The E.M.P. Chronicles (Book 1): 458 Miles & 24 Days

by McTatey, Zayden (Oz)

  He also considered the gear he would take. If he had to use Plan C he needed to consider the amount of weight he would carry. First and foremost, he would carry his Bug Out Bag which contained most of what he would need for his journey. Black in color, it contained Datrex® emergency food bars, six Mountain House freeze-dried food packages, two Life Straws, a modified first aid kit, multiple means of starting a fire, maps of his routes, an extra set of clothes, several knives, four flashlights of various size, types, and lumens, extra AA and AAA batteries, emergency blankets, gloves, duct tape, $25 in pre-1964 silver coins, $500 cash in small bills, six extra magazines (fully loaded) for his Glock 17, and six extra magazines (fully loaded) for his Ruger PC Carbine 9mm takedown. He also carried a desert brown fanny pack that contained several Datrex emergency food bars, one Life Straw, a night vision monocular, compact binocular, a first aid kit, $10 in pre-1964 coins, $200 cash in small bills, two small flashlights, a Swiss Army® knife, an extra set of AA batteries, a small notebook, and a Space Pen®.

  As Oz left his family for this new opportunity he knew he had prepared the best he could. He knew that he would see his family on a regular basis but had confidence that when not if, the Stuff Hit the Fan, he would make it home.

  8

  Quiet but Disgruntled

  HIS NAME WAS ZAYDEN POOLER AND THOUGH HE WAS A UNITED States citizen he was born in Mexico. His parents, both of whom were from California, were young adults in the 1960s and felt strongly that the war with Vietnam was an atrocity. That the United States was the ‘baby killer’ of the world. They saw the United States as the world’s police and resented how the country had influence throughout the world. They never appreciated the fact that everything they had, everything they earned, the healthcare, the house, the cars, and the education all came from the country they hated. Though his parents gave him the freedom and room to grow into his own individual, their resentment of the United States could not help but affect the way Zayden saw the world.

  At eight years old he and his mom returned to California while his dad stayed in Mexico. Zayden felt uncomfortable leaving the Mexican country of his youth only to return to the land of hate, the United States. Soon enough he enrolled in school and became an excellent student. He was never in trouble, never late to school, completed all homework on time, and was always obedient. In the back of his mind, he felt he had to display those characteristics or there would be some type of penalty. After all, he lived in the country that was the world’s police. He felt trapped and a need to right the wrongs as he saw them. After high school, he was accepted into University of California, Berkley. He attended three semesters before being kicked out for illegally hacking into the University’s system. Not only did he change his grades, but he also diverted grants and endowment funds into an offshore account. After an FBI investigation, it was determined that there was not enough evidence to prosecute him and Zayden was released from custody. This further stirred the hate and discontent within Zayden. He questioned why he was targeted. Why the FBI investigated him. He knew other students were doing the exact same thing, yet they weren’t investigated. ‘They’ had targeted him he sighed.

  Zayden justified being kicked out of college and investigated by the FBI as a setup. The United States had set him up for failure and one day, in the very near future he would get his retribution.

  “This country will not tell me what to do or who I’ll be,” he thought to himself.

  With only $500 dollars and a motorcycle, Zayden dropped out of college and pondered what his next steps would be.

  “Thank God I have dual citizenship,” Zayden thought. “At least I can come and go from Mexico as I please. That’s it. I’m going back to the country that doesn’t put boundaries or expectations on me. The country is corrupt, but I can live with that compared to a country that rules with an iron clad military.”

  And so, he returned. After spending several years in Tlaxcala, Mexico and low on funds, Zayden realized that he would have to return to the United States yet again. The computer job he had while in Mexico had been outsourced to India and while he dreaded the decision he had to make he knew if he wanted to have a career, save for retirement, raise a family, or simply get healthcare he would have to return to the land he hated.

  Zayden settled in Phoenix, Arizona. With a new job, healthcare, and a 401K, Zayden relaxed slightly but seething in the back of his mind was how much he hated this country.

