Reviews on part of a story?

Posted on September 24th, 2011 by golfswinghelp

Question by A Person: Reviews on part of a story?
So far, I’ve written this much of a medical thriller. I need some input to know if I should keep going, as well as any errors. It’s only 3 word document pages so it’s not very long at the moment.

JOB WANTED

I looked up from a neatly typed slip of paper to a white sign in red lettering that read MEDICAL EXAMINER, then back to the slip of paper. My appointment with the Chief Medical Examiner was scheduled for 11:30am, fifteen minutes from now. It seemed odd that the interview would be conducted here, rather than in some nice café in La Jolla, maybe Bully’s or a high end Starbucks. Instead it was here, where I was confident would be my next place of employment shortly.

The entrance to the ME’s office was well concealed in the entrance of the police station. With no directory to guide her through the building, I was forced to walk up and down the hallways for the elusive wing. After almost 15 minutes of walking around the Police Station with several officers staring and whispering to the other, I gave up and finally asked directions from the front desk and was deeply embarrassed when I was given a key card and told to take the double doors on the immediate right of the entrance. Too bad that wasn’t mentioned in the ad. Through double swinging doors, I was greeted by a sight reminiscent of a quiet hospital corridor, with no windows and starch white walls and linoleum floors, with a second set of swinging doors at the end of the hall that would undoubtedly lead to the morgue.

I stopped outside the third door on the right, before slowly opening the door. Once inside, a wave of nostalgia hit me. The room was spacious with a touch of high school biology class with a few microscopes upon the countertops against the walls, with three large round tables in the middle, and a fridge off to the side next to a large dry erase board. There was a coffee pot balanced precariously on the fridge with a box of donuts on a counter nearby, and in occurred to me that this was probably the cafeteria, lab, and staffroom all in one. It seemed as though I was not entirely alone either. Two women, a blonde and brunette; and one man were in the room with them, the man looking significantly older than the two other women, probably in his mid fifties, his hair mostly gone safe for the grey beard on his face. He stepped up from his spot leaning against the counter when he heard the door click, a wide smile on his face, then extended a hand.

“Paul Blair, I worked with the Burn Unit in Dublin.” His accent certainly reflected his Irish heritage.

I returned the greeting with slightly less zeal, “Brigitte Fenshaw, University of Alberta Faculty of Medicine.”

The other women were entirely oblivious to the both of us, the brunette was reading a well worn and dog-eared book and the blonde was simply staring at the floor with a Styrofoam coffee cup in hand.

Paul continued, “Well Brigitte, it looks as if you’re right back in the classroom.

“Allow me to introduce Adrianna Acaeli,” he waved a well manicured hand at the blonde who glanced up before returning to her staring match with the linoleum, “and Amber Strauss.” Amber offered a brief smile, then returned to her book. Paul’s extreme friendliness was starting to creep me out; after all, shouldn’t he be fighting tooth and nail for this job instead of chatting up potential opponents?

Paul was the first to hear the door hesitantly swing open. A tall, younger man; no older than 35, poked his head through the crack in the doorway before stepping in. Unlike Paul’s pink shirt with French cuffs and black jacket, the newcomer was wearing a powder blue golf shirt by Calloway, khaki shorts, and tennis shoes as though he walked in straight from Mission Blvd.

“Am I in the wrong room?” was the first thing he said before turning for the door. Paul thought quickly and grabbed the man by the shoulder lightly; making him stop, while grabbing a slip of paper from his hand and reading it.

“Rest assured you’re in the right room.” The man turned around, his chagrin visible on his face while Paul held out his hand in what was becoming a standard greeting.

“Nick Massey, Baylor College of Medicine. Do you work here?” His timid behavior from just a minute ago was now gone, replaced with a confident resolve. Paul gave a hearty laugh when asked if he worked there, the sound reminding me of an old physics teacher in secondary school.

I didn’t notice that Amber had stood up until she heard her soft voice to her left.

“Five minutes to go; how many people do you reckon will walk through that door?”

“Hopefully none. Five people for an interview is a bit much.”

“Well Toto, we sure aren’t in Medford anymore.” I laughed that the old statement, while simultaneously wondering which Medford she was referring to. There seemed to be a great diversity in those who applied for the job.

“Paul sure is friendly.” I noted to Amber while watching the two men engage in what women far and
wide could only describe as “guy talk.” I wondered what they were talking about first; football or baseball.

Amber continued, “When I first walked in I thought he was going to step on me, to be honest. There must be at least a foot’s difference in height between the both of us!” That was a truth that couldn’t be denied. I placed Paul at around six foot five, possibly taller, with an overall appearance of a bouncer instead of a doctor. His tall stature was extremely intimidating, especially for my five-foot-five self.

