Room 307 of the hospital has been empty for two days. Tonight, someone's using it again
Wednesday, 2:17 AM
Paula: Diego, 307 just triggered the call bell again. Third time in an hour.
Diego: what? Wasn't it empty since Monday?
Paula: Yeah. Mr. Ortega was discharged Monday at noon. I went to check, and the room was unmade, empty. I turned on the light and left.
Diego: and the bell's still going off?
Paula: Yes. It just rang again. I'm going in to check.
Diego: Hold on, better call security before you go in alone.
Paula: Security's dealing with an emergency in the ER. I'll go see if there's a confused patient.
2:29 AM
Paula: Diego. I went into 307.
Diego: anyone there?
Paula: There's no one. But the bed is messed up. The sheets look used, the pillow has an imprint. The glass on the nightstand has water in it.
Diego: maybe housekeeping hasn't been since the discharge
Paula: Diego. The water in the glass is warm. Freshly poured.
Diego: ok that's weird
Paula: Listen. The bell rang again while I was inside. There's no one in there who could press it—the button's on the wall by the headboard, and the bed is empty.
Paula: I'm out now. Diego, I need you to look something up in the system.
Diego: what do you need me to check?
Paula: Mr. Ortega's history. Room 307. When exactly he was admitted.
Diego: Paula.
Paula: what does it say?
Diego: Mr. Ortega was discharged Monday, yeah. But there's an entry from Monday afternoon. Exitus.
Paula: what do you mean
Diego: That the discharge was a transfer to the ICU. And he died in the ICU Monday at 5:43 PM.
Paula: but the bell's been ringing since yesterday