CHAPTER 3

At dawn, thick foggy mist; the signature of mid-Autumn and the coming of winter, still snaked its way out of the heavens and encompassed the earth. Cars were still coming and going as if it was a normal day, But none into the hospital's emergency gateway.

From where she stood by the window of her room on the ground floor, Camillia listened to the city as it woke up and went about its business as if her life didn't just come apart for the third time.

The hospital pretended not to remember that she had once strolled those corridors for months. She turned her head to gaze at the building where her husband and her daughter spent the night. Despair and anger rose from inside her.

It is unfair. Why is life so unfair? Why is the plan of God so set against her?

Camellia, who had woken up despite the mild sedative given to her late in the night, gritted her teeth, feeling cheated and bullied. Bullied by nature. Abandoned by God. Experimented on by the devil. She was so inconsequential to the point that nature had no compassion for her and was showing no sign of respect for the dead. If not, why didn't it start raining when the fog cleared? Shouldn't they all stay at home and join her in mourning? Didn't they say rain marks the departure of great spirits? Were her husband and daughter not great enough to deserve some showers at the least? Everybody is going around as if nothing happened. They should be at home, forced by nature to respect the fact that she lost her husband. The day shouldn't be bright and happy looking. The sun shouldn't come out until late in the afternoon. The fog shouldn't be lifted. Her loss deserves recognition from nature. But just look at…..The only thing affected by her tragedy is herself. Just her. How is she supposed to go on? How is she supposed to survive? How is she supposed to live? Why is life so fickle? Why does tragedy always find her? Was what mum kept saying true? Why? why? why?.

She had an endless string of "WHYS?" but no one to ask.

'Take it to God in prayers.' She heard one of her mother's famous placebos and snickered.

For Dorcas, everything started and ended with prayers. But Camellia knew better. In fact. She knew more than anyone how praying doesn't mean shit. Because if it does, why did they die? Why is she here again? Why is adversity rising the second time?..No? The third time. And this time, it's a double kill.

"My plans for you are of good and of…"

"Pleeeeeease!" She waved her hand in disgust, dismissing the verse.

She turned back to the room and rested her small body against the wall but it felt like the room was pressing in on her, so she turned back and faced the day, witnessing the rising of another sun while all the consolatory Bible verses engraved in her heart thanks to her mum's high handed approach to religion while she was growing up, ran through her mind. None of them made sense. Nothing does and she wished she could erase them all.

'WHY DID THEY DIE?! WHY DID YOU LET IT HAPPEN? DID YOU NOT SAY ADVERSITY WILL NOT RISE THE SECOND TIME? THIS IS THE THIRD ONE. AND YOU DIDN'T JUST TAKE ONE. YOU TOOK TWO THIS TIME. TWO! ARE YOU THAT LONELY UP THERE THAT YOU NEEDED THEM SO BAD? ARE YOU RUNNING OUT OF ANGELS AND HAD TO TAKE MINE?! WHY ARE YOU DOING THIS TO ME?!"

By the time she was done, her voice was getting coarse and the chill from the clearing mist was beginning to make her shiver. She didn't mind. Anything that will take away the pain in her chest was welcomed. Camellia cried and cried but as usual, her questions went with the wind.

When Norman arrived with breakfast, he found her bending on the window frame with her head hanging out the window, staring into the sky like someone looking out for a comet. It broke his heart but what was he supposed to do? If anyone knows of the pain of death, he does. He was once an agile, sturdy, 5:8ft beautiful man with auburn hair, eyes the colour of creamy chocolate and a smile that made the girls' hearts skip. But look at him now? The glint was gone from his eyes and the skip from his steps. His hair was starting to grey and he hardly stepped out of his house so he didn't have to force himself to smile. The only reason he was hanging with them was that he was Dorcas' nearest neighbour and she had come running to him when she got the call. He was supposed to just drive her to River Creek hospital but he found himself staying, waiting for Camellia to arrive. Camellia was here now but then she was so weak and needed someone to take care of her.

