December 2006
Oblast Regional Hospital
Chelyabinsk, Russia
Benjamin Linus carefully walks the ice covered steps leading to the hospital entrance. The covered archway mimics the entrance to a church, but the heavy reinforced door looks more like the front door to a prison. He pushes his shoulder against the rusted metal until its hinges snap and creak; the door gives way to a patient waiting area barely warmer than the frigid conditions outside.
He steps forward; the loose linoleum floor bends and cracks beneath his feet. The ceiling stained with the moisture of leaking pipes. He brushes the powder off his shoulders adding to the puddles of melting snow on the floor. A group of waiting patients huddle close to a tiny heater in the middle of the room. They turn and jealously stare at the posh winter coat he's wearing.
Ben approaches a nurse standing behind the counter. She points to an empty chair in the waiting room without looking away from the clipboard she is reading. "Vate your turn," she instructs sharply.
His lips form a tightened smile. "Hello." He places his elbows on the counter and waits for her to look in his direction. "I'm here to see the survivors of the Christmas Day fire," he says.
She looks up from the clipboard; her stern expression softens. "Survivor," she says, shaking her head apologetically. "There eese only one left alive, and vee are unsure she vill make it."
He raises his eyebrows and nods. "Oh," he says, swallowing.
"It vuz such a horrendous accident," she says, hugging the clipboard to her chest. "You are dee first to visit. Unfortunately, only family members are allowed een intensive care."
"I understand." Ben removes his elbows from the counter then glances sheepishly to the floor. "But if I'm the first visitor, perhaps she doesn't have family." He opens his wallet and places a high denomination bill on the counter. "I want to pay for her medical care."
Her eyes widen as she glances down at the bill. Ben layers another one on top. And another. And then, another.
"Thank you," she says, gesturing her hand for him to stop. "Dat vill be more than enough." She straightens the cash and places it securely in a metal cash box. "Please, sir, follow me."
She opens the door next to the counter. Ben follows her down a narrow corridor leading to intensive care. Patients crowd the halls and quietly groan in their wheelchairs, all but ignored by the shortage of doctors and nurses. They enter a dimly lit room at the end of the hall; a woman, bandaged from head to toe lies unconscious in a hospital bed. A heart monitor beats faintly in the background.
The nurse tilts her head slightly and presses her hand to her chest; a layer of forming tears glazes over her eyes. "She eese dee only survivor of dee Christmas Day fire."
Ben removes his coat and folds it beneath his arms. He approaches the bed and sits in a chair next to her side.
"I vill be up front if you need me," says the nurse. She turns back before leaving. "Thank you for taking care of her."
"No. Thank you," Ben replies, steadying his glasses on the tip of his nose. He leans forward and peers into the opening of her facial bandage. Her eyes are shut; her breathing steady and peaceful. "I'm sorry this happened," he says. "But it wasn't an accident. It was arson." Ben stares blankly forward and takes a moment to suppress the tiny measure of human sympathy forming in the back of his twisted mind. "You and your friends; all of your names were on the list. The men I hired chose the method of execution. Unfortunately, they didn't finish the job."
Ben removes his winter gloves, uncovering a pair of latex gloves he's wearing underneath. "And I came to finish it."
Will Ben "finish the job" he came there to do? Or will the spirit of Christmas somehow influence him to do otherwise? Next chapter this week! -bobt