  Now in his early forties, Zayden’s hatred for the United States continued to grow. Everything he saw or watched he would attribute to the country heading down a ‘rat hole.’ The economy was booming but Zayden believed that to be at the expense of other countries. He saw support for the Second Amendment continue to grow and only thought that it was a matter of time before the US was a military state. He saw the deportation of illegal immigrants who had committed crimes against the US and its citizens as a sign of discrimination which would eventually lead to genocide. He saw Obamacare overturned and deemed illegal and attributed that to the master plan to weed out the poor and helpless.

  Zayden thought to himself, “I have to do something about this. How can we continue to go on as a nation that only bullies and takes control of other people and countries? Enough is enough.”

  9

  The Plan

  AFTER WORK ONE DAY, ZAYDEN SAT DOWN AND POURED HIMSELF a glass of chardonnay.

  “A fancy wine for a simple person,” he confessed to himself as he took a moment to reflect before opening his computer browser to the day’s news. “More of the same boring crap going on in the world,” he exclaimed to himself. “The US deciding who does what and how they do it. Who gets support and who doesn’t. It’s wrong,” he thought.

  He scrolled down through the articles before something caught his eye:

  “Federal prosecutors in Mississippi charged Yan, 41, in September with leading an empire built on the manufacture and sale of drugs related to fentanyl, one of the world’s deadliest and most profitable narcotics. So strong that it’s been studied as a chemical weapon, the drug has saturated American streets with breathtaking speed: It kills more people than any other opioid, including prescription pills and heroin, because it’s so easy to overdose. Authorities say they have linked Yan and his 9W Technology Co. to more than 100 distributors across the U.S. and at least 20 other countries. Investigators expect scores of arrests as they dismantle his alleged network.” (Esmé E Deprez, 2018)

  “Fentanyl,” Zayden thought. “Isn’t that the drug they give mothers during pregnancy to help control pain? And now dealers have found a way to integrate it into the drug pipeline. A chemical and weapon of mass destruction. Brilliant!”

  This intrigued Zayden and he began researching its uses, dosages, forms, how it’s prescribed, how it’s administered, and who manufactures it. The need to know about fentanyl overtook him and he spent the next week understanding this ‘chemical weapon.’

  In Zayden’s research he found out:

  “Fentanyl is a synthetic opioid that is 80-100 times stronger than morphine. Pharmaceutical fentanyl was developed for pain management treatment of cancer patients, applied in a patch on the skin. Because of its powerful opioid properties, Fentanyl is also diverted for abuse. Fentanyl is added to heroin to increase its potency or be disguised as highly potent heroin. Many users believe that they are purchasing heroin and don’t know that they are purchasing fentanyl – which often results in overdose deaths. Clandestinely-produced fentanyl is primarily manufactured in Mexico.” (Enforcement)

  Zayden continued his research and learned that clandestine fentanyl recently killed a police officer in Kentucky. Zayden read the article with interest:

  “After arresting two men who were transporting clandestine fentanyl from Mexico, Franklin police officer Justin Bosch returned to the Police Department headquarters to fill out the necessary paperwork. When another officer pointed out a white, powdery substance on Bos
ch’s shirt, he wiped it off without giving it a second thought. An hour later he passed out and was transported to the local hospital. Bosch had overdosed on fentanyl, an opioid so potent it can be absorbed into the body by simply contacting the skin. The drug is 80 – 100 times stronger than morphine. Because it’s cheaper than most other opioids, the drug is often used to cut cocaine and heroin. The officers called an ambulance for Bosch, who was given multiple doses of Narcan, an emergency nasal spray that blocks the effects of opioids. Hours later Officer Bosch was declared dead due to an opioid overdose. Police Chief Tom Balgemann and the entire police department are mourning the loss of Officer Bosch but are thankful the tragedy wasn’t compounded. As Police Chief Balgemann explains ‘If he goes home and takes his shirt off, his wife, mother, aunt, whoever does the laundry could grab it, get it on her hand, and that could kill her. Or let’s say he goes home, his kids run up to him, “Daddy, daddy!” and jump on him to give him a hug. It can get on their body and kill them just as it did him. It can just go on and on.’”

