Bottle 1: The Annual Retreat

Prologue

Jamie leaned against the desk in the cramped office, arms crossed as he watched the others sift through stacks of folders and papers from physical therapy facilities that required signing. The whiteboard in the corner was cluttered with hastily erased notes from morning rounds, a testament to the relentless pace of the neurology service they all managed. However, also written on that whiteboard was the phrase; In Case of Emergency, don’t call us, call 911.

It was the end of another demanding week, but instead of heading home, the team was packing up for their annual scheduling discussion—this year, in an entirely new setting.

"I still think we could’ve done this at your place," Abby muttered, flipping through a printout.

"We’ve outgrown that," Traci countered, shoving a stack of documents into her bag. "Besides, I think we could all use a change of scenery."

“100%” Eve exclaimed.

Jamie sighed. "You just don’t want to sit in my kitchen again, fighting over who gets the last cup of coffee."

Lori chuckled from across the room. "Don’t act like you and Kayla don’t love hosting, Wine Doc. Kayla always has the best cookies—and you have the best wine."

"This isn’t about wine Lori," Jamie mockingly replied, rolling his eyes but unable to suppress a small smile. The nickname had stuck long ago, a playful jab at Jamie’s hobby that had somehow become part of his identity in the group.

Abby glanced at the clock. "If we don’t get moving, we’re going to hit traffic. Lake house or not, I’m not spending my Friday night in gridlock."

It was Sara’s idea to take the scheduling meeting offsite this year. What had once been a casual evening at Jamie and Kayla’s house had grown into an increasingly stressful ordeal, as the neurology service became busier, more demanding and grown in numbers with the addition of Lori. The lake house promised quiet, focus, and—hopefully—solutions to the growing challenges of balancing their call schedule.

"Alright, alright," Jamie said, grabbing his locked duffle bag and laptop. "Let’s hit the road. And for the record, I’m still skeptical about this place. Two hours away too? Damn!"

"You’re only skeptical because it’s near a lake," Nina teased, slinging her coat over one shoulder. "You can’t pretend you’re not going to enjoy this weekend."

The group laughed as they shuffled out of the office, their banter masking the undercurrent of tension that came with their work. Being advanced practice providers in neurology wasn’t just a job—it was a constant balancing act of critical cases, long hours, and the ever-present weight of responsibility. The retreat was a chance to step back, have some fun and rework the on-call schedule for the following year, but it was also a reminder of how much they relied on each other to keep things running smoothly.

As they headed for the door, Jamie hesitated, glancing back at the whiteboard. The mess of scribbles and numbers felt symbolic of their lives—always in motion, always a little chaotic. With a deep breath, he turned and followed the others, the quiet hope in his chest that this weekend might finally bring some relaxation.

Bottle 1: The Annual Retreat

The scent of pine and the crisp lake breeze filled the air as Lori stepped out of the car, her gaze sweeping over the secluded lake house nestled among the trees. It had been a year since the group of seven Advanced Practice Providers last gathered for their annual retreat. This year’s agenda was the same: work out their neurology on-call schedule, drink too much wine, and enjoy a weekend away from the stress of their hospital jobs.

Traci was the first to arrive, followed by Jamie and then Nina.

“First to arrive, first to pick bedroom.” Traci stated

“Have at it girl.” Nina said, “I am right behind you.”

Jamie picked third and as he entered his room, Traci greeted him like a cat springing from the bushes, “You know, I don’t appreciate how you switched our dictation microphones last week.”

“What are you talking about?” Jamie questioned.

“They told me you switched them out because yours was not working appropriately. Next time, just ask.” Traci angrily stated.

“Sure, no problem.” Jamie agreed quickly just to get her to go away so he could unpack but now, so startled by the confrontation, he just threw his duffel bag down, grabbed his waiter’s key and headed back downstairs.

Jamie, ever the life of the party, returned to his car after dropping the key off in the kitchen to unload his prized wine crate. "Ladies and gentlemen," he declared with a flourish, "The Wine Doctor for the weekend has arrived! Prepare your palates for an unparalleled journey."

Eve rolled her eyes with a smile. “We get it, Wine Doc. You’re fancy.”

Traci chuckled as she grabbed a bag of groceries. "Just don’t try to impress us with anything that requires more than two syllables. We’re here to relax, not study."

