the fork, and reshapes it. The fork turns into the knife.” He spirited the fork under the table, leaving the “new” knife. “And it goes on to stick itself into another fork and change it, etcetera, etcetera. Eventually the infected person hits the ground—and in the case of the Laz, sits up again.”
“And we’re all terribly grateful for that.”
Bram chuckled, and brought the fork back out. “Now, proteins are made of amino acids. The way the antibodies created by your father’s vaccine are supposed to work is …” He used the fork to spear a leftover glob of tofu—just on two tines. “They stop up the gap by sticking to a specific amino acid chain. They plug up the hole.” He mimed the tip of the knife trying to connect to the fork and encountering the blasted tofu. “The bad one can’t bond with the good one, so infection can’t take place.”
“So what makes the new form able to bypass that?”
He slid the base of the knife between two other, unprotectedtines. “The connection is made between a different set of unprotected amino acids.”
“How?”
“Prions are capable of evolution, even though they have no DNA of their own. The question is, when did this mutation come about? Why haven’t we seen it before? Is Patient One the only one with it, or is it present in other zombies? Did he get it from someone else?”
“Patient One?”
Bram lowered his educational cutlery. “That’s what the researchers are calling the biter. They haven’t managed to identify him yet, and word is he won’t talk. Both infections trace back to him. The zombie who bit your dad all those years ago is the first zombie on record, and they call him Patient Zero. They never found the ‘first ever’ zombie, the one who made Patient Zero—he has to be dead by now.”
“Have you seen him?”
“No.” Bram frowned. “Salvez did say they’ve already put your samples under the microscope, though.”
“And?”
“You’re still immune.”
“Goody. Let’s hold a parade.” I knew my nigh-miraculous immunity stemmed from my own stubborn genetic makeup, not antibodies. Still, I asked, “So what happens if there are other strains out there?”
Bram didn’t respond immediately, studying his plate. “I don’t know right now,” he decided. “We have plenty of options, but none of them are good.”
That wasn’t what I wanted to hear. “What if we have t—”
“You stupid, rotting fool!”
Jerking my head up, I looked over at the kitchen door just in time to see Dr. Richard Elpinoy, my father’s top geneticist, stalk past. A door slammed and my father hobbled up behind him,supporting himself with a mahogany cane. The dark-skinned, white-haired Dr. Elpinoy’s trench coat gaped in front, the buttons barely connecting over his stocky frame.
“Come back here!” my father bellowed. “Come back here and look me in the eye when you say that!”
“I’ve said enough!” Elpinoy turned and glared at my father. “You’ve spent the entire day moping about, practically praying for death, as if you suddenly agree with Wolfe! That traitor! I’m half inclined to give you what you want!”
I’d never heard my father or Elpinoy speak like that. I was so shocked that I momentarily forgot to exclaim over the simple fact that Papa was home, or even leave my seat. Bram appeared absolutely dumbfounded.
“Are you threatening me, you pompous piece of—”
“Threatening you? Hardly! I’m telling you that your behavior’s unacceptable! And I think you know it, too!” Elpinoy dared to put a finger in my father’s face. “I’ve been with you since almost the beginning on this—you asked for me by name. We were colleagues at school. You trusted me once, and I’ve been telling you for years that the final cure to this whole hellish mess lies in genetic engineering! In substituting a new protein for the original Zr-068 protein, thus rendering the diseased prion impotent. You have one last chance to turn
“And we’re all terribly grateful for that.”
Bram chuckled, and brought the fork back out. “Now, proteins are made of amino acids. The way the antibodies created by your father’s vaccine are supposed to work is …” He used the fork to spear a leftover glob of tofu—just on two tines. “They stop up the gap by sticking to a specific amino acid chain. They plug up the hole.” He mimed the tip of the knife trying to connect to the fork and encountering the blasted tofu. “The bad one can’t bond with the good one, so infection can’t take place.”
“So what makes the new form able to bypass that?”
He slid the base of the knife between two other, unprotectedtines. “The connection is made between a different set of unprotected amino acids.”
“How?”
“Prions are capable of evolution, even though they have no DNA of their own. The question is, when did this mutation come about? Why haven’t we seen it before? Is Patient One the only one with it, or is it present in other zombies? Did he get it from someone else?”
“Patient One?”
Bram lowered his educational cutlery. “That’s what the researchers are calling the biter. They haven’t managed to identify him yet, and word is he won’t talk. Both infections trace back to him. The zombie who bit your dad all those years ago is the first zombie on record, and they call him Patient Zero. They never found the ‘first ever’ zombie, the one who made Patient Zero—he has to be dead by now.”
“Have you seen him?”
“No.” Bram frowned. “Salvez did say they’ve already put your samples under the microscope, though.”
“And?”
“You’re still immune.”
“Goody. Let’s hold a parade.” I knew my nigh-miraculous immunity stemmed from my own stubborn genetic makeup, not antibodies. Still, I asked, “So what happens if there are other strains out there?”
Bram didn’t respond immediately, studying his plate. “I don’t know right now,” he decided. “We have plenty of options, but none of them are good.”
That wasn’t what I wanted to hear. “What if we have t—”
“You stupid, rotting fool!”
Jerking my head up, I looked over at the kitchen door just in time to see Dr. Richard Elpinoy, my father’s top geneticist, stalk past. A door slammed and my father hobbled up behind him,supporting himself with a mahogany cane. The dark-skinned, white-haired Dr. Elpinoy’s trench coat gaped in front, the buttons barely connecting over his stocky frame.
“Come back here!” my father bellowed. “Come back here and look me in the eye when you say that!”
“I’ve said enough!” Elpinoy turned and glared at my father. “You’ve spent the entire day moping about, practically praying for death, as if you suddenly agree with Wolfe! That traitor! I’m half inclined to give you what you want!”
I’d never heard my father or Elpinoy speak like that. I was so shocked that I momentarily forgot to exclaim over the simple fact that Papa was home, or even leave my seat. Bram appeared absolutely dumbfounded.
“Are you threatening me, you pompous piece of—”
“Threatening you? Hardly! I’m telling you that your behavior’s unacceptable! And I think you know it, too!” Elpinoy dared to put a finger in my father’s face. “I’ve been with you since almost the beginning on this—you asked for me by name. We were colleagues at school. You trusted me once, and I’ve been telling you for years that the final cure to this whole hellish mess lies in genetic engineering! In substituting a new protein for the original Zr-068 protein, thus rendering the diseased prion impotent. You have one last chance to turn
Similar Books
