Zombie Fever: Origins (2 page)

Smoking wasn’t the only bad habit that Andy had. Andy had been living alone for two decades and had developed unconscious behaviors and ticks extremely irritating to anyone sitting with him in confined quarters. Tomas listened as Andy sucked air through his teeth repeatedly like a high pressure toothpick, then murmur and cackle, glance over at Tomas when he realized that he’d made a noise, then grab the arm of his aviator sunglasses and bob them up and down on his nose. Truth be told, Tomas loved his father, but these annoying ticks were a significant factor why Tomas always found an excuse to say ‘no’ when his father invited him to stay down in San Diego. He hadn’t been down to visit for eight years. The guilt of his selfishness bubbled to the surface for a moment when Tomas thought about how lonely Andy’s life must be.

“Remember when you used to think that was Disneyland?” Andy asked, nodding towards the gaudy Mormon temple looming menacingly over the side of the San Diego freeway.

“Now I think it looks like Superman’s fortress of solitude,” Tomas replied, knowing it would please his father. Andy slapped his leg and laughed his crazy hee-haw laugh.

Traffic began to grow thicker. Andy shifted lanes to the far right one and when the rest of the cars slowed to a crawl, he eased onto the shoulder and kept driving, oblivious of the fist shaking and obscene gestures from the drivers stuck in the masses too law-abiding and sane to try such a maneuver.

His father was the most reckless driver he’d ever know. Tomas gripped the armrest and leaned forward slightly to check the tension of his seatbelt. It was a miracle Andy had held onto his license all this time. He knew if he popped open the glove compartment there would be a stack of tickets ranging from minor traffic violations to reckless driving.

The Sorrento Valley exit appeared and the Roadmaster glided off the freeway. Instead of turning right towards I-805 and Mira Mesa as Tomas remembered, Andy went left, explaining as he turned, “May as well show you where I work.”

It only took a minute or two until they were thick inside an industrial park. Tomas watched as they drove past nondescript buildings made for car wholesalers and chemical plants, plastic furniture manufacturers and auto collision specialists. Andy turned onto a side street. The road was empty until they reached the end. Hunkered down at the bottom of the cul-de-sac was an imposing red brick wall topped with razor wire and an iron wrought gate in the center. There were no guards, but there were two poles positioned on each side of the gate with three industrial strength security cameras mounted on the top and sides. Through the gate, the road disappeared down a hill. All Tomas could see were four identical roof tops bunched together, their style similar to the non-descript buildings back along Sorrento Valley Road. To the right of the gate there was a small bronze sign that said, “Vitura Pharmaceuticals, Inc.”

“There it is, one head of an enigmatic and powerful beast,” Andy chuckled conspiratorially as he turned the Roadmaster around the cul-de-sac and back towards the main road. He pantomimed zipping his lips together, “If I had a nickel for every time they remind me about the company’s confidentiality clause…”

“Why, what’s the big deal?” Tomas asked. “What do they do in there? Have they discovered the cure for cancer or are they creating bio-weapons for the government?”

“Something along those lines is definitely in the works,” Andy replied mysteriously. “So, want to grab a burger before we get home? We can hit the IN-N-OUT drive up near the apartment.”

“Sure.” Tomas hadn’t eaten since his breakfast with Jan that morning. He’d begged her to meet at their favorite café in Stanley Park.
‘The least you could do is see me before I go
,’ he’d said knowing she’d feel guilty if she didn’t. She’d reluctantly agreed though they were still on the outs at the conclusion of the meal. The breakfast was uneventful and bland. Jan had sat there stone-faced, eating a dry blueberry muffin then insisting on splitting the bill before she sped off in her jeep.

With a sack of burgers in hand, Tomas sat patiently while Andy navigated through the maze of apartments that were Majestic Estates. When Tomas used to visit his father as a child, he used to think of Majestic Estates as a sunny paradise of endless cobalt skies and swim parties. These days, however, the two story apartments were showing their age; web-like cracks spidering up the blue-tinted walls, the rusted rain gutters hanging limply along the roofline. Andy read his expression, “Management doesn’t give a damn about the condition of the place, just collecting rent checks and enforcing eviction notices. You remember Belle from 8B? They threw her out on her ear when she got behind after emergency hip surgery. Real shame. She was a couple months away from qualifying for Medicare when she fell. A real shame.”

