The Last Reflexive Ch. 14

THE LAST REFLEXIVE
by: Col. Brunhilda 'Iceberg' Buriman, ret.
Sorority Sister of Pi Loda Cum
Chapter Fourteen: Shootout at the ER Corral

A short time later the nurse said goodnight to Dude. Her step-mother demanded she clean and polish their home before bed. Dude was left to ponder in dim lights and distant voices of hospital staff kept purposely low. He was looking forward to the dinner at Martinelli's, yet didn't know why. There was something about that fellow made him think. What interest did he really have in this affair? Simply because he saw Harriette as a most prestigious prize? Harriette couldn't be the only reason he invited a total stranger to dinner. There was something about him that caught Dude's interest, but he couldn't put his finger on it. No, it wasn't his over active organ either.

From where he sat, Dude could see the reflection of another nurse in the glass, another dark haired knockout, and he couldn't help watching her work. Every once in awhile she would stop and smile in his direction, their images meeting in a warm embrace in the clarity of the glass pane. There were a couple other nurses on duty, shuffling about. One sat filling out records and the other making rounds with medicines. Suddenly and without warning, Dude's intuition alerted him to something and he became uneasy. He kept still and watched, waiting for whatever it was that bothered him to make itself known. He allowed his mind to relax, and like a cat crouched before a mouse's hole, he waited patiently, watched and listened without concentrating.

It didn't take long for muffled noises to reach his ears, and he slouched down into the chair. They came with the sounds of an elevator door opening and the squeaking of a wheel in need of oil. Reflected in the glass against the dark night sky he saw the elevator, but he didn't turn around or move in any way. He simply sat there feigning sleep, watching as three interns exited and turned down the hallway. All wore long white smocks and had stethoscopes dangling from their pockets. One wheeled a gurney, while the others walked beside it. What was it about the trio that troubled him? He couldn't quite figure it out.

"Dude," Pi warned. At times like this Dude's instinctual emotions stir-up involuntary reactions so subtle he would barely recognize them if not for Pi. She comes when needed from somewhere, upsetting the rational order of his thought, to either compensate or complement, and though she sometimes takes time to understand, he never doubts her.

Through half closed eyelids he viewed the mirrored image of the dark haired nurse, who seemed surprised by the arrival of the interns. She watched them approach and smiled tentatively. She skimmed a board with finger and eyes to see if they were expected, and then she looked to Dude, so he could see her concern. Harriette was dozing, wedged between her boys, thinking of having an order of pigs in a pancake for breakfast, when suddenly she woke and looked around. It was one-thirty, her arm ached, and she felt uneasy. She found her boys sleeping beside her and slipped her hand down to examine each one's hard-on, then slid her palm under the pillow, checking on her .357. She needed to think, and knew she couldn't move without waking her imps, so she woke them.

Naturally the boys moved like exploding firecrackers, Litle diving face first into her pussy, Sven grabbing the nearest ass-cheek in his hands, lifting it far enough to get his head underneath so he could get his mouth on her asshole. Together they began burrowing into her from both ends like a couple nematode. Harriette found herself in an awkward position considering her situation, and put a stop to it.

"Not now," she ordered and the boys stopped to lay back in the bed, pouting, cocks bobbing. As she does often when needing to think she looked at their hairless penises. "Stay quiet, boys, so I can think a minute." Sven moved to fluff Harriette's pillow up behind her. Litle nuzzled into Harriette, making sure his penis and balls were showing properly so she could think better. Even with all the attention, Harriette felt uneasy, and her mind went back to the church. She pushed Sven aside to scoot to an edge of the bed and grab the pair of panties Sven had brought with his delicacies.

"Sven! Why do you always bring the pink," Harriette said through gritted teeth. Sven lowered his eyes and smiled. She held the silk panties out to Sven, and the young man shrugged his shoulders looking browbeaten, but Harriette's mind was on other things. She took a moment to look at her charges seriously. "Oh, go on. You two can beat-off while I think."

