The Foolproof Cure for Cancer Read Online Free PDF Page A

sheet of Sydney ' s stationery, covered with more of her familiar scrawl in blue ink.
    " Dearest Tom, " she wrote. " This is the hardest letter I ' ve ever written. This is the hardest thing I ' ve ever had to do.
    " Mr. Mayflower gave me your cure. He gave me all of it at once. Please take the first dose as soon as possible and take the second dose one week later.
    " I ' m so glad I could help you, Tom. I love you so much! I want you to live!
    " But you were right about him, Tom. He did ask me to do something terrible. "
    Tom ' s mouth got dry, and his stomach clenched. His hands shook a little as he continued to read.
    " It ' s something that will last for the rest of my life, " wrote Sydney. " In order to save you, I can never see you again.
    " There ' s no other way. If you ever try to find me, he ' ll have you killed. "
    Tom was seized by a coughing jag. He sprayed blood on the note but couldn ' t tear his eyes from the terrible words as he hacked.
    " I ' m so sorry, " wrote Sydney. " It ' s so hard to go through with this, but I ' d rather be apart from you than let you die. I ' d give anything for you, Tom, even our life together.
    " Please don ' t hate me! I love you, Tom! I love you!
    " Goodbye! I ' ll love you forever!
    " Love, Sydney. "
    Tom tried to read the note again, but his cough was too severe. He doubled over on the bed, eyes filled with tears, and sprayed blood all over himself and the floor.
    Wracked with rage and sadness and physical pain, he looked at the powder-filled baggies on the bed, the miracle cure paid for by his wife ' s sacrifice. The thought of being healed didn ' t hold the same appeal for him anymore.
    He had lost the woman he loved. She might find suffering...she might find happiness...but she would never return. If he tried to get her back, he would be killed.
    And yet...
    And yet, he reached for the baggies anyway, scooped them up and hobbled to the kitchen to make tea. If he had to die, and he had the option, he would rather do it later.
    He would rather do it for a good reason.

    *****
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    A Thriller by Jason Koenig
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    Chapter 1
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    For a split-second, he tasted cool air and opened his eyes to look around. Then, he hit the water with a sudden, violent force, and could no longer breathe.
    As he sank, the water rushed into him, flooding his lungs, freezing him from the inside as well as the outside. Stunned and numb, he dropped further into the icy reaches, propelled by the momentum of his fall. Down, down he plunged, a senseless, dead weight, stars flashing behind the lids of his eyes, blooming and winking like holiday fireworks.
    Then, instinctively, desperately, he flung away the shock, heaved it off like a blanket, and he realized what was happening.
    He was drowning! For God's sake, he was drowning!
    With renewed awareness, he fought the water, flailed and kicked and twisted wildly. Still sinking, he writhed and pedaled, battered at the frigid envelope, struggling to end his descent. He couldn't let it stop him; there was so much to do.
    Though his limbs were numb and his lungs burned, and the fireworks on his eyelids blazed more brilliantly than ever, he surged with strength at the thought of his mission. Thrashing his legs against gravity, he felt himself slowing, felt the speed of his fall diminish. He continued to kick at the water, and finally felt himself stop, and then he opened his eyes and looked up.
    Above him, there wasn't anything but blackness.
    How far down was he? How many feet had he sunk?
    Closing his eyes then, he started for the surface, trying to think only of what he had to do, not how far he had to swim. He chopped his hands and feet through the water, pushed against it with all his might. Propelling himself upward, he focused on his dream, climbed toward the open air with all the force of will with which he'd pressed toward his dream's fruition.
    He had to survive, had to get there, had to do it.