As the group trickled inside, laughter and banter filled the spacious living room. Abby and Nina were already inspecting the kitchen, and Sara was flipping through channels on the oversized TV. They all needed this weekend. The grind of back-to-back shifts and the pressure of saving lives were taxing, even for seasoned professionals like the seven of them.

Lori, the newest to the group, dropped her bag by the door and stretched. “This place is perfect. Who found it again?”

“That would be me,” Sara said sarcastically. “You’re welcome.”

“Well, Sara,” Nina said, peeking through the large glass doors leading to the deck, “I’ll admit, you nailed it. Look at that view! This is much better than just meeting at Kayla and Jamie’s house.”

Outside, the lake shimmered under the afternoon sun, framed by a backdrop of tall pines. The deck, complete with a fire pit and lounge chairs, promised long, lazy evenings.

Jamie walked in carrying a bottle of champagne, holding it aloft like a trophy. “Alright, enough soberness, Let’s christen this retreat properly. Who’s ready for the first pop?”

Abby smirked, leaning against the counter. “You sure you don’t want to save that for later? It’s not even five yet.”

“It’s a retreat, Abby. Time to ‘wine’ down,” Jamie shot back, expertly peeling away the foil.

The group gathered around the kitchen island as Jamie angled the bottle. “Now, observe,” he said, his voice adopting a faux-teacher tone. “The key to opening champagne is finesse. You don’t want it to explode—it should sound like the whisper of a princess and not the fart of a whore.”

“Just open it, Jamie,” Eve teased. “You say that every time.”

Jamie smiled but continued his mock demonstration, his fingers firmly gripping the cork. “Patience, my dear Eve. As I always say, nothing kills you faster than rushing—well, except for an on-call week of course.”

Everyone turned and annoyingly walked away into adjacent rooms. Jamie removed the cage and then worked on the bottle and cork.

“Where is everyone going” Jamie questioned.

They waved him off and while he remained in the kitchen, the others scattered into various nearby rooms. Jamie sat the bottle on the counter, cage, cork and all while attempting to persuade his friends to return. “Come on guys, I am just joking around” Jamie explained. He returned to the kitchen after acquiring zero takers for his demonstration.

“Well, I guess I will continue to unpack.” Jamie disappointingly stated. The bottle left on the island. Jamie reached into a box and began to unpack a few more bottles of wine placing each one on the rack in the kitchen. He then opened the refrigerator, when suddenly, he was jolted on the side of his head. Seeing stars, he yelled out for help. The group, startled by the sudden holler, turned back and ran into the kitchen.

By the time most of them returned to the kitchen, Jamie was seen staggering and then he fell onto the island. Traci, already present, dropped the bottle shattering it on the tiled floor. Jamie clutched his head, a stunned look on his face, before collapsing onto the rug.

“Jamie?” Lori’s laughter evaporated as she crouched beside him.

“Come on, Jamie, stop messing around,” Traci said, though her voice wavered.

Abby, the most neurology experienced among them (second to Jamie), knelt next to Lori, feeling for a pulse. “It wasn’t an accident” he whispered as he stopped breathing.

Abby “I cannot find a pulse”

The room erupted into chaos. Nina scrambled to grab the first aid kit from her luggage. Lori began chest compressions while Abby barked instructions.

“What the hell just happened?” Eve asked, her voice rising in panic.

“We need to get him stabilized. Can someone call 911?” Abby anxiously stated.

“Shotty signal” Eve reminded the group.

“I swear I did not do this” Traci stated, disbelief etched on her face. “How could—”

“Quiet!” Abby snapped, her focus unshaken. “We need to focus.”

As Lori continued compressions, Nina returned with the kit. “What should we do now? The hospital is hours away!”

Abby grabbed a bag valve mask from Nina’s kit and positioned it over Jamie’s mouth. “We stabilize him first. Then we figure out the rest.”

“Wait, there is glass everywhere” Sara said, her eyes scanning the floor.

The group froze, their eyes darting to the shattered glass on the floor.

“What the hell is going on?” Eve whispered.

The tension in the room thickened as Abby continued to pump air into Jamie’s lungs.

