Zombie Fever: Origins Read online

  Tomas didn’t reply. He stared at the chemistry set. Yes, he knew how to make tannerite and thermite. Even lab geeks had to have some fun and blowing things up was a great way to end a grueling data intensive semester. His primary concern was that purchasing, then making the chemicals would be too time-consuming. But they were essential to his plan.

  But first, he had to get some transportation and deposit that check. He needed that money for the most expensive items in the inventory. If he couldn’t access those funds by tomorrow, he’d have to postpone or maybe even give up on helping Andy.

  He combed through the online classifieds for temporary transportation and found an inexpensive motorcycle for sale in the neighborhood directly behind Andy’s apartment complex that claimed to be in ‘excellent working condition, helmet included.’ He had a motorcycle mothballed in the back of his parent’s garage, but it had been years since he’d ridden, so if he was satisfied with the bike and bought it, he thought it best to limit his driving to the surrounding area. No sense trying to take it on those treacherous freeways, especially since he didn’t have a valid motorcycle license.

  Then he scribbled down the addresses of the nearest machine shop, funeral parlor, HAUL-IT transport vehicle sales and an auto body shop.

  Tomas was anxious. He went into his room and took out the two pill bottles, opening each of them, counting the remaining pills he had left. Dr. Greer’s scolding was fresh on his mind. She was right: he indulged in his pill habit too much. He didn’t think he was addicted in the strict sense of the word. It was just that life could be so dull or too harsh. His little blue and green companions were the remedy for either, making an otherwise tedious day more tolerable or smoothing and rounding the edges of prickly social encounters. No more pills, for now. But that didn’t mean these they couldn’t be repurposed for something useful.

  So he spent the half hour grinding the pills into a fine powder, mixing them in one of the smaller Kem5500 test tubes. He figured he could sedate Andy if he was too much to handle. He thought twice about turning it into an injectable solution. Poking an infected was unwise. The videos he’d watched on Dr. Greer’s tablet made it clear that one of the virus’ mechanisms for transmission was from puncturing the skin of a swollen, bloated infected which caused a forced ejection of viral fluid. It was one of the features that the Dr. Greer in the videos was most proud of. If Andy was infected with zombie fever, he would have to be handled most delicately.

  It was still early in the morning but he couldn’t wait any longer. He called the number of the motorcycle seller. The seller sounded groggy and annoyed at the early call until he heard it was about money and he perked right up.

  Tomas jogged to the house about a half-mile away and, satisfied with the bike’s condition, he was soon cruising towards the machine shop from his list on the thirty-year old 650cc Nighthawk.

  Four hours later, his errands were finished, the check was deposited and he was back in the apartment concocting the thermite and tannerite with metal shavings from the machine shop, a bag of ammonium nitrate from the gardening store, a nine-volt battery and six busted Etch-A-Sketches for the aluminum powder inside.

  By sundown, he had four tannerite cakes the size of sticks of butter and a flask of thermite ready to go. Working on plans found on the underbelly of the net known as the ‘Silk Road,’ he took apart the cell phones and created crude trigger devices for the half-pound tannerite cakes. Then he wrapped each of them carefully in pillow cases and bubble wrap, securing each with ample amounts of duct tape. Now he had four rudimentary low-yield grenades roughly the size of footballs that would be loud but only about as explosive as a dozen M80 firecrackers. His plan called for two, but he wanted to make sure he had enough in the event he needed them for distraction.

  There was nothing for him to do the rest of the evening, so he tapped out a teaspoon of the crushed pills, swallowed the powder with a glass of water and crashed out for the night.

  *****

  The next two days were a flurry of buying and preparing. Tomas wished he had someone there to help him and almost got hold of Dr. Greer to go over the plan, but resisted the urge as she was clear she didn’t want to be disturbed unless it was unavoidable.

  Everything was ready.

  All he needed now was an overcast night and a whole lot of luck.

  Tomas put on his father’s spare uniform and glasses. He almost fit the part except for his thick shoulder-length hair. There’s a time for vanity and a time for action, he thought as he shaved off his locks down to the scalp with a pair of clippers he found under the bathroom sink. He hadn’t shaved since before his morning breakfast with Jan three days earlier. He was a stranger in the mirror with that darkened muzzle and freshly shaved head. He put on his father’s aviator sunglasses and the look was complete.

  As he stared into the mirror, he visualized the daring breakout one last time that he and Dr. Greer had formulated.

  Drive the van to the entrance and flash the badge. Once inside the compound, toss two tannerite devices onto the roof of the front administrative building and head to the R&D building in the rear. Sneak into the cargo bay and find the floor panel approximately forty paces from the cargo bay doors. It will be locked, but opening will not be necessary. Pour the thermite onto the panel. Make anonymous call to the fire department to ensure maximum confusion. Light and run. As soon as the thermite burns through, trigger the tannerite devices on the roof, which will create a large bang and cause some fire damage and a lot of smoke and will set off the emergency system, causing a general evacuation and lockdown. The thermite should have burned through the cable underneath the panel by then; disabling the steel shutters that otherwise would have secured building. Get to the second floor and search the labs for Andy. The angle grinder would make short work of any locked doors that might get in his way. Sedate Andy with the crushed pills and load him into the coffin. Use the twenty thousand cash to grease the hands of anyone at Vitura who gets in the way because, as Dr. Greer put it, most lower level employees were only loyal to the extent of their short-term contracts and should stand aside for a couple of Benjamins. Drive the van south. Get to Lindbergh Field. Load Andy into the planes’s rear compartment and fly to Vancouver. Show the death certificate at customs.

