Authors: Angella Graff
The man was later found at inside an abandoned church, and autopsy revealed severe decay in the brain and vital organs. The coroner ruled the death natural causes, stating that it was likely due to atrophy and disuse of his own body that led to the man's death. Still, there was no explanation as to why the man suddenly woke up, and why the monitors he was on never indicated a change in condition before he strolled out of the hospital.
Another thing Ben found was that all of the hospital security cameras apparently malfunctioned around the times all the patients disappeared. “Why hasn't anyone picked up on this?” he asked himself, pinching the bridge of his nose.
He loaded up the security video of the man walking through the parking lot. It was grainy and dark, but clear enough to see what was going on. The man was walking, nearly stumbling across the pavement. Clothed in only a hospital gown, the man seemed to waver, standing in between several cars. After a moment, the man lurched to the car on his left, and opened the door.
Ben was about to close the video when the man suddenly looked up, making eye contact with the camera. Despite there being no real lighting in the parking lot, the man's eyes seemed to flash, as though someone had shined a light from inside of his skull. It was only a brief second, but it was enough to make Ben jump in his seat.
Heart racing, Ben watched the video over and over. He watched the man's passive face as he looked up at the camera, the flashing eyes, and the stumbling, awkward gestures. The car sped off, swerving, barely missing several vehicles as it drove out of sight.
Ben's mouth had gone completely dry and he pushed the monitor back away from him. “This is insane,” he muttered to himself.
He sent several of the reports to the printing queue and stood up. Ben had worked straight through lunch, he realized as a wave of dizziness rushed through his head. He had about an hour before the other two detectives would be over at Sacred Heart, which was just enough time to grab a sandwich and meet with Mark and his sister before they got there.
His favorite cafe was packed to the brim with people, but he managed to make his way to the front, place his order and secure a spot in the very corner of the patio. Ben's nerves were raw, and the idea of having to confront Mark, to listen to another insane story of Judas Iscariot and immortality and God was almost too much for Ben to handle.
He nearly jumped out of his skin when his cell phone began to buzz violently against his chest. He reached into the inside breast pocket of his jacket and looked at the caller ID. It was a California number, a Southern California area code, and he figured it was one of the detectives.
“Stanford,” he said by way of greeting.
“Detective Stanford, I'm not sure if you remember me. My name is Greg Asclepius, I'm the doctor treating the John Doe at San Diego Mental Health Hospital.”
“Yes, of course,” Ben said, feeling a wave of unexplained panic rush through him. “How can I help you?”
“I expect you received a visit from two rather brash detectives this week regarding John Doe going missing, yes?”
Ben sighed. “Yes I have, though I'm afraid I'm not at liberty to discuss the case.”
“I expect not,” Greg said. “I was merely wondering if you were on the case yourself, and if so, if you needed me to answer any questions for you.”
Ben frowned at the offer. It was extremely unusual, and he was too much of a pessimist to believe that this stranger was willing to offer private patient information for nothing. “I'm not on that specific case, no,” Ben said. “However, I have to ask you,
is
there any information you have not shared with the detectives on the case?”
The doctor hesitated, giving it away almost instantly. “I'm afraid I don't trust them, Detective Stanford. This case, this John Doe, it's different, and it's delicate, and releasing the information I have to just anyone I believe would be a mistake.”
“Can I ask you a question?” Ben asked suddenly. He was surprised at himself for even going down this road with a doctor he didn't know, but it was a possible lead, even if it was a shot in the dark.
“Of course.”
“Has there ever been an instance at your hospital, or any that you know of, where comatose patients have just gotten up and walked out of their beds?”
There was a very long silence before the doctor answered. “It might be better if we meet, Detective Stanford. Is there a time in the near future where you might find yourself down here and we can talk?”
There was a heavy weight to the doctor's tone that chilled Ben to the core. He had to clear his throat a few times before he could answer. “I think I can make time. I'm on a rather complicated case right now, and with these two detectives interrogating my sister on this John Doe case, it might take a little time.”
“We don't have unlimited time, but we have enough,” the doctor said. His voice had changed slightly, though Ben couldn't quite put his finger on it. His intonation was just slightly different, his K's sharper and S's longer. “I will phone you sometime this week and we can set up a time. If it's any comfort to you, I can assure you your sister has not been on hospital property since the day you were here, so I don't believe the detectives will find anything on her.”
The absolute sincerity of the doctor's voice gave Ben a sense of relief that was nearly physical. He let out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding, and he found himself smiling. “Thank you, doctor. I'll be in touch soon.”
Ben hung up, and without even realizing he was doing it, grabbed the uneaten half sandwich on his plate, and walked over to his car. He was stressed and even in the silence of his car, he felt everything was chaotic and out of control.
The drive to Sacred Heart was short, but seemed to take an eternity. He assumed the other two detectives hadn't arrived yet, and he didn't notice any typical detective cars sitting in the parking lot other than his.
