Zombie Chronicles (Book 1): Twice Dead: Read online

  The elevator doors opened. The nightshift orderly walked out. She motioned for him. She muted the woman’s ranting and told him were to go.

  Once the man, and unfortunately his hysterical wife, arrived, Sherena went straight to work. The patient’s name was Daniel Schurz.

  “Mr. Schurz, I’m Dr. Lawson,” she said. He wasn’t interested in her name. Most people aren’t when they can’t breathe—she mused.

  Robert Danaher—Bob, the male nurse, helped her move the patient from the gurney onto an ER bed. She quickly assessed his condition. Bluish skin, shortness of breath, she listened to his lungs. Diminished breath sounds on the left side—she made a mental list—vocal resonance and tactile fremitus both noticeably decreased. His oxygen saturation was seventy-seven.

  “Mr. Schurz, are you in any pain?

  The hysterical wife screamed at her, “Of course he is do something!”

  “Get her out of here—” Sherena motioned to Bob “—now!”

  “My che—” he tried to vocalize but could only point “—chest.” He coughed and tried to gulp air.

  Pneumothorax, as suspected, she would have to place a chest tube quickly. Before long she had the tube inserted, and his breathing normalized. When she was certain he was stable, she left him with the nurse and went to speak with the wife.

  Mrs. Schurz was still hysterical, but was also angry for being forced from the room.

  Sherena spoke calmly, “Mrs. Schurz, your husband is going to be fine. He’s breathing comfortably—” she placed a calming hand on the woman’s arm “—did anything happen before he began to have trouble breathing?”

  The woman began to calm down. “He fell—” she shook her head “—I think he must have tripped. I think he hit against the coffee table.”

  “He’s going to be all right”— Sherena explained —“he must have hit his chest hard. It caused a traumatic pneumothorax.”

  The woman looked at Sherena blankly.

  “His lung collapsed”— she translated —“from the trauma but he will be fine.”

  Mrs. Schurz looked as if she might pass out, so Sherena led her to a seat in the waiting room. “Give us a little time to run a few routine tests, and then we will transfer him to a room to recover.”

  After everything had been arranged, and she had called in the inpatient nurse, the rest of the shift dragged on as before—in spite of the fact that she was also the doctor for the inpatient rooms. She told Bob to text her if anyone came in, and headed for the doctor’s lounge. She was surprised to find Logan there.

  “I didn’t know pathologists worked the night shift—” she smiled “—at least here, in the middle of nowhere.”

  He tapped his watch. “It’s not the middle of the night—” he sipped his coffee “—it’s just early.”

  “I guess you’re right”— she sat down heavily and leaned her head back —“it just seems like it should still be night because it’s not light yet. I can’t get used to how long it stays dark here.”

  “Busy night?” he asked.

  “Oh no—” she groaned “—just the opposite. I miss being busy, it makes the night shift go so much faster. Besides, there are hardly any people here and twelve hours of boredom is simply tedious.”

  “True—” he laughed “—I’m glad I don’t have to take ER shifts.”

  “Rub it in, why don’t you.”

  He stood up, walked over behind her, and began to massage her shoulders.

  “I didn’t mean—” her pulse quickened at his touch “—I just meant—“

  “I know what you meant—” he flirted “—but hey, can’t a guy take advantage of an invitation.”

  She didn’t stop him; it felt too good after the long night.

  “So what is it you’re researching?” he asked.

  “What makes you think I’m researching anything?”

  “Simple—” he shrugged “—I’ve been here long enough to know that no one just works the ER. Even with our huge ten-bed hospital, we don’t have any full time staff working it. Triogenix is only a research facility.

  “Yeah, I guess that makes sense—” she evaded his question by asking “—what are you researching?”

  She had no reason to turn the tables; it wasn’t as if her research was top-secret. Although anyone would have thought so, given the number of non-disclosure forms she had been required to sign to get the job.

  “Me”— he grinned —“what makes you think I’m doing research? Someone has to do pathology even for a small hospital.”

  Sherena looked back at him and rolled her eyes. “Like you said”— she pushed his hands away and stood up —“Triogenix is a research facility.”

  “You still didn’t tell me what you are researching—” he followed her to the door “—I did ask first.”

  She wasn’t sure why she didn’t want to talk about it. Maybe it was because people inevitably asked what got her interested in the subject, which of course led to her parents. She didn’t see any simple way of evading the question though, so she finally answered.

  “Cancer”— she excused herself —“I’ve got to get back to the ER.”

  He tried to prolong the conversation but she sped out the door, not waiting to hear his research subject, even though she had asked.

  “Wait—” he blocked her way “—why don’t you have dinner with me tonight?”

  She hesitated—don’t get involved—she warned herself.

  “I—” she couldn’t think of a good excuse “—all right.” Why did I say yes, no, no, no, no! However, nothing else came out.

  Not even one more patient came in during her last few hours and her pneumothorax patient was stable. The clock finally signaled her release from prison. Thankfully, she only had one ER rotation a week. She would be doing research the rest of the time, and her schedule was essentially up to her. She had a minimum number of hours required, but when she worked was entirely her choice. She picked up her coat and headed for the door. It was still fall but already quite cold.

