Writing Group 63: Oakwood (Part 4)

“Funny thing, rigor mortise.” Said June in Robyn’s ear, making her jump. “They all seemed to be sitting. What an odd way to die?”

The black van was opened and loaded and the police officer drove away behind it. The crowd dispersed, still whispering, now strangers in thought. Robyn went back to her apartment and tried to take her mind off dead bodies by emails and work. Later on in bed, she let her mind wonder. One of the new faces had stuck in her mind more than the others that day. One of the doctors. She had been pretty. Of course, exhausted as all doctors where, but she had taken the time to smile when Robyn passed by. The irony stuck Robyn, having those sorts of thoughts about another lady would have in the past got a free room at a place like this. Along with the padded walls.
The fox’s screams mixed again with the screams in her dreams.
The next day was slower, less new things, more of the same. Robyn tried to remember where she had seen the nice doctor but could not seem to find the right corridor. She realised that it was probably a fruitless hunt; it was rare her feelings were reciprocated in these kinds of situations, but it brought a little excitement to her day dreams.
But the real excitement of the day was yet to come. It was not until the evening when, at around the same time as the day before, Robyn rolled up to the large imposing gates that signaled the entrance to Oakwood, she was stopped by a police officer wearing a reflective vest and a grim expression.
“Do you live here Madam?” He inquired.
“Yes, I do.”
“Please could I see a form of identification?”
Robyn pulled out her hospital pass she was still wearing around her neck and showed him her unflattering work mugshot. The Officer checked her name on a list.
“Please can I ask what is going on?”
The officer sighed, tired of the same questions. In a fast, bored voice, he reeled off the set story. “During the course of the day, a dead body was found by the builders working on the far wing, it has yet to be identified but it is understood it is newly dead. We ask that anyone with any information connected to this incident to come forward immediately and everyone to pay extra attention as this may or may not be a case of murder.”
Robyn stared at him, dumbfounded.
“And now, Madam, if you don’t mind, there is a queue forming.”
She turned around to see a number of cars had drawn up behind her and tired, impatient faces stared out of the windscreens.
Wobbling slightly with the shock, she peddled off to the bike shed.
Dismounting and locking up, she found her hands were shaking hard. The words dead body and murder were circling in her head. She worked at a hospital, dead bodies were an unfortunate fact of life, but murder was something new and scary and she really wanted to cry again.
She dropped her keys on the ground and as she stood up again she felt the unmistakable feeling of a hand on her shoulder. She jumped and screamed, dropping her keys again and turned to face her attacker.


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