The doctor could not believe his eyes. Almost unconsciously, he reached out and wiped the monitor screen, as though doing so might somehow alter the readings he was seeing.
"Every test we performed met the criteria for brain death," he said, staring at the data in disbelief. "There were no brainstem reflexes. No spontaneous breathing. The EEG showed only sporadic residual bursts."
"Except," Catherine said, turning her gaze toward the monitor, a knowing smile gracing her face, "those weren't residual bursts."
There was no burst of joy from her. No tears of relief. No jumping or celebrating.
Because she had already believed he was alive.
She pointed at the monitor. "There is organized cortical activity."
"There is..." The doctor slowly stood up. He had never seen anything like this before. Perhaps this was one of those cases—the kind medical journals wrote about decades later. The kind people called miracles.
Catherine, however, had already moved.
