The Brain Vault (Stephanie Chalice Thrillers Book 3) by Lawrence Kelter

been bent too far and was about to snap. One last tug.
    The bars came free with a loud creak. They were still in his hands as his back smashed onto the hardwood floor with a thud. Pain seared his spinal cord in waves. He fought to stay conscious. The pain gradually diminished.
    Rising, he allowed his fingertips to revel in the exquisite cool of the window’s exposed glass, for scant seconds only, and then he picked up the security bars he had just pried free and shattered the window. The sounds of the outside world flooded into his ears for the first time in weeks, the sound of traffic, the even hum of the central air unit, and the patter of rain against tree leaves.
    A quick turn and he was back, facing the bed. He pulled the sheet free and wrapped it around his torso. He carefully tucked the treasure filled paper bag under his arm.
    He was careful to avoid the shattered glass in the window frame with his face, hands, and shoulders. He was half out the window. Free, I’m free . He was almost through when a jagged edge caught his ankle. The warm blood began to run over his heel. He pressed his thumb against the wound, but the blood continued to run. He searched his mind for a remedy but was unsuccessful.
    He stepped out into the rain, into the humid night’s air—one foot at a time, cautiously onto the asphalt roof. Bracing against the building’s exterior, he looked out into the night, his first taste of freedom—an opportunity he thought would never come. The world had been reduced to a dark haze. Colors and shapes that he was once able to define, clearly now ran into one another like a somber watercolor painting. He gazed down, beyond the roof’s edge. It blended into the darkness; a great dark void he feared would bring the end if he fell. He was intimidated by the challenge but not defeated.
    One foot at a time, he slid his feet along the roof’s surface, holding the precious paper bag with one hand. The fingertips of his other hand grazed the building’s brick, monitoring his distance so as not to come too close to the edge.
    For a brief moment, his wounded heart filled with exuberance. He’d thought he’d never again see the outside world, and though it had been reduced to a world of shadows, it filled him with a sense of liberation.
    Slip-steps along the roof’s edge until he reached the corner of the house, he kneeled and tested the gutter’s strength where they were joined, pushing down on the apex. It seemed secure. From below, the central air unit blew hot exhaust into the air—he could feel the rising air current on his face as he looked over the edge. Hanging from the gutter, it would be a short fall onto the air conditioning unit. He centered himself above it by listening for the compressor’s hum.
    He clenched the paper bag in his teeth and then feeling with his feet got down on his knees and backed toward the edge. He felt the gutter’s extruded metal in his left hand. Pushing against it, it now seemed far less sturdy than it had scant moments before. He thought about the jump, the safest way to spring from the roof. He wanted to do it slowly and cautiously but as he inched backwards, the opportunity for caution disappeared as the gutter broke free from the roof. Doe plummeted downward and disappeared into the darkness.
     
     
    Dr. Maiguay was in the middle of a very busy night. He had just intubated a middle-aged woman in respiratory failure when the page came in from ICU. The pager began to vibrate, the LED switching from red to a bright turquoise, just as he was squeezing the breathing tube past the vocal cords. He concentrated to push the distraction out of his mind for the few seconds it took for him to position the apparatus.
    He was drenched in sweat when he came off the elevator. He heard the screaming and raced toward the intensive care unit. “What the hell is going on in here, nurse? This man is—”
    “Comatose?” Tucker said. “He still is. You ever see a coma patient go off