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Dr. Elliott tugged at his collar and gathered his thoughts as he dialed Mrs. Pearce’s number. Though highly regarded, Dr. Elliott was often labeled as a maverick by his colleagues. He was used to breaking barriers when it came to non-traditional treatments, but convincing potential clients was never easy, and his nerves were unsettled. He knew how preposterous his idea sounded to doctors and laymen alike. But his success in treating coma victims was due to his innovative thinking and the ability to ignore naysayers. After years of study, and much trial and error, he had finally found a reliable regimen. The treatment was imprecise, but the fact that patients could be shepherded out of their comas was proof of the mechanism.
“Hello?” asked a deflated voice on the other end of the line.
“Hello, may I speak to Mrs. Pearce?”
“Speaking,” she said.
“My name is Dr. Thomas Elliott. I tried your husband several times, but he hasn’t returned my calls.”
“He’s working,” was all she gave him.
“Perhaps, I could have a moment of your time. I’d like to explain what I do and how I could help your daughter.”
“Doctor,” she drew a deep breath, “you’re so kind to call, but it’s been nearly two months. She’s shown no signs of progress, and I’m not interested in having her poked and prodded. God knows she’s had enough of that.”
“Mrs. Pearce, I understand your frustrations. Helping coma patients is my life’s work, and I’ve done my fair share of hopeful poking and prodding. But I founded The Shepherding Program to do away with the guesswork, and our shepherds specialize in leading people out of their comas. Our techniques are proven, and we succeed where others fail.”
“You’ll have to forgive a tired mother, but if you’re so successful, why have I never heard of this program, which, quite frankly, sounds too good to be true?”
“You’re absolutely right to be skeptical. Unfortunately, the scope of our ability is quite limited, and we can only help certain patients who meet narrow specifications for being shepherded. Previous patients who had not met those criteria failed to be shepherded.”
“What exactly does that mean?”
At least she hadn’t hung up on him. At this point in his spiel, anything other than a dial tone was a good sign. He tried his best to disguise his excitement. “Well, we connect our comatose patient to one of our shepherds, brain to brain. Suffice it to say, it’s complicated, but it does work. Under the right conditions, with the right patients, we’ve experienced a high rate of success. I have one of my shepherds here with me to provide you with a more personable view of the procedure.”
“That won’t be necessary; I’ve heard enough for now. Thank you for your time.”
“Mrs. Pearce, I have one more thing to tell you, and then I’ll let you go.” He had saved his most persuasive point for last, but he could tell she wouldn’t get her hopes up just to have them shattered.
“What is it?” she asked with a sigh, sounding more tired than when she answered the phone.
“Our best shepherd is available for your daughter. In fact, this particular shepherd has had a one hundred percent success rate—no failures. She would be in the best of hands.”
There was silence on Mrs. Pearce’s end for a moment, while the sound of tapping fingers rang out in Dr. Elliott’s office. On the edge of his seat for the elusive yes, he longed to help the Pearces. A selfless man, Dr. Elliott poured his entire being into his work. He had no family to speak of, which was one of many reasons why The Shepherding Program was so close to his heart and had become his surrogate family. Every success reaffirmed that this was what he was meant to do with his life.
His heart lifted when she finally said, “I’ll talk to my husband tonight. We’ll let you know tomorrow morning.”
“Is it normal for her eyes to water like that?” Mrs. Pearce asked.
“Yes,” Dr. Elliott said with assurance in his voice. He didn’t expect this kind of progress so soon. “I think we can consider it a good thing. Abbott does tend to rub people the wrong way, but he’s the best hope for your daughter.”
Mrs. Pearce looked at her daughter as she stroked her girl’s forehead. For the first time in a while, she had hope. Then she looked to the boy lying beside her. “Please save my daughter,” she whispered.
