Death After Life: A Zombie Apocalypse Thriller Read Online Free PDF

flashed on, and there was a high-speed whirring noise.
    It was a breathless moment. Though Myra was certain she was uninfected, she still had the sense she was playing Russian roulette. If somehow that light turned red, she was dead. Simple as that. The possibility, however unlikely, was enough to whiten her knuckles.
    The light flashed green. Clean.  
    Myra realized that she’d been holding her breath. She started breathing again. One hurdle cleared….
    The PA reappeared. His demeanor was matter of fact, showing no pleasure or relief at her test result. She suspected that his expression wouldn’t have been much different if the test had come back positive.
    “Okay. Given your age, a mandatory physical must be conducted by the next available physician. Sit tight — you’ll be called when they’re ready for you.”
    He rushed off, and Myra began the waiting game all over again. She wasn’t out of the woods yet. Not by a long shot. If the physical turned up anything of concern, she could still be deemed a v-risk. That meant a one-way ticket to the camps.  
    Everyone had heard the stories, even virtual shut-ins like Myra. Only the hardiest of souls survived “re-assignment,” and only with luck. “Supervised Living Shelters” were designed not to help people recuperate and return to society, but to give them a safe place to die.
    Almost an hour passed before Myra was called behind a flimsy curtain for her physical. The doctor was in her early 30s with long dark hair, high cheekbones and archetypally feminine features. There were faint circles under her eyes and she had an impatient, distracted demeanor. Still, Myra felt a surge of hope when they made eye contact — there was real warmth in this young woman’s demeanor. A marked contrast to the icy detachment of everyone else she had interacted with since this terrible day began.  
    “Hello, I’m Dr. Gladden,” the woman said.  
    “Myra McCarthy, nice to meet you,” Myra said, trying to sound hale and hearty.
    What came next was difficult. Myra reluctantly undressed and submitted to the physical, knowing that her sagging flesh would betray her. However decrepit her form might be, Myra wasn’t ready to die. She enjoyed her garden, and her grandchildren, far too much. But the doctor didn’t convey any judgment or concern as she went through the practiced routine. She was calm and gentle. Until she used a stethoscope to listen to Myra’s heart.
    Myra saw the frown flash over Dr. Gladden’s delicate features and in an instant was certain that her weary body had consigned her still-lively mind to a grim fate.
    “Hmmm. A murmur,” the doctor reported. “Taken with that high systolic number, it makes two risk factors.”
    Myra launched a desperate protest. “I’m fit as a fiddle! Live to be 100!”
    Unmoved, the doctor jotted an assignment on Myra’s chart. “That’s the spirit. Two weeks observation at a Supervised Living Shelter, a few more tests, and that will do it.”
    Myra cried quietly into her hands. Yes, it would. She would never survive two weeks in the overcrowded, pestilent conditions of a camp.  
    She looked up, unable to accept a death sentence from someone who had such obvious compassion.
    “Please…. Don’t do this. If I felt sick, I would turn myself in. I swear. I’m fine. I’m not ready to die!”
    Though Gladden’s face betrayed nothing, her hand trembled as she completed the “paperwork” on her tablet. “Then you will be just fine. The will to survive is everything.”
    Her eyes remained focused on the screen until Myra touched her arm. The doctor was so startled by the unexpected contact that she looked sharply into Myra’s eyes.
    “Please,” Myra said. “You must have heard about the camps…. No one comes back. No one.”
    The doctor’s professionalism suddenly gave way. She grabbed Myra’s arm and spoke in an urgent whisper. “All right, I'll clear you. But take better care of yourself, okay?”
    Sobbing with