"Jesus, who were those louts? What were they after? I could use a cigarette," she groused, as the boys sat beside her masturbating. Harriette often used their gentle squishing sounds when parsing a difficult problem in her head. Sven and Litle moved closer together into the middle of the bed hoping to give their wickedly exciting tunes a more well-rounded tone. "Too much information... God, too much going on in this little brain," Harriette said looking out the window and then to the door and then the ceiling, unable to calm down. She slipped into the terry cloth robe Sven brought along and hugged it to her body tight.

"Well, at least you brought the black robe," she said to Sven. She dug further into the cowhide bag and to her delight, there was a bottle of Connemara Peated Single Malt whisky, along with a small tumbler. She poured a shot – no more, and no less. She turned to her boys and through a grin, said 'salainte.' The boys knelt together beating-off with a beat and rhythm challenging any rock duo, or church choir.

"Christ, I don't know what I'd do without you two," she said, placing the empty tumbler aside. The boys smiled, watching and wishing Harriette would get within tongue range. "But I need answers, a smoke, watch my Flyers on the tube..."

She went for the packet Father Costanzo had given her and wiped a bit of blood from its unusual cover. She turned it in her hands, contemplating its lack of seams and wondered how to open it. It was shaped like a billfold, but try as she may, she couldn't find a thread on which to start picking. It looked brand new and she studied it carefully. She didn't wish to destroy it, and wondered if she could, but decided on being gentle with it. After all, it had belonged to one of her dearest friends.

Thoughts of Father Costanzo brought tears to her eyes and she allowed her little men to dab them up with their fingers. Crying wasn't her style, but some things just can't be helped. The priest had been a grandfather figure to her, taking her under his wing when she first came to Philadelphia. After seeing her through college, he'd gotten her the job with the force, and she rewarded him by ascending through the ranks quickly. He'd been very proud of her and always hoped to see her settled down, married and raising children.

"Right," she said to herself and to him quietly. Then she chuckled, but that was simply another way of crying, and she knew it. She sat on the edge of the bed, wiggling herself back against Sven and Litle. The flickering light of a lame movie provided little comfort, whereas the hands of her boys were beginning to travel, changing that slowly. There was an old black and white film on the set, a late night thriller she ignored. She liked those old movies, where even the good-guy-bad-guy shoot 'em up tales had enough humor to keep a viewer upbeat. Too bad real life isn't like that, she thought, as four hands moved under, into and around her robe, searching for her breasts, her pussy and asshole. Wiggling a bit in their hands, she looked at her boys and reconsidered. In her reality there had been little gaiety outside her boys, less since her father died, and now with Sister Catherine and her beloved Padre gone, well, another tear fell. She wiped that one away too, upset with her childishness. She was accustomed to death, so why should it bother her now?

She kept glancing out the window, then at the television, then to the object. She wanted to rip it open, to see what it was the priest had given her, but couldn't figure out how. She slammed the item down beside her, then she picked it up, stood, pulling herself from the grasp of the boys, and began pacing again. The boys went back to beating-off as she went to a chair and sat, then stood, then placed the object against her cheek and sighed. The material was cool to the touch, her blood torrid with anger, desire and frustration.

She walked to the bed, lifted the corner of her pillow, and there was her friend, her shiny .357 magnum. Other than the boys, here was her buddy, her pal and mate, exactly where it belonged when she slept. She let the corner of the pillow go and again looked at the strange object, until the squeaking wheel caught her attention. It was getting closer, and she jumped into bed. The boys felt something amiss and curled up next to her, no longer masturbating. In the meantime the nurse was trying to find out why the interns were there.

"How may I help you, doctors," she inquired, eyeing their badges.

"We're here to check on one of the patients," replied a good-looking intern. He was very nonchalant as he walked around, pulled Harriette's chart and perused information.

"Are you new here," the nurse asked, not wanting to sound suspicious. She was evidently nervous, but the doctor ignored it. He glanced at her from the corner of his eye and smiled. When finished, he returned the chart and turned toward his colleagues with a nod toward Harriette's room. "I don't recall having met you three before," the nurse said in another attempt to get information.

"Yes, we're new to the hospital," he said while stepping to the others. "We're Dr. Moody's associates. He asked us to check up on his patient." He acted professionally, was all smiles, and exuded a warmth that bothered the nurse. The doctors at this hospital are known for their boldness, and they're always hot to trot, but not these three.

