Cypress Hill

MacKenzie Knight

PROLOGUE

"Another successful tonsillectomy, Dr. Beckett!" Nurse Campbell chuckled a bit, walking toward the sink. Dorian's lips widened in slight grimace. "Oh, by the way Doctor, I will be taking the young lady to Recovery." Dorian turned. "Thank you, Miss Campbell."

Given opportunity, Dorian Beckett's mood darkened. Safe, silent, Mary Rielly lay like a lamb, in realms of blissful sleep. UNAWARE.

Dorian's eyes were fixed, deliberate. Illuminating, they reached innocent prey. His hand slipped down into his lab coat pocket. Retrieving a medium-sized syringe. He removed the cap, tapping it sharply. Into the air expelled tiny droplets of the green slimy liquid essence.

Like a dagger, Dorian plunged the needle swiftly into her vein. Undetected, he arrived next to Nurse Campbell at the sink. Within seconds, the serum took effect. The heart monitor alerted. "FLATLINERS. "FLATLINERS! MY GOD DOCTOR!" "NO WAY!" he replied. Their eyes met one brief second. Both ran over to Mary.

"CODE BLUE, OPERATING ROOM #6". Paddles hit her chest fast. "NOTHING!"By all medical standards Mary Renee Rielly was dead.

Flocked by various magazines, for what seemed an eternity, Priscilla Rielly Bradford arose from the gray plastic chair, clad in light blue jeans and a dark Navy sweater. Priscilla began to pace back and forth, impatiently. Thank God I dressed comfortably, she thought, looking down at her new white Reeboks. The fourth hour approached, as she walked around the pink and gray room. Priscilla gazed at what she called bad artwork, hanging on the walls in 'The Outpatient Surgery Waiting Room', in Mountain View Hospital. It had been at least an hour since she inquired at the Reception desk. The Nurse came out, informing her Mary should be out shortly.

What is taking so long? she thought. Doctor Walker had informed her Mary's tonsillectomy was a rather simple procedure. If I knew it was going to take so long, I would have picked up Mary's vamp costume, Priscilla thought. Even if she can't speak I know Mary won't miss this party for anything. Good thing we picked up her pumpkins and pina colada sherbet last night at 'SAMS'. Oh! 'The Haunted Woods: Mary wanted me to take her there tonight. Somehow going there has turned into our little yearly family tradition. Maybe we can still make it, I'll see how things go.

Sitting down again, Priscilla began fumbling through her purse. Thoughts of Mary rushed to mind. Ever since Priscilla could remember, Halloween had fascinated Mary. Next to Christmas, it became her favorite.

Mary was ten when her parents were both killed in a tragic car accident. Miraculously, Mary survived without a scratch. I told her God spared her for a reason. Her survival alone bothered her. Mary never understood what I had told her about God. For years, visions and horrible nightmares re-played in her mind. Nightly, Priscilla recalled her torment: "No! No! The red car is coming fast! Mommy! Daddy! No!" Sweat poured out from her tiny body, while intense sounds of fast hard steel crashing together pierced her brain. Their car at a dead stop in the middle of the intersection. The green arrow to turn left was lit. Suddenly, without warning, it came from nowhere. The red Cougar approached fast, speeding in excess of seventy miles per hour. Their tiny Chevy hit so hard it rolled over and over, three lanes wide. Across the divide, crashing down in front of on-coming traffic. It was very senseless, caused by a drunken college
student running a red light. In that instant both our lives changed forever.

Over the course of years to follow bloody remains of her parents, along the highway, tormented Mary's mind. Psychiatric counseling and various medications could not stop the re-runs and pain. Since that day, I have become her mother. Glad to care for my brother's daughter. Having no other living relatives, she would have only hoped to be adopted. Ultimately, horror movies and Halloween became her way of coping, dealing with the pain. Somehow, watching all that cinematic bloody gore caused immunity. People generally would think, 'What a weird pastime. That girl must be crazy.' Just the opposite: Mary is the sweetest, caring, loving young woman. Her faith in God unshakable. I believe that to be what brought her through it all. Deep down I knows she
does too.

"Miss Bradford?" Priscilla closed her purse and arose. A tall blonde man with his hair held back in a ponytail approached her. He looked to be in his late twenties, dressed in a white lab coat. In spite of his ponytail, he walked with great confidence, and appeared refined in mannerism. "Miss Bradford?" Priscilla looked up at him. "Yes?" His eyes lowered slightly. "I am Doctor Dorian Beckett." Priscilla had recalled seeing his sorrowful look before. Chills ran though her. His darkened eyes quickly caught a glimpse in hers. His hand raised up to touch her shoulder. Unknowingly, tears began to form in Priscilla's eyes. She reached in her purse for a tissue. "I am so sorry, Miss Bradford, something went wrong, after surgery. Why don't you take a seat?" he said, pointing to the gray chair. "No, I prefer to stand," she said. "We all tried----" Priscilla cut his sentence. "Just what are you talking about? What is wrong, where is Mary?" "Please listen to me, Mary did not make it." he said. "How is that possible Doctor?" she shouted. "It was only her tonsils. For God's sake! Where is that damn Doctor Walker?"
Priscilla demanded, her eyes aflame. "A sudden emergency called Doctor Walker away, minutes before her surgery, ma'am." "Don't you 'Ma'am' me, young man. Where is Mary?" "Mary has been taken to the Hospital morgue." "MORGUE! This is absurd." "Miss Bradford, please try to calm down. Mary must have had some kind of delayed allergic reaction to the anesthetic. Although rare, it's possible." Priscilla picked up a bunch of the magazines and threw them to the floor, hard.

"My God! It was only her tonsils. Priscilla stood, calm a second. "Okay! Just what the Hell happened in there, Doctor? I'm going to sue that idiot Doctor Walker. I will see he never practices again," Priscilla cried out loudly. "Miss Bradford, remember I told you Doctor Walker was called away. I am the 'idiot' who operated." "So it was you who killed my Mary. How could you do such a horrible thing?"she said, pointing her index finger in Dorian's face. "Miss Bradford, let me talk, please. The autopsy will show us the exact cause of death.

"AUTOPSY! EXACT CAUSE! YOU'RE MAD! NO AUTOPSIES! DO YOU HEAR ME DOCTOR, OR WHATEVER YOUR NAME IS?" Priscilla shouted into Dorian's ear. "We have never believed in autopsies or embalmings in the family, sir. I want Mary taken from this place at once. I will make arrangements for her to be taken to Olympus Lawn Mortuary. Am I making myself clear?" "Yes," Dorian said, walking
after her. "Miss Bradford, wait, don't you want to see Mary?" "No, I want to remember
her the way she was. Full of life. We will meet again Doctor, I promise you." Priscilla
sobbed hysterically, as she stormed out the glass front doors.