I was a rare occurrence to have an employer as precise as Dr. Cameron Emerson M.D. At the exact moment the minute hand of the clock struck eleven thirty, five people walked in; two men and three women. I have had many interviews, be it in front of a single person or an entire panel, but never have those times caused as much fear as these five doctors. Each oozed of a higher intelligence that I could never comprehend, as well as a confidence that seem to be fueled
only by our intimidation. The way they stood together in front of the white board was a testament of unity; each was a Chief Medical Examiner, Deputy Examiner, Investigator, and Technician.

They broke ranks quickly, three stepped back, their backs firmly planted against the white board; while two took one step forward, a man and woman. This was the Dr. Cameron Emerson. The medical textbooks from graduate school couldn’t have been more vague about the medical God standing with hands behind her back merely ten feet in front of me. A genius in the world of forensics, Emerson stood at an impressive six feet even, with brown hair tied back in a rather messy ponytail, piercing grey eyes, and strangely enough was the only one not wearing a lab coat. Instead she was adorned with a Navy blue jumpsuit which was labeled with COUNTY MEDICAL EXAMINER on the left breast and back. She had just gotten back from a body dump.

To her right was the Deputy Chief Medical Examiner, again, extremely
tall, dark brown hair spiked upwards, with eyes somewhere between green and blue. He was not unlike Paul with his wide shoulders and hair flecked with grey, but not as old. His eyes were softer than Cameron’s, almost sympathetic, but why?

“’Primum non nocere,’ can anyone here tell me, where that phrase is derived from?” Emerson finally said, breaking my silent analysis of the five MEs. Adrianna’s head snapped up suddenly when she heard the voice. It almost seemed as though the room was built for the purpose of amplifying her voice; from my vantage point at the front of the “class,” Cameron’s voice was very soft, but not inaudible. Cameron flicked her eyes from Paul, to Nick, to Amber, to Adrianna, then finally to me.

“No one? Shame. Let me rephrase that. ‘First do no harm.’ Is that any better?” This time, three hands shot up, my own included. “Two words, shout them out if you know them,” was the simple sentence Cameron delivered. With slight hesitation came the quiet murmur of
‘Hippocratic Oath.’ Cameron gave a quizzical look at us, then louder, “That was barely a whisper, I said a shout!” Amber shot a confused look towards me before giving in a tone to match Emerson’s, “Hippocratic Oath!” I looked at Amber who held her gaze with Cameron and noticed her eyes widen a fraction of an inch like a deer in headlights. It didn’t take much thought to know that she had Dr. Emerson’s full attention. But contrary to the textbooks of old, there was no insulting, yelling, or anything of a hostile nature.

“Very good.” Cameron crossed her arms across her chest, not quite done with her questioning, “What is your name?”

Amber replied, “Amber Strauss,” Her confident demeanor still present. In less than ten minutes I learned three things about Amber: she was born in Oregon, reads Jane Austin books, and feared none. Cameron stepped forward further and shuffled a group of manila folders on a desk before picking one up and opening it.

“Amber Strauss, of Medford Or
Oregon. Cardiopulmonary Physiotherapist. Graduated from Oregon Health and Sciences University with a bachelorette degree in Biomedical Engineering and Valedictorian of 1997. Very impressive. Amber, permit me to ask a question: Why do you come here, to my morgue?”

Amber’s face displayed both embarrassment and surprise at Dr. Emerson’s sudden inquiry. In that instant that Cameron picked up her folder the look of confidence was wiped clean off her face. Perhaps it was a tactic of Cameron’s; take everyone off guard to remain in control, though it was well masked as just an innocent question. Amber’s eyes were fixed on the floor when she gave her reply.

“It seemed like an interesting field to me at the time.”

The Deputy Chief spoke up before she could say more, “If you are basing your judgment on a primetime television show that inaccurately depicts the world of forensics then you truly have no business to be in this room. This goes for all of you,” He looked each and every per
in the eye, “These late night shows that have captivated the western world will only go as far as their PG-14 rating will carry them. What you will see in the morgue has no rating boundaries, you see everything.” Cameron shot him a look that screamed ‘and?’ before he quickly added, “Dr. Dick Thoreau, Deputy Chief Medical Examiner, Medical Investigator, and Cameron’s better half.” This caused several ill concealed chuckles from the staff and audience. Cameron gave him a playful swat on the shoulder, causing all out laughter from the four lesser doctors. It proved contagious and everyone, Thoreau, Emerson, staff, and audience were laughing for reasons unknown, but reveling in the feeling all the same.

Best answer:

Answer by twilight maniac
I think that was pretty good. I didn’t see any errors. Keep writing!

Add your own answer in the comments!