Free Pulling The Dragon's Tail by Kenton Kauffman Page B

the
consequences. This is the kind of incident that needs to be
reported to FIMH!”
    Martinez looked thoughtfully around the room.
Others meekly nodded tentative approval to Devereaux’s
proclamation. In turn, Keagan sensed a turning of the tide. For
once, the incompetent director couldn’t protect his embattled
tech.
    “I don’t know what the appropriate consequences
should be yet, but perhaps it’s best that you take a few paid days
off. You and I will discuss it further when I return next
Monday.”
    “But Pablo! Director Martinez! I think that’s a
bit rash. I’m perfectly capable of performing my duties!” Keagan
pleaded.
    Director Martinez ignored his protest. “Dr.
Devereaux, I’m leaving you in charge of staff reassignments in
Keagan’s absence, and with patient Kristopher. Can you handle
it?”
    Putting on the most pretentious smile she could
muster, she said, “Aye, aye! There was never a doubt that I have
been and will continue to handle it. We will all be one big happy
family upon your return.”
    The Director sighed wearily and hit the end
session key on his internet connection, instantly disappearing from
view.
    Keagan, looking like a cornered animal, hurried
out of the room and slammed the door behind him.

 
     
     
Face of Evil
     
     
    “Sit down, Mr. Kristopher!” ordered Dr.
Devereaux without even looking up from her large mahogany desk at
the Ellis Clinic.
    Immediately Nate Kristopher complied and sat
down on one of two soft chairs in front of her desk. After waiting
several anxious hours he finally had her full attention. The
e-message he had sent her had worked. However, one more step
remained. This time would she believe his outrageous story about
the anti-aging experiment?
    Dr. Devereaux slowly leafed through the paper
version of Nate’s medical chart.
    “I see you didn’t have Neuro Shock this morning
as planned,” she said flatly.
    “Um, no ma’am, no doctor, I didn’t.” Isn’t it
obvious? A lump slowly rose in his throat.
    She crinkled another paper, turning it over. “I
see here that you used to smoke.” God, it’s hard to even look at
him. Do I have the courage to find out the truth about Grandpa
Hilliard?
    “Well, I used to smoke many years ago; many,
many years ago. But I quit before the, um, many years ago.” She’ll barely look at me. Is she upset? Sick? How far back do
their records go? Does she have access to other hospital’s
databases? He swallowed hard.
    Her COMP-MD program screamed into her ear,
“UNSPECIFIED STRESS REACTION IN PROGRESS!” She unclipped her ear
mike and tossed it onto the desk. “I see,” she noted. “How has your
stay been here so far?”
    He began to squirm in his chair. “Um—okay, I
guess. But of course the hospital food, you know how that goes,
heh, heh.”
    She remained flat and emotionless, flipping
through more pages. Oh my God! Such high dopamine and serotonin
levels! There’s absolutely no calcification of blood vessels. How
could I’ve overlooked this? Virtually no enlargement of ventricles.
Hippocampus and medial temporal lobes all look so…so… young! It’s
the brain of a… teen-ager. Lipofuscin accumulation is ZERO! My God!
No brain scan has ever been like this before. Grandpa, did you actually halt the aging process?
    Nate nervously drummed his fingers on the chair
arm. I’m talking to a robot , he thought.
    Campbell’s pulse throbbed. She fought to
breathe. She closed her eyes tightly and thought, I don’t know
if I can do this!
    Suddenly, a powerful sensation seized her. She
smelled bacon frying. Campbell’s mom yelled, ‘Breakfast everyone!’
The wooden table was spread with eggs, bacon, pancakes, and orange
juice. Her father sat across the table sipping coffee while reading
an e-newspaper. The picture window framed Lake Saskatchewa in the
distance. Early morning mist rose off the lake with snow-capped
peaks in the background. A raspy but pleasant voice behind said,
‘”Guess who?’”
    She forced