The Walk-in

Frank Grissom was lying in the hospital bed, looking up into the face of his wife.

"Frank can you here me?" She said.

He tried to call out her name but nothing came out. Trish, he tried to call. Not one sound escaped his lips nor did his lips even move. Everything was turning gray. He could not see Lorane or hear her any more. All was darkness.
Then a bright light blinded him. He felt a sensation of moving, being forced out.

The man in the hospital bed opened his eyes. He was looking into the face of a woman he had never seen before. She looked young around her early twenties. She was very pretty.

"Frank can you hear me?" She asked with tears rolling down her face.

"I can hear you, but my name is not Frank." The man in the bed replied in a weak voice.

"What are you talking about? Your name is Frank, Frank Grissom!"

"Miss you must have me confused with someone else. My name is William Fletcher."

"Very funny Frank, you had me going. I thought maybe you got amnesia or something." The woman said with a relieved smile on her face."

"I'm sorry but you must have the wrong room. Let's try this another way. Who are you?"

The look of worry returned to the young woman's face. "I'm Trisha, your wife. Now come on quit. You're scaring me."

"Trish is it? I'm sorry but my wife's name was Linda and died in 1979."

The woman grabbed the call button for the nurse and started screaming for help.

The man in the bed watched this with growing fascination. How could a simple mix-up about who I am explode into this. He thought to himself. He knew why he was in the hospital he had finally tracked the bastard, that he had been hunting for three years, to an abandoned house on the outskirts of Bedford. He had shot the bastard in the leg and the bastard had dropped his gun. Bill had approached the wounded man and was about ready to put the cuffs on him. Then the bastard pulled out a hunting knife from his shirt sleeve and stabbed Bill in the chest. Bill had tried to focus his aim and shoot the bastard, but the pain in his chest was too great. He had felt himself passing out but before he had passed out he saw the wounded man get up and limp away. Then all had gone black for awhile. He remembered coming to in the ambulance for a little while and a doctor talking to him in the emergency room. The next thing he remembered was opening his eyes and see this woman. Well, that was not completely true. He remembered an odd sensation just before he opened his eyes. A feeling of passing someone, like one would walking down a narrow hallway.

The man in the bed saw a doctor and a nurse come into the room.

"What seems to be the problem?" The doctor asked.

"I think I should tell you out in the hallway Dr. Grimes." Trish said, taking him by the arm and leading him out the door.

The man in the bed could hear Trish talking to the doctor. The nurse meanwhile was checking his pulse.

"Are you feeling okay?" The nurse asked him.

"I'd feel alot better if you told me what my name is."

The nurse looked at him as if what he had said had shocked her. "You chart says you are Frank Grissom, 35 years old and married."

"That's got to be someone else's chart. My name is William Fletcher, I'm 47 years old and my wife died three years ago."

"Sir, you must be having problems remembering. Sometimes that's expected after a concussion."

"I was brought in for a stab wound to the chest. I'm a cop!"

"It says on your chart that you were in an automobile accident and suffered a massive concussion. Why do you think your head is bandaged and not your chest?"

He looked down at his chest, there was no wound. He brought up a shaking left hand to his head and felt cloth, it was bandaged.

"Please could you get me a mirror?" The man in the bed asked.

The nurse turned without saying a word and opened the drawer on the nightstand by the bed and pulled out a small mirror. She handed it to the man. The man lifted it up so he could see his face. His eyes grew large and blank. He was looking at the face of a stranger. It was a young man who's face was scratched and cut. This face had a beard,his did not. "What's going on?" He whispered.

The doctor and Trish walked back into the room.