Ahmed's Kwik Klinik

The Waiting Room

The clinic itself is hardly recognizable from the buildings around it - a bit cleaner, perhaps a bit more recently repaired.  The plate glass front window has been replaced long ago with a piece of plywood, and there are a smattering of syringes scattered in the doorway, but the sign above the door does say "Ahmed's Kwik Klinik" in neat (if a bit faded and dirty) lettering.

As the pair look about, a man walks past - a man with horrible, ghastly lesions on his face.  Without glancing at either of them he opens the door (allowing a faint scent of blood and antiseptic to escape) and enters the clinic.

At the sight of the horrible medical problem, KK turns to Ben with an alarmed look in his face. This place doesn't look like anything KK ever expected of a clinic, but maybe clinics with a "k" aren't quite the same thing anyway.

"Are you sure this place is safe?"

"No," admits Ben, "but it's definitely in your price range."

"So how much do you think it'll cost to fix my nose?  And how much do you think I'm willing to spend to fix something that'll stay with me for the rest of my life?"

"The question isn't how much you'd be willing to spend but how much you can afford to spend.  I doubt your going to find anyplace to cash Compton's check this time of night.  So I'd guess your somewhat low on funds.  Which means, unless you want to sell a kidney, this place is very likely your only choice.  I know it doesn't look like much, but we could at least walk in and check it out."

"I suppose so," KK replies, and walks inside.  If it doesn't check out though, it'll be a long walk home, he thinks to himself.

The interior of the clinic looks well used.  There are a good dozen people sitting around a waiting room, most of them in various states of disrepair.  They're an amazingly quiet lot, all things considered.

There is a window for a receptionist, and the young man that KK and Ben spotted entering earlier is just handing over some money to the receptionist when the pair walk in.  The receptionist is female, mid-thirties, average looks (Al Amarjan).  She says "have a seat" and the man does.

KK is apparently next in line, as the receptionist looks at him with detached clinical interest.

KK walks up to the window and points at his nose.  "I think my nose is broken," he says slowly, hoping that more information won't be needed at this particular moment.  "What can you do about it, and how much will it cost?"

"We can set it and keep the little fragments of cartilage from either wandering around until they migrate into your brain and kill you or work their way out leaving you with a big infection prone  hole in your nose," the receptionist responds levelly.  "It's a flat $50.00 to see a doctor, payment in advance, cash only.  Once the doctor examines you then you will be informed of additional costs for various treatments."

It really seems like the receptionist knows a lot about broken noses, and on an island filled to the brim with psychos, the doctors ought to have had lots of practice fixing stuff like that.  So KK decides that he could probably trust these people with his nose after all.

"Ok.  So I'll just sit down somewhere and pay the money when it's my turn to see the doctor?" he asks the receptionist.  Wouldn't do to first pay $50 and then have to flee in wild panic from the next bunch of psychos who're likely to appear at any minute now, KK grumbles silently.

"Pay in advance," replies the receptionist.

KK goes through his pockets and finds $50 in various denominations.  As he hands over the money he hopes that he will be remembered in case he really does have to leave this place in a hurry, and after the transaction is completed he looks at the receptionist and awaits further instructions.

The receptionist merely nods her head in the direction of the waiting room, already almost filled to capacity by casualties of Al Amarjan life.

Of particular interest are two women.  One in particular seems to be looking at Ben with some interest.  She is a tall, somewhat overweight black woman in her mid thirties (175-180 cm height, 80-85 kg weight) with a big head of processed hair, wearing a rather conservative business suit with a traditional Al Amarjan necktie.  After a moment she leans over and speaks quietly to her companion - a thin, rather frail looking black woman in her late twenties (150-155 cm height, 50-55 kg weight) wearing dark glasses and clutching a white cane.  In contrast to her companion she is wearing tattered rags.  She listens intently, then cocks her head slightly to one side as her companion falls silent and once again focuses her attentions on Ben.

Always the gentleman, Ben reaches deep into his repertoire of cultured prose and offers a polite greeting.  "What the fuck are you lookin' at?"

