The Margo Assisted Living Facility was located in a luxuriously uncultivated section of land within the city limits. It was a white, three story building surrounded by a giant grass lawn. A red brick wall separated it from the dentist offices and fast food places that neighbored it.

  I had to park some ways away from the front, unlike John Doe, who was able to park in front of the building with his handicap plates. During the walk up I could see him waiting for me, leaning on the side of the car. His arms were hugged tight to his chest, crossed together so that his palms could be warmed up. He looked down at the ground, scanned the horizon, and glanced at me, but never at the building. He was nervous.

  “Doing alright big guy?” I asked him.

  “Yeah, bro. I’m fine,” he said, clearly not fine.

  “Are you sure?”

  “Well…”

  “Out with it big guy, it’s fine.”

  John Doe shuffled around on his feet, staring at the ground. “I’m just really worried that I might’ve been a real huge butthole, that's all. Like, bro, I can’t remember anything, but I didn’t think that… y’know. I don’t know.” He started pacing in the parking lot. “I don’t know who I thought I was, but someone who steals from disabled people was definitely not it, y’know?”

  “I know,” I said. “If it’s any consolation, I don’t think you stole that car.”

  “Really?”

  “Really really.”

  “Then how did I end up driving it to the hospital?”

  “Only one way to find out,” I said, gesturing to the facility’s door.

  John Doe nodded, and we entered the building.

  The entrance appeared to be a common room of sorts. Coffee tables with magazines, regular tables with checkerboard and small flower decorations, a T.V. The furniture appeared to be from the same expensive catalog. There weren’t many chairs, and it appeared that most of the residents in the common room didn’t need them. They tended to bring their own.

  “You again,” spat a blond woman with venom. By her uniform she appeared to be an orderly. She had been in the middle of wiping down one of the coffee tables when she stopped to make sure that John Doe knew just how unwelcome she found his presence. “Here to kidnap more of my residents, you snake oil salesman?”

  “Uh…” croaked John Doe. John Doe, who had been anguishing over the character of his pre-amnesia self, was mortified. His mouth was agape, and in his eyes he looked helpless. He couldn’t speak.

  “Well?” asked the orderly.

  “Uh…” croaked John Doe again.

  I began to interject on John Doe’s behalf, when I was interrupted by one of the younger residents. “That’s not Michael,” he said. “Built like a tank on two legs like Michael, but that isn’t him.”

  The orderly looked at the resident, then back at John Doe, tilting her head. Suddenly, I think, she knew that she just unloaded a lot of grief on the wrong person, but the weird look on her face said she wasn’t sure how that was possible.

  “Michael’s got red hair,” said the resident. He was a young man in a green sweater and a wheelchair. His hair was thick and curly. He wore baggy trousers with lots of pockets, the bulk of which hid his severely atrophied legs to the casual observer.

  “Oh,” said the orderly, bringing her hand to her lips. “Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry!”

  “Uh…” continued to croak John Doe. “It’s okay,” he managed to whimper.

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  The orderly was happy to have her apology accepted. She then finally took stock of the two strangers in her facility’s common room. “Who are you two?”

  “I’m Fernando Alvarez, I’m working with a charity that aims to rediscover the identity of my friend here.”

  “Uh… I’m John Doe, for now I guess, it’s nice to meet you bros.”

  “And you,” said the orderly.

  “We found that he was in possession of a resident’s car at the time that his amnesia seemed to manifest. Do you happen to have a resident named Gavrilo Hodzic?”

  The orderly hummed the name to herself for a moment, closing her eyes to look inward. She seemed to be flipping through a mental list. When her mental list came up short, she excused herself to check the computer, leaving us with the young man in the green sweater.

  “I’m Eric,” said the young man.

  “Nice to meet you brosky,” said John Doe.

  “Yeah, a pleasure,” I said, echoing John Doe. “While the orderly gets us our info, do you mind if I ask you some questions?”

  “Sure,” he said, relaxed, if not a bit resigned. “I don’t have much else to do.”

  “For starters, who’s this Michael guy, and what was that about him kidnapping patients?”

