Z1N1: The Zombie Pandemic: 2012 Was Just the Beginning Page 4

  Amanda kissed him some more and eventually, under protest, slid out of the truck. Craig backed out of the garage and stopped at the end of the driveway. He watched Amanda as she happily inspected the bracelet.

  “I love you!” she yelled.

  “I love you too, baby doll,” Craig replied as he backed out of the driveway and headed to the lab.

  The start of Julie’s Saturday morning was much more in line with her normal weekday routine. She took a nice, hot bath to relax before work. She dozed slightly but was awakened by her husband’s voice from downstairs.

  “Julie, don’t fall asleep in that tub,” he warned.

  “I’m not asleep, Alex!” she yelled back. “You worry too much about me!”

  “It’s only because I love you. Oh and maybe because you make more money than me!” he retorted, giggling slightly.

  “That’s it – you are ‘so’ out of my will, mister!” she playfully teased.

  “Well while you are up there ‘not’ sleeping in the bathtub, Sam, Zack and I are off to get our last bit of Christmas shopping done. We’ll see you later.”

  “I love you guys, be safe – you know how crazy shoppers are this time of year,” she warned as she heard the front door close.

  She had finished all of her Christmas shopping over two months earlier. She no longer waited till the last minute to shop. For many years, she would wait till “Black Friday” to even start buying gifts. That changed about two years ago.

  She had waited patiently outside for one of the “door buster” specials at the local electronics store. She was third or fourth in line. She had braved the freezing weather for over two hours just to get a new GPS for Alexander. As the doors opened, the crowd surged forward and she was trampled.

  She suffered a broken elbow and a twisted ankle and was rushed to the hospital. The highlight of the whole experience was being interviewed by a local news show for a program called, “When Shoppers Go Bad” plus she received a ten-thousand dollar gift card from the responsible store and a free top-of-the line GPS for Alexander’s car.

  Julie enjoyed an additional fifteen minutes in the hot, soapy water – Christmas shopping was the farthest thing from her mind. Grudgingly she forced herself out of the tub, dried off and wrapped a green wool towel around her chest. She went to her side of the dual sink in the master bathroom and put on her make-up. She sprayed two extra squirts of her perfume on her neck for good measure. She dressed and grabbed a bagel and cream cheese for breakfast as she left the house.

  Twenty minutes later Julie pulled into the employee parking lot as Craig was clumsily backing into a spot way too small for his truck. The lot was a ghost town; these “weekend warriors” took parking spots as close to the front door as they could.

  Julie cracked her window slightly and spoke to Craig. “You drive like a woman,” she said pulling in next to him.

  “BAH!” Craig replied as he exited his truck.

  The two friends went up the stairs into the office building taking the elevator to the fourth floor. They had work to get done. The building was all but empty. The cleaning crew milled about doing their work. Vacuum cleaners and floor buffers whirred in the background. Security guards patrolled the hallways. Most of the building was dark. Craig and Julie prepared for the task at hand. They had to get the final retests done before 4:00 PM.

  “Let’s do this, old girl,” Craig said.

  “Well, I’m glad to see Amanda didn’t choke you last night. I take it she loved the gift?”

  “Yeah, I’ll say! I think I have some sweet ‘nookie’ waiting for me when I get home!”

  “You keep talking like that, PIG - and I’ll file a sexual harassment suit against you!”

  Both laughed as they turned on the lab equipment and fired up the old computers. A total retest of batch 2011_10_20 would take about three hours. This batch was a cell-based approach to producing a vaccine instead of the old egg-based method. Craig started the bio reactor convinced it was similar in design to that of the large vats used in beer breweries.

  Almost as if on cue, Julie spoke, “No matter how hard you wish - that reactor will never make a single drop of beer!”

  “That’s what I was just thinking!”

  “We obviously spend way too much time together, young man,” she joked.