The larger, better dressed woman squints a bit in concentration as Ben speaks, and looks at him intently.  The thinner woman dressed in rags and glasses jumps as if she had just sat down on a live electrical wire.  She leans over to speak to her companion urgently in a language that neither Ben nor KK recognizes, but her companion merely pats her shoulder and replies quietly, a certain amount of amusement on her face.

Before Ben can delve deeper into his repetoire of cultured prose, the clinic door flies open and several individuals in clerical garb step into the room - easily recognized as some of the casualties from the earlier fight at the hotel, assisted by a couple of their unwounded fellow clergy.

"Oh shit," KK mumbles as he quietly moves away from them, hoping that this place counts as some kind of sanctuary for wounded people like himself.  And if not, maybe Ben can kick their butts once again...

"Son of a bitch," curses Ben, shaking his head in disbelief.  "You know, I never thought I'd get tired of kicking someone's ass but three times in one day is getting a little tedious."  Ben just stands back, interested in seeing what the priests reaction will be.

The Judas Priests spare a moment to glare at Ben and KK before limping in the direction of the front desk.  The apparent leader of the group of refugees (not the same guy who led the group who attacked them at the hotel) walks up to the front desk and speaks quietly with the receptionist.  He pulls out a card and hands it over.  The receptionist looks at it, looks at the group waiting, then pulls out a hole punch and punches three holes in the card.

"OK," she says, "that's one for free, and one on the next card."  She tears the card in half, then pulls another card out of her desk, punches it once, and hands it over.

"Thanks," says the lead Priest.

The casualties then move around to flop in various chairs around the waiting room, though a few have to be propped up in corners instead.

KK continues to wait for his turn, but does so as far away from the bounty hunter-priests as he can.  While not feeling quite as alert as usual, he still scans the waiting room for anything interesting.  Judging from the time it takes for each patient to take their turn, he tries to gauge how long it will take before he's the one to receive some much needed treatment.

Ben keeps an eye on the priests but doesn't pay much attention to them otherwise.  "This clinic's gettin' a hell of a lot of business tonight, thanks to me," he says to KK.  "Maybe I should ask about a commission."

KK moans quietly in an effort to wind his brain up to thinking speed, then offers his view on Ben's latest comment.  "Maybe if you didn't.  Then less people would find out where you are.  Someone is bound to learn from you sometime, and then use your own tricks against you.  It's not like you're killing them..."

"Tricks!?"  Ben's eyes narrow and his scowl deepens slightly as he studies KK.  "I know your a bit confused with the concussion and all, so I'll let that pass.  You do make a good point, however.  It would be nice if fewer people knew where to find me, at least the ones who want to kill me anyway.  I figured I'd have at least a couple of days reprieve before they started kicking in my door.  It makes me wonder though, these last jokers knew exactly what room I was in.  Hell, I didn't even know what room I was in at the time.  How'd they know?"  Ben takes a quick look around the waiting room before turning back to KK with a grin on his face.  "I think I'll ask one."  He scans the room, picks out the nearest uninjured priest, and ambles on over.

The priest eyes Ben with undisguised malevolence, but makes no move towards violence as he approaches.

"They shall put you out of the synagogues: yeah the time cometh, that whosoever killeth you will think that he doeth God Service.  What the fuck do you want asshole?" he pontificates in Ben's general direction.

KK notes that the poorly dressed black woman with the cane smiles at this comment.

Ben moves in close, uncomfortably close.  He stares down at the priest for a few long seconds before speaking in a low rumble.  "Within the next few moments one of two things is going to happen.  Either A, your going to answer a simple question and walk out of here just as healthy as you walked in, or B, I'm going to beat you to death and then, just for the fun of it, jump up and down on your corpse like a trampoline."  Ben pauses briefly to let his words sink in.  "So, what's it going to be padre?"

"Yea though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I shall fear no dog meat zmyrdi².  My rod, my staff, and the fact that this place is neutral ground, they all comfort me and I shall dwell under the protection of Safe n' Sound for the length of my stay here," replies the padre.

"Then one way or another you're gonna live the rest of your life in this clinic," says Ben.  "As soon as you step out that door, your ass is mine."