She glanced toward the end of the hallway again, hoping Dude was watching. Dude noticed but remained motionless. The other nurses went about their duties, unaware of the situation, as the doctors moved toward Harriette's room with the gurney. One of them began chatting with the guard. He showed him a hospital ID and was quite jovial, while the other two entered the room.

The boys jumped from the bed before the door opened and slipped into the washroom undetected. Harriette hid the object under her pillow, but kept hold of it. With one hand beneath her head, she feigned sleep as the door opened. She heard it close, and discerned two sets of footsteps. Someone turned up the volume on the television and Harriette opened her eyes, acting as if she'd just been awakened.

"Yes," she asked while pretending to yawn.

"Ms. Karson? Harriette Karson?" one of her visitors asked, taking a position alongside the bed.

"Yeah, that's me. Who you two be," she asked trying to stifle another forced yawn.

"Associates of Dr. Moody," the other stated, establishing his presence on the other side of her bed.

"Let me guess, Drs. Jekyll and Hyde, right," Harriette snorted.

"Really, Ms. Karson."

"Well then. You can start by getting the hell out of my room, ass clowns. No doctor sees patients at this hour," she growled, releasing the object and moving to grasp the handle of her gun.

"Please, this won't take long, Ms. Karson," the doctor near the window said.

"Not long at all," echoed the other while producing a syringe and taking hold of Harriette's free arm.

"What the fuk are you doing, asshole," Harriette said aloud. She pulled her sore arm from his grasp and slipped the finger of her other hand onto the trigger. "Get off me!"

"Just hold still," he said with a change in demeanor, "and it will go easier for you." With that, he placed the syringe aside and pulled a gun out from under his coat.

The moment his gun came into view, Harriette squeezed the trigger of her .357. The shell sent the fake doctor back across the room, his blood decorating the far wall. The force of the blast sent the pillow, Harriette's head, and her hand into the air along with the .357. The gun came up into the other doctor's face but before she could act Sven darted from the washroom to jump on the guy's head, his face, and at the same time drove his hard-on into the guy's eye, splattering eye ball juice into air round them, getting the guy screaming. He held onto the back of the guy's head, his boner lodged balls deep in the eye socket and began fucking him. The guy was screaming and had dropped his gun to grab Sven while thrashing around like an elephant after a jalapeño hot sauce enema, his head and the front of Sven coated in blood.

Litle grabbed the guy's ankles causing him to fall face down on the floor, while Sven held on to the guy's head. The guy continued screaming and struggling to pull the nineteen year old 98 pound little monster out of his head, and off his face. Litle jumped on the guy's back and reached between his legs to grab his balls, causing the fellow to reach down with one hand to protect himself, if he could.

Dude jumped out of his chair, and the guard jumped too, but before he could react the doctor talking with him pulled out a gun and shot him dead. With forty-five in hand, Dude turned the corner in time to see the doctor shoot the dark haired nurse. Dude fired, killing the imposter, sending his body into an empty wheel chair. Then he raced to Harriette's room and entered with weapon at ready. Expecting the worst, he found Harriette standing over her boys shaking her head.

"Damnit! Can't you two simply kill without showing off," she said with an upset tone. Sven looked up at her with a big pout, and Litle followed suit. "Sven," she yelled. "Young man, you get your organ outta that eye socket this minute. You march yourself right into that shower stall and scrub yourself clean."

"May I cum first," he asked.

"Now!! I hate when you do things like this. Why can't you use a stick like a normal person would?"

"Yes, ma'am," Sven said sheepishly, yanking his hard-on from the bloodied hole. Harriette looked at the bloody mess forming a pool under the guy's head.

"Look at you. What a mess!"

"Must have been a virgin," Litle said aloud, snickering. He was still on the guy's back but the guy was no longer moving.

"Damnit," Harriette said turning to Dude. "Wouldn't ya just know... Now I gotta explain why Sven performed another lobotomy without a license." Then she laughed.

