Short For Gertrude

Chapter 2: Dr. Rothmeyer

Tru's next appointment was with Doctor Rothmeyer. She had the option of putting it off like anyone could put off a doctor's appointment, but this occassion was different because not only was Rothmeyer going to act as her doctor that morning, but Tru had a task to do herself. Bright circles crept up the horizon by the time she arrived at the hospital. It had ten stories and over the winter it would undergo renovations for two more floors, but for now the squarely constructed tower had dozens of open windows from people being too hot in the night. Tru had heard from many people taht sweating in the night was horrible, but Tru did not sweat. Her home was actually in a tiny one story structure connected at the hip of the hospital. There was no place to park a car, not that Tru owned a car or knew how to drive well. A fence eight feet tall surrounded the place, and Tru used the keys in her purse to open the gate and lock it behidn her. The hospital morgue had two rooms, one for the bodies and one for the individual who had the title of 'groundskeeper'. Before the morgue had been built the local cemetary had the rights for preserving the remains of the recently departed, but the distance between the two locations justified the funding for both construction and someone to close the locks and collect the dead.Tru kicked off her shoes and passed from the room containing filing cabinets of corpses to her own room which had cabinets of a similar design, albeit a bit smaller for the paperwork they held. Tru removed her normal clothes and made a pained effort to not glance in the wall mirror by faucet as sections of her back met the cool air, but the image was burnt into her mind anyway. There was one mangled mass of scar tissue beneath her right shoulder where a childhood friend had speared her with a burning piece of wood that had come from the wall of a wrecked traincar. To the left of that was a series of decently healed slashes from a serrated whip that began at the top of her left shoulder and ran across her spine and ended past the right cheek of her butt. Her bad knee was still torturing her so had to sit down to change her shoes. The four pronged whip (which was in a nearby cabinet Tru mentally labeled 'souvenirs') had struck her two times, and although Tru had lost feeling in most of the surface of her back, the part she had to sit on blazed up if she sat down without leaning her weight to the left. The soft but worn uphostery chair had been donated by Dr. Rothmeyer himself when Tru had started working there, and Tru laced her shoe's buckles while growing more anxious about seeing him that morning. She stood up, examined herself in the mirror, and then noticed her hair was still down around her shoulders. That went against Tru snapped her thumb and pinkie togethor, and her hair came alive like a nest of snakes and formed a simple, perfect bun without a single strand out of place. She put on her white hat and smiled like someone who had not slept all night.She grabbed a clipboard and walked through the morgue's main room and passed through a hallway leading to the elevator. It was still dark out and she could tell because even the elevator operator had not shown up yet. Tru entered the metal box and hit floor number 9 and bit her lip gently as she ascended. Her mind almost trailed back to the girl, the kidnapper, and the latest murder for which she'd been hired, but the elevator's bell made a high pitched 'ding' and Tru forced herself to be another person as she entered the hospital."Hello Trudy," the night receptionist said to her as she fast-walked out of the elevator. The woman was sixty but looked younger and tried to act compassionately towards Tru most of the time. She had lost her only child in the War and her husband to influenza, and Tru felt sorry for her. At the same time, she disliked the patronizing way in which she spoke to her."Good morning Hellen," Tru said in the upbeat voice of a stranger. "Could you point me to Doctor Rothmeyer?""Oh yes!" Hellen said excitedly. "He came in early to treat a patient who's been going through a rough patch, he mentioned he asked for your help. He's in room 17.""Thank you Hellen," Tru said as she turned. Hellen's voice came again and the tone was familiar enough to put Tru on guard."Trudy?"Tru stopped and turned back towards her."Yes Hellen?""You been sleeping?" Hellen asked in that aggravating way that told Tru she already knew the answer. Or at least, she thought she knew."Not great," Tru admitted. She knew from the mirror that she did not have any glaring marks of fatigue. No bags under her eyes eyen. "Why do you ask?""You been having nightmares again?"Okay then, Tru thought. Don't answer my question. That's fine. That's perfect."Not often," Tru lied. It was partially true because she had not been sleeping often either, and her skin never showed signs of it either. She could live with herself if what she said was at least half-true."Well okay." Hellen forced herself to smile. The woman looked back and forth to make sure no one was around to hear. "If you'd, ah...Look, I know for a fact that I would have a lot of stress sleeping in the morgue. I've refurbished two of the bedrooms in my house and if you'd like, we could work something out and you'd have a pick of one of the other."The annoyance at Hellen vanished for half a second before Tru answered more by instinct than anything else."No thank you. I appreciate the offer but I'm alright. I'm doing fine.""They keep that place very cold," Hellen said appealingly. "Too cold. To preserve the bodies. You might