Read Online The Zombie Letters by Billie Shoemate - Free Book Online

help you?”
                  “We’re bringing Samantha Winters to you.” I dropped my voice when I said it. I wanted to savor any moment of that. “We will be there in a few minutes.”
                  He paused for a moment, seemingly struggling to process what he had just heard. I don’t blame him. “You’re transporting a comatose patient in a car??!” he screamed so loudly that his voice cut out over the phone.
                  “Well, duh ,” I said, “someone’s gotta drive.” I looked over at Nate. He was physically holding is hand over his beet-red face to keep from laughing.
                  “If you called to play some kind of prank on me, I don’t find it humorous, sir. Furthermore, if you are serious . . . I’ll have your ass arrested for abuse.”
                  “Hold up, partner. We’re here.”
     
                  The car pulled up to the door where Doctor Salyers himself was standing outside. What he saw get out of the driver’s seat made him fall to his knees. His mouth hung open and shook his head slowly in utter disbelief. The well-off, well educated man was reduced to something else when Samantha walked out of the car to greet him. A petty man on his knees. A small creature witnessing a miracle. A woman who had six months to live and previously in a coma walked up to her own doctor, helping him to his feet. He tried to speak, but nothing escaped his lips . . . so Sam spoke for him.
     
                  “I’m here for my check up, doctor.”
     
     
     
    II
                  “This is impossible. There exists no trace . . . absolutely no trace of it in her system. Her white blood cell count is perfectly healthy. I ran it twice. There are no signs present that Samantha wasn’t even in a coma. Aside from a shaved head, you’d never be able to tell she even had a cold.” Salyers plopped down behind his desk. He removed his glasses and vigorously rubbed his face. Every inch of his desk was covered in paper. X-ray scans, blood test results . . . everything. Nathaniel and I just stood there, watching a professional question everything he knew. I could sympathize. I remember the first time I saw Brian O’Reilly’s wrinkles disappear. I saw a sixty-year old chain smoker playing basketball in a park for hours, then going for a jog afterwards. “How the hell did you achieve this again?” he said behind his clammy hands.
                  “Mitochondrial biogenesis.”
                  “I’m not a scientist, but I’ve heard this shtick before, gentlemen. Mitochondrial biogenesis is impossible. In-vitro studies have fallen flat on their faces. What you’re talking about is science fiction,” the doctor said. “There is nothing on earth that can decode mRNA strands enough to alter mitochondrial behavior. It was rumored that some wildlife may have existed millions of years ago that could . . . but evolution has wiped it out. So, if that’s going to be your explanation, you can skip it. Either way; you want mitochondrial biogenesis? Get yourself a time machine. Even with that in mind, it’s just a theory. A flimsy one at that.”
                  “How’s your theory holding up?” Samantha said as she walked into the room. She was still extremely skinny, but her eyes were bright and vivid. I hooked her up with some breast prosthetics she could wear under her clothes. You know . . . to tell you the truth, she actually looked pretty sexy with a shaved head. Kind of reminded me of Sigourney Weaver.
                  “Not well, I guess!” her doctor said with a nervous laugh.
                  “Come with us,” Samantha said with a reassuring voice that made her a great mother. “We will also credit you for this discovery. Take all this . . . including Brian, Brucie and me to our superiors. Our area was funded by the Pentagon.