Eat'em Read Online Free PDF Page B

infection. Dilated pupils, quickened pulse…”
    “Am I infected Mr Brook? Maybe I’ve been sitting in a dark room watching scary movies…” Gomes continues to mock me.
    “No… That’s not how it works. It’s not that obvious. Listen, in this courtroom I cannot show you an infected if there are none here, but I can show you my ability. I can tell who in this room failed to wash their hands just by looking at them. And I can do that sitting right where I am. They just have to hold their hands up. You only want to believe what you can see, but I’m asking you to try to understand what I can see. I can do things that nobody in this room can do. I’ll prove it to you and then decide if you choose to deny me. But it will be because you don’t want to believe me. Is it too much of a stretch for you to think you don’t know everything?”
    I look out at the sea of faces. I’ve lost them with my incoherent rambling. They fear me. They think I’m a danger to their families. To them.
    “Alright… Tell me, Jacob, have I washed my hands today?” Gomes holds up his hands briefly but continues before I can answer… “I fail to understand how the ability to assess a person’s hygiene leads to the right to take a life.”

 
    Chapter 6
    I sat in on a philosophy course instructed by Dr. Reeder. It surprised me nobody noticed I didn’t answer during role call. Dr. Reeder didn’t seem to care. Perhaps since he figured we paid out of pocket to be there, it made no difference if we were taking his class or not. Still, I welcomed anonymity.
    Technically, I should have been in math, but five minutes in the class bored me out of mind. All I needed to do was show up for tests and have Eat’em read off the answers while I filled in the blanks. My teachers in high school thought my grades were a reflection of hard work, when truthfully I couldn’t get through basic arithmetic on my own. I decided a better use of my time was to follow Isaac’s advice. Philosophy surely couldn’t be worse than redundant equations.
    Dr. Reeder was a goateed man with blond hair and thick horn-rimmed glasses. He wore a black dress shirt and a brown leather jacket. His mannerisms seemed to reflect the behaviors of my invisible demonic buddy, from his inexplicable excitement for barely interesting subjects, to the constant affirmation he asked at the end of each sentence.
    A direct conversation between Dr. Reeder and Eat’em would sound something like: “Critical thinking is good, yes?” “Yes.” “Yes, yes?” “Yes, good, yes, yes, yes.” Ad infinitum.
    Eat’em sat on the edge of my desk, leaning far forward. The thick quills down his back laid flat and his large pointed ears perked up with every word from Dr. Reeder’s mouth. Every so often he’d turn around, smile, and nod.
    “Excuse me?” a shorthaired brunette with purple highlights pressed her hand to my shoulder. She sat directly behind me and I had to strain my neck to see her. The brunette’s natural bronzed skin might have been more beautiful if her makeup weren’t a couple shades too light. “Do you know what he’s talking about?”
    “Dr. Reeder?” the question sounded stupider with the addition of the crack in my voice. Her face mesmerized me, in spite of being makeup heavy. She must have been half Asian… maybe Japanese. A good mix none-the-less, with striking features that lacked symmetry. “Yeah,” I continued, “Well, no… not really. Honestly, he lost me the third time he said, ‘yes’.”
    “Me too,” her cheeks blushed beneath the pale makeup. “I don’t think I’m going to pass this class. If it’s anything like this, anyway. I’ve heard his tests are impossible.”
    “I think you’ll be fine,” I turned to Dr. Reeder, whom paid us no attention. Whatever he talked about had him in another world. I probably could have flipped the desk without being noticed.  “But, if you’re worried about it, maybe I can help you. I’m pretty good at this