Endorphin Conspiracy, The by Fredric Stern Page B

Resident. That man’s my patient, I need to be in there. I think I can help.”
    “Strict orders from Sergeant Johnson. No one goes in,” said the guard.
    “Tell him Geoff Davis is here. Please.”
    The guard called in on his radio and waited for a response. The human chain of security guards parted, allowing Geoff to pass through. “Go ahead.”
    Geoff ran down the hall to room 719. The door was closed. He heard loud voices, the words muffled by the door. The guard outside the door glanced at Geoff’s ID badge and nodded, allowing him entry. “I’d open it slowly if I were you. The guy’s crazy. He’s got a fork to her throat.”
    Geoff acknowledged the advice and slowly entered the hospital room. There were three people inside. Randall Johnson stood next to the sink, attempting to negotiate with the man to release the hostage. John DeFranco stood by the far side of the bed, his head shaved, face beet red, beads of perspiration rolling down his forehead, his ribs wrapped in surgical tape. With his left arm he grasped a Philippine nurse around the neck. His right hand held a fork to her jugular. Geoff couldn’t believe this was the same man. Last time he saw DeFranco, he was comatose.
    “Who the fuck is this? I told you no one else comes in!” yelled DeFranco, his voice quivering. His maddened gaze met Geoff’s.
    “This is the doctor I told you about, John,” said Johnson calmly. He gestured towards Geoff. “He’s here to help you.”
    DeFranco became more agitated, tightened his grip on the nurse’s throat.
    Her chest heaved, her eyes widened like those of a petrified child. “Please let me go, I have a family, children who need me! They’re just babies!”
    DeFranco pressed the fork more firmly, indenting her neck. The nurse whimpered uncontrollably.
    “Shut up, just shut up! I’ve got a wife, kids, a family too, you know. You’ve screwed up my head so badly they don’t even know who I am!”
    “Mr. Defranco, I’m Geoff Davis, one of your doctors. No one wants to hurt you. We want to help you get better, make things the way they were before your accident—”
    DeFranco laughed. “Accident? You expect me to believe that, just like that cop over there, don’t you? It’s all part of the plan, isn’t it? You’ve kept me here, drugged me and fucked up my head, and now you tell me I had an accident! You think I’m that stupid?”
    Geoff glanced for an instant at Johnson. Their gazes met, Johnson motioning with his eyes toward the window. That must be the plan. “Nobody thinks you’re stupid, Mr. DeFranco. But you did have a bad accident, hit your head in a hang gliding crash, and you have amnesia. You’ve been in a coma for a few days in the New York Trauma Center. Now, please put the fork down and let the nurse go. She didn’t do anything. If you’re angry at anyone, it’s me you should be angry at, not her.”
    Geoff walked slowly toward DeFranco, extended his hand. “Take me instead.”
    DeFranco backed up toward the window as Geoff approached, then he began to tremble. “Stay where you are! Don’t come any closer!” His tremor increased, his grip loosened on the nurse enough for her to break free. She ran toward the door, sobbing.   DeFranco’s face paled, his legs wobbled. Geoff lunged forward to catch him.
    Johnson grabbed his radio microphone, yelled, “Hold your fire! We’ve got it contained in here.”
    John DeFranco collapsed into Geoff’s arms. His eyes rolled up into their sockets, blood frothed from his nose and mouth, his entire body convulsed in one final, gigantic spasm.

Chapter 12
    “When do you think DeFranco’s path report will be ready, Suzanne?” Geoff asked. Suzanne Gibson, the neuropathology fellow, had completed her pathology residency at Georgetown University Hospital. She had to have done exceptionally well to get this plum of a fellowship at the NYTC. Two hundred applicants for one position. To the best of Geoff’s knowledge, the NYTC had never taken