"Thy word is a lamp unto my feet, and a light unto my path zmyrd," replies the priest.  "I'll see you outside once I'm done, dead man.  Take time to assure yourself that your soul is prepared lest you burn in the flames of hell forever."

So much for trying to intimidate a zealot.  Ben parks himself near the exit and simply waits.

Seeing Ben not giving the priest a royal beating makes KK a bit more courageous, as it probably means that whatever holds Ben back also will hold the religious types back.  Thus, he dares to move over to Ben for a quiet talk.

"Look, I've been thinking.  It seems all the hardcases come here sooner or later, so maybe this is a good place for spotting people like you.  It sure seems like those two women over there has spotted you, and maybe it's people like them who give the info to people like those gangers?  Anyone working in the hotel could've seen you, or heard your name, and then reported it back to someone else."
 

The Doctor Will See You Now

Hearing his official name, KK stands up and walks towards the door everyone else has been going through.

KK is escorted back to an examination room that has that "well-used" look to it.  Everything is clean, but not particularly new.  With a bit of surprise he notices that there seem to be no medical type supplies in the room at all - no gloves, no speculums, no swabs, no syringes, nothing.  There isn't even a cabinet to keep them in.  The only furnishings in the room are an examination table, a single chair, and the requisite posters of a) the human skeleton, b) the human musculature system, and c) the human circulatory system.

After waiting just long enough to begin to wonder if there has been some sort of screw up and he has been forgotten, the door opens again and a middle-aged caucasian man wearing a somewhat faded and tattered white lab coat with a stethoscope stuck in one pocket, and a noose necktie, steps in.  He has the squat, bulky frame of a leg breaker rather than a doctor (in fact he reminds KK a bit of Ben, but shorter and broader - he looks like he could strangle rottweilers one handed).  When he speaks, however, his elocution is surprising.  His voice is rich and warm, and projects without being loud.

"Hello," he says,  "I'm Doctor Toropov.  I see you have a broken nose.  I can tape it up for you for an flat $100.00.  Painkillers or antibiotics will run you an additional $50.00 for a week's supply.  I'd also recommend a couple of days' bed rest in one of our hospital beds, which run $200.00 a night, but that's really optional.  It will get you back on your feet quicker though.  Rhinoplasty isn't my specialty, so if you are interested I'll need to get Doctor Tam in here, but I can give you a rough estimate of around $3,000.00.  Are there any other problems I need to look at?"

"No, I don't think I'm hurt anywhere else.  And I don't think I can afford to spend $200 a night sleeping either, so I'll just take the taping and painkillers.  Uhh... painkillers first, please," KK says while trying to not think about anyone touching his nose a second time.

"If you mean a local anesthetic you're better off without one," replies the doctor.  "By the time I stick a half dozen needles all over your face and nose, it will hurt more than if I just straighten it.  If you're talking about taking some Percodan, then you'll just have to wait - it takes about 15 minutes, and I have other patients waiting."  He reaches into a pocket and pulls out a rubber  mouth guard.  "Stick this in your mouth and bite down hard.  It will all be over in about 5 seconds."

"Oh.  Should I sit somewhere while you do your thing, or lie down perhaps?" KK asks before doing as he was told.

"Sit down on the edge of the examination table.  It really won't be that bad - people actually straighten their own noses all the time.  Ready?"

"Uhu," KK says through the mouth guard as he grabs the edges of the table that he's seated himself on.  The people who straighten their own noses are probably the same kind of people who just broke his.

The pain is - well - painful!  KK sees spots before his eyes, hears himself shriek... and then its over.  Dr. Toropov starts taping up the injured part of KK's face.

"That wasn't so bad, now was it?" he asks pleasantly.  "It didn't hurt me at all!  Ha ha."

After fiddling with the nose for a few minutes, sending periodic spears of pain rattling around KK's skull, the job is finished.  KK now has a nicely taped up nose.

