Read Online Blood Legacy: The Story of Ryan by Kerri Hawkins - Free Book Online
Authors: Kerri Hawkins
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that blood sample.”
Susan tried to hide her impatience. She worked extensively with blood panels in the field of immunology, but that didn’t mean that she had every flipping, obscure enzyme memorized. “And this is a bad thing…?” she asked.
Patty snorted on the other end of the line. “Well, no, it wouldn’t be a bad thing, doc. But it’s just not found in human beings.” She snickered some more, then regained some composure, adding, “Unfortunately for us.”
Susan leaned a little closer to the phone. “Why unfortunate for us?”
Patty was happy to share her knowledge, and Susan wondered if she was reading out of a textbook. “Well, L-gulonolactone is an enzyme found in all animals, with a handful of exceptions, human beings and guinea pigs being two of the exceptions. That’s too bad, because this enzyme is required to convert glucose to vitamin C, so…”
Susan finished the thought for her. “So any animal that has this enzyme is capable of producing vitamin C.”
“That’s right,” Patty said smugly, “vitamin C from their livers, not from a jar.”
Susan’s thoughts raced furiously. She would have been familiar with this enzyme had it been found in humans because Vitamin C was central to immunology. Vitamin C, once thought of as simply a cure for scurvy, was now known to maintain the body in homeostasis when faced with disease, infection, cancer, and other stresses on the immune system.
In other words, vitamin C was turning out to be one of the penultimate players in preventing the disintegration of the body.
Susan stared at the woman through the glass, the woman who was healing before her eyes. Patty’s voice droned on over the speaker.
“And something else we found. Do you think you might have mixed this up with a rat or something?”
Susan tried to focus on what the other woman was saying. “Why would you think that?”
“Well, this isn’t as weird as the enzyme, but it’s still kind of strange. If this were a human, I’d say he or she built up a resistance to some interesting diseases, judging by the antibodies in the blood.”
Susan felt a chill go down her spine. “What kind of antibodies?”
“Well,” came the voice over the intercom, “bubonic plague for starters.”
CHAPTER 9
HANS WATCHED HIS BOY WORK THE METAL with a close eye. His vigilance was unnecessary, however, because the boy’s skill was already as great as his own.
His son had grown taller and although still slender, was as strong as any man in the village. Where many had sickened and died, the boy had never been sick a day in his life.
Except for that one time, Hans thought, mentally making the sign of the cross. And the time just like it when the boy was an infant. Both times he had been pale and weak, near death for days with no cause in sight. But then he recovered and seemed stronger than ever.
The steady clink brought Hans out of his reverie. He grunted at the boy and walked around the side of the hut.
A figure out of the corner of his eye caught the boy’s attention. It was the fat priest, come to stare at him again. If anything, the last few seasons had seen the priest grow fatter, and more insolent.
There was the sheen of grease on the priest’s chin and the boy wondered what hearth he had just pillaged. Although no one else in the village thought to question the priest’s actions, secretly the boy harbored a great resentment against him. He did not think much of this god who would give power to such a man as the priest.
The priest watched the handsome young man at work, wishing the boy would wear less clothing.
“Hail, lad.”
The boy barely paused in his work. “Hail, priest,” he muttered.
The priest put his hand on the boy’s arm. “I said ‘hail,’ boy.”
The boy stopped his pounding, gripping the handle of the hammer tightly in his hand. The priest did not move his hand from the boy’s arm. “I would think you would have more respect for the Church, lad.”
The
Susan tried to hide her impatience. She worked extensively with blood panels in the field of immunology, but that didn’t mean that she had every flipping, obscure enzyme memorized. “And this is a bad thing…?” she asked.
Patty snorted on the other end of the line. “Well, no, it wouldn’t be a bad thing, doc. But it’s just not found in human beings.” She snickered some more, then regained some composure, adding, “Unfortunately for us.”
Susan leaned a little closer to the phone. “Why unfortunate for us?”
Patty was happy to share her knowledge, and Susan wondered if she was reading out of a textbook. “Well, L-gulonolactone is an enzyme found in all animals, with a handful of exceptions, human beings and guinea pigs being two of the exceptions. That’s too bad, because this enzyme is required to convert glucose to vitamin C, so…”
Susan finished the thought for her. “So any animal that has this enzyme is capable of producing vitamin C.”
“That’s right,” Patty said smugly, “vitamin C from their livers, not from a jar.”
Susan’s thoughts raced furiously. She would have been familiar with this enzyme had it been found in humans because Vitamin C was central to immunology. Vitamin C, once thought of as simply a cure for scurvy, was now known to maintain the body in homeostasis when faced with disease, infection, cancer, and other stresses on the immune system.
In other words, vitamin C was turning out to be one of the penultimate players in preventing the disintegration of the body.
Susan stared at the woman through the glass, the woman who was healing before her eyes. Patty’s voice droned on over the speaker.
“And something else we found. Do you think you might have mixed this up with a rat or something?”
Susan tried to focus on what the other woman was saying. “Why would you think that?”
“Well, this isn’t as weird as the enzyme, but it’s still kind of strange. If this were a human, I’d say he or she built up a resistance to some interesting diseases, judging by the antibodies in the blood.”
Susan felt a chill go down her spine. “What kind of antibodies?”
“Well,” came the voice over the intercom, “bubonic plague for starters.”
CHAPTER 9
HANS WATCHED HIS BOY WORK THE METAL with a close eye. His vigilance was unnecessary, however, because the boy’s skill was already as great as his own.
His son had grown taller and although still slender, was as strong as any man in the village. Where many had sickened and died, the boy had never been sick a day in his life.
Except for that one time, Hans thought, mentally making the sign of the cross. And the time just like it when the boy was an infant. Both times he had been pale and weak, near death for days with no cause in sight. But then he recovered and seemed stronger than ever.
The steady clink brought Hans out of his reverie. He grunted at the boy and walked around the side of the hut.
A figure out of the corner of his eye caught the boy’s attention. It was the fat priest, come to stare at him again. If anything, the last few seasons had seen the priest grow fatter, and more insolent.
There was the sheen of grease on the priest’s chin and the boy wondered what hearth he had just pillaged. Although no one else in the village thought to question the priest’s actions, secretly the boy harbored a great resentment against him. He did not think much of this god who would give power to such a man as the priest.
The priest watched the handsome young man at work, wishing the boy would wear less clothing.
“Hail, lad.”
The boy barely paused in his work. “Hail, priest,” he muttered.
The priest put his hand on the boy’s arm. “I said ‘hail,’ boy.”
The boy stopped his pounding, gripping the handle of the hammer tightly in his hand. The priest did not move his hand from the boy’s arm. “I would think you would have more respect for the Church, lad.”
The
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