The fencing around the hospital was rod iron, which Mark didn't view as a problem. What he did find problematic were the security cameras lining the top. There were only a few of them, on each corner, but it was clear they were high tech and had a wide range.
Mark knew their images had already likely been captured, however that wasn't the problem. By the time security viewed the tapes, Mark and Abby would be long gone. The only problem Mark had was entering the hospital without getting noticed.
Mark judged the area from the fence to the hospital doors to be about two hundred yards. It was a distance he could cover, if he tried, in a matter of seconds on his own, and a minute if he took Abby along with him.
Pulling out his cell, Mark went forward with his plan. He switched the device on and went to his menu where he had the number to the security desk saved. He pushed send and waited for the response.
“Security,” came the greeting.
When Mark spoke, his voice was high, panicked and worried. “I'm pulled over by your front gate,” he said in a breathy tone. “There's a woman by her car, and two men... they're... I don't know. She's screaming. Please send someone out. I called the police but I don't know if they'll get here in time. God, they have a knife or something oh God oh...” and then Mark hung up.
Abby ran up to Mark, her eyes wide. “What did you just do?”
Mark switched his phone off and shoved it into his pocket. “Created a distraction.” He pointed to the front doors where three security officers were bursting out. Mark gave a sideways glance to Abby, grabbed the bars of the rod iron fence and wrenched them apart.
With little effort, the bars were pulled to the side, providing a hole big enough for both Mark and Abby to climb through. As Mark expected, Abby was frozen in surprise, so he reached out, took her arm and pulled her through.
“You can sit in shock later. Right now we need to move,” Mark said, and with that, put his arm around Abby and pushed her to run at a speed that few were capable of. They made it to the front doors and slipped inside virtually unnoticed. Mark stood behind the wall, glancing out front where he could see the security officers at the gate, looking around desperately for a woman in distress.
“Let's go,” Mark said.
Abby was in stunned silence, out of breath from being dragged across the lawn, but she complied and hurried down the hall towards the stairs. The doctor's office was on the sixth floor, Mark recalled, and there weren't any patient rooms, but they still ran the risk of running into nurses or other personnel.
Mark was now out of tricks aside from using force to get past a person, and at the moment he wanted to avoid that at all costs. Pressing a finger to his lips to signal quiet, the pair tiptoed up the stairs, flight after flight until, completely out of breath, they reached the doctor's floor.
“What now?” Abby gasped in a whisper.
Mark peered out of the small window, straining to see left and right. From the limited view, Mark didn't see anyone, so he pushed the door open and they walked into the hall. “We need to get into his office as quickly as possible,” Mark breathed.
Abby gave a slight nod. “Okay. You know where it is?”
“I went up there a few times, but I'm going to have to remember it by touch,” Mark said. He had gone there, but as a blind man, and had navigated his way with his cane and steps. Closing his eyes, Mark put one hand on the wall and began to remember.
Luckily for the pair of them, the office wasn't far. They turned the corner and Mark stopped directly in front of the doctor's office door. Opening his eyes, he reached for the handle and gave it a turn, but didn't expect to find it open.
“Can any of your magic powers unlock doors?” Abby asked in a hushed, shaking tone.
“They're far from magic, and no, they can't,” Mark said irritably. “Hopefully this won't make too much noise,” he added, and then with a hard push, Mark turned the handle with the lock and snapped it clean off.
The noise wasn't as loud as he thought it was going to be, but the snap echoed through the hall and the pair froze. The door was open, but neither one of them dared to move for several moments. When it became clear that no one had heard them, Mark pushed the door open and attempted to set the handle in the open hole to look as though it was still attached.
“It's dark,” Abby complained. “Can you see anything?”
“I don't need to,” Mark said. His lie had come in handy more than once, learning to navigate the world as a blind man, and taking Abby's arm, he led the way through the lobby of the doctor's office, to his private quarters. That door, thankfully was unlocked, and a low light from the desk was burning.
There were no windows, which Mark found curious, but it didn't matter right then. The moment Mark stepped into the office he could feel it, the presence of the beyond, as he often called it. It was touching everything in this office, and Mark began to suspect that this doctor was a lot more powerful, or at least more in touch with the beyond, than Mark had originally thought.
“Where do we start?” Abby asked. “I suspect we don't have a lot of time.”
“I think we're okay,” Mark said as he turned the lock on the door. “As long as security didn't see us come in, which they should not have, we have all the time in the world. It won't be until they review the security tapes that there was a break in.”
“Oh,” she said quietly. “Ben is going to kill me.”
“Likely so,” Mark said with a short laugh, “but that is a problem for a new day. We need to start looking for information about this doctor. Asclepius, it sounds so familiar to me.”
“Greek God of medicine,” Abby said absently as she sat down behind the doctor's computer and turned it on. “That mean anything to you?”
Mark frowned. “Not particularly. The name isn't common, but a lot of the deity names from the old Greek and Roman mythologies have transferred into surnames passed down through the centuries.”
