The Sole Survivors' Club

Chapter 5

Despite the damage to her hands, the first doctor to see Monica rated her as a low priority. She was led to the emergency ward, a long wide corridor subdivided into semi-private areas by sets of curtains hung from tracks in the ceiling.

Upon her arrival, one of the nurses tried to take Fred’s cell phone from her, which caused her to explode into a temper tantrum. She knew the doctors and nurses saw her as being childish, but she couldn’t stop bawling while she clutched the phone to her chest.

Two burly male nurses were trying to pry her arms out to get a look at her hands when David arrived. The towering officer stepped around the nurses, scowling as he yelled at them to back off.

Monica didn’t want to give him the phone either, but after he had repeatedly promised to return it, she handed it over and allowed herself to be moved to one of the beds in the ward.

While the doctors worked to remove shards of glass from her hands and lower back, she glanced over occasionally to find David using a set of cotton swabs to clean the phone. He was wearing gloves, and for a short time, Monica worried over the possibility of being a suspect.

But he threw a swab away and took another from the same tray the doctors were using, and then she realized he was being careful because the blood-covered phone was a biohazard.

The doctors finished and left to work on other patients, and a pair of detectives arrived minutes later to ask Monica questions about what she had seen. She relaxed within the first few questions, as it was clear no one considered her as anything more than a witness to an accident.

David remained beside her bed throughout the interview, and when the detectives left, he stepped closer to pass the cell phone back. She checked the time, and though she knew it had been a while since the accident, she was still surprised to see that it was well past seven in the morning.

“I don’t remember you having a cell phone,” David said.

“I...I just got it.”

“Just got it?” David stared at her long after she nodded. “How long ago is ‘just?’”

“This phone is important, okay? I can’t explain why, but I need to hold on to it for now.”

“It belonged to the rag writer, didn’t it?”

Monica nodded. “He was offering me the phone earlier to call someone. He thought this person could help me. I didn’t take the phone at first, not until after...I thought I would use it to call for help, but I lost track of time, and someone—” Monica looked at the cell phone when it rang.

Not sure of what else to press, she tried the green send key. The screen changed to a timer, and she raised the phone. “Hello?”

“Who is this?” a woman asked before uttering a short, mirthful laugh. “Did my son finally get himself a girlfriend or did I dial a wrong number?”

“You’re looking for Fred Schott?”

“Yes, this is his mother, Bernice...who is this?”

“My name is Monica Harper. You might not know me—”

“Sure I know you, dear. Fred talks about you all the time. I’m also his proof reader, so I know all about Carrie Carpinelli too.”

Monica closed her eyes, nodding to herself as she recalled the reason why Fred chose the name. ‘Crash-Prone Carrie Carpinelli’ was an alliteral pun, and it included ‘car’ in both the first and the last names. She pushed aside the memory of Fred explaining her fake name and tried to steady herself.