The Doc asks me what I mean and I remind him that I was about to do the Hangman shuffle when he interrupted me. “Death wasn’t exactly inevitable before now,” I explain. My eyes catch the Doc checking a box next to ‘Depressed’ and ‘Suicidal’ like it might be relevant and I wait for the conversation to resume. It doesn’t, the Doc just keeps filling stuff out. “So…you used to be a werewolf? How’d they cure you? Hell, how’d they cure me? The virus mutates so rapidly I had thought it could adapt to everything but a sunny breakfast,” I ask. They eye one another and the doctor keeps writing. “Alright, scratch the last question. How’d they cure you? Lycanthropy is a bacteria that grows in the lower intestine and is spread through the bloodstream. Did they invent some su-“ Her hand moves far stronger than it looks like it can and knocks me clean to the floor. Looks like I said the right thing. “The blood of Fenrir may not be sacred to you but it is still better than your own disease. You may disdain your own religion all that you like, but kindly keep mine out of it,” Ferris says coldly. Looks like I found Ferris’ number and called it wrong. Damn but she could pack a wallop, cured or not. “If you intend to remain in our service for much longer, then I ORDER you to control yourself, Ms. Ferris!” the Doc shouts. He then turns around and helps me out, handing me a pen while he goes back to the desk. “The way we cured you will be revealed depending on you, Mr. Shade. Whether you believe in the cure or not is of little concern,” he explains. The Doc hands me the forms he has been filling out and points to a signature at the bottom. It says job application at the top.
No comments:
Post a Comment