The red China-marker grease pencil hovered steady in Julian’s right hand.
Outside the door of Room 412, Dr. Victor Tallow did not move. His seven-foot frame remained locked in the glare of the corridor lights.
“Step back, Orderly Vance,” Tallow repeated. His spliced voice crackled through three broken speakers. “You are interfering with an active medical officer.”
“You are not a medical officer, Victor,” Julian said. “You are an expired entry on a nineteen ninety-six census sheet.”
Julian reached out with his left hand. He flipped the chrome talkback switch on the nearest Rauland station box.
The red transmit light flashed once. Every intercom speaker down the length of Ward 4B hissed with open current.
Up on the eighth floor, the live audio trunk line snapped open in the executive office of Director Evelyn Cross.
“Listen closely, Director Cross,” Julian said into the microphone grille. “Nurse Station 4B is filing a formal counter-audit.”