  In another article, Zayden learned that Nebraska State Troopers seized 118 pounds of fentanyl which is enough to kill 24 million Americans. By simply touching granular fentanyl, the size of a two-milligram salt grain, you could be killed from an overdose.

  Zayden thought to himself, “The size of a salt grain. Who can see one little salt grain? Nobody, unless you have a magnifying glass. Maybe this is the way to correct some of the wrongs done by society? It would be difficult to kill millions but maybe we start with hundreds of thousands?”

  Zayden then realized that he had changed. That he had reached the breaking point; the fact that he was willing to covertly kill innocent people and it didn’t bother him was deemed acceptable. He felt his attitude, beliefs, and actions were the fault of the United States.

  “They drove me to this,” he silently said.

  Zayden felt the need to see if these small fentanyl grains, smaller than a grain of salt, would truly kill someone like the articles suggested. He needed to know and see what he was capable of doing. Could he truly kill millions of Americans for their wrongdoings? Could he be the one to lead and plan the destruction of society as we know it? Could he live with knowing he could potentially kill millions? He needed to know.

  Zayden needed access to fentanyl but not street fentanyl. The articles he read discussed pure, unadulterated fentanyl.

  “The good stuff,” he thought.

  He was perplexed on how he would get a few grams of pure fentanyl when his best friend came to mind. Luis Hernandez.

  Zayden and Luis were best friends growing up in Mexico. As far as he could remember they knew each other since birth. They remained close friends up to the day Zayden and his family moved back to the United States. Over the years they never lost contact. While Zayden found a career to suit his purpose Luis lead a different life. Luis had always been into computers and eventually became self-taught on how to write computer code. His claim to fame was his work with the Mexican government who enlisted Luis’s help to hack into 12,000 email accounts across the US government. Luis introduced a virus that spread prolifically and instead of collecting 12,000 email accounts he ended with access to over 50,000 accounts including classified, personal, and private information. Unfortunately for Luis and the Mexican government, the United States detected the cyberattack and two days later a drone had mysteriously destroyed the building from which the cyberattack was launched killing nine, but not Luis.

  Luis eventually earned the attention of the Sinaloa Cartel who made him an offer he couldn’t resist. In exchange for protection and a nice salary as they stated, he would be responsible for helping them launder money. His sole job was to move Sinaloa Cartel money across multiple accounts, financial institutions, and countries without being traced. He was extremely successful.

  Zayden reached out to Luis and without questioning him, Luis was able to smuggle Zayden two grams of pure fentanyl.

  One month later, after careful planning, Zayden went to work as normal with the exception that he went two hours early and entered via the front office area. Zayden knew that the buildings camera system hadn’t worked in years and he had high confidence he would not be seen. After all, employees typically didn’t show up until 8:00 a.m. and it was only 6:30 a.m. He took the door key out of his pocket and slipped it into the lock. The door opened.

  He smiled and with a devious smile told himself, “Can’t believe they give all exempt employees keys to get in. Guess they expect us to work overtime and weekends. That will all change today!”

  He immediately walked into the bathroom, rubbed Derma Shield Skin Protection™ on his hand, opened the small baggie that contained the fentanyl and placed a small amount on his hand. Zayden knew that the Derma Shield Skin Protection would prevent the fentanyl crystals from being absorbed through his skin. It was the same lotion used by scientists in laboratories to prevent chemical acid burns. Now prepared, Zayden went into the men’s bathroom located in the front office area and placed a few crystals on all of the toilet seats as well as the bathroom faucets. He then walked into the women’s bathroom and repeated what he did previously in the men’s restroom. He walked to the front offices where he found almost all office doors open. Without any thought or sense of remorse, he placed fentanyl crystals on keyboards, mice, chairs, and desk phones. He knew not everyone would come in contact with the fentanyl, but some would. That would be enough to satisfy him. He then headed to his car and left the building and was home by 6:50 a.m.