Checking his watch, Ben saw Abby's last class would have ended, though she was probably still in her classroom finishing things up. Students were milling around, and Ben felt rather awkward and out of place surrounded by young students, uniformed yet still desperate to exert some form of individuality.
He tried to ignore the stares of the students, probably all wondering about the suited stranger with a gun on his hip, roaming their halls. He eventually found Abby in her classroom at the far end of the east building. Abby was at her desk, bent over a massive stack of papers, and she looked startled when Ben pushed the door open with a rather obnoxious squeak to the hinges.
“Hey!” she said with a grin as he stepped inside the classroom.
Ben smiled at her, though it was tense and he knew it showed on his face. “We need to talk,” he said, jumping right in. “We have a problem in that John Doe case.”
“The Judas case?” Abby asked, standing up. She grabbed her sweater from the back of her chair and beckoned Ben to follow her.
Ben followed, and kept his voice low as they started down the hallway. “Please don't go there with this Judas crap, okay? I'm not in the mood, it's been a terrible day so far, and I don't think I can listen to that hokey bullshit right now.”
“Fine, whatever,” she snapped. The pair fell silent until they reached Abby's office. She locked the door behind Ben and plopped down at her computer desk. “What's going on with
John Doe
then?” Her voice was dripping with sarcasm and irritation, but Ben ignored her mood.
“He's missing, and the detectives assigned to the case seem to think that Mark had something to do with it,” Ben deadpanned.
“What?” Abby asked with a gasp. “No. No way, he would have told me if he had gotten him out. He's been trying for weeks to get them to release Ju- er John Doe- into his care. He keeps getting denied on the grounds that he can't prove identity.”
“Obviously,” Ben said dryly, “hospitals aren't going to release an unidentified man into the care of some blind priest.” Ben let out a sigh and pinched the bridge of his nose. “So you're sure Mark didn't have anything to do with this?”
“Positive,” she said with a firm nod.
“And he's been here? Overseeing all of his classes? Nothing's changed?”
“Not a thing,” she said. “In fact, I was meeting him for coffee later this afternoon and we were going to discuss possibly going to court to get a temporary power of attorney through the church. As a sort of charity act, you know.”
“Right,” Ben sighed. “Well I don't think I need to tell you what a stupid idea that would be, John Doe is missing and no one seems to know where he is.”
“Have you talked to Mark about this?”
Ben shook his head and sat down in a chair, kicking his foot up on one of her lower bookshelves. “No, and I don't intend to. It's bad enough I'm here talking to you. The detectives, unfortunately, think Mark had something to do with it, and not only that, but they are implying that you may have known and possibly taken part of the disappearance.”
“Ben,” she gasped, her eyes wide and scared, “I swear I don’t have any idea what happened!”
“I know that,” Ben insisted. “I told them as much, but either way, they're going to be here shortly to talk to you and Mark about what's going on. I'll talk to Mark once they leave, but if he has had anything to do with this, he might be in bigger trouble than you realize.”
“What are you talking about?” Abby asked, hearing the warning in her brother's tone.
Ben hesitated, not sure whether or not he should reveal to Abby any of the details involving the case he was working on. Ben had always shared details with Abby, even when he wasn't technically supposed to. The only problem now was that Ben was afraid Abby’s feelings for Mark might cloud her judgment and she might warn Mark that he was a potential suspect. If Mark ran, Ben would have only himself to blame.
“The disappearance of John Doe fits in line with another homicide case I'm working on,” Ben eventually said. “If Mark had anything to do with our John Doe, I won't be able to stop an investigation.” He paused a moment, and then added, “Abby, I realize you're into this guy, but I need to trust that you're not going to say anything to him.”
Abby stared at her brother, her face drawn and troubled. Her foot was bouncing against the side of the desk, telling Ben that she was nervous and anxious about something. Finally she took a breath and said, “I won't say anything, and I'm not into him. I mean, I was, I liked him, but after everything he told me, I just can't let myself fall for this guy. He's immortal and eventually I'm going to get old and die and he's going to just move on.”
“Abby, please tell me you're not buying this guy's story!” Ben snapped at her angrily. “I know you love all that mystical religious stuff, but the guy is just some crazy man who probably enjoys making vulnerable women like you think he's got some sort of magic powers.”
Abby glowered at her brother, her arms crossed tightly against her chest. “How do you explain your tumor then, Benjamin? It just got up and walked out of your skull? Gnomes removed it? Elves? There's no explanation for what happened to you other than you were healed!”
“Maybe the first MRI they took was wrong,” Ben said. “Maybe it was an image of someone else and some poor fool is walking around with a time bomb ticking away inside his brain while he thinks everything is fine.”
“You know that's not true, Ben.”
The words stung mostly because they were true. Ben had been sick when he'd gotten the MRI. Doctors could be completely incompetent morons, but the likelihood of them switching an MRI image with another patient was slim to none.
To be honest, Ben also could not explain why he suddenly didn't need his glasses anymore, but that was something he could not bring himself to really think about; not for long, anyway.