Zombie Fever: Origins (6 page)

“What’s your plan, Tomas?”

“I’m going to break Andy out of there, that’s what I’m going to do. I won’t ‘put him down,’ but the least I can do is get him to a safe location where we can work on a cure. My father is a good man. I don’t think he’d be opposed to using him to study the disease he’s infected with if it means helping the innocent. If you’re serious about stopping Vitura, having a live specimen will only bolster your knowledge and experience with IHS, wouldn’t you say?”

Dr. Greer seemed more receptive now that she realized that Tomas was planning to help Andy and looking at the whole picture.
He’s right, it would certainly be useful if she could get hold of live virus.
She set the gun down and said, “The consumer tech you’re talking about is child’s play compared to the equipment our R&D division has been working on. I can do you one better. Let me make a phone call. Andy and I aren’t the only disgruntled Vitura employees.”

She went to the hotel phone, attached a device to the receiver, mumbled instructions to an unseen party and turned back to Tomas. “Do you favor your left or right ear?”

*****

Tomas couldn’t wait to get started the next morning and was already up by five. He took a cold shower and sketched out an inventory of a few but necessary items needed to carry out his plan. His right ear cavity was sore from the com-link that Dr. Greer’s techie friend had implanted deep and inside as close to the eardrum as possible the night before. He didn’t mind the pain, however, as the enhanced audible range and ability to instantly communicate with Dr. Greer, if needed, were more than sufficient trade-offs. At least he didn’t feel as if he were in this alone.

After dwelling over the plan for some time and making minor corrections he came up with a simple list:

Breakout Items

-Andy’s uniform

-1 working security pass (Andy’s? check w/ Dr. G)

-1 liter flask of thermite

-4 tannerite cakes

-5 gallons of gasoline

-1 extra large coffin

-1 angle grinder

-1 moving van (paint white)

-1 industrial strength tarp

- 12 ft. nylon rope

-Sedatives

-4 cellphones and bubblewrap

-Private plane rental w/pilot

-US$20k in hundred dollar bills

The goods and services on the list were easily purchasable once the settlement check cleared, except for the explosive compounds. But he was fairly confident he could make them if they weren’t. The cash may have raised some eyebrows at the bank if he was an ordinary customer, but depositing nearly two million dollars should give him enough leverage to avoid any unnecessary questions.

“Dr. Greer, you there?” he asked.

“Tomas, I didn’t expect you till later. How’s the reception? I’m two hours south of Baja on a schooner. Is there any interference on your end?”

“I hear you like you’re sitting next to me. Doc, I need some chemicals that may or may not be illegal in the States. Do you know where I can pick up some tannerite, thermite and magnesium cord in the Mira Mesa area?”

Dr. Greer laughed, “The first two are impossible to purchase unless you have a demolition company. I thought you were a lab geek? I’m sure you can whip up some thermite and tannerite on your own; recipes are all over the net. You’ll have to improvise your ignition devices for the tannerite, but magnesium cord can still be purchased. Is there anything else? The skipper is eye-balling me. Please only use the com-link when absolutely required. I’m not your yellow pages or confidante, and I’m shutting it off as soon as your mission is over.”

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 wealth. 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.