Fan Fiction: Short Stories

The Zombie Master
by Michael M.

  AN hour later, Lamont Cranston was walking down the hopsital hallway with Dr. Jerrold Goldsmith. "So what do you think, doctor?" Lamont asked.

  The doctor, a six-year agent, sighed. "Hard to say. Their systems are loaded with tetrodotoxin. If if we're able to counteract the affects, the chances of recovery would go up a little. But even if it does, it would take months of physical therapy to get their muscles back in shape. And not to mention the psychological affects all this will have on them."

  "Yes, that is a factor. If there's anything more you need, additional supplies, medicines, or whatever, don't hesitate to contact me."

  "I'll do just that," the doctor said, then shook his hand before heading down the next hall.

  Margo was waiting for him in the lobby. "Well?" she asked, standing.

  "Doctor's not sure," he said, walking toward the door with her. "It'll be months before there's any sign they've recovered well enough. By the way: how did he know about you? I must say, I was quite surprised to see you there when I arrived."

  She shrugged honestly. "I have no idea. He must have found out I was asking about fugu, and being as he was the only one using it, must have put two and two together and figured I was onto him or something."

  Outside under the entrance overhang, Shrevy opened the cab door for them. "What a night, huh boss?"

  Margo climbed inside. "What a night indeed, Shrevy," he replied.

  "Where should I take you and Miss. Lane?"

  Lamont thought for a moment, then said, "Home."

  Shrevy smiled. "You got it, boss."

  He shut the door behind them then hurried around to the other side, climbed in, and pulled out of the circular driveway.