  Hours passed by as complex calculations were performed by the antiquated desktops. It was an interesting, if not ironic, contradiction. The software programs were state-of-the-art but the computers appeared to be old dummy terminals from mainframe shops of years past. This wasn’t exactly the case but the thought around the office was that “Tightwad Timmons” should spend more money on upgrading the personal workstations and less time worrying about the bottom line.

  “It is way too quiet in here.” Julie said, standing up and stretching out her back. “Turn on the TV, would you?”

  Craig searched his desk for the TV remote. However, this morning it appeared that the imaginary rabid beaver that lived in Craig’s desk had a bit of a kleptomaniac streak in addition to its regular distaste of all things orderly – the beaver had obviously absconded with the remote!

  “Never mind, I need to walk around a bit.” Julie left her desk and went over to the TV that was perched on a metal swinging arm just to the left side of the large window that resided on the backside of the lab. She flipped the TV on manually.

  “That’s how we used to do it all the time before you lazy whippersnappers came up with all those fancy doo-dads to do everything for you without having to move,” Julie said in an overly-exaggerated senior citizen’s voice. She then left the lab to “powder her nose.”

  Craig eventually found the remote, hidden underneath a stack of sports magazines by the side of his desk. He began randomly flipping through the channels. He stopped his aimless channel surfing on one of the many 24-hour news channels. It appeared that the local news was interviewing a NASA scientist about solar activity. Craig turned up the volume and listened intently as the conference started.

  “Professor O’Malley,” began an elderly gentleman, “I appreciate you taking time out of your busy schedule to answer our questions.”

  “No problem whatsoever, Mr. Kenning. That’s what I’m here for, to educate the public, to separate myth from fiction, if you will. Do you have a question, sir?” the Professor inquired.

  “I do indeed. My understanding from interviewing multiple sources is that there is a possibility of solar storms and solar flares next year that could lead to the collapse of electrical power grids, satellites and unprotected communication infrastructures. Is that true?”

  Professor O’Malley adjusted the microphone to make sure everyone could hear him. While he’d never admit it out loud, he loved the attention these press conferences garnered him. Such public limelight would go a long way to advancing his career and getting more grant money for his department.

  “Yes, I believe that is true for some countries. Our analysis indicates that some internal infrastructure is not shielded sufficiently in many third-world nations. This could lead to catastrophic failure at some point and destabilize those regions. I feel this situation will be more prevalent in less industrialized nations due to lack of preparedness and lack of resources. I’ve been in contact with the US military and other reliable government sources - they assure me that precautions are in place to safeguard the American way of life in the event such a disaster should occur.”

  “Do you honestly think our government would tell you differently? If they were not prepared for something like this – do you think they would tell you so?” Leon Kenning drank a sip of water and continued.

  “While it may be true that some integral process are protected, there is no way that our entire power grid in every state is protected. There are thousands of satellites orbiting the Earth – I can’t believe they’ve all been upgraded. As for communication systems, these cell phones and WI-FI hot spots barely work on rainy days – how could ‘WE’ be prepared for a large scale
event of this magnitude should it happen?”

  “I’ve answered your question, Mr. Kenning. Next question, please.” Professor O’Malley had no intention of debating with a renowned conspiracy theorist. Plus, in his mind - Kenning wasn’t even a “real” reporter – just some gossip rag columnist.

  A plump female reporter named Jenny Cranston stood up from her third row seat. “So, Professor, in your educated opinion - what else does our Sun have in store for us in the upcoming year?”

  “Well, Ms. Cranston, as you know, my team has been researching solar activity and documenting its effects for the last decade. We’ve devised very accurate tests to track changes to the amount of radiation the Sun emits. Our tests indicate that next year, the Sun will give off higher levels of gamma radiation than we’ve seen in more than a decade.”

  “Should we be alarmed?” Ms. Cranston asked.

