Zombie Fever: Origins
ZOMBIE FEVER 1
Origins
by
B.M. Hodges
Copyright 2012 B.M. Hodges
Cover Image: (c) chrisharvey /
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This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events or locales is purely coincidental. The characters are productions of the author’s imagination and used fictitiously.
Attention Horror Fans,
Zombie Fever 1: Origins
has been
updated and nearly doubled in length!
Find out if Tomas rescues his father in the new extended version!
Table of Contents
Chapter 1: And it begins…
As the plane touched down at Lindbergh Field, Tomas brushed his black locks from his face and leaned forward, looking up and over the ample breasts of the morbidly obese man crammed into the adjoining center and window seat. Glimpses of palm trees and sun-baked stucco buildings whipped past. Shimmering San Diego came into focus as the Air Canada ERJ-190 braked on the runway tarmac.
Snippets of the conversation he’d had with his mother and stepfather at their last get together flicked through his consciousness as the plane taxied toward the gate.
There were obvious signs during those last few days that some sort of parental, for-your-own-good speech was in the works. There had been an escalation in the hushed conversations and closed door arguments between his mother and stepfather. He’d sensed that it would come at tonight’s dinner, which was why he was cruising on a couple blues prescribed by the therapist his parental units insisted he visit twice a week.
He’d found himself yet again having to justify his life, “The situation between me and Jan is a bit tense, but we’ll work it out. We always do.”
“We just don’t want to see you get hurt, again.” His mother countered, her eyes darting back and forth between her son and his stepfather, Stuart.
He sat back calmly in the creaky wooden chair and half-listened as they began their planned and well-rehearsed lecture. A tune flitted around in the back of his thoughts and he couldn’t put his finger on the name of the song. It had been bothering him all day.
Stuart cleared his throat, “Look Tomas, graduating university is a big deal. It’s an event in your life that you should have been preparing for long before now. In two weeks, you’re finished with your finals. Then what? We’d hoped by now that you’d have a job lined up or at least an internship. Living in our basement without a job, savings, steady girlfriend, heck, without a long-term plan for your life isn’t where we hoped you’d be when you finished your degree.” Since their marriage ten years ago, Stuart had heroically assumed a fatherly role with Tomas but always at a distance, taking his cue from Bev’s mothering style.
“Let’s face it,” Stuart continued. Bev stared at Stuart as he talked. I could see her mouth move as Stuart spoke the words she’d put in there earlier, “now is the time for you to grow up and take some responsibility over your life. There’s no reason you should be in this predicament. You have so much going for you. What with the scholarship and your flair for science. You’ve been given a gift that most people would give anything for…anything. To be able to complete uni before your twentieth birthday; well, let’s just say you have a major leg up on the competition. Then to blow off applying for graduate school and having no plan in the works is…” There was a pause the parental units gathered the courage to meddle in his love life, “You’re squandering the most formidable years of your life on a girl who doesn’t seem to have your best interests at heart. She repeatedly dumps you, ‘dates’ a bunch of men for two or three months then makes nice when she is lonely. You need to end it. Now is the time, Tomas. We want you to try to see it from our perspective.”
There was that ‘we’ again. It annoyed Tomas to no end that they spoke in tandem whenever they had anything serious to say. It had been years since his mother had actually spoken to him in the subjective “I” when it came to anything important.
Tomas focused on the speck of thyme sticking to the lip of his empty water glass. Outwardly, the pills kept him calm and serene, but inwardly his stomach twisted in knots as he listened to their critique of his intensely personal relationship with Jan.
He wanted to jump across the dining table and knock their heads together.
If one thing was certain, it was that he loved Jan and would do anything for her. He’d loved her since they met at breakfast after a long night of partying during the summer between high school and university. She was wearing a dark blue cotton dress, he remembered, she was so casual and charming, beautiful really. They fell into a rapport, ignoring the rest of the group and made love for the first time that night. Their love-making was electric, sensual and addictive.
“Don’t take this the wrong way, dear. We think some time away to clear your head is what you need.” Bev reached across the table and took Tomas’ hand, covering up the ‘J’ he’d tattooed on his ring finger his freshman year at UBC right before Jan dumped him the first time. His body was so relaxed that he didn’t even flinch at the unusual physical contact from his mother. She must be serious he thought. “A summer in San Diego with your father may be just the thing to put your life in perspective. He’d love to have you. Imagine the possibilities. You could try surfing. I know you’ve always wanted to give it a go. Besides, you know what it will be like here in Vancouver, pleasant but the same old, same old.”
He glanced up and noticed an airline ticket stuck on the fridge with a Ski Whistler magnet.
“But what about flight school? I’m two lessons away from my first solo flight, Mom.”
She looked at her husband for encouragement and said, “We’ve decided to stop paying for your lessons for now. Getting your pilot’s license when you have no plans to become a commercial pilot is an indulgence you can’t afford at this critical point in your life, Tommy.”
