Life Sentence: Two Tales of the Living Dead Read Free

are test subjects. Seems there aren’t a lot of people willing to die in hopes of being reborn in a rotting corpse.”
    When Daniel didn’t respond, the man took that as encouragement and stepped forward, opening his briefcase on Daniel’s desk. He took out a folder the size of War and Peace .
    “My project to date. I’m asking you to take this and have your scientists go through it. My work, I believe, will speak for itself. All I need is someone to provide me with an unlimited supply of test subjects.”
    “Unlimited?” Shana said.
    “My projections suggest I need between ten and fifty, depending on the number of stages required to perfect the serum. That is, however, an estimate at this point. More may be needed.”
    “More than fifty?” Shana caught Daniel’s look and dropped her gaze, an apology on her lips. She stepped back.
    Daniel took the file. He leafed through it. For show, of course—in high school, he’d blackmailed a fellow student to get him passing grades in science.
    “Leave your card with Ms. Bergin. I’ll get back to you.”

    Two days later, Daniel had Shana call and tell the man—Dr. Boros—that he’d get his test subjects, with a cap of fifty. Not that Daniel really intended to cut him off at fifty, but one had to set limits. And it placated Shana, which was, admittedly, important. He couldn’t afford to lose her now.
    Within a week, Boros had the first subjects ready for Daniel’s inspection.
    “They aren’t nearly at the stage you need,” Boros said into the camera. “But I want complete transparency, Mr. Boyd. You can see how far I’ve progressed and how far I need to go. No charlatans’ tricks. I believe you’ve had enough of those?”
    “I have.”
    Boros clearly wasn’t putting his money into his laboratory—a shabby set of basement rooms. It was clean and the equipment was top-notch, but hardly the high-tech, gleaming lab such experiments should have.
    Boros also lacked assistants. Again, not for want of funds, but in this case, apparently, understandable paranoia. He trusted only one young man, a fellow scientist and fellow necromancer. Daniel understood the sentiment—he felt the same about Shana. But more staff would mean faster results, and at this stage, with only three months to go, Daniel desperately needed fast.
    Boros’s assistant brought in the first subject . . . strapped down on a gurney. Shana’s sigh whispered across the audio connection.
    “At least he’s conscious,” she murmured to Daniel.
    “This subject has been zombified for a week, and if Ms. Bergin would care to examine him, she’ll see no signs of decomposition. However, we have another problem.”
    Shana waved at the restraints. “He’s unstable?”
    “In a manner of speaking.”
    The assistant undid the restraints. The man lay there, blinking at the ceiling.
    “Rise,” Boros said.
    The man didn’t move. He should have—zombies had to obey the necromancer who resurrected them.
    “Well, you’ve cured the control aspect,” Daniel said. “Thankfully.”
    “Actually, I haven’t. On examining his brain activity, it seems he would respond, if he could. In attempting to remove the necromancer’s control, it seems he has lost all control.”
    As if in response, a wet spot spread across the subject’s pants.
    “That’s a problem,” Daniel said.
    A small smile. “I suspected you’d say that.” Boros waved, and his assistant brought in the second subject. To Daniel’s relief, this one was walking. He was also leaving a trail of decomposing flesh, falling like dandruff in his wake.
    “That, too, is a problem,” Daniel said.
    “Agreed.”
    Boros turned to the subject. “Clap three times.”
    The man only looked at him.
    “Touch your toes.”
    “Why?” the man asked.
    Boros stepped between the two subjects. “In one, I’ve stopped decomposition at the expense of bodily control. In the other, I’ve freed him of the necromancer’s control while accelerating decomp. Which