  Tomas knew there were some logistical problems with the plan, such as getting Andy from the building to the van and hefting the coffin into the plane without too many questions from the pilot and ground crew; especially, if Andy was still kicking around inside. But he figured his improvisational skills would make up for the weaknesses in the plan.

  I can do this.

  Chapter 5: Contravention

  Two days later and the sky filled with dark clouds and it began to rain, the normally bright San Diego night now dark and foreboding. It was time.

  It was closing in on ten o’clock. Tomas checked in with Dr. Greer one last time to go over the plan and double check his mental diagram of the Vitura Pharmaceuticals compound. Dr. Greer was upbeat and positive. “I know you can do this, Tomas. You have a fire within you, I know it and your father knew it. He was always bragging about your inner power.” She was still on the schooner on the way to Panama and full of caffeinated pep of someone set free. Once in Panama, she explained to him that she planned to meet one of her contacts for a round of cosmetic surgery that would alter her profile. Then she was going to procure a passport that would match her new face and get her into Australia undetected to start her recruitment drive to find allies in their battle against corporate zombie contagion.

  He made one last phone call to the pilot he’d hired on standby to prep the single-engine Cessna Skylane. The pilot had been sitting idle at Lindbergh Field for the last two days. He was obliging but eager to make the run. Tomas had booked the pilot and plane open ended and the bill was running high, but he couldn’t risk not having the plane ready at a moment’s notice; and even as the bill neared the ten thousand dollars, it was relatively small compared to his new found we
alth. Besides, the pilot agreed to keep his flight off the books and to be at his beck and call for a lump sum payment. Before hanging up, the pilot reminded him they’d have to stop to refuel in Stockton as the plane’s maximum range was just short of their destination. The small Cessna had barely enough cargo space to accommodate the coffin’s dimensions with the rear seats removed. He’d thought about opting for a larger plane for its longer range and space, but didn’t want to be too conspicuous.

  Tomas fingered the security pass in his pocket and did a final inventory check of the duffel bag by the apartment door. He thought again about bringing along a weapon, staring at the block of kitchen knives on the kitchen counter. During the last two days he’d struggled against the urge to purchase a combat knife, stun gun or even pepper spray. But he’d always been opposed to physical confrontation and didn’t want to invite trouble by preparing for it.

  He looked around his father’s living room, knowing this would be the last time he would see the place, recalling fast food dinners on the coffee table, building forts out of sheets and the dining chairs, kissing a girl for the first time at the age of twelve on that worn sofa one night while his father was working late. “I’m coming for you, Dad,” he said, not realizing that he’d used the ‘D’ word for the first time since he was a small boy.

  Tomas walked briskly to the moving van in the RV parking section of the parking lot. He’d secured the coffin and his motorcycle inside the rear the night before. He set the duffel bag on the front seat and climbed inside. The smell of the fresh pearl white paint was strong in his nose. He started the van and pulled away.

  Dr. Greer had said that the best time to attempt an infiltration into the compound undetected was during the change of shifts at three a.m. But Tomas wasn’t sneaking in. His plan was to hide in plain sight. After all, he needed to get his father out of there and the only way he believed that would be possible would be to sneak in with a transport van similar to the ones he’d observed parked in the compound. He figured that once he made it through the front gate, the rest of his plan would fall into place.

  He turned on the windshield wipers as droplets of early summer rain began to fall. His vision was limited as he’d painted most of the windshield with a dull gray paint to obscure his face from the security cameras out in front of the Vitura compound. He had to lean forward close to the wheel to see out the small clear horizontal line he’d left as his only means of seeing ahead.

  The rain began to beat a steady rhythm on top of the van as he waited at one of the many stop lights along Mira Mesa Boulevard. He held his breath, hoping that a random police officer on patrol wouldn’t come up behind him and run the plates he’d stolen off one of Andy’s neighbor’s trucks, or notice that his windshield was intentionally obscured and pull him over for a vehicle violation.

  But the promise of rain must have driven most late-night commuters indoors as the boulevard was virtually empty and less than five minutes later he was driving along Sorrento Valley Road.

  Before turning into the small dead end lane where Vitura Pharmaceuticals was located, Tomas pulled to the side of the road and switched off the lights. When the road was clear of vehicles, he climbed out of the cab, went to the back of the van and, as quietly as possible, lifted the rear door, pulled down the ramp and rolled the motorcycle out of the bed, parking it off the road under a cluster of trees. Every getaway movie he’d ever seen had a Plan B. The motorcycle was his Plan B; - a means of escape in the event everything went haywire.

