Mrs. Henderson (1st Place)

“She fits the profile,” Sharon peered in on Mrs. Henderson lying on the bed in the next room.

“Yes. Fifty years old. On social security disability. No family. One brother who lives in Montana who never calls. No visits from anyone in the last eight months. No one knows this woman is alive. We’ve set all bills to auto-payment. We have a monitor on her phone and I already have it forwarded to line seven.” Dr. Vance stated.

“So, we should transfer her to the Special Ward then?”

“Agreed.”

Sharon knew the code words. She unplugged the machines and detached the sensors from the sedated Mrs. Henderson, then wheeled her out the door. The gurney clattered and bumped across the parking lot. Sharon unlocked the door to apartment 6C and twisted the knob. Sharon scanned the parking lot for anyone out of the ordinary, then pushed the gurney in and kicked the door closed.

Large containers with sheets draped over each one like a tent filled the room.

Sharon looked down at the pitiable Mrs. Henderson. Her eyes became villainous, as she pulled out a plastic bag and began taping it around her head. A few convulsions later and Mrs. Henderson stopped breathing.

“It’s ok. No need to scream,” Sharon whispered, “You’ll have a very long life I promise. You’ll die around ninety -- collecting social security checks automatically. Dr. Vance and I might even afford that house on the ocean now.”

Sharon finished the process of freeze drying, and then stuffed her in an open container.

“Twelve in this unit too. We might have to buy another building.”

As far as the government knew, Mrs. Henderson would live to be ninety. Sharon latched the door and the only sound was Mrs. Henderson’s unit kicking on….


297 Words
Flash Story: Must contain tent, scream, code