Read Online How the White Trash Zombie Got Her Groove Back by Diana Rowland - Free Book Online

Philip and I exchanged bemused glances, Dr. Nikas touched both fingers to his tongue, frowned, and looked off into space. Taste diagnostics, he called it, and the weird-as-hell process apparently gave him a ton of information in a few seconds. I didn’t know how it worked, but I’d seen him do it a few dozen times, and it always yielded impressive results.
    Dr. Nikas muttered something then proceeded to add incomprehensible symbols to the whiteboard. Jacques brought two ordinary rolling stools into the room, and I plunked myself down on one, gave it a good spin, and pulled my feet up. Once around. Twice. Three times. The thing had smooth action. Four and slowing. I caught a glimpse of the exasperated look on Jacques face, and slammed my feet down to bring my spectacular test drive to a stop then flashed him an innocent smile. Probably better not to piss off the Needle Vampire.
    Without a word, he gestured for me to sit back to back with Philip, then lowered Philip’s stool so we were closer to the same height. No way was I going to complain about having Philip as a backrest.
    Once we were positioned properly, Jacques placed an IV catheter in Philip’s right arm and then another in mine, which I assumed was so all of the weird stuff on the cookie sheet could be injected. Once that was done he began attaching monitoring equipment to us: EKG pads, straps around our heads, the little finger clampy thingies that measure blood oxygen and pulse, blood pressure cuffs, and several other things with trailing wires. I had
no
idea what the wire-thingies measured and was more than a little afraid to ask.
    Lastly, he moved over to the cart and returned with a roll of duct tape. I watched him warily. “What’s
that
for?” I asked.
    He gave me a thin, triumphant smile as he crouched beside me, then proceeded to tape the wheels of my stool to the floor. The bastard
had
to have brought it in specifically for this reason.
    â€œAw, c’mon!” I said. “I only broke one little thingamabobby the other day.”
    His face grew more grim than usual as he taped the last two wheels, but when he finished and straightened, his eyes told a different story. Large, hazel, and amazingly expressive, they’d become my best gauge for whether I’d amused him, annoyed him, or Really Pissed Him Off. Whew. I was still in the safe zone.
    All the attached junk made it awkward to get comfortable while perched on a stool. I swiveled the seat a bit and shifted against Philip’s back. “It’s a good thing I like you,” I murmured to him.
    â€œOf course you like me,” he murmured right back. “Only an idiot wouldn’t like me. I’m dangerously likable.”
    I began to snicker, but some monitor beeped, and Dr. Nikas’s worried frown reminded me to behave.
    After some fiddling with equipment, Dr. Nikas picked up two syringes with blue contents, passed one to Jacques, and then Dr. Nikas injected me as Jacques injected Philip. They repeated this process three more times with yellow, green, and milky pink. Finally just Philip received an injection of a colorless liquid.
    â€œWhat exactly is this going to do?” I asked.
    â€œWe are attempting to remind Philip’s parasite how to operate optimally by imprinting it on yours.”
    I processed that. “Imprinting? Like ducklings?”
    Dr. Nikas smiled. “In a manner of speaking. I’ll be stimulating both sets of parasites into a bit of a frenzy, and as yours copes, Philip’s will hopefully follow suit.” Dr. Nikas placed the empty syringes in a sharps disposal container. “How do you feel?”
    â€œMy teeth are buzzing,” I said with a grimace. “Like they’re full of bees.” It didn’t
hurt
, but it was mighty unpleasant.
    â€œMine too,” Philip said, his voice rough. “And my throat is getting scratchy.”
    Dr. Nikas pursed his lips and moved back to the cookie tray,