They passed the central swimming pool, once the jewel of the complex and now empty, the bottom coated in a brownish slime.

Tomas prodded his father, “So why don’t you move? You have to be making enough to afford better than this place. You could be nearer the coast, away from the constant roar of those insufferable military planes. Yeah, I remember the planes.”

But Andy was very sensitive about his financial affairs. Back in the day he was making six figures as an engineer. That was before computers and the internet took over and ol’Andy had failed to keep up. Pagers and XP were the height of his technological savvy. “Let’s just say that my money is tied up in investments,” he replied.

They pulled up next to Andy’s block. He shut off the engine, pulled the keys out of the ignition and took the apartment key off the oversized key ring, “I’m running late, Tommy. Go ahead and make yourself at home. Probably want to stay in for the night. This area has gotten dangerous after dark. There’s a six pack in the fridge. Have a few, I won’t tell your mom. I’ll see you in the morning.”

Tomas took the key, hesitating for a moment, “It’s good to see you again, Andy.”

Andy’s face softened and he smiled warmly with those big artificial teeth, “You too, son. I’ll try to get back around eight and we’ll have breakfast on O. B. Pier like we used to. Run along now.”

A musty smell of bachelor living mixed with household cleaning supplies wafted out the door as Tomas entered the two-bedroom flat. It was obvious from the hint of ammonia and bleach that Andy had spent most the afternoon cleaning up for his arrival.

Tomas tossed the sack of burgers onto the circular glass dining table and walked down the short hallway to his former weekend bedroom from back when his parents shared custody. He opened the door and was stunned to discover that everything was in the same place he’d left it after his last visit eight years ago. The new boogie board still in its cellophane was leaning against the mirror beside the junior-sized chest of drawers. Posters of surfers and the ’98 Padres World Series still hung on the wall, the corners curling from age. On the card table, his advanced Kem5500 chemistry set with its professional grade test tubes, alcohol burner and highly dangerous chemicals was set up just as he’d left it. He remembered the pride he felt when he got it as a Christmas present at ten, knowing that the label on the side said, “For Teens 14+.”

He set his backpack on the bed and removed his bathroom kit. The two prescription bottles for his diagnosed, yet non-existent anxiety prescribed by the family shrink had been filled the day before his flight. He took out two blues and a green, went to the kitchen, opened a beer and swallowed them with a swig of micro-brewed lager.

Chapter 2: Disappearance

The deafening roar of a KC-130 Hercules thundering overhead from Miramar jerked Tomas out of his drug-induced sleep. He was half-lying, half-sitting on the couch in front of a muted infomercial wearing yesterday’s clothes and still gripping half a bottle of beer in his right hand.

Must have dozed off right after eating those burgers, he thought, stretching and checking his watch.

11:13 am.

Tomas crept to his father’s bedroom door, opened it a crack and peered inside. The bed was empty, still made up from the day before.
Probably had things to do after work,
Tomas reasoned. He wasn’t worried considering he had no idea what his father’s daily route was like these days.
Maybe he went out to breakfast with some chippy,
he mused.

He took a shower and called Jan, but she wasn’t answering. So he got on his laptop to see whether he could find her online. He saw she was logged in, but when he sent her a message to chat, she went offline. So he scanned her latest posts, looking for indications of who she was currently ‘dating.’

One hour passed, then two - and still no Andy. In his haste to get to work, his father had failed to give Tomas a contact number and now he felt stranded without a car or plan.

By seven o’clock that evening, Tomas was royally pissed and slightly worried.
Why would Andy leave me with nothing in the fridge but a six pack of beer and expired bologna?

He contemplated phoning his mother but knew she would give little sympathy and it would only reinforce her negativity towards his father. Instead, Tomas ordered a pizza, took a green pill and spent the evening watching college basketball on the tube.

*****

Again he woke on the couch the next morning and Andy still hadn’t come home.