  Montana!—Now why was it I wanted to get out of the desert?

  She saw Logan down the hall and realized that she hadn’t any idea of where or when this dinner he had conned her into was. She turned to walk his way, but he ducked into Dr. Soranto’s office before she could catch him. Dr. Soranto was the director of the facility, a middle-aged man, tall, with graying hair, and heavy frown lines. Funny, she could have sworn Logan saw her and had tried to pretend he hadn’t.

  Talk about mixed signals.

  Chapter 4

  “We promise according to our hopes, and perform

  according to our fears." La Roche

  ~

  After a fitful days sleep, Sherena got up, showered, and was about to go out and find herself something to eat. She had been there a month, but hadn’t really bought much in the way of groceries—she hated cooking—so she generally went to the small diner down the street from her building.

  Her dinner plans with Logan seemed unlikely considering she had no idea where to find him or when he was planning on eating. She reached for the door just as someone knocked. It was Logan.

  “I see you’re ready,” he said with that lopsided grin that was becoming familiar.

  Suspiciously, she asked, “How do you know where I live?”

  “I’m psychic,” he answered with no more explanation.

  In spite of his good looks, something about him bothered her.

  She dropped the subject—it was a small facility—most likely, everyone knew where she lived.

  “So where are we going?” She didn’t really care but she had nothing more to say—she wasn’t a social person by nature.

  “Still hurting?” he asked as he helped her with her coat.

  She gave him a blank stare.

  “You’re shoulder.” He motioned to where she had been unconsciously rubbing.

  “Oh yeah—” she shook her head “—what in the world did they put in those shots anyway?”

&nbs
p; Her first day there, Triogenix had required a complete physical and a number of inoculations. There excuse was that the research involved a lot of bad bugs. She hadn’t given it much thought, but she wasn’t sure what kind of bad bugs she would encounter doing cancer research. The other scientists there must be working on different things—it wasn’t a strictly cancer research facility. In fact, she didn’t actually know what kind of research they were doing; it was all kind of hush hush.

  “It’s the tracker”— he said casually —“it takes a while for the pain to go away completely.”

  “Tracker—” she looked at him sharply “—what tracker?”

  He guffawed, “You didn’t read those papers you signed did you?”

  “No—” she hesitated “—I guess I didn’t.”

  They were walking down the sidewalk—no car—apparently they weren’t going far. She stopped and looked at him seriously, “Why do they need to track us?” For the first time really invested in the conversation.

  He was quiet for a moment, and it made her uncomfortable. He looked away and let out a breath. “Well—” he scratched his head “—this is a classified facility and…”

  “You say classified”— she met his eyes —“do you mean like government classified? I thought it was just confidential, like self-propriety stuff.”

  “We have a government contract,” he answered flatly.

  “Does everyone in the town”— she motioned around the small street —“have a tracker?”

  “Just the employees of Triogenix, you really should be careful about who you ask questions”— he spoke quietly —“they don’t like them.”

  There was a finality in his voice, which said, drop the subject, but she persisted, “Why—”

  He cut her off, “I really can’t talk about it.”

  “—you must have a higher clearance level than I do,” she said partly joking.”

  His serious look told her she was dead on. “Okay then”— she turned away and began walking—“I guess I won’t ask.”

  “That would be best.”

  They walked quietly for a few minutes. Sherena looked up at a huge looming tree across what looked to be some kind of park. She couldn’t really tell in the dark. She hadn’t walked that direction before and had been too busy during the daytime hours to take in her surroundings. There was a large building behind the tree with some lights on in what looked to be an upper floor. The building looked oddly out of place but overall—in the moonlight—the tree seemed romantic.

  In spite of her questions about him, she still found him very attractive. She wanted to kick herself for feeling that way, but there wasn’t much point in doing that. During the time she had been there, Sherena had thought about him much more than she would have wanted to admit.

  She wasn’t sure where in the facility to find his office, so she couldn’t accidently run into him—probably a good thing—still she wished she could spend more time with him, and that upset her greatly.

  “What is that building?” she asked to change the subject.

  His mood seemed to darken suddenly. “That’s off limits,” he said curtly. After a quiet moment, he stopped and turned to her. “Stay away from that building, okay?”

  She looked over at it, and then turned back to him. His voice sounded almost like a warning—not a threat—more worried.

  “All right”— she acquiesced —“I will not go there, and I won’t ask any more questions.”

  He nodded, looking relieved.

  They began walking and turned a corner. There were a few shops, and the restaurant they arrived at had an indoor and outdoor eating area. It seemed odd—like a miniature town—the entire place serving only Triogenix. It wasn’t that large a facility, and it was in the middle of nowhere. It was as if they built it all so that no one would ever have a need to leave.

  A waiter seated them. The menu had no prices—must be expensive—she thought idly. Neither of them said much, and she wondered if he was still thinking of the mysterious building that had soured his mood so much.

  “What are you researching?—” she broke the silence “—you never did tell me.”

  He cleared his throat and seemed to loosen up a bit. “I’m mostly working on cellular death research.” That was it.

