by B.M. Hodges
*****
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.