  “Yeah bro,” said John Doe, “what gives?”

  Eric considered us both, with extra consideration for John Doe’s impressive physique. “Michael’s this guy that’s been coming in from time to time to peddle some miracle supplement. He says it’ll give me a body like his, with a working set of legs, and a jaw that can cut diamonds. Seeing your friend here, I almost believe it.”

  “Why’s that?” I asked him.

  “Because, he looks just like Michael, same mass of muscle, same chin, same everything. Except his hair isn’t red, and his eyes don’t look like they’re trying to figure out what the right words are to get to hop into his car full of candy. That’s not mentioning the uniform.”

  John Doe and I examined his stringy tank top and gym shorts.

  “Bro, this is a uniform?” asked John Doe.

  “Maybe not,” said Eric. “It’s what Michael always came in wearing though, and I heard that this place gets a kickback every time someone leaves with Michael. Guess who writes the checks?”

  “Mars Gym?” I said.

  “Yep.”

  “Bro…” said John Doe, in disbelief.

  That’s when the orderly’s footsteps came echoing through the common area.

  “Gavrillo Hodzic is no longer with us, I’m afraid. Records don’t say where he went, but he was congenital paraplegic with limited and deteriorating upper body mobility. Meaning he wasn’t the kind of resident that leaves on his own or on a whim. Probably one of Michael’s snake oil victims.”

  “You don’t know for sure?” I asked.

  “I’m sorry, I don’t. I know most of the residents we have now, but this place has been revolving door for staff and residents since Michael started combing by. I should have known something was up when a place that paid as well as this one was starving for staff. Turns out, most couldn’t stomach what the administrator was letting slide.”

  “You mean the kickbacks from Mars Gym?” I said.

  “Ye– yes, how did you know?”

  “Eric filled me in.”

  She nodded. “That’s right. Despite the pay I’m thinking about leaving too. It’s just… so sickening seeing him come in and trick people out of a good home. Rooms here were at premium, and for good reason. Residents don’t get charged to live here, completely government funded, and not lacking for it.”

  “I’ve been trying to get in for years,” said Eric, “but my condition wasn’t critical enough. Then all of sudden, I’m here, and I got my pick of the rooms.”

  “Lucky,” I said.

  “For me, yeah. I never met Gavrillo, but I’d hate to think how your friend ended up with his car.”

  I felt the orderly and the young man bore a hole in John Doe’s soul with their eyes.

  “Sorry that you hit a dead end here,” said the orderly, “but if you don’t have any more questions, then I think it’s best you leave.”

  “I understand,” I said. “C’mon John.”

  John Doe and I started turning around when the young man spoke up. John Doe and I turned back to hear what he had to say.

  “Hey!” he shouted. “Your friend, John, he’s green.”

  “He is,” I said, almost surprised. The staff back at the hospital hadn’t thought he was, and I had grown accustomed to the faint green beneath his skin, and had almost stopped noticing it. I was somewhat glad to have someone confirm that I hadn’t been seeing things then.

  “Michael tried to get me to sign up for his supplement treatment once. I asked him about the side effects and he told me there weren’t any. I called bullshit, and then he admitted there was one.”

  The young man paused there, and I felt like he wanted me to ask what the side effect was, so I did.

  “What’s the one side effect to his miracle cureall?”

  “Once you’re on it, you can’t go without it,” said Eric. “One day Micael comes in, and he’s looking green, the way your friend is right now. I tell him, and he gets this look on his face. His eyes get big, and he starts to sweat a little. He leaves in the middle of trying to sell me on his supplement for the day, and comes back right as rain. I asked him about it, and at first he didn’t admit to anything, but I kept calling bullshit on him, and eventually he caved. He said that the supplement makes it so your body gets used to being super full of nutrients, and when it starts to wear off, it starts to feel sick. He says it’s fine though. All you have to do is get another dose of the supplement and you’re right as rain. I call bullshit though. I saw the look on his face. I’m not sure what’ll happen to your friend if he doesn’t get another dose of Michael’s stuff, but I’m betting it’s not good.”