“What’s your name?” asked nurse Henderson.

“David. David Bartlett,” answered Yendor.

“Mrs. Shaw,” said Henderson to another nurse, “Please bring David’s chart.”

“I figured you’d be asking for it. I have it right here.”

“If we could get all the hospital staff to be efficient as you, we’d be known as ‘Healer King Hospital’. You my girl,” said Henderson to Shaw.

“What are you in here for Mr. Bartlett,” asked Henderson.

“I hurt my shoulder in a car accident.”

She looked at the chart and said, “You may have something much more serious than a shoulder injury.”

Yendor’s eyes got big, “What do you mean?”

“Says here from the information we got from your ID that you’re 6’2″. Also says you were born in 1953. The person standing in front of me looks a little shy of six foot and (Henderson began counting on her fingers) young-looking to be twenty two years old. So either you’re shrinking in height and age or you’re not David Bartlett. Let’s hope it’s the latter.”

Yendor looked hard into Henderson’s eyes then turned his gaze to the clock behind her. He noticed the second hand wasn’t moving.

“Come with me,” she said leading him through some double doors. “How old are you son,” asked Henderson as she walked Yendor down the corridor toward one of the exam rooms.

Yendor remained silent.

Henderson stopped. “You understood the question. Now if you don’t want to answer it, you can go sit back down until we find out who you really are. And if you leave, we’ll still find out.”

“Seventeen.”

“Thank you, aaa…”

“Yendor.”

“Thank you Yendor, assuming that’s your real name.”

“It is.”

We’ll get you fixed up, but we’ll have to contact your parents or legal guardian.”

“Is that neces…”

“Yes it is. You’ll probably need some x-rays. First, we’ll get you in to see the doctor.

Yendor glanced back through the closing at Dorsey. He also recognized Heather, whom he had had words with earlier at the scene of the car accident. She was now directing Dorsey to two police officers.

When the doors leading into the corridor closed behind them, the den of noise dropped 20 decibels.

An orderly pushing an elderly black man in a wheel chair approached.

“There’s my shugga,” said the broken down old man to Miss Henderson, slurring his words. “You da finest thing in dis hospital.”

“Good evening sir,” answered Henderson as he was wheeled by.

“Baby, you gonna be ol’ Ben’s nurse? I’m gonna ask for a private room. I’ll let you sneak in and doctor on me. I’ll be wait’n fo ya,” he said through a hacking cough that nearly set him into spasms.

Yendor noticed that ‘ol Ben had only a few teeth, all which appeared rotten and had pissed his pants.

Nurse Henderson groaned, “Ain’t no fool like..”

“an old fool,” finished Yendor.

Nurse Henderson stopped, turned to Yendor and asked, How old do you think he was when he became a fool…fifty? Maybe twenty five. How about seventeen?”

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