Stuart piped in, “Listen, Tomas. If you take this summer seriously and come up with a solid five-year plan, when you get back in September, you can pick up on your lessons right where you left off.”
“We only want what’s best for you,” they said in unison.
His dreams of whisking Jan away on a private plane to romantic destinations unknown evaporated when he realized they’d boxed him in a corner. He had no choice but to go. Getting a summer temp job in retail wouldn’t cover the remaining costs of his private pilot’s license. His plan to impress Jan and win her back with promises of high flying adventure would never come into fruition if they didn’t pay for it.
The seatbelt sign switched off.
Eager to escape the cramped stuffy cabin, Tomas squeezed into the aisle with the rest of the passengers. As he exited the plane, a flight attendant he had flirted with shook his hand and slipped him a note and a wink. Her tag said, “Ginger” and she had hair to match. The note said, “Drinks?” followed by her telephone number. He took out his wallet and shoved the note into the back fold, adding to the other numbers he’d forgotten.
Tomas strode through the terminal, ego stoked, feeling invincible.
Against the advice of his stepfather, Tomas had packed his forager steel-framed backpack instead of a standard carry-on. Now he wished he’d taken that advice as he was on the ground and eager to get on with the day.
At least having to go to baggage claim made it easier to rendezvous with his father,
he thought.
Tomas spotted Andy right away.
It wasn’t difficult.
Just look for the person in the room the least self-aware
.
Andy was standing next to the baggage carousel but facing the juice bar off to the right, no doubt drawn to the two Nordic stewardesses sitting on high stools drinking smoothies at one of the tables. His father had a habit of wearing sunglasses indoors and openly gawking at people behind the darkened lenses, as if they didn’t instinctually sense his predatory stare. He stood there with his legs spread apart and arms folded across his chest, his authoritative stance comical compared to his slight frame. It was one of those things a child notices about a parent, one of the many sources of unrelenting embarrassment.
Tomas could see a toothpick darting back and forth between Andy’s thin lips. His father was wearing khaki pants and a shirt that looked like he stole from a rent-a-cop.
But he is a rent-a-cop
, Tomas remembered. Andy worked as a security guard somewhere near La Jolla.
For a laugh, Tomas crept up behind Andy and grabbed him roughly by the shoulder.
His father jumped about a foot off the ground, the toothpick flying out of his mouth and into the fluffy white hair of an elderly woman cruising by on a scooter. Andy flipped around, yanking off his aviators, red with anger at this unexpected physical intrusion. But his demeanor changed when he saw his son.
“Tommy, my boy!” Andy hollered too loudly as usual, drawing the attention of the surrounding travelers. He grabbed his son in a bear hug, tears welling up in his eyes.
“Hi, Andy,” Tomas muttered, uncomfortable with the public display of affection. Tomas had always called his father by his first name. Even as a child when his parents were still together. It wasn’t a sign of disrespect, just habit. He pulled away and grunted, “You’re looking healthy.”
His smiled and ran a hand through his thick black mane, “Still have all my hair if that’s what you mean. But these are fake,” he leaned up close to Tomas’ face and clicked his bright white teeth together. “One good thing about working for a pharmaceutical company, they have excellent dental. These are drilled right into my jaw bone with steel posts, better than the real ones.”
Tomas nodded and threw some flattery his way, “Well, you look half your age with that tan. How many hearts have you broken down here in So Cal?”
Andy drank it in then lightly punched Tomas in the arm when he realized he was being pandered to. He rubbed his hands together and looked towards the carousel, “How many bags you got? We need to hurry. I have to drop you off and get to the office. I’m on the night shift these days. You’re going to be on your own quite a bit while you’re here. Something important is going down at the facility and everyone’s pulling overtime. But I’m sure you won’t mind. It’ll give you some time to chase the foxy ladies.”
They waited a while until the carousel began to turn. Tomas’ backpack was the second piece of luggage through.
Andy drove a fifteen-year-old pearl white Roadmaster. It was a behemoth, one of those automobiles built for the WWII generation who coveted the styling of tank-like autos from the nineteen fifties. Andy was in his late fifties, but driving a car meant for his parent’s generation made him look that much older. They cruised along I-5 towards La Jolla at a brisk ninety miles per hour, a rate dictated by the speeding traffic around them, the dynaride suspension making it feel as though they were riding on giant marshmallows.
The vehicle reeked of stale cigarettes and Tomas had to lean against his open window to catch outside air streaming through so he wouldn’t gag. Andy had this peculiar habit of smoking two or three drags off a cigarette then snubbing it out and lighting another. In the ashtray below the climate controls, reeking half-smoked menthols were stuffed tightly together like candles on a centenarian’s birthday cake. And there were half-empty packs strewn across the floor and half-empty forgotten cartons strewn across the backseat amid checked ties, gym shoes and fast food wrappers. Tomas noticed a couple butts from ladies slims with smears of lipstick on the tip in the ashtray of the passenger side armrest.
Andy’s been randy
, Tomas thought.