Dr. Toropov leans back and says "All done! Come on back to the office and we'll settle up."  Following him, KK notes that one of the Judas Priests is staggering back towards an examination room.  He also sees the one that Ben talked to leaning against the wall near one of the closed examination room doors, speaking quietly into his cell phone.  When he see's KK he gives him a menacing stare and turns his back, speaks a few words that KK can't catch into the phone, then closes it up.  As he turns back in KK's direction, his body language seems calm and relaxed.  He gives KK an EVIL, EVIL smile.

Back in the office, Toropov unlocks a medicine cabinet and starts rooting through bottles while KK settles up.  After a moment he pulls out a big jar of pills, and starts counting them off into a smaller bottle.

"Here you are - take one every twelve hours for the pain.  Bear in mind that they will make you drowsy.  That's the bad news.  The good news is that because they are opiate derivatives you won't give a shit that they are making you drowsy."

With that KK is ushered back out into the lobby.  He notices that about half of the Judas Priests have been ushered in for treatment.
 

Exit Stage Left

Time passes.  The two women emerge, chatting happily in some language that Ben still can't identify.  The one who isn't blind spares him a brief smile as they walk out the door past him.  A little while later the man who proceeded into the clinic just ahead of them emerges, his face a mass of bandages (they apparently drained whatever those hideous sores on his face were) and walks quickly away.

Finally, when about half of the Judas Priests have gone in, KK emerges, his nose neatly taped.  Trying to ignore his sore nose, KK walks over to Ben and tells him about the Judas Priest and his phonecall.  He's not planning to pop any pills that cause drowsiness until he has at least the illusion of safety.

"Maybe there's a whole bunch of them waiting for us outside? Got a plan B? I don't want to have to give more money to Dr. Fedorov..."

"It's about fucking time," says Ben.  "I've been glaring across the room at those damned priests so long I think I'm gettin' a cramp in my right eyeball."  He examines KK's nose before cracking a grin.  "Looks like they put everything back in the right place at least.  So, how are you feelin' there, Champ?"

The receptionist calls in another of the Judas Priests, leaving only three in the lobby (two hurt ones and one unhurt one).  Over the rumble of traffic outside, Ben hears the scream of some sort of animal, probably a baboon.

"All right, let's see just how screwed we are before we start to panic," says Ben.  He moves to the exit and opens the door just enough to scan the street in front of the clinic.

Outside, easily visible, is a middle-aged woman who looks and dresses like an aging biker chick, save for the jaunty policeman's cap she is wearing on her head.  Around her are a good half-dozen baboons.  She is clearly watching the Kwik Klinik.

Ben closes the door and turns back to KK.  "We're fucked.  The Dog Faces are waitin' outside for us.  We should look for a way out the back," he says, checking the waiting room for any other possible exits.

The place looks exactly the way it did when Ben and KK entered.  The two doors lead, respectively, to the outside, and back to the examination rooms.

One of the Judas Priests, now bandaged up, comes out from the examination room.  He glowers briefly in Ben's direction, but his heart clearly isn't in it - its more reflex than threat.  He sinks down into a chair, and another JP is called back for examination.

"Uh... Dog Faces?  Another gang?" KK asks before he also starts looking around.

"Local security," Ben informs KK.  "One wrangler and about half a dozen baboons.  You do not want to screw with these guys."  Ben walks over and tries the door to the examination room.

"Oh.  Baboons?" KK utters while trying to form a mental image of what Ben just described.  "So, does this mean that those priests have given up on you and let the Dog Faces get you instead?"

"I doubt they've given up," says Ben.  "I figure the two have come to some sort of arrangement.  I guess I could be wrong.  It could be a coincidence the Dog Faces are watching the clinic.  I just can't take the chance."

The door opens easily, leading to a corridor (to the examination rooms), and to the office place where the receptionist sits.  The guy Ben talked to earlier is standing outside one of the examination rooms.  He looks casually in Ben & KK's direction, and raises his eyebrows a bit.

"Hello padre," says Ben.  "I'm glad I ran into you.  I'm afraid I'm going to have to take that cell phone of yours.  We can't have you tipping off the Dog Faces again, can we?"  He reaches into his jacket and pulls out the cattle prod.  Flicking it on, he begins to advance on the priest.