catch a bad bug and then what?"I don't get cold, Tru thought with a sad irony. And I already have a bad bug. "I'm sorry Hellen," she said truthfully. "I'm not comfortable making a change like that. Not right now. I appreciate the offer, I really do.""It's always open..." Hellen said. Her eyes looked at Tru distantly, almost like she was looking through her.Tru walked down the hallway and entered into room 17. Doctor Rothmeyer was sitting in chair while wearing a coat and tan pants. He stood up all at once as Tru entered. He looked very stressed with his long face showing a few days' worth of unkempt stubble and his eyes were red. He had not slept either but unlike Tru the signs were painfully obvious."Shut the door," he told her, walking over to the bed with the patient. The patient had a deep tan and long grown out hair forming a full beard and ragged looking hair. The hospital had cleaned him up a bit but Tru knew she was looking at a homeless person who was fast asleep. Tru closed the door behind her and observed Doctor Rothmeyer. He stood next to the sleeping patient and Tru realized all at once that the man's arms and legs were strapped to the bed he was laying on. Rothmeyer undid the straps and pulled the blanket off the man. he was dressed a hospital gown but the tan lines from being outside all the time showed on his arms and ankles. Rothmeyer closed the blinds on the window but the lamp beside the bed lit the room well enough. It was still dark outside, probably around five the in the morning, Tru guessed. Rothmeyer lifted the unconcious man onto a metal gurney with wheels he had been keeping in the corner. Tru watched him work to remove the straps from the legs of the bed and restrain the man to the padded metal platform with wheels. Tru knew to say nothing because unlike in her previous appointments with Doctor Rothmeyer, this one was not about her, but about this man in question. The identity of this man was becoming very apparent to her. Rothmeyer covered the man's body with the blanket and tied another fabric restrain around his forehead so he could not look anywhere but forward."Is he sedated," Tru asked casually."Yes," Rothmeyer confirmed. "But not much longer."He looked up from his knotting the restraints and glanced at her with a look of contemplation."Take out your lenses, if you would be so kind." he instructed her. "What?" Tru was confused. "No.""I want him to see." He finished securing the man to the gurney and looked intensely on the unconcious man's gaunt face. "I'm going to tell him that the devil has arrived to take him to hell personally and eat his soul. It's not literally true, but he won't know that."Tru blinked and felt a sour taste in her mouth."Doc." She tried to sound gentle. "That's a bit much."He looked at her gravely."This man murdered my son, Gertrude. Nothing is too much."Tru sighed."I know, Doc." She crossed he arms. "A bit much for me." Rothmeyer looked at her again with a look that reminded her of the disappointment on Hellen's face when Tru had declined her offer."Very well," Rothmeyer said coldly. This was very unlike his usual doctor-self. No warm, not empathy, nothing but a man who was focused on the task at hand.Rothmeyer pulled his hand back and Tru tensed for a moment, irrationally thinking it was for her. Rothmeyer slapped the man across the cheek with a loud clap."Wake up," Rothmeyer said sternly.The man's eyes flittered for a few moments before he started to feel the pain on his reddened cheek."What? What am I- Ow! Ow. Oh God." He snapped his own eyes shut and gritted his teeth, visibly reeling against the restraints from the blow Rothmeyer had dealt him. His voice was a dry whisper, and Tru guessed the opium had not quite worked its way through the man's system yet. "Where am I? Who are?""I'm a doctor," Rothmeyer said. "I'm here to help.""What happened to me? Where am I?""You have a terrible illness," Rothmeyer said with fake sympathy. "I've brought my friend here, who is an expert at curing the disease which ailes you."He tried to look at Tru but the restraint on his head prevented him. The man on the gurney was slowly starting to realize he was completely restrained."What's going on, why am I tied up?" His eyes were still glossy looking but Tru noticed a trace a panic in his tone. "It's to make sure you do not interrupt your treatment. It is a thorough medical procedure but the chances of success are one-hundred percent. There's no uncertainty.""Oh." The man seemed to relax a tiny amount but he looked towards Rothmeyer with urgency. "What's wrong with me?"Rothmeyer's face darkened and he paused. Tru wondered what was going on in his head at that moment. She was still standing by the door, put off and more than a bit uncomfortable with this show Rothmeyer was putting on. It was not too late, he could still stop and send the man to the police. With enough opium they could drop off the man anywhere and he could be arressted and sent to rot in prison forever. Tru thought that was the crueler route, but any one of these things could have been passing through Rothmeyer's head."Doc?" The man sounded a little put off from Rothmeyer's silence. "What's wrong with me. What do I got?""You..." Rothmeyer cleared his throat. "You murdered my son for no other reason than to rob him. My friend here has come to cure you of your wretched life."Tru could see man's face pause for a moment before his eyes widened into horrified moons. "What? What? I don't know what you're talking about. You got the wrong guy!" He struggled against the restraints but the knots were strong and the man's body was weakned through