The doctor closed the file and turned up to her with a
lamentable
expression. His face forewarned her of the approaching news. "I'm afraid there has not been any positive change to the tumors."
The news hit her hard and sent a heavy feeling into her stomach. She
focused
on not getting sick all over the
floor
in front of the doctor. Putting
on
a false smile and façade, she replied, "No positive change. Does this mean there has been some negative change?"
The doctor crossed his arms pressing the file against his chest. "
Your
white blood cell count has increased." He paused to clear his throat. "The cancer is showing no reaction to the treatment. We need to increase the chemo and change the type of radiation treatment. Instead of the pinpoint laser, we need to use a broader spectrum."
"When do we make the change?"
"The sooner the better. I say we start tomorrow. We already had you scheduled for your next chemo treatment anyway. I'll set up the radiation therapy in two
days,
so we can give the next set of drugs a chance to do their job."
The smile faded from her face and the sag of her shoulders showed the disappointment
sinking
into her body. "Do their job,
therapy;
you make it sound so happy when we are killing my immune
system,
so
that
radiation can devastate parts of my body."
"If surgery were an option, I'd open you up right
now,
but this is our only chance to eliminate the tumors."
Wendy nodded her head and gave a
partially
more relaxed smile. "I know,
and
thanks for putting up with my complaining. I know you're doing all you can to help me."
Waiting in the hospital lobby for Daniel to pick her up,
she watched news reports of the
outbreak
on the wall mounted television. The news anchor reported, "The outbreak, now named the re-animation virus, is reaching alarming numbers across the world." The story switched to video clips of zombies walking down city streets of various countries. "The number of
people,
who have been declared
dead,
only to appear to come back to
life,
has reached an estimated one hundred fifty thousand world-wide. The World Health Organization has issued this statement." The video changed to a man standing at a podium reading a statement at a press conference surrounded by reporters, microphones and cameras. He
pushed
his glasses far down
on
his nose and
squinted
at the printed announcement.
"It has not yet been determined
that
the re-animation virus is in fact a virus. It may possibly be a new strain of
bacteria,
but a new form of virus has not been ruled out. Until we can conclude the exact cause, we cannot declare this outbreak to be a pandemic. What we can say
is
that,
this
disease
is
contagious,
but only if one comes in contact with an infected body. People contaminated with the
sickness
have a propensity to bite those who are not infected. As a precaution and for the safety of the population, we advise cities and towns around the world to section off and quarantine areas where there is a high concentration of those suffering from the re-animation sickness. When we arrive at a remedy for this affliction, our contracted laboratories will work day and night to help bring this crisis to an end. "
Two
nurses,
who
stood
in the
lobby
watching the
report,
referred to a local incident. "Did you hear one of these re-animation contaminations happened right
here
in our morgue last Monday night?"
"No."
"Yeah, Dr. Cole
had
just started an autopsy of a DOA brought into the emergency
room,
when the body sat up and walked out of the morgue."
Wendy listened to the two women talk and processed what all of this would mean to her husband. Daniel had been assigned to find the cause and cure. As the outbreak builds, so would the pressure for him to find the remedy. He needed to stay
focused
on his wor
k
and not have any distractions at this time. If he knew her cancer had become worse, he might lose his concentration and possibly make mistakes. At
that
moment, Daniel came through the front door and
smiled,
as he walked across the marble floor towards her.
"Hi sweetie. What did the doctor say?"
With another forced
smile,
she replied, "He said everything is looking good. I might have more of a reaction to the treatment than originally
thought,
but I will be just fine. In
fact,
he wants me to come back tomorrow."
"Tomorrow?" Daniel's smile diminished. "Why so soon? I thought he was going to postpone this week's second treatment. If the chemo is working, he should give it time to see more results before the next treatment. Maybe I should talk
with
him."
Wendy patted her
husband
on the
chest
to calm him down. "He wants to try a new drug that has seen some positive results for
someone
in the
stage
I'm in right now. It's all about getting rid of the cancer as quickly as possible. If it works, we should be sunning ourselves in
Mexico
this
summer,
worrying about getting skin cancer."
The smile returned to his face as he held her hand to escort her towards the front door. "Okay, but can you get your sister to drive you? I have some intense deadlines I have to meet with this outbreak. If I don't start showing results soon, the military is going to keep me in my lab day and night."
* * *
The early morning sun cast long shadows along the back
alley
of the downtown business district. Sounds of trucks backing into loading docks and the building of traffic for the morning rush hour filled the streets. Three Flickers hopped through a small puddle near a dumpster as Prometheus finished writing his chalk
message
on the red brick wall. He took a few steps back
gazing at the large paragraph
and felt proud of his
well-crafted
calligraphy. The usual stale and sour smells
wafting
through the
back street
smelled pleasant to the undead. John, who wrote his message with a black
marker
on a
dumpster,
walked up next to the Greek man and said, "Looks good. I can't read ancient Greek. What did you say?"
As if he addressed a crowd in the forum, Prometheus read the message. "
Attention,
good citizens of this fine and such grand city. We who inhabit these bodies are your ancestors and friends who mean you no harm or ill will. The gods have sent us
here
on a quest to give you
gifts,
which will allow you to continue your evolution into a greater society.
I,
the author of this
scribe,
have for you the cure for an affliction known as cancer. Many other cures for diseases along with gifts of new abilities await you. If you join us, we can work together to eliminate many of the
unwellnesses
and
troubles
from which you suffer. For the gods would not have sent us if it were not for a more noble purpose and is therefore
compulsory
for your actions to be conjunctive with ours. I signed it, the most humble Prometheus of Athens." He turned to John and asked, "What message did you
scribe
on that sturdy garbage receptacle?"
John pointed to his
message
on the dumpster and said, "People, you need to chill. All of us zombies carry antibodies to cure all the big diseases of our time. We just want to help you."
With a perplexed expression, Prometheus replied, "My ears do not comprehend such a
statement,
but I must assume it is a condensed version of what I wrote."
John shrugged his shoulders. "Yeah, sure."
On the opposite side of the dumpster, Greg continued to paint his message in Japanese calligraphy. John noticed a pile of old clothes someone had set next to the wall. He picked through the
apparel
and said, "This is some good stuff and in pretty good shape. We should take it back to the warehouse so we can all have a change of clothes." He pulled out a blue satin dress and held it up to his body. "Sweet! I can't wait to try this one on."
Greg stopped painting his message and gave John a quizzical stare. "Were you a woman when you were alive and the gods have placed you in a man's body?"
"No." John said with a bit of surprise in his voice.
Vic walked into the alley and saw John holding the dress against him. "Let me guess, you're a
Nancy
boy."
Again,
with surprise in his voice, John replied, "No, not even close. I'm straighter than any of you could imagine."
"Then why do you like wearing dresses?"
"Because, I really, really love women. I love everything about
them,
including their clothes."
Prometheus asked, "Are you an actor? In my time
period,
it is common for actors to own dresses. We did not allow women to
appear
on
stage,
so men had to perform all the female rolls."
Vic interjected, "I think I'm going to call you GQ."
"Because of the handsome good looks that came with this body?"
"No, because your gender is questionable."
A loud voice from one of the living, yelling untranslatable words, came from
the end of the
alley
. The four undead turned to the source of the sound and saw two police officers cautiously walk toward them with their guns drawn. Prometheus said, "This will work to our advantage. We can show these
men, who enforce the peace,
our messages of goodwill and demonstrate we are only here for their
aid
."