Beginnings - "Troubled Minds"

Troubled Minds
The day wore on slowly, the hot afternoon sun slicing between the blinds of the large picture windows of the office studio onto the plush wall to wall burgundy carpets. The air was stifling and thick. Dr. Sorsotto tossed a manilla folder onto his desk and pushed his chair forward, the chair swinging upright from its reclined position, to examine the folder’s contents and review the lengthy reports he himself had dictated over the last few months.
Touching one of four green buttons on the phone at his elbow, with an index finger, Dr. Sorsotto cleared his throat and spoke slowly into the receiver, annunciating every word.
"Miss Oliver, have you called on the air conditioning company yet? He snapped the word yet as if it were a whip.
"Yes, doctor, I’ve called them again. In fact, I’ve called four times. They don’t seem to feel your same urgency. They just say the same thing every time I call, that we are on their list and that they will make it by to look at it when they get to us. I’ve tried others in the book but no one else will even try to get to us today. I’m sorry doctor.
She let her voice softly trail off into silence as if to emphasize her diligent effort and sincere concern for the doctor’s discomfort.
"Well," Dr. Sorsotto soften his own voice, "I can tell that you have tried. But you know that I can not work in this heat. It’s not like I can open a window on the 15th floor for a breeze. And..." He hesitated, "you shouldn’t have to work like this either. Call the rest of my schedule, move their appointments to next week, then find someplace to escape this heat for the weekend!"
"Thank you Doctor, but ..ahh, do you remember that you have Charlie in forty-five minutes? You know how he is going to react."
"Oh yes. Charlie.. Call the others and let me work it out with Charlie."
Abruptly, Dr. Sorsotto released the intercom switch, rotated in his chair and stood up. The white, tailored dress shirt stuck to his back while beads of sweat trickled down the sides of his neck and forehead. He tore at the tie around his throat and tossed it onto the folds of a long black leather sofa stretched across one wall of the office suite. Pulling the shirt tails from charcoal gray slacks, he strolled to the rear of the office, through a narrow oak-paneled door into a private bathroom. The bathroom was small and tidy, consisting of a wedge shaped corner shower, cream colored porcelain toilet and matching vanity with mirror. He slumped in front of the sink, letting the water run while it cooled. He then plashed the cool water onto his face and neck, letting it follow the sweat into his shirt. He then soaked a washcloth and held it over his face with one hand while leaning on the other. "It must be a hundred and twenty degrees," he thought. "Too hot to think, too hot to function. Definitely too hot to have to deal with Charlie’s fantasies and rage."
After fifteen minutes of repeated soaking of the washcloth, Dr. Sorsotto returned begrudgingly to his desk and the stifling heat. He quickly shuffled the jumble of multicolored files across his desk into a coherent order and placed them in a stack near the stapler and an empty tape dispenser. He then sorted some of the other clutter into keep and discard piles. The discard pile was then shredded through the machine placed strategically near his feet next to a plastic garbage can. As he bent over to feed the paper into the shredder, he heard the outer door of his office open slowly.
"Miss Oliver, did you call all of the ........." He looked up as he spoke and stopped abruptly, grasping the desk for stability. He tried to take a breath but could not get any air. His lungs had stiffened in shock.
Charlie McCannti filled the doorway, breathing heavy, slow raspy breaths. His hulking shoulders shuddered in rhythm. His lumbering hands hung at his sides and were covered in blood. For all of his training, Dr. Sorsotto was frozen. He mind felt like a car stuck in neutral. The brain’s nerve ending were firing panic signals but his body felt like it was being pressed into the chair. He looked numbly down at the blood dripping into pools on the carpet in the doorway.
Fighting the panic and shock, he straightened slowly in his chair. Choosing his words carefully, and trying to suppress the fear in his voice, he spoke.
"Charlie," he could feel the sweat run down his cheek and was aware of the pounding of his heart in his ears. "Come in. It appears that we have some things to discuss."
Charlie did as he was told and stepped into the office before turning to close the door behind him. From under Charlie’s arm, Dr. Sorsotto caught a quick glimpse of the outer office and his throat tightened, sealing off the bile rising from his stomach.
Charlie pushed the door closed firmly, purposefully, and turned back towards the doctor who seemed to shrink back even further behind the protection of the antique mahogany desk. Charlie stepped forward, pulling a long, narrow bladed knife, smeared with blood, from his belt. His breathing seemed to quicken.
"Doctor," he hissed "I think it’s time for our appointment!"
Hours later, a frantic call burst like static across Spring Rock Heating and Air’s two way radio frequency, addressing anyone who would respond. Frantic yells for help from the radio scared the only receptionist left working on a Friday afternoon, who in turn, jumped from her chair and ran down the empty hallway. As she frantically searched for anyone left in the building, she held the radio in an outstretched hand like she was carrying a dead rat. She eventually burst through the doors of a conference room into an evening sales meeting, screaming for someone, anyone!