clear malnutrition and the medley of sedatives Rothmeyer had probably given him. "You hear me, you got the wrong guy! I didn't do it. I didn't do whatever it is you're saying I did.""No." Rothmeyer spoke calmly in a calm tone Tru recognized. He was talking like a doctor now and that unsettled Tru very much. "Harold Grant Trevorson. I do not have the wrong guy. It was you. And only you.""Hey!" The man's scream for help materialized only as another dry wrasp. "Help! Someone help me! This guy's crazy! Somebody! Anybody!""Crazy?" Rothmeyer nodded with no emotion in his voice. He looked at Tru suddenly. "Gertrude?"Tru blinked and cleared her throat."What?" "Are you sure I cannot convince you to reconsider my request about your lenses?""Absolutely not.""So be it then." Rothmeyer nodded again and looked back at the captive on the gurney. "Mr. Treverson, I'm going to leave you in the capable hands of my associate. She has the most impressive credentials of someone in her field and a track record that goes back as far as-""Get on with it." Tru said firmly. "Wait!" The bound man named Treverson let out another batch of hoarse pleading. "I didn't mean to! It was an accident! He pulled a knife on me and I had to...to...""You were trying to rob him with a revolver." Rothmeyer's voice grew darker. "And you succeeded."Treverson eyes were growing red and starting to water up."I was starving to death. I'm sorry!"A look of disgust spread over Rothmeyer's face. He leaned in close to Treverson's face and spoke in a comforting tone that was clearly meant to mock the man."And after today you will never hunger again." He paused, glanced at Tru, and looked back at Trevorson. "All...is forgiven."He produced a syringe and within a few minutes the man was asleep again."What was that?" Tru asked harshley."A mix of opium and-""No, that-" Tru stopped in the middle of her thought. She hated melodrama but Rothmeyer was the one paying her, in this case. "Nevermind. Can we get this over with now?""By all means." He patted Trevorson's unconscious head. "This one is all yours. Once you are done, we can conduct the first part of your physical. Thank you Gertrude. I asked you to find him, and you found him. You've brought my son justice and a closure I did not believe possible for myself."Tru did not think this felt like justice at all but she kept quiet. No need to annoy her doctor of all people. But as much as Rothmeyer may have acted vengeful, he was still lacking in doing the finishing touch. That's what Tru was there for, afterall. The job was not quite done yet. She wrapped her hands on the gurny and Rothmeyer placed a white sheet over Trevorson's unconscious form. He added a toe tag with a name, cause of death, and time of death. This tag read Trevorson, Harold. Starvation. 06/17/23."That's yesterday's date," Tru noted out loud. "I'll need the paperwork for next-day cremation.""Already drafted and signed," Rothmeyer added graciously. "Get them from Hellen on the way to the elevator. She's not in the know, of course.""Of course. ""Tell me, did you find any next of kin?" Rothmeyer's voice made Tru wonder what he would do if she said yes."He was completely alone in the world." That was the truth but she thought she would have said that even if it wasn't.Rothmeyer nodded and Tru took the gurney out of the room and back towards the elevator. Tru asked Hellen for the paperwork and she handed Tru a folder with everything in it. To her relief, the question of living arrangments did not come back up, and Tru said goodbye as she entered the elevator with the gurney. They descended down the evevator and Tru watched impatiently as they reached the bottom. She brought Treverson into the morgue and opened the cremation oven. The bolts connecting the bed to the wheels came undone easily enough and with no effort at all, Tru slid the man into the oven. She double checked the door to the hospital was locked as well as the locked gate leading to the fence from which she had entered. Tru took in a long breath of relief. Nothing seemed to be going wrong, and she thought in a bleak way that was terrible news for Mr. Harold Treverson.Only Treverson's head was visible through the oven's cast iron door door window. Tru removed a few syringes filled with sedatives she had stolen from a few rooms she had tended to as a part time bedside nurse. She opened the iron oven's door and recast the platform on which Trevorson was lying. He was sticking far enough outide of the small thing enough so she could reach his neck. She injected six batches of opium into the man's neck, more than enough to cause him to die of overdose if she waited too long. Part of her hoped that if it saved the poor man a bit of pain, that would be enough for her. Rothmeyer would not have approved of that since he had said nothing was too much, but like she had told him, it was a bit much for her.Tru rolled Trevorson back into the oven and snaked her own arm in. She snapped her fingers, and the familiar loud snap sound rang out like a gunshot that no one would hear other than her. Tru pulled her arm out, closed the door, and watched sparks form in Treverson's hair and in the stitches in the towell covering him. In another few moments his body was a mess of flames, and Tru was almost certain he was not moving as the fire ate him.Tru stood up and watched the fire through the oven window. The pain in her knee was finally fading, and the scars on her back were once again fading away like they had never been there at all.The metal horn speaking tube in the corner of the room produced Hellen's voice."Trudy? Dr. Rothmeyer will see you now."