Until Camellia is back to her strong self, he is staying. Not that he has anything to go do at home anyway.

He dropped the shopping bag on the coffee table and started arranging the food packs quietly.

"You should go take a shower. The police will be here soon and then we can go see Ellen.' He said to the room.

'I thought you didn't want me to go see them.'

Camillia turned around and walked back to the bed. She sat down and watched him unpack his food sac.

'I just wanted you to do it once and for all since you have to identify them anyway. Go take your bath Camie. Then come eat.'

' What's your deal? Why did you keep bringing food? '

' Because you will need it.'

'Speaking from experience I guess….' She sneered with an irritated voice before she could stop herself. Norman paused what he was doing. But after that, he did nothing. His face remained plain and he resumed arranging the food packs. He had come with five separate dishes, and Two of every other thing needed for eating. Two spoons, two forks, two knives, two plates, a pack of serviette and even napkins for the neckline.

"I am sorry. That was….'

'It's okay Camie. You are right. I am speaking from experience."

Norman doesn't seem to be affected by the curt remark as nothing in his poker facial expression changed, making her feel more guilt. Camellia gave herself a mental knock on the head and thanked her star that her mother wasn't yet around. The woman would have given her a real knock, quote a bible verse and then ask her to apologize. …that's right. Where is mum?

'Where is mum? "

"I let her sleep in. She was very tired last night.'

'Okay. Thank you, Norman. For everything.'

'What are neighbours for? Now stand up and enter the bathroom.' Norman said with a bit of authority in his voice.

'Yes sir.' Camellia responded, letting him order her. She stood up from her bed and walked over to her travelling bag that was placed by the corner all this while. Resting it on the floor, she unzipped it and started sorting through her things.

'I will go make sure they notify the police that you are ready and waiting.' Norman said as he opened the door and left the room. Camellia hummed her response and kept sorting through her clothes and amenities.

.....

Wearing a smart, soft powdered blue, round neck blouse and a body fitting high waist, black jeans, Camellia at 5'3 ft was a young replica of her mother except for the extra flesh and wrinkles. Camilla had none of that and neither was she grumpy. She stared at herself in the mirror, noting the dark eye bags that reminded her of Ellen's Halloween's costume last year. She had painted black eyeliners around her eyes and spread them out into a smooth circle, then used up camellia's white contour on her small, oval face trying to look like a decayed body with hollow eyes. It was horrible and funny but no one dared laugh. So they all praised her efforts and told her how dead she looked.

…..she is now dead and Halloween is around the corner…..Just perfect.

After crying for a bit, Camellia washed her face and repacked her dishevelled, jet black, shoulder-length hair before exiting the toilet with no idea how to handle things. The last two times, she had tried to be brave but it was useless. So this time around, she was going to panster it. She was just too tired to try. Nothing she can do to change things anyway. It took her 2 deaths to come to terms with that.

...…..

By the time the police arrived, Camillia had eaten what little she could swallow and Dorcas had arrived with more food to her dismay. Her husband and daughter were dead and the people around her were determined to stuff her with food.

What exactly will that do except make her bloat and fat? If she gets fat, who will drag her lazy arse to the gym? Daniel is dead for God's sake.

Having calmed down a great deal, she was about to nap when there was a soft knock on the door which was instantly opened and two middle-aged men came into the room with badges in hand.

"Good morning." A tall, lean, chiselled face, with tiny lips, greeted as he looked directly into Camillia's eyes.

"Good morning officer." She gave him her brand of cold stare.

"I am detective Jim."

"And I am detective Kirk." The other guy quickly chipped in, cutting his partner off with a cheerful, toothed smile that brought a frown to Camillia's face. What's so funny?

Sensing the awkwardness, Kirk quickly wiped the grin off his face and cleared his throat. The noise was as big as his robust body. And his huge, protruding stomach, packed into a high waist, black pants that reached beyond his navel and held in place with a tightly buckled black belt; wobbled as he sheepishly swallowed his laugh.