  “According to our calculations, there will be a spike of gamma activity around the winter solstice next year,” O’Malley said. “I would take appropriate precautions. I always advise limiting Sun exposure due to the hole in the ozone layer. Maybe wear extra sunscreen and avoid the hottest part of the day. Just use common sense.”

  “By winter solstice, do you mean around December 21, 2012?” Mr. Kenning interrupted. “Isn’t that what the Mayans predicted? Didn’t their calendar stop tracking time on that date? They predicted an apocalypse or something, right?”

  Professor O’Malley sighed in disgust. Why was Kenning even allowed here in the first place? The professor had fielded one too many hypothetical situations regarding the long since defunct Mesoamerican society. And Kenning was grating on the Professor’s last nerve.

  “Look,” the professor began, “I don’t believe all of that shit and you shouldn’t either, Leon.” The professor paused realizing he just swore on live TV. “Sorry about that,” he said apologetically into the camera.

  “All that Mayan Doomsday stuff is nothing but some fanciful story telling. I’m not here to discuss fairy tales or conspiracy theories. If you are interested in the scientific data that my team and I have documented regarding solar activity occurring next year, then I will send it to your respective news outlets. However, I will not waste my valuable time discussing science fiction.” With that, Professor O’Malley removed his microphone and stormed off stage.

  “What was that about?” Julie inquired, catching the last bit of the professor’s tirade as she sat back down at her desk.

  “That professor was talking about solar flares or something and got pissed off because some reporter mentioned the Mayan stuff we talked about the other night at the Mall.”

  “That crap again? That Mayan stuff is going to be all over the news for the next year. There will be countdowns and doomsayers and cultists everywhere! All of them will be predicting the end of time as we know it. Just like they did back in ‘99 with the Y2K bug...we all know how that played out. This will be the same.”

  “That’s probably quite accurate, Julie. People like to panic and blow things way out of proportion.”

  The two coordinated their efforts and completed all remaining tests and documentation regarding batch 2011_10_20. All work was now finished ahead of schedule. Then as if some malevolent presence had willed him into existence at that exact moment, Karl Timmons walked through the lab door.

  “Don’t get up,” Karl said as he walked into the room. “I’m only going to be a few minutes.”

  Julie and Craig glanced at each other, both thinking the exact same things: Why was Karl in the office today? Was he here to reprimand them? Was he here to lend a ‘helping’ hand? Both technicians watched their boss walk to the active bio vat, his back turned to them as he spoke.

  “While we have had our differences in the past, I just wanted to come in today to thank you for your extra efforts.”

  “No problem, Kar…I mean Mr. Timmons,” Craig stuttered as he realized he almost dropped the “K-bomb” (as it was known).

  Julie shook her head.

  “As I was saying,” Karl continued, “your extra efforts will ensure that we are at the top of the list of qualified companies competing for the IPPC grant.” Karl abruptly turned from the vat and left the room without uttering another word.

  The International Pandemic Prevention Council was the governing body set up in Stockholm, Sweden to oversee and coordinate international efforts to confront virulent diseases and pandemics. The council was formed in late-2010 and was comprised of representatives from around the world. The multi-national group had extensive powers and rights granted to it by its member countries in order to allow for quick, decisive actions to combat worldwide illness.

  Julie waited a few minutes before she spoke. She got up from her desk and went to the doorway, sticking her head outside the lab to double-check that Karl was nowhere to be seen.

  “What was that whole ‘thank you’ garbage about, Julie?”

  Julie sat back down. “I’m not sure. I can’t remember the last time he uttered those words to anyone but his superiors.”

  “Let’s just send off our reports and documentation before he comes back. We may have just encountered an alien doppelganger!” Craig joked as they both sent off their final reports.

  Both shutdown their computers and hurried to the elevator – riding it down to the ground floor. Once in the parking lot, the two hugged and said their goodbyes, heading for their respective homes to enjoy the rest of the weekend.

