TEUCH CRACKED AN EYE. THROUGH THE COVER OF HIS LASHES he watched a man in a white lab coat clip an X-ray up onto the large light box before stepping back to address a semicircle of younger people, also in lab coats. They crowded around him like the chicks of a hen. Teuch thought he saw the name stephen on a brass nameplate pinned to his coat.
"Dr. Noton," one of the chicks asked, "is there any damage to the premotor area?"
Teuch's eyes flickered, causing him to lose focus for a moment.
"We cauterized only the prefrontal," the doctor called Noton said.
"Have you ever seen damage to that area that didn't scramble the personality?"
Noton pushed up the plastic glasses on his nose with his thumb and said, "Mostly scrambled. Sometimes over easy, though. Sometimes it's an altered personality, or just an amplified one. It's tough to know with a John Doe. We don't have any reference points."
"The police don't know anything?"
Noton shook his head.
"But he'll be functional?" the same person asked. "Walking. Talking."
"Eventually," Noton said. "I've seen people with massive frontal lobe damage walk out of the hospital in less than a week. Others? It can take years before they're functional enough to live on their own."
Teuch flexed his fingers and toes under the sheet and smiled inwardly, knowing from the clarity of his thoughts that he'd be one of the ones walking out in less than a week.
Noton reached for a tray and lifted a shiny half-dome up for all to see. "Anyway, who wouldn't want a titanium skull?"
A couple of them chuckled politely.
"Doctor," another one asked, "I thought you had to wait at least three days after a thoracic surgery to patch a skull."
"The bullet went right through the chest," Noton said, looking up and scratching his cheek. "They opened him up and got right out. Dr. Kilkoyne did the surgery if you want to talk with her about it. Said she never saw anything like it. Bullet hit at just the right angle, ran along the rib, and out under the arm. Human armor."
"Lucky guy, right?"
"Very," Noton said. "Whoever he is."
"Will the police be back?" someone asked.
Noton shrugged. "When he comes to, they will."
Teuch let his lids settle closed. He thought about opossums and how they survived. These doctors would grow careless. And then, when the time was right, John Doe would be gone.
He had work to do.