  He got back in the van and drove into Vitura’s drive. His stomach started doing summersaults as he got closer. While he wasn’t opposed to ingesting the occasional illicit drug or breaking an inconsequential law to, say, skinny dip with his ex in a hotel pool after hours, he was an exceptionally law-abiding person when it came to other people’s welfare - his moral compass holding steady when it came to harming people. But his plan involved committing several serious and potentially violent felonies. Breaking bad was something new to him and wracked his nervous system.

  “Doc, you there?” Tomas asked. His throat was dry and his voice cracked.

  “I’m here, Tomas.”

  “I’m turning towards the gate now.”

  “Tomas. Focus and don’t hesitate or you’ll look suspicious. Remember, fluid movements. Calm and serene. You can do this.”

  The van pulled up to the gate. Tomas cranked down the window and held the badge out high towards the cameras. He turned his head away and waited.

  There was a clank and the gates trundled open.

  Tomas rolled up the window and drove through. It was a mystery to him why his father’s old security badge was still functioning and he couldn’t help but wonder if Dr. Greer didn’t have something to do with it. Even exiled, he imagined she still had colleagues working inside the compound sympathetic to her cause and willing to do her favors when called upon.

  The white cargo van stopped alongside a line of similar white vans. As casually as possible, Tomas exited the compartment with his head down and cap low, carrying the unzipped duffel bag, his eyes darting back and forth searching for trouble.

  He raised the van’s door up and pulled the ramp down, leaving the door open for easy access when he had his father in tow.

  His father’s soft-soled orthopedic shoes were cramped and hurt his feet as he walked. Tomas winced, his pinky toes screaming in pain as his toenails snagged against the torn bits of leather inside the worn shoes. Two scientist-looking types appeared on the sidewalk in front of him. He nodded as they approached but they ignored him as they strolled past, absorbed in their conversation and above acknowledging a lowly security guard. This gave Tomas some relief. If it were common practice to ignore the working class employees, then all he had to worry about were the other security guards, and maybe the janitors, blowing his cover.

  He turned and followed the sidewalk between the buildings and started circling the administration building. When he thought the coast was clear he veered close to the building, reached into the duffel bag and, as he walked hurled, two tannerite devices - one at a time - onto the roof of the three-story structure.

  Even with the light rain and cool wind blowing in from the nearby coast, he was sweating nervously: the khaki guard’s shirt sticking to his back, saddlebags of perspiration forming under his pectorals. He zipped up the bag, acted like he’d forgotten something, turned and began walking back towards the two rear buildings, taking deep breaths and gathering his courage now that the initial stages of the plan were behind him. If the plan were to fail, he’d expected it to happen when trying to enter the compound or when he was throwing the bombs onto the building. Both of those aspects of the plan required a dangerous degree of exposure. Now he just had to keep his head down and find his dad.

  The buildings didn’t have any signage or markings.

  Dr. Greer said the laboratories were in the building diagonal from the administration building he’d been in earlier in the week.

  Tomas rounded the corner and, to his relief, saw that the cargo bay doors were wide open. There were three men inside using a noisy forklift and heavy-duty pitch arms to load a truck with large metal containers. The forklift made a racket and the pitch arm’s joints whined as the men angled the containers in with the mechanical extensions. They didn’t notice the unfamiliar security guard making his way along the far wall behind the shoulder high crates packed with industrial machinery.

  He counted off the paces … thirty-eight, thirty-nine, forty … stopping when his feet hit a hollow plate on the concrete floor. He poured the thermite into a convenient little mound on top of the metal floor panel and stuck the magnesium cord into the pile.

  Now for the telephone call.

  Tomas dialed the fire department and whispered, “There’s a huge five alarm fire at Vitura Pharmaceuticals on Sorrento Valley Road. I think there are people trapped inside. Bring everything you’ve got.” He hung up before the operator could ask any questions.

  He lit
the magnesium cord and ran down the aisle away from the flashpoint, knowing that it would release an extreme amount of heat energy and light, possibly attracting unwanted attention. As he ran, he clicked the call button three times on his phone and heard two successive booms outside from his roof bombs. Yellow warning lights inside the building began to swirl around and the emergency sirens began to wail.

  The thermite was doing its business; a radiant glow and popping sounds came from the molten iron that streamed off the metal plate. The thermite ate into the compartment onto the thick cable underneath.

  Tomas watched the three workers as they evacuated the cargo bay. One of them noticed the radiant light on the far side of the room from the thermite burn. He shouted to his co-workers but they were more concerned about their own hides and pulled him along with them out of the building.

  There was a metallic clunking sound and Tomas panicked as he watched two-foot thick steel shutters begin descending along their tracks in front of the cargo bay doors.

  He was going to be trapped.

  But the shutters stopped three-quarters of the way down as the thermite finally ate through the security cable, disabling the emergency system.

  “I’m in,” he said to Dr. Greer who was waiting anxiously to hear those very words.

  “Okay, Tomas. Now, I need you to listen carefully. This may sound antithetical to your current situation but I want you to hold where you are for five minutes. You need to give the scientists and other workers time to evacuate before you start searching room to room. Otherwise, someone will stop you. Sit tight and breathe. I know this will be difficult, but it needs to be done.”