The head Priest is not particularly a stupid person (well - granted he does dress up like a member of the catholic clergy and ride around on a motorcycle, but OTHER THAN THAT....)  As soon as the bull beater makes an appearance, he slides open he examination room door and ducks inside.  There is a mildly outraged "What are you doing in here, I told you to wait outside?"  KK recognizes Dr. Toropov's voice.

"You know," KK says to Ben, "that doctor looked pretty buff.  Maybe we should sneak out of here rather than beat our way out?  And by the way, do you know if baboons are as fast as dogs?  If we're in the middle of hostile territory, maybe we should just call a cab again?  Maybe they have a phone here that we could use, unless we annoy the doctor..."

"Having a cab waiting is useless if we can't get past the baboons.  I'm headed out the back.  You do whatever the hell you want."  Ben turns and quick steps it past the examination rooms towards the rear of the building, clearing a path with the cattle prod if need be.

KK doesn't feel up to facing the dangers of this neighborhood alone, so he continues to follow Ben wherever he goes.  But not without offering his own opinions on the situation at hand.

"I was thinking we could have the cab waiting on a street nearby, but if that's too convenient for you..."

"There's a crazy man out in the hall waving a cattle prod around!" comes the reply from the examination room as Ben walks past.

"What?" cries Dr. Toropov in evident astonishment.

The rest of the conversation is lost as Ben continues towards the back of the building.  After a moment or two of searching, he finds what appears to be an exit, properly labeled "Emergency Exit Only".   There are a half dozen deadbolt locks on the door, along with a chain, a latch, and a regular lock built into the doorknob.  None of them seem to require a key to open from this side, however.  The door does have an alarm attached, as evidenced by a couple of wires running from a small magnetic sensor towards the top of the door.

As Ben begins flipping open the bolts one by one, he hears Dr. Toropov's voice once again as the doctor says, politely but firmly, "Excuse me, but that door is for deliveries and emergencies only."

KK turns to note that the doctor is walking down the hallway as he speaks.  He doesn't appear to be hurrying, and his hands are visible in front of him as he comes forward.

Ben takes a quick glance over his shoulder before resuming his escape attempt.  "Sorry Doc, but this definitely qualifies as an emergency."

"Yes", KK agrees, "if we go out through the front we could get killed.  In fact, maybe that guy with the cell-phone is already telling them where we're headed."

"But if you open the door you'll..." begins Dr. Toropov but at that moment Ben finishes the bolts and throws open the door.

Immediately an ear piercingly loud shriek can be heard from several locations around the building.

"...set off the alarm," finishes Toropov unnecessarily.

The alley behind the clinic, other than being piled with bags of used medical waste, syringes, and empty vials of unknown origin, appears to be clear at the moment, save for the omnipresent Rattus amarjicus, several specimens of which stare in Ben's general direction from the rubbish heaps.

At the sound of the alarm, KK just rolls his eyes.  Then he prepares to make a run for it, but doesn't really move an inch until Ben does.

Ben takes off down the alleyway, running like hell.  Still holding the cattle prod, he's prepared to use it against anybody or anything that gets in his way.

KK's plan is simple.  He tries to stick to Ben like glue, meanwhile ignoring the throbbing pain in his nose as his feet beats down on the ground.

Ben goes pelting down the alley with KK hot on his heels.  None of the rats seem interested in a snack that is moving so rapidly, and several frantic minutes later the pair find themselves a couple of blocks from the clinic, breathing a bit hard.

KK's nose is throbbing like mad.  "Where to now?" he asks Ben.  Then he lets out a low, pained moan. "I'd really like to use those painkillers now, but the doctor said they caused drownsiness."

Ben leans back against the nearest building, trying to catch his breath.  "Well, since we're in the area," he says after a moment, "we should stop by Gun Metal. After that, we can find some place to hole up for the night."

"Uh... ok.  But if this pain gets any worse, I'll just have to take my chances with those pills."  Then, while following Ben to Gun Metal, KK waits for his nose to realize that he's not running anymore.  So really, there is no need for his nerve endings to keep amplifying the pain.

His nerve endings disagree.
 
 

To Be Continued...