Singed Synapses and Deranged Dendrites

The Keys (#review)

Marvin McCawley tried the last key on the oversized key ring that weighed down his belt on a daily basis, but not a single one fit the lock. He didn't fear however, and went to the office where an even larger ring hung from the wall under the label 'SPARES'. But when even those failed to open the door, Marvin knew he would have to call in his boss after hours. 

What a pity, he thought. What with my annual review next week and all.

But Marvin generally got along well with his boss. He was a kind and reasonable man and didn't even ask why Marvin needed help with a door. He heard the worry in Marvin's voice and assured him he'd be right in.

Thirty minutes later, Marvin's boss Murray arrived.

"I'm sorry to make you leave the wife and come back to work," said Marvin.

"It's ok," said Murray. "The wife and I had just finished dinner, and you got me out of doing the dishes. But I promised I'd be home to watch our show by nine. What seems to be the problem?"

"I was alerted by hospital staff around five that there was a smell coming from one of the storage units near the loading docks and I've tried every key I can find."

"And it couldn't wait until tomorrow?" asked Murray, not in an unkind way, but Marvin knew he would rather be home with a beer in front of the TV, dishes or no.

"It's a bad smell," said Marvin.

"What do you think it is?" asked Murray.

"It's hard to say. I mean there should just be old medical equipment in there waiting to go to surplus or the junkyard, but it smells like..." Murray's voice trailed off as he hesitated. "The morgue."

"Oh, I understand," said Murray, remaining calm as he always did. Marvin, knowing his boss was unflappable after working in hospital maintenance for over thirty years, still felt relieved that his boss didn't freak out as much as the nurse who had originally called him had.

"Well, let's start with my ring of master keys then. I have to admit I haven't been in this closet in years and I'm not sure who has."

Marvin waited anxiously as Murray tried all of the keys on his belt and then a few from another drawer he fetched from his office. None of them worked. They couldn't even take the door off the hinges as they were on the wrong side. 

Murray sat there for a few minutes rubbing his stubbly beard. 

"I hate to do this," said Murray, "but I don't want to call a locksmith or anyone outside of the hospital. Kevin could pick this lock."

"Are you sure that's a good idea?" asked Marvin. They both knew Kevin could do it having started his career on work release from prison. He was a fine co-worker and a good guy but he was also a loud mouth. Whatever they found on the other side of that door Kevin would be telling the nurses about it tomorrow. 

"We have no choice," said Murray.

Forty-five minutes later Kevin arrived smelling like alcohol. 

"You guys must be desperate to call me out of the pub and back to work," he hiccuped. "Whoa! That's not good news!" he pointed to the door referring to the putrid smell emanating from behind it.

But Kevin took out a little tool belt he didn't wear to work and got down to business. Five minutes later they heard a click and Kevin looked up at them with a grin.

"Still got it," he bragged. "Should we open it together on the count of three then?" The other two nodded now looking queasy. "One, two, three."

The door swung open.