Now he was worried.
It’s been two days.
Should I call the police? Maybe he’d pulled a triple shift. Could he still be at work?
Tomas spent the next few hours searching online for a phone number to Vitura Pharmaceuticals. He found a few numbers with the right area code, but when he called, all he got was an automated answering service.

Tomas jumped in the shower, pulled on a pair of wrinkled cargo pants and his favorite Canucks hockey jersey. He had a couple twenties in his pocket, so he decided to call a cab to his father’s workplace down on Sorrento Valley Road. He walked down to the clubhouse to make it easier for the driver to pick him up, munching on a cold slice of pepperoni pie.

The cab driver was friendly and talkative. But Tomas didn’t hear a thing the driver said. His mind was on his father. As they drove into the cul-de-sac in front of the iron gate, Tomas recalled his father saying the company was an ‘enigmatic and powerful beast.’

He had an uneasy feeling as he watched the cab pull away.

Tomas turned to the gate and looked for an intercom or a guard to let him in. The entire place looked deserted and the slope of the road made it impossible to see twenty yards of the road beyond the gate. So he took a step back and began waving and shouting at the cameras on the poles above. After ten minutes, he gave up.

Faced with a long walk back to the apartment, Tomas sat on the curb to try to think of a new plan. Just as he was about to get up and leave, he heard the hum of an electric motor behind the gate. He turned and pressed his face against the iron bars. The hum got closer, then a golf cart came zipping up the hill towards the fence. Tomas made out the uniform of a security guard and aviator sunglasses so he called out, “Dad!”

However, when the cart pulled up he realized it was a much younger man in that khaki uniform.

“This is private property! No trespassing! Get away from the gate or we’ll notify the authorities!” the guard barked, expecting to frighten the young man off with the threat of police action.

“I’m looking for Andy Overstreet. He works here as a security guard. He’s my father. Do you know if he’s here?” Tomas asked.

“Andy?” The guard looked surprised, “Sure, I know Andy. He’s my boss. Hell, I didn’t know he had a son. Look,” the guard paused, it was evident the grimace that appeared on his face that he was conflicted about how to respond, “something’s happened. Wait here.”

The golf cart zipped back down the hill and Tomas was worried.

Five minutes later the guard was back. He raised his security badge towards the cameras above. There was a click and the gates opened just enough for Tomas to squeeze through.

As the golf cart zipped down the hillside, Tomas got his first glimpse of Vitura Pharmaceuticals and he was unimpressed. The buildings were reminiscent of fascist architecture: symmetrical and simple, with no ornateness whatsoever. The buildings were four windowless gray cubes, each about the size of Tomas’ high school auditorium. They were lumped together in a square pattern. There were covered walkways between the cubes but absolutely no vegetation near the buildings for aesthetics, shade or otherwise. In the exact center of each of the two front buildings there was one set of double doors painted a darker gray, again with no windows. The parking lot surrounding the compound was empty except for several non-descript cargo vans, the occasional white shipping container and a couple forklifts. Encircling the parking lot were clumps of eucalyptus trees planted close for shade and to limit the view of the compound from the outside.

The guard climbed off the golf cart and Tomas followed. They walked up to the double doors of the first building and the guard flashed his badge toward the doors. There was a click and the doors slid open revealing a spectacular circular foyer in stark contrast to the dull exterior. Granite floors and balsa wood panels lined the walls. A crystal chandelier in the form of stalactites - or giant teeth - hung from the entire ceiling. The guard motioned him to enter, then turned back to his cart and sped off.

An androgynous receptionist in a slick charcoal suit with a bleach blonde flat top came strolling up, hard soled two-tones clacking on the floor like a woman’s stilettos. He stuck out a gloved hand and said, “How do you do. Mr. Overstreet? Please come with me. We’ve contacted Mr. Bertrand. He was on his way to Los Angeles, but when he heard that Andy Overstreet’s son was knocking at the door, he turned back and will arrive post-haste. I’ve been instructed to make you as comfortable as possible.” He turned and Tomas followed him through an alcove opposite the front door and down a long corridor. The corridor was dimly lit. However, as they walked down the hall, the lights noticeably brightened around them, then faded behind. It was very sci-fi. Tomas would have been distracted by the gaudy display if it weren’t for the gnawing concern for his father.