  For the last two months of 2011 and the first two months of 2012, the Illumination Pharmaceuticals group continued to work diligently towards the IPPC grant. Karl Timmons let his team do their work. Most of his time was spent in closed-door meetings with the financial backers of the firm and his superiors during this four month period.

  Chapter 4

  March 7, 2012: Wednesday, 8:30 AM - An emergency all-staff meeting at Illumination Pharmaceuticals…

  “I’m glad everyone could make it on such short notice this fine morning,” Karl Timmons began as he eyed each member of the team. “We’ve come a long way together in a relatively short time.”

  The ten person team sat around a U-shape oak table on the third floor of the building. Karl was at the open end of the table pacing back and forth in anticipation. The group was quite unaccustomed to seeing this side of their boss…he appeared, dare they think it, “happy?”

  “We’ve done it!” Karl blurted out unable to control his excitement. “All the hard work we did at the end of last year has finally paid off!”

  Julie and Craig winced in unison every time Karl would say “We’ve”…most of the team felt the same way. Karl’s use of the inclusive “we” implied that he actually had something to do with all of the hard work the team did over the past year. This was not the case.

  “What did we do?” Michael asked.

  Michael Clark was Karl’s “go to” guy – the teacher’s pet. He had worked with Karl for about seven years now. The group tolerated Michael but they always watched their backs with what they said while he was around. He had a tendency to “inform” Karl of office gossip. Julie and Craig would often joke that Michael had his nose so far up Karl’s ass that at times it appeared the two were conjoined twins.

  “I’m glad you asked, Michael my boy!!” Karl beamed like a proud father. “We won the IPPC grant! That’s the big one! They’ve chosen our pandemic vaccine. It will be used around the world to combat the most virulent strains of the H1N1 virus. Not only will it help thousands of people, but the grant is worth fifty-million dollars to our company!”

  The room exploded in clapping and cheering. The team had worked long, hard hours during the past two years. Many weekends were spent diagnosing failed batch trials. They forced themselves to continue the arduous schedule because they knew their vaccine was being considered for the grant. However, the thought of beating the larger, more world-renowned drug companies for the grant money was a huge stretch, but they had done it!

  Michael, with arms wide open, jumped up
from his seat, knocked over his chair and practically skipped over to Karl Timmons. Michael enthusiastically embraced his boss. Craig glanced at Julie as she covered her mouth to keep from laughing at the most awkwardly over-affectionate man hug they had ever seen.

  “That’s the kind of enthusiasm I want to see, Michael!” Karl said as he embraced his number one fan. “The rest of you could learn a thing or two from old Mikey here about showing some real excitement! Now get back out there and make me proud!”

  The scientists began to leave the table, picking up their pens, notepads and bottled water. Craig and Julie were the first out of their seats and almost out the door when Karl spoke again.

  “Oh, by the way,” Karl said coyly, “there will be bonuses this year!”

  The mere mention of the word “bonus” elicited more cheering and clapping from the over-worked team but also seemed to confuse them as well. Some of the group double-checked with other colleagues as they left the room to make sure they had not misheard their boss. The consensus was that “Tightwad Timmons” had indeed actually uttered that magical word.

  Julie left the meeting room and stood at the elevator. She had jogged down the short hallway to catch the doors while they were still open. “Hurry up, Craig,” she said, “the elevator is here!” Craig looked over his shoulder one last time as he exited the room for the elevator. Michael had once again embraced Karl, like a kid hugging his father at Christmas time. Craig wanted to yell: “Get a room!” But he knew better…however, he made a mental note of the image and knew he would definitely share with Julie once they made it to the safety of their lab.

  “Michael and Karl sitting in a tree, K-I-S-S-I-N-G,” Craig sang as he plopped down in his chair, “first comes love, then comes marriage, then comes Karl with a baby carriage!”

  “You’re so bad!” Julie said, shaking her head at her friend. “I’m guessing ‘old Mikey boy’ was expressing his gratitude again?”