"We are sorry for your loss Mrs Tunes. If you wouldn't mind, we would like to visit the morgue now so you can identify the bodies. After which we will like you to answer some routine questions."

Jim's cold steel voice covered up for Kirk in a rush.

"I would love that detective. Please lead the way."

Camilla maintained her stiff, cold voice and posture.

Camilla got out of bed and found that her legs were heavy. Last night, she was ready to barge into the morgue but now when it was time to officially do it, she found herself reluctant. Even though she was in despair all night long, it was still like she was in a bad dream and was hoping to wake up from it any time soon.

Will going to the morgue and seeing the bodies not confirm the claims? Will it not make it real? Oh no! If she should see them, then whatever she sees now will be her last memory of them. Norman was right. Maybe she shouldn't. Norman can do it for her right? Mum is family so she can also do it. She doesn't have to go with them…...

The policemen were already out of the door before realizing that Camilla was not following them. Jim peeped into the room and saw Camillia stuck in place beside the bed with a horror-stricken face. He immediately knew what was going on and hurried over to her.

He placed his big, slim hand on her back and started rubbing her from below the neck down to her midriff.

"Mrs Tunes breath...breath…"

Startled by the sudden sensation on her back, She jumped with a whimper and air rushed into her lungs, making her cough violently.

"It's okay."

" Thanks." She managed to grunt as she tried to stop the coughing. Jim handed her a bottle of water from her small table and she took a sip. It helped.

"Thank you." She repeated with a raspy voice. "I am good. Let's go."

"Are you sure? You should take a minute. You need to catch your breath." Jim said with the first sign of concern in his chilly voice.

"If I wait a moment longer, I don't think I will be able to do it, detective."

"Okay." Jim nodded and led the way out of the room, making sure she followed this time around.

Stepping out of her room, Camilla realized she was staying at the end of a very long and narrow familiar corridor that led to a bigger and broader passage that led straight to the morgue. She was familiar with the layout of this part of the hospital. The section they were in was close to the ICU and after coming into the big passage, you just have to walk a few steps down the passage before you will come to another broad passage by your right. This passage takes you to the OPD. Only two types of patients go through this passage; The dead on their way to the morgue and the patients going to the ICU directly from the OPD. While the morgue was to the left, the ICC was to the right. There was a lift at the end of the passage, just a few steps away from the ICU's entrance. This lift was directly from the operation rooms on the upper floors of the hospital and it was used in bringing in patients from surgery.

As Camillia made her way up the corridor, she remembered the days she had walked these passages in the past. She wondered if she would soon be here again. Whose death will bring her here again?

Coming out to the wide passage, they met Kirk, Norman and Dorcas waiting.

"This way," Kirk said, indicating the way they should go. He had gained his composure back and his voice had lost its cheerfulness and became businesslike.

First, he treated me like a joke and now he is treating me like we are business partners.

Camilla nodded at him and they all went down the passage just as the lift behind them dinged and opened for a team of medical personnel who wheeled a patient out and into the ICU. Camilla willed herself not to look back as she made her way down to the morgue.

As if sensing her discomforts and anguish, Norman came beside her and placed his hand on her back, supporting her. Making her feel stronger.

Coming out of the attached building, they came face to face with the double doors that led to the IP wards. They then turned left and continued on a roofed pavement lined with flower beds that boasted professional trimming on both sides. Camillia wondered if it was the same frail, bent, old man that was still trimming them. She looked around but saw none of the tell tales of his presence; The rake and shavers with a green handle that he always left against the wall despite the concierge's rant of disapproval, His big, red leather gloves and overall that he always hung on the clotheslines in front of the morgue. None was there. Probably he is now resting in the morgue too. That's the only thing people do these days. They just die.

Camillia looked up and stared at the grey painted bungalow building housing the Riverbed county morgue. It had a double door that was never locked and readily opened even for the wind it was strong enough. Above the doors was a logo of the hospital cast in aluminium, placed beside the word "MORGUE" made out of iron casts and painted silver.