Guess you were right doc. Momentary delusion.”

“Good to hear. The CT scans show no signs of inter cranial contusion or swelling. That’s a good thing. How about that headache you were complaining of earlier? Still with you?”

I shook my head.

“Very good. I’d like to keep you one more day for observation and if everything still looks good we’ll let you go day after tomorrow. How about that?”

I wasn’t about to lay in this bed and stare at television for a day and half, but I wasn’t about to tell him that.

“Sounds great doc, thanks.”

After he left I settled in for another cat nap, but you know there are some days when even a cat doesn’t get much sleep. My guess is Doc Huntley knew the timing of the rounds better than anyone. At least he knew them well enough to be standing by my bed the next time I opened my eyes.

“Good evening Mr. James, how’re you feeling?”

“Why does everybody keep asking me that?”

He laughed then said, “it’s a hospital son. We’re trained to be concerned about how the patient is feeling.”

“Uh, look. I think I’m just gonna come right out with this Doc. You know you’re dead right?”

“You don’t say.”

You know what’s worst than having a ghost visit you twice in one day folks?

Having a ghost who knows he’s a ghost visit you twice in one day.

“Look doc, if there’s a reason you’re hanging around tell me what it is. Maybe I can help lead you to the light.”

“You’re a ghost whisperer now? I thought you were a writer.”

“What the hell do you want then?”

“Henry, I want you to tell my story, the real story. Before I go, I want everyone to understand why I did the things I did. The decisions I made at the time I thought were the best decisions anybody could make. They need to know. You need to tell them Henry, before…”

There was a knock on the door and I watched the image of Baxter Huntley begin to waver and become transparent to the point I could see the drapes hanging on the windows behind him. By the time my visitor walked into the room he was gone.

In my opinion, Doc Baxter’s replacement for the evening seemed much more palatable. In fact, she was absolutely stunning. She stopped beside the bed, flashed me a dazzling smile then offered her hand.

“Mr. James? Rick asked me to stop by. The name’s Shaundrika Alexander. Most folks call me Sunny.”

I shook her hand.

“Sunny? You ever seen a man naked?”

The woman gasped.

“I really don’t think that’s any of your business Mr. James.”

“Well, unless you help me find my clothes you’re about to and I’m warning you it ain’t a pretty sight.”

READ ON — PAGING DOCTOR BAXTER HUNTLEY PART III

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