"Harriette, you hurt," Dude asked, watching Litle climb off the fellow and run with Sven to the washroom. Harriette lowered her gun looking at Dude with one raised eye brow. She looked around him to the cadaver on the chair in the hall.

"No, not hurt. What the fuk happened?"

"Good," Dude said, answering the first question.

"And what the fuk are you doing here," Harriette stated quizzically, perplexed.

"Don't know for sure, but I've a good idea," Dude answered, ignoring her second question again. He holstered his forty-five and stooped down near the dead man with a vial and scraper in hand. He collected blood and tissue samples from the fellow's eye socket, as Harriette watched in morbid fascination.

"Hey I asked... " she blurted out. "...That son of a bitch was trying to stick me!"

"Looks like he got stuck instead," Dude said examining the eye socket.

"But why? And, what the hell ARE you doing here, huh?" Harriette moved closer to Dude, getting herself wound up. "Every time you're around me, so is a fresh corpse. Is it just my perfume, or do you have this effect on all your women," she spat sarcastically. Dude opened his mouth to answer, but confusion spilled in.

By now hospital security was everywhere, with additional emergency personnel en route. Many patients were at their doors screaming hysterically, one had a heart attack, and another shit in their bed. The nurses, some with panties round their ankles and breast bared, scurried from room to room trying to settle everyone down.

The head of hospital security burst into the room to confront Harriette and Dude. With him was a detective who just happened to be at the hospital. Harriette was surprised to see it was Boyle.

"What happened," they yelled in unison, both looking at the one eyed fellow still on the floor. Together their eyes traveled from him, to the walls decorated in blood and guts.

"Nice art work," Boyle remarked off-handedly, shooting Harriette a sarcastic look. "And nice colored undies," he said looking between her parted robe.

"Yet again, astute detective work from the commander of the obvious. You'll find lingerie on the fourth floor, you ass wipe," Harriette spat. "Jesus X-ray Christ, this just gets better and better," Harriette groaned, pulling her robe tight. Steam from the shower started filling the room. "Boyle, what the hell are you doing here at this hour? Never mind. Wouldn't believe your chicken shit lie anyway. I gotta get cleaned up," she grumbled.

Without removing her robe, Harriette attempted to don her jacket as best she could, figuring to take herself and her boys home. Dude finished collecting samples and stood to assist her.

"Thanks," she offered with a grimace. Dude nodded and handed Harriette her holster. She pushed her gun into the leather and took the holster from him, tossing it over her good shoulder. Once again the squeal of police sirens could be heard pulling up in front of the hospital.

"Harriette," Dude started, before being interrupted.

"And the Chief ordered me to stay here for my health," she muttered incredulously.

"We have to get you to a safe place Harriette," Dude declared softly as he moved to take Harriette's arm.

"Whoa there, big guy," Harriette said pulling free. "Not without Sven and Litle, my little suckem fuckem robots. Without them, I go nowhere." She walked to the bed and searched under the sheets for the object given her by Father Castanzo.

"Have to admit they're quite a pair," Dude said looking down at the dead guy with one eye. No one was permitted to touch any of the bodies until after the crime lab fellows were here and gone.

In all the confusion, only one person saw Harriette find and pocket the item. Harriette looked up to find Dude's eyes upon her and they stared at one another for a long moment, almost reading each other's thoughts. Harriette finally shook them apart as Dude tried to hang on. He couldn't quite discern her expression, nor she his. Harriette marched herself into the steam, disappearing into the washroom after Sven and Litle.

A short time later the trio emerged from the bathroom, all dressed and ready to go. Sven and Litle packed their belongings up quickly, as Harriette grabbed the rest of her possessions and started to leave, walking toward Boyle, who was scribbling notes furiously. Dude took a moment to reach down and pick up the syringe, which he slipped into a plastic bag and pocketed.

"Harriette," Boyle shouted, trying to slow Harriette down as she pushed passed him, stepping on his foot as she did. "The Chief's gonna wanna talk with you!"

"Tell the Chief I'll call him. And, do start the official paperwork, note-boy," she sneered from over her shoulder. Together with Dude, Harriette and the boys scurried into an open elevator and disappeared, both boys having stepped on Boyle's foot as they passed.