Grey Angel - First Page

GREY ANGEL

Chapter One (first page)

The water was searing cold. At 5 a.m. no one had drunk from the silver metal fountain for hours, the water had taken on a throat-numbing chill. David felt the frigid outline of his esophagus as he swallowed, he could sense the upper reaches of his stomach as the cold rush swept the oxycodone tablet down. The clock was running, in less than fifteen minutes the first warm wave of the opioid would wash over him.

He turned from the brightly lit, empty emergency room and passed through the oversized gurney doors out onto the ambulance bay. Beyond the protecting pergola the vacant parking lot was wet from a passing spring rain, he walked slowly across the staff lot towards the stairs that led to the larger upper visitor’s parking area.

A distant observer might have wondered at the age of the man climbing those stairs. Was he 70? Or perhaps 80? What arthritic disease so wracked his body that he had to haltingly and carefully ascend the staircase?

Thirty-four-year old David Iverson reached the threshold of the upper lot just as the rising sun cast a pink glow across the damp tarmac. The pavement rose evenly across several hundred feet to a stand of maple trees at the upper edge of the parking area. Up there at the top, a path led through the grove to a small corner park and his neighborhood beyond.

David began a slow, measured walk up the incline. With each step, he added a few centimeters to the length of his stride and felt the deformed muscles of his lower back stretch as he transferred his weight onto the upslope leg. This dawn ritual relieved some of the accumulated stiffness from his desk bound midnight shift spent sifting endlessly through patient charts.

He was no more than half way up the empty lot when he first noticed the figure under the trees. Too early for the local dog walkers and there weren’t any homeless in this part of town. The man was a bit too deep in the shadows to distinguish; the dawning light had not chased away the shaded area under the stand of trees quite yet. As David moved closer, he momentarily thought the man was part of the shadows beneath the trees, a not quite a fully formed figure. A few more steps and he realized the murky effect was enhanced because the stranger was dressed entirely in grey. Grey slacks, grey jacket, even grey shoes and wait what?

Were those really?

David stopped just short of the tree line.

“Very nice,” David said, in a voice tinged with mirth not quite laughter.

“Could you be more specific?” said the shadowy figure.

“Nice wings?” David replied.

The stranger came forward out of the shade and there standing just under the lowest boughs of the tree was an angel. To be more precise – an all grey angel.