“Keep going, Lori,” Abby said, her voice calm but firm. She shifted her position to check Jamie’s pupils with the small flashlight from the kit. “Damn it, his pupil is blown. He must have some sort of bleed. He is herniating.”

“This doesn’t make sense,” Nina said, pacing the room. “What happened?”

“I have no idea” Traci replied, though she sounded uncertain.

“You have no idea?” Sara interrupted. “You were in here with him!”

“I was not! I got in here just before all of you.” Traci defensively stated. “I grabbed the bottle on my way in! Hell, you, Sara, didn’t even come in until after they started CPR.”

“Shut it” Eve suggested, though her voice quivered.

Lori grunted with effort as she continued chest compressions. “Can we stop arguing? Jamie’s dying over here!”

Nina stopped pacing, her hands on her hips. “And what are we supposed to do, Lori? We’re in the middle of nowhere with no signal and no hospital for miles. If we don’t figure this out—”

“Enough!” Abby snapped, her voice cutting through the panic. “We’ll debate physics later. Lori, switch with me. I’ll do compressions.”

Lori leaned back, her arms trembling from exhaustion, and Abby immediately took over. “Eve, grab your cell phone; Nina, check the landline to see if it’s working since our cell phones keep cutting in and out. Traci, look for anything that could help—ice packs, towels, anything.”

The room buzzed frantically with energy as everyone scrambled to follow Abby’s instructions. Nina darted toward the phone on the wall, lifting the receiver to her ear. Her face fell.

“It’s dead. No dial tone.”

“Of course it is,” Sara muttered. “Classic horror movie setup. No cell signal and now no dial tone.”

“This isn’t a joke!” Nina snapped, slamming the receiver back into place.

“Who is laughing Nina?” Sara shot back.

Meanwhile, Traci returned with a bag of frozen peas and a dish towel. “This is all I could find in the freezer.”

Abby gestured for her to apply it to Jamie’s temple. “Better than nothing. Keep the swelling down while we try to stabilize him.”

“Should we drive him to the hospital?” Lori asked, her voice tinged with desperation.

“And risk moving him with a suspected brain bleed?” Abby shook her head. “Not unless it’s our only option.”

As they worked, Eve crouched near the broken glass, her eyes narrowing. “This... this isn’t right. Look at the label. It certainly does not appear normal at all. It appears altered and certainly not made from any winery. It sure appears as if somebody must’ve swapped it.”

“Swapped it?” Traci echoed. “When? We’ve all been here together the whole time.”

“Sure, but we all were in different rooms. That is, unless someone planted it,” Eve said, her voice barely above a whisper. “And? Girl, you were holding it when we arrived!”

“What the hell are you saying?” Nina demanded, crossing her arms.

“Yeah!” Traci reiterated Nina’s thought.

Eve stood with a grim expression. “I’m saying someone could’ve tampered with the bottle. Maybe it wasn’t an accident; like Jamie said.”

The room fell silent, except for the rhythm of Abby’s compressions. The possibility hung in the air, heavy and suffocating.

“That’s insane,” Sara said, though she looked more unnerved than convinced. “Why would anyone, let alone, any of us want to hurt Jamie? That doesn’t make sense.”

“Does any of this make sense?” Eve shot back. “Where were you when this all went down?”

“Oh, stop it. Now, is not the time Eve.” Sara said.

“If he doesn’t wake up soon, we’ll have no choice but to risk the drive. Wait, I have a dial tone. I am calling 9-1-1.” Nina mentioned.

Lori broke the silence. “If this wasn’t an accident..., are we saying it’s one of us who did this to Jamie?”

Nina shouted “they will be here in 45-60 minutes”

Lori’s words hit like a thunderclap. No one spoke, their eyes darting around the room, scanning each other’s faces for signs of guilt or betrayal.

“Stop,” Abby said firmly. “We’re not jumping to conclusions. Right now, our priority is Jamie. 60 minutes Nina? Are you serious”

“That’s what they said. They told me that we are literally in the middle of nowhere” explained Nina.

But as the group huddled together, trying to make sense of the chaos, one thought refused to leave anyone’s mind: If this wasn’t an accident, who could they trust?

The revelation of mismatched label raised suspicions that Jamie’s accident might have been orchestrated, leaving the group to grapple with the chilling possibility of foul play.

To be continued February 28th, 2025.