Abby gave a little shrug and began tapping on keys. “I don't know what I was hoping to find other than a password screen,” Abby said with a sigh. “If Ben were here, he could probably figure this out.”
“Unfortunately my knowledge does not extend much into the world of computers. Something I should remedy, once Yehuda is back in my custody and we've left this country.”
“You're going to leave the country?” Abby asked, her voice high. “Why?”
“We've just broken into a hospital and are attempting to steal medical records,” Mark said, his voice slightly patronizing. “There is no escaping the need to flee the country. There are detectives who already find me suspect, your brother included. My actions are far from innocent, and I cannot risk having myself or Yehuda incarcerated.”
Abby licked her lips and pushed the chair away from the desk. “I can't believe I'm doing this,” she muttered. She opened up the top drawer of the desk to find prescription pads, a few notebooks with scribbled phone numbers and addresses, but not much else.
Moving to the second drawer, she opened it up, and what she saw made her pause. With wide eyes, she held a piece of paper out to Mark with trembling fingers. “It's Ben's address and phone number.”
Mark took the paper from Abby's hands and read it. “Alright,” he said shortly. “What else is in there?”
Abby pulled out a few composition notebooks and flipped through the pages. “I don't know what this is. It looks like... a medical journal, maybe? Patient J, and then a bunch of stuff I don't recognize at all. It looks like formulas and stuff.” She handed it over to Mark who opened the book to the first page.
“Patient J first arrived comatose, and MRI reveals high brain activity but no response to outer stimuli. Patient's pupils are unresponsive to change of light, and pain sensors appear to be numb. Attempt at IV was unsuccessful for several days until patient started to display signs of dehydration. IV administered with fluids, no apparent negative reaction. Was able to draw blood to run through labs.” Mark read aloud, finding the language layman. It was
obviously a personal journal for the doctor, one written in haste, and simple.
Mark flipped on for a few pages until he froze, his eyes stuck on a passage that made his heart start to pound. “Results from the lab have returned, confirming our suspicions about this man. Body remains like a time capsule, the bacteria and genetic code are similar, except un-evolved, dating back to c. 32 BCE, matching the last data records I possess from that time period. It is A's assumption that this man is called Yehuda, commonly known as Judas Iscariot. From what A's people believe, he has a companion somewhere, likely nearby. A believes his people will try and take him, must keep security at a maximum. They've been making moves a lot lately, and it will only be a matter of time before they try and take him. I believe the blind man is this Yehuda's companion but A disagrees. Will consult with detective this afternoon.”
“Oh God,” Mark breathed, sitting down in the office chair hard. He let the notebook drop to his lap and put his hands to his face. “They know.”
“Who knows?” Abby demanded, snatching up the notebook.
Mark let out a breath and tried to calm himself. “I don't know who they are, but the doctor is in contact with people who know Yehuda, know who he is, and from what I can tell, whoever these people are, they have taken him.”
Twenty-Two
Ben snapped his jaw shut and crossed his arms. “Show me how, exactly?” he asked through clenched teeth.
“How the patients disappeared,” Greg said. He looked down at his watch and then back up at Ben. “I have a patient here in the rehabilitation hospital that I visit once a month. I will be willing to provide you access to his entire medical file and we can compare notes between him and the other reported victims.”
“And how will that show me how the patient disappeared?” Ben asked tiredly.
“It’s difficult to explain,” Greg said simply, and turned into the parking lot.
It was late and the security officer at the gate looked tired and annoyed. Greg produced his badge to the officer and within a few moments, they were permitted into the staff parking lot.
“I occasionally treat patients up here. I specialize in neurological injuries, and although my treatment tends to extend to patients who are recovering, occasionally I'm called in to oversee a long-term patient who shows no prospect of waking up from their coma.” Greg got out of the car and Ben followed suit.
“How long have you been treating this particular patient?”
“About a year and a half,” Greg said. He swiped his badge at the door and they walked inside. “A colleague of mine has provided me an office here for temporary purposes. It has access to my database back in my office, and I can give you access to all of the medical files. That, of course, could get me fired and cost me my medical license, but believe me, it's worth the risk.”
Ben didn’t respond as they walked into the elevator and Greg pushed the button for the third floor. The elevator doors opened to a wide hallway that smelled overwhelmingly of disinfectant and starch. Ben was still a little shaken up from his short visit to the hospital, and the smell made the surgery site from his head, which had healed nicely, itch just a little.
Absently, Ben brushed the back of his head as he followed the doctor down the hall, past a few turns and to a small office behind a very large, thick, wooden door. The office was empty, which Ben expected from the late hour, and the lights were off.
Greg flipped a switch and a couple of the desk lamps switched on, casting a sort of hazy, yellow glow over the room. “My colleague suffers migraines, so I apologize for the dim lighting.”
“It’s fine,” Ben said with a wave of his hand. He was busy scanning the walls of the office where diplomas and certificates were framed. Most of them were for a doctor Jonathon Winston, but a copy of Greg’s Harvard M.D. lined the walls, along with a couple of awards he’d won in the field of Neuroscience research.