  “It’s 7:55 a.m. and time to begin the work day,” Zayden smiled and said to himself as he stepped out of his car to walk into work.

  Somewhat surprised, Zayden saw an ambulance parked near the front building office. They had Judy Ledford on the stretcher being placed into the ambulance. Judy was the plant’s financial accountant. Zayden noticed that the paramedic was doing chest compressions and saw an AED defibrillator attached to her chest. There was an IV attached to the stretcher that led into Judy’s arm.

  “Did Judy come in contact with the fentanyl?” Zayden murmured to himself.

  He took quick notice of Paul Shelby standing by the front door.

  “It must have been Paul who called 911,” Zayden thought to himself. “He came in early today.”

  Paul was the plant’s HR manager who, one month earlier, lost his wife to cancer. Paul and Zayden watched as Judy was quickly placed in the ambulance and swiftly driven off.

  Stunned by what he had just witnessed, Zayden thought to himself, “Had it worked? Was that all because of the fentanyl? Will Paul be next?”

  Zayden took a minute to reflect on how he felt. He felt numb. He didn’t feel upset that Judy may die. He didn’t care that Paul had lost his wife one month prior and that he, Paul, may die today. He didn’t care that Paul’s children, ages 5 and 12, could be parentless at any moment. Instead, Zayden felt relief. Relief that no one knew he was in the plant earlier that morning. Relief that he didn’t feel bad because Judy or Paul may die. Relief that the United States would soon get what it deserved. Without Paul taking notice, Zayden turned and entered the side entrance of the building and headed to his cubicle.

  It was 9:10 a.m. when Zayden and the rest of the team in the cubicles heard multiple sirens. Before they knew it, the emergency alarm was activated and the team immediately evacuated the building. Each team member made their way to their assigned location where supervisors did roll call to make sure everyone was accounted for.

  “What’s going on?” Zayden asked Bob Sherrill. Bob was the first shift supervisor as well as the Incident Commander when there was an alarm.

  “I’m not sure. I was up front when I saw Scott passed out and leaning on his keyboard. At first, I thought he was sleeping but when I shook his shoulder there was no response. He wasn’t breathing. I immediately went to get Jim in the next office over to help me out. When I stepped in I saw the phone in his hand and it looked l
ike he was passed out. I checked his airway and he wasn’t breathing. At that point, I screamed for help and told Paul to call 911. I began CPR on Scott and Paul began CPR on Jim. When the paramedics arrived, they told us to evacuate the building. It’s hard to imagine that within minutes Scott and Jim, collapsed. I don’t think it’s a coincidence.”

  Zayden didn’t look at Bob but inside he was glowing with satisfaction at what he had accomplished. He was happy. He didn’t feel remorse.

  Several days later there was a story on the incident by the local news agency. The report read:

  “Two days ago, Harber Industries experienced what a confidential source called ‘domestic terrorism’. Within minutes of one another three employees, Judy Ledford, Scott Bowman, and Jim Ni were pronounced dead upon arrival at Albany Medical Center. Though city, state, and federal authorities aren’t releasing any information our source states that fentanyl may have been the cause of death. The Medical Examiner has disclosed that toxicology reports will be available within the next six weeks and will provide additional information that may contribute to the cause of death for all three. Authorities are not releasing any new information at this time and ask the public for any help that will bring the killer or killers to justice.”

  Satisfied with the results, Zayden felt confident he would never become a suspect but didn’t want to chance that he could end up serving a life sentence in a United States prison.

  “I’m already a prisoner in the United States. I can’t imagine what it would be like to be a caged prisoner in a country I hate,” he thought.

  And with that Zayden packed his belongings and headed to the one true country he’s only known, Mexico.

  As Zayden sat at the US–Mexican border he thought to himself, “All the research and time spent understanding fentanyl tells me I need to do something but not this. No, this won’t work. The difficulty of getting, buying, and transporting the fentanyl is too risky. I need something that is silent. Something that is untraceable. Something that can be rapidly deployed from anywhere in the world.” Then it came to him . . .