Free The Siren Project by Stephen Renneberg Page A

patients they had come to see, and occasionally a nurse would walk past. Down
the hall Mitch spotted a man with his hands in his pockets leaning against a
wall outside a room. The man watched people coming and going, glancing at Mitch
and Christa as they approached, and for a moment, Mitch thought he was a guard.
When they were halfway to him, an old woman ambled out of the room in her night
gown, helped by a white coated orderly. The man bent down and kissed the frail
old woman on the cheek.
    “Ready, Grandma?”
    The old woman seemed to be unaware of what
he said, so he took her arm and led her to the far door, and the garden beyond.
Mitch relaxed, then began reading room numbers. When he found Rayborne’s room, he
checked the hall was deserted before entering. Inside the room were four beds. Three
were empty. One contained Rayborne, lying peacefully, as if heavily sedated. He
was dressed in a white hospital gown and stared blankly out of the window at
nothing. Mitch was struck by the complete absence in his eyes, and his oblivion
at their arrival. Christa stood at the end of the bed studying his face while
Mitch shook Rayborne’s shoulder gently.
    “Rayborne, can you hear me?”
    Rayborne’s glazed stare was unwavering. Mitch
glanced at the door to make sure no one was watching, then he pulled the sheet
back uncovering Rayborne’s body.
    “What are you doing?” Christa whispered.
    Mitch studied Rayborne’s head, turning it
left and right. “Looking for injuries.” He ran his hands down both of
Rayborne’s arms, quickly checked his chest and legs, then replaced the sheets. “He’s
as clean as a whistle. No broken bones, no bruises, no sign of a struggle. I
can’t see a man of this size going down without a fight.”
    Christa sat on the bed and stroked
Rayborne’s head gently. “Lawrence, blink twice if you know I’m here.”
    Rayborne’s eyes continued to stare emptily
into space.
    Christa stopped stroking his head and
relaxed. Mitch watched her eyes take on that far away look again as she
concentrated. After a few moments, she turned to Mitch and shook her head. “He’s
gone.”
    Mitch looked at Rayborne confused. “What
does that mean exactly? Gone?”
    “He has no cognitive ability. No trace of identity.
His body still functions, but Lawrence Rayborne no longer exists.” She sighed,
then walked out into the hall.
    Mitch glanced at Rayborne curiously, then
followed her out. He went to the nurse on duty, who smiled politely as he
leaned toward her.
    “Excuse me,” he said, “I’m Mr Rayborne’s
brother-in-law. His sister asked me to check on him before she came up with the
kids. Could tell me what happened to him?”
    The nurse nodded and called up Rayborne’s
records on her computer. “Mr Rayborne was brought in early this morning, about
five AM. He’s had a preliminary brain scan, apparently he’s had . . . “ she
looked up, gauging if she should tell Mitch the truth. “Perhaps you should talk
to a doctor.”
    Mitch waved her to continue. “Give it to me
straight. I don’t want the kids coming up here if it’s really bad.”
    “He’s had a massive brain hemorrhage, cause
unknown. There are no tumors or blood clots in the brain and his bodily
functions are unimpaired. I'm sorry, but he’s suffered severe and irreparable
brain damage.”
    “I see. Who brought him in?”
    “He came by ambulance. I don’t know who
arranged for the ambulance.”
    “Thanks.”
    Mitch followed Christa out to the garden
path that led back toward the car. “I don’t get it. What makes a guy like that
flip out so bad. He turned into a vegetable literally overnight?”
    “He didn’t ‘flip out’,” Christa whispered,
her voice wavering with emotion. “It was our fault.”
    “How could it be our fault? He’s been
sweating on someone catching him for years now. He slipped up, someone started
investigating him, and he cracked.”
    “No, this was no accident.”
    “How can you be so sure? There