Excerpt: Donovan's Impasse

Book Description

    The dart went wide and hit the mahogany paneling.
    "Shit." Kim Donovan squinted through one eye at the picture taped to the dartboard's center, took aim with her last dart and let it fly. "Oh, hell yes, she throws, she scores! That's a hundred points." The dart stuck between the eyes of the gaunt, late-for-a-shave mug. "So, you pathetic windbag, how's it feel to be wearing a dart? That'll teach you to interfere with my patients."
     A click of heels stopped at her open door. "Peru? You're going to Peru? The jungle, no less? Of all the impulsive things I've ever seen you do, this reaches the top of the list."
     The harangue had begun, as Kim knew it would. She turned to see Petra Kelly waving a pink memo in the air. Just a few months ago, Petra had been an intelligent and sentient woman. Now she was a volatile cocktail of hormones and unborn child.
     "Top of the morning to you, too." Kim removed the darts from the paneling, leaving the one dart between the target's eyes. "You're just now seeing that memo? I put that on your desk a week and a half ago. I hope you treat your suicide cases with a bit more urgency."
     "The memo says 'Kim's vacation.' Last I heard you were off to bake on the beaches of islands that have lots of apostrophes in their name. But now I see that you're headed for the Amazon." Petra thrust the memo in Kim's direction. "You're going with Matt Krause's medical teams, aren't you? Oh, God, I knew it."
     "I leave in exactly two weeks."
     "Have you lost your mind?"
     Kim smiled. "I think we established that a long time ago, didn't we?"
     "Don't try to change the subject. It's reckless. You could get hurt."
     "Oh please, get a grip already." Kim sank into her chair - her only office extravagance - and breathed in the rich, musky smell of expensive leather. "If our esteemed thoracic surgeon has built up a hospital in the middle of the jungle to help native tribes, then how bad can it be?" She took a bite out of a stolen hostage from Petra's snack stash that she kept poorly hidden in her desk.
     "Is that my Twinkie?"
     "It is," Kim said through a full mouth. "You really need to find a better hiding place."
     "Why you are doing this?"
     "Well, I enjoy the challenge of finding your hiding places-" "No." Petra took a slow, deep breath, obviously struggling for control. "What possessed you to sign up for this jungle odyssey?"
     Kim shrugged. "A whim. You should loosen your Germanic shoelaces and try it sometime, my dear Dr. Fraud. I saw the flyer at the hospital. They were looking for medical volunteers, I gave it some thought and signed up."
     "What happened to a vacation where your biggest worry is too much sand in your bathing suit?"
     "My bathing suit is boycotting me this year. Come on, you know as well as I do that my whole life has been about keeping my nose to the grindstone because I was afraid of losing my competitive edge. Now that residency is over and I'm starting to make a name for myself at the hospital, I've discovered that I've lost my perspective. I forgot how to live, have fun, relax, smell the roses. I need to get that back."
     Kim watched Petra pace about her crowded office, carefully stepping over a battered immunology textbook and a plastic plate that had been liberated from the hospital cafeteria. She stopped to pick up a potted plant. The mummified leaves disintegrated with her touch.
     Petra shook her head and returned the plant to the dusty coffee table. "And you think slogging around the jungle is fun, relaxing, and smelling the roses? You think this will give you perspective? More than likely it'll give you hives and a flesh eating bacteria. Besides, how can you even talk about lost perspective? You've managed to do some really great things this past year."
     "My personal perspective is what needs attending to. And quit touching my stuff. I know it's dirty. Look, I haven't done an outlandish thing since my freshman year in college and, while going to Peru doesn't exactly put me in that category, it's definitely a step above wearing my underwear backwards." Petra let out a small laugh as she collapsed onto a box filled with books that served double duty as a chair. "Besides," Kim continued, "it's only for a couple weeks, and it sounds like fun."
     Kim instantly recognized the furrowing of Petra's eyebrows as her way of going into shrink mode. "I heard about a volunteer who suffered a heart attack, you know."
     "Oh, for crying out loud, that was nothing more than a rumor." Kim tossed her Twinkie. "Here, you need this. A healthy diet hasn't been good for you." Petra tore at the wrapper and took a bite. "For starters, St. Vincent's Amazon Rainforest Project has been sending medical teams to the jungle for years and, to the best of my knowledge, no one has had any problems. This is a chance to practice tropical medicine and to see cases like leishmaniasis and retinoblastoma, stuff we hardly ever see here. Hey, here's a fun fact; the Fer de lance is the most dangerous snake in Central America, and the venom can kill an adult. Can you imagine seeing a bite from one of those bastards? Oh and get this, they have pink dolphins. They get their color from their diet of shellfish. How cool is that?" Kim finished the last of her Twinkie. "Relax, I'll be fine."
     "Good God, listen to yourself," Petra said through a full mouth. "You're insane."
     "Maybe I'll tattoo that on my backside when I get to Lima."      Petra tossed her hands in the air, affecting temporary defeat. "I can see when I'm beaten, so the hell with you. Go to the Amazon, spit out poisoned darts and race around the jungle in banana leaves for all I care."
     "I knew you'd see things my way."
     She ignored the jab and focused on the darts sitting on Kim's desk. "I see you insist on putting more holes in the wall."
     Kim touched the bright green feathers of the dart. "I wouldn't if my aim was better."
     "Not that it matters one whit to you, but that's mahogany paneling. It's supposed to make you look regal and important."      "Yes, it's lovely, too."
     Petra's eyes moved to the wall across the room. "And I also see you have a new wall of shame on your board. Who'd the unlucky vic this time?"
     "Jeff Tharpe, an ass of an internist."
     "Oh, yeah, I recognize him. I imagine he did something heinous."
     "The worst kind - he's convinced that that the air he breathes comes directly from the mouth of God."
     "He's not known as the hospital's token hemorrhoid for nothing. What happened?"
     "The short version is that we tangled over treatment of a patient. Since I'm the surgeon on the case, I won. He took it personally by calling me an unprofessional harpy." Kim ran her fingers through her mass of thick hair. "Now, I've been known to have my bad hair days, but do I really resemble a ravenous, filthy monster with a bird's body?"
     "Have you seen yourself after a few beers?" Petra leaned against the wall. "Look, Kim, all kidding aside, I know this guy's an ass, but your mouth makes an impact on our clinic. We've only been open for a few years, and we can't be known as a clinic that hires surgeons who wander around with their opinions unchecked."
     Kim bowed her head under the gentle admonishment. "Point taken. Believe it or not, I do consider how my words will impact the clinic. But I also have to assert my ground so the welfare of my patients aren't infringed upon. What he does in his own office is his business, but I'll be damned if I'll allow anyone to interfere with my treatment protocols."
     Petra shrugged and stood up. "Okay, have it your way. Since you're determined to be a loose cannon, I'm going back to my office. I'll say again that you're being irresponsible with this trip, and I think you need my services on a full time basis."
     "I can't afford you."
     Obviously not mollified, Petra, nonetheless, offered up a small smile. "Keep your lunch hour open so I can browbeat you into changing your mind. And another thing," she said, looking around, "boxes don't constitute furniture. This dorm room 'I live like a pig' theme is passé. Buy a couch, a couple of comfortable chairs, maybe a potted fern and some flowers. And for godsakes, take down that horrible dartboard."
     "Nag."
     "Loser."
     Kim watched her leave before picking up the darts. She let one fly across the room. It ricocheted off the dartboard and lodged itself into the lamp she'd bought last week. "Tharpe, you bastard."