“Here,” Greg said, interrupting Ben’s investigation. Ben looked over and saw Greg sitting behind a desk, a computer chiming the start-up program through small speakers. “I’ll get everything linked to my computer, and then you can explore the patient files.”
Ben hesitated. “Seeing as that’s against the law without a warrant, I’m not so sure I’d like to be accessory to this breach of patient privacy.”
“This patient is going to die soon,” Greg said, sounding a little sad.
Ben’s eyebrows went up. “From his condition?”
“No,” he replied cryptically, and typed something onto the computer screen. “Just like your other patients, this man is going to die by other causes.”
Ben immediately went on the defense, his arms crossing over his chest, and he glanced over at the exit in case he needed it. “Is that some sort of threat? Is there something you know that I should?”
“I promise, there’s no typical foul play involved here,” the doctor vowed.
Ben didn’t like the secrecy, nor did he like the direction the conversation was taking, but there wasn’t anything he could do about it now. He sat down in the doctor’s chair, the computer open in front of him, and he put his hand over the mouse.
The desktop was conveniently labeled enough to where he was able to navigate into the patient database. The database was slightly outdated, but not so far as to resemble a DOS system, or anything Ben couldn’t figure out.
“The patient number is 782583, and the name is Charles Wighbon,” Greg said from across the room. He was standing in front of the window, peering through the blinds at the nurse’s station across the way.
Ben typed the information into the system and began to read. Charles, it seemed, was in a freak accident. The patient’s record noted that a police report was taken and that it appeared the driver had fallen asleep at the wheel and careened off an embankment. The patient suffered severe head wounds and injuries to the spinal cord.
Ben read on for a good ten minutes, taking in every note every doctor had taken. Greg’s notes were in there, about once a month it seemed, as he visited the patient over the last year and a half. From what Ben could decipher from all of the medical terminology was that Charles had been in a coma, but every so often, his brainwaves would spike to a level equal to that of a fully conscious patient, however there was no physical symptoms to coincide.
Looking up at Greg, Ben sighed. “So what am I supposed to do with this information, exactly?”
“Do you have any questions?”
Ben sat back and crossed his arms. “Let me see if I have it right. This guy, Charles, was in an accident, fell asleep at the wheel, nearly died. He’s been in a coma ever since, injuries to the spine and brain were severe enough to kill him, however he’s able to be sustained on minimal life support. The reason you haven’t suggested pulling the plug on this guy is because every now and again, his brain starts acting like the brain of a conscious person, and you all have been trying to figure out if he’s going to start waking himself up.”
“That’s correct, very good,” Greg said, sounding impressed.
“I’m not an idiot, doctor,” Ben snapped.
“I never intended to suggest such a thing,” Greg amended quickly. “You see, from the beginning of my treatment of this patient, he’s displayed some unusual brain patterns. Some are consistent with dreaming, which means he’s capable of consciousness. Some, however, are consistent with, say, a person in the middle of a university lecture. Sometimes there’s nothing at all, and sometimes there’s the occasional, small spike. The patient has never been consistent other than we know to consistently expect something new from him.”
“And tonight he’s going to just disappear?” Ben asked.
“Yes,” Greg said with a short nod.
“And how, exactly, do you know this?”
Greg hesitated for a moment, peering back down the hall before walking over to the side of the desk and sitting down in one of the less comfortable patient chairs. “It was about six months ago before my contact became aware of this patient, and he
informed me that a particular being was interested in Charles. Charles possesses a particular gene, if you will, that’s interested someone. The biggest problem with Charles’s body is…”
“The spinal injury?” Ben asked, confused where the doctor was going with all of this. And what did he mean by contact?
“Exactly!” Greg said excitedly, but immediately dropped his voice again. “The good news was that the patient’s spine was healing, which isn’t common, especially in a patient who is comatose. Normally patients recover from spinal injuries with rigorous physical therapy, and the most Charles gets is a daily muscle stimuli from one of the physical therapy staff members.
“However, about four months ago, where there was no physical response to stimuli, the patient started displaying involuntary reaction in his left side, which is where the paralysis initially occurred.”
“What do you mean involuntary reaction?” Ben asked.
“There are parts of your body, nerves, tendons, etc., that you can stimulate to cause your body to react involuntarily.”
“Like those old television shows where the doctor bangs on your knee with a rubber hammer?” Ben asked.
“Exactly. Charles started displaying physical, involuntary movement, signaling that his spine was healing and the paralysis was slowly receding. It was as of two nights ago that his other specialist declared that his spine injury had completely healed, miraculously, and should he ever wake up, he would be completely able to walk and as far as he could tell, regain full motor function over his entire body.”
“And let me guess, that’s when your ‘contact’,” Ben said, using finger quotes in the air, “told you Charles was going to disappear.”
“I’m afraid so,” Greg said.
“And what for, exactly?” Ben snapped. “If you know this is going to happen, you have to know who’s taking them.”
Greg fell silent for a moment, and then let out a small breath. “I was your doctor, Ben. I was the neurologist called in to help with your surgery.”
The Awakening (The Judas Curse Book 1) Page 15