  “Care to elaborate?” she asked. She usually found men to be very interested in talking about themselves, but once again, he turned the conversation around.

  “I think I’d rather hear more about your research.”

  She let out a long breath—might as well get the inevitable question out of the way. “Both of my parents died from cancer the same year. I thought that was odd. Unrelated cancers, unrelated genetics, same time—just seemed unnatural.”

  He leaned forward and seemed genuinely interested, “That does seem odd.” He cut another bite of his steak, but spoke before he put it in his mouth. “So what have you found?”

  “Actually, not much about cancer specifically, but I have made some breakthroughs related to cellular regeneration—” she looked at him pointedly “—seems our research may have some overlaps.

  She hoped he would fill in the gaps, but instead he asked, “What do you hope to achieve with that? —” he reworded “—I mean related to cancer.”

  “Well—” she dabbed at her mouth with a napkin “—I think there might be a way to stimulate the body to regenerate the cells back to their original status, like a reset to DNA specs.”

  “Can you make that work? I mean that would be a huge deal. What about the cancerous cells, do they die? ”— he was animated now —“do they just go back to normal?”

  “That’s what I’m hoping.”

  “How does it work?”— He wasn’t about to let her drop the topic —“what is the basis of the process.”

  “Well—” she hesitated “—it takes stem cells from cord blood. I’ve been able to isolate some of the growth factors of the RNA and synthesize a serum that turns on a reset, almost like a computer reboot. Of course, it’s more complicated, but I’m sure you’re aware of that.”

  “And have you actually made it work”— he completely stopped eating —“on living tissue?”

  “In a Petri dish—” she shrugged “—single cells.”

  He sat back. “What about on dead cells?”

  “Dead cells”— she furrowed her brow —“why would I even try that?”

  He let out a breath and looked away. When he finally looked back at her he asked, “Would you try it?”

  Chapter 5

  “Think not because no man sees, such things will remain

  unseen." Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

  ~

  In the middle of another long night in the ER, near the end of Sherena’s shift, a young woman named Jenny Carian came in complaining of a migraine. Sherena ordered Bob to give the patient a cocktail of IV pain meds.

  “I’ll be in the doctor’s lounge if you need me. My coffee has seen better days and the stuff out here is…well…”

  “You don’t need to say it. I know the doctors have a cappuccino machine in there; not to mention a more expensive blend.”

  She just smiled back at him.

  On her way back to the lounge, she remembered something she had forgotten to chart. Back at her desk, she heard Jenny scream.

  Sherena rushed into the cubicle and the woman started seizing and flat lined. Dead, just like that—no warning, no symptoms—Sherena stood there stunned. She had ordered some basic lab work, which had all been normal.

  Now she felt panic envelop her. Should I have ordered a brain MRI? No, it wasn’t warranted, at least not per protocol. There would be an autopsy—she calmed a bit. She hadn’t done anything wrong. The autopsy would reveal what she had missed and she would find out soon enough. Logan will do the autopsy—find out what I missed.

  She had lost patients before, but never so suddenly without any warning. A brain aneurism maybe—must have been—what else could it be?

  She tried to let it g
o. Being a doctor required a bit of professional distance otherwise the job would make a person lose their mind. She pushed it away, did her charting while the orderly took the body to the morgue, wherever that was. She didn’t know. That bothered her now.

  ***

  After several hours of not being able to sleep, Sherena went back to the ER and asked about the patient. The day shift nurse hadn’t heard about it, the doctor was on a break, and so she went in search of Logan. She asked several people, but nobody seemed even to recognize his name. That was odd. She went to Dr. Soranto’s office and asked him.

  “Sorry to bother you Dr. Soranto”— she didn’t yet know how he dealt with interruptions —“but do you know where I can find Dr. Mann?”

  “I’m sorry—” Soranto looked confused “—Dr. Mann?”

  “Yes—” uncomfortable now, she repeated “—I’m looking for Dr. Logan Mann. He’s a pathologist here.”

  Dr. Soranto was quiet a moment, and then he said, “Oh yes—” he tapped his forehead “—Dr. Mann. I have heard of him, but he doesn’t work here.”

  She was taken aback. She had seen them talking last week and Dr. Soranto sounded as if he didn’t even know the man. Then it occurred to her that it might have something to do with all this cloak and dagger BS. Classified, as Logan had put it—she decided not to push it.

  “I’m sorry”— she shrugged —“I thought he would be doing an autopsy on the patient we lost during the night, and I—”

  He cut her off, “We didn’t lose a patient here. I’m not sure what gave you that idea.”

  Sherena was stunned that the director of the facility, whose office was just down the hall from the ER, with so few patients wouldn’t know about a mysterious death during the night.

  “—you didn’t hear about the patient who died last—”

  He cut her off again, “Dr. Lawson, I assure you that we did not lose anyone last night.”

  Her mouth dropped open. Finally, she spoke, “Dr. Soranto, I was the doctor on ER duty last night and we did lose a young woman. Her name was—”she wrinkled her forehead “—Jenny Carian. She came in for a migraine, then seized, and suddenly flat lined. Surely, you were told.”