Death's Tour

I heard a scream from the bathroom. Not again, I thought. I had heard about my brother, Gerard, but Ray hadn't let me see. I opened the door to the bathroom.
"Frank?" I called out, looking around. I saw a pool of blood with a razor in it. I stepped in and closed the door behind me. I turned around and saw Frank slumped against the wall, a look of horror on his face. He was out cold. He had no injuries, so the blood wasn't his.
With a bit of difficulty, I hefted Frankie over my shoulder and carried him out of the bathroom. Bob looked at me with a questioning look. I nodded and started to the tour bus.
Ray was sitting on the stairs like a guard dog with an afro. When he saw me, he stood up, looking ready to yell, but when he saw Frank slung over my shoulder, his eyes widened.
"Him too?" I nodded. He sighed.
"Two men down, and not even 24 hours. And neither can speak about what happened. How will we know what to do?"
"It looks like Gerard... sliced his arm with a razor." Ray's very hair seemed stressed. He looked determined.
"I don't care what'll happen to me, I'm gonna check out what's happening there."
"Ray, no! Are you crazy?!"
"We wouldn't have a band if any of us weren't."
And into the bathroom he went.

Notes

Damn it, Ray.