War of the Undead (Day One): The Apocalypse Crusade (A Zombie Tale) by Peter Meredith Read Free Book Online Page B

a single thing to settle on. They bounced from floor to ceiling to Wilson's shiny shoes. “Then we do another. Isn’t that what you said? If the first didn’t take we do a second round.”
    Dr. Wilson nodded but there was a hesitancy in the movement. “Yes and no. Unfortunately…unfortunately your daughter’s cancer is no longer in the limited stage. It’s progressed to the extensive stage, meaning we have found tumors, very small ones in the pleura and in her left lung.”
    Stephanie’s eyes were doing the opposite of her mom’s, she was staring at a button on Dr. Wilson’s suit. It was round, grey, and wholly ordinary, but in some fashion it seemed to be hypnotizing her. “Pluera,” she said and didn’t know why she did.
    “It’s the membrane that encases the lungs,” he explained. “When we find cancer there, it’s a sure sign of it progressing to the next stage. I suggest we do a more thorough screening to find out exactly where the cancer has spread.”
    “Ok,” Stephanie said. Her jonesing to get high was gone. In its place was a feeling of doom. “How long?”
    “I’m sorry, I don’t understand. How long is the test or how long until we can schedule it?”
    “How long do I have?” Out of nowhere tears rushed from her eyes. “To live.”
    “That’s not easy to say,” he said, with a grimace. “It depends mostly on your genes. Most people don’t realize this, but genetic predisposition is the main factor not only in getting cancer but also in fighting it. Your father’s colon cancer advanced far quicker than the average and you, you’re not even a smoker and yet you have lung cancer.”
    “She smokes pot!” her mother exclaimed. It came out like a combination of an excuse and an accusation. “If she promised to stop right now and never did it again would that help?”
    Stephanie began to shake her head; her eyes still focused on that nothing of a button. “Marijuana isn’t a carcinogen, mom. It’s natural.”
    “I wish that was true,” Dr. Wilson said. “The latest studies suggest that both tobacco and cannabis smoke contain the same cancer-causing compounds and, depending on what part of the plant is smoked, marijuana can contain more of these harmful ingredients.”
    “So she should stop, right?” Winnie asked.
    The doctor puffed up his cheeks and gently blew out a long breath. “The doctor in me really wants you to stop, however the realist thinks that it won’t make much difference at this point.”
    “How long do I have?” Stephanie asked again, her voice barely a whisper.
    “It depends on…”
    “How long!” she cried.
    “Patients diagnosed with extensive stage small cell lung cancer have a median survival rate of six to twelve months. Possibly, with more chemo and radiation therapy, we can extend that.”
    Winnie leapt up. “Then that’s what we’ll do! You’re going to be my partner in this Dr. Wilson. I want the next cycle started up as soon as humanly possible. Today if we can. I’ll call into work; it’ll be no big deal. We can lick this, Stephanie.”
    “No we can’t.” She was going to die. There it was. A doctor told her and that made it fact.
    “With the right attitude we can,” Winnie insisted.
    Stephanie finally looked away from the button, but her eyes were so unfocused that she didn’t really see anything. She shook her head. “No. No more chemo for me. I’m done.”
     
5
Chuck Singleton
Norman, Oklahoma
     
    When he got the news, Chuck said two words: “Well, shit.” He stood up while his doctor went on talking about surgeries and tests and all the rest. Chuck wasn’t listening. He tugged off his gown and was putting on his pants one leg at a time like he always did, or almost like he always did.
    Unaccountably he had left his underwear sitting on the floor.
    His doctor, a young’un with a poor attempt at a beard scrabbling on his cheeks pointed at the under drawers. When Chuck made no move to pick them up, he went on, “Those