Z1N1: The Zombie Pandemic: 2012 Was Just the Beginning

by Mitchell Layne Cook

  “It’s your turn to answer the phone,” Craig said timidly. “I got chewed out by Mr. Timmons last week. Plus I know he hates me. Maybe you will be able to smooth over the fact that we are not done by his precious timeline!”

  The phone rang again seemingly louder and angrier than the first ring; Julie pressed the speaker phone button. She simultaneously held one finger up to her lips to signal Craig to keep quiet. Mr. Timmons’ tired and cranky voice came over the raspy speaker phone.

  “So, Julie – how are the tests coming? Are you finished?”

  “The results are within accepted tolerances for this last batch of vaccines, Mr. Timmons. Craig and I have been running the final reports for the last few hours and we are close…”

  “Close?!” the manager yelled. “You know those results have to be delivered to our executives by eight AM Monday morning, right? Craig promised me last month that the tests would be in my inbox with all the supporting documentation by five this afternoon and it is five now. I have NO results!”

  Julie could just imagine her boss in his luxurious corner office, his fat face turning red with anger, running his right hand through his thinning red hair and the knuckles on his left hand turning white from gripping the phone receiver way too hard. She had worked with Karl Timmons for ten years before he was promoted to regional manager. He had a tendency to underestimate timelines, overestimate his self-worth and promise deliverables to higher-ups under unrealistic schedules.

  “Karl, listen,” Julie said in a soothing tone, “we will have those results in your inbox before Monday morning.” She paused briefly. “Actually, we’ll try to have them to you no later than Saturday afternoon. That will allow you ample time to go over ‘our’ work and adjust and recheck things and make sure we’ve done everything correctly.”

  She had hoped that this approach would allow Karl’s ego to overtake his anger. This would give him the opportunity to put his stamp of approval on things and to make it look like he was more involved in the process than he actually was. He’d most assuredly inflate his own involvement - letting his superiors know of his “intimacy” with the tests and the “crucial” role he played in getting the job finished.

  After a moment of silence, Karl Timmons spoke, “Fine. Have all the results to me by four tomorrow afternoon…and Julie?”

  “Yes, Karl?” she replied.

  “It’s Mister Timmons!!” he said, slamming the phone down, abruptly ending the conversation.

  “That went well,” Craig said as he peeked over a stack of papers at Julie. “What an idiot! You’d think that the first heart attack would have taught him to relax…”

  “Let’s just focus on finishing up what we can this evening. While Karl was busy blowing a gasket, I was going over test batch 2011_10_20 and it appears our batch from Thursday evening has a few anomalies. I don’t think it will cause that much rework but we need to redo that test. It should only take three or so hours. Let’s do that tomorrow,” she said as she busied herself rechecking the figures.

  “Shit!!” Craig exclaimed. “That’s probably my fault. I think Amanda might have called while I was running those tests. I was distracted. I’m sorry.”

  “No worries. We just have to fix it. Let’s finish up today’s tests - get all of that data entered into the computer. Then let’s close down the lab and you and I go get a drink or two from Stubby’s then hit the Mall to find Amanda the perfect gift. We need to get that off of your mind so you and I can finish up these tests for Karl,” Julie said, as both began laughing, knowing how irritated Mr. Timmons got when any “subordinate” called him by his first name.

  “Wait…” Craig said. “I thought you hated shopping during this time of year?”

  “I do, but this is an emergency. I’d rather take my chances out there in the crowds than listening to your complaints for hours on end!”

  The two shut down the lab around 7:15 PM and walked through the deserted parking lot to Julie’s Jeep Grand Cherokee. “I’ll drive,” she said as she unlocked the doors, “but you’re buying the drinks!”

  Both entered the aging SUV; they left the almost empty parking lot of Illumination Pharmaceuticals merging effortlessly onto the idle freeway. Julie took the third exit and both of them could easily see the glowing neon lights of Stubby’s Bar and Grill. The bar was built in the late ‘80s and continued to be a local hotspot almost since the opening day. The manager of the bar would often say it was the drinks and the food that made the place so popular. However, if you asked the local patrons, the real star of the place was the dancing neon cowboy perched atop of the building.

  “I feel better already,” Craig joked, “but that cowboy freaks me out every time I see it.”

  Julie smiled as she pulled the gold SUV into Stubby’s crowded parking lot and took the first available spot. Stubby’s had become a regular routine for her and Craig. Usually they would stop by after work on Fridays for an hour or so, have a few drinks and be back to their respective homes no later than 7:00 PM - today’s late arrival being an obvious exception due to the extra workload.

  “Wow! It’s crowded in here,” he exclaimed, peering inside, as he held the door open for Julie.

  “Yeah it is. I guess it’s closer to happy hour than we are used to.”

  “Hey look, our table is empty,” Craig said, motioning towards a table in the corner next to the empty stage.

  They sat at their normal table and ordered a few drinks. The band returned to the stage and began playing soft jazz music as the lights dimmed. The two made small talk about work but the conversation quickly turned to Amanda’s upcoming birthday and Craig’s total lack of a meaningful gift.

  “What am I going to do, Julie? Why did I have to put this off so long? I’m an idiot. I knew better but still waited to the last possible minute.”

  Julie’s purse began to buzz loudly before she could respond. She reached into her purse and pulled out a large, antiquated cell phone. Craig began to giggle but Julie shushed him. He loved teasing her about the size of the phone. It was ancient. Even though the device was less than five years old, it was more than twice the size of current models.

  “Do you need help holding that up to your ear?”

  “Hush, Craig!” she playfully scolded him. “Hello?”

  Craig knew it was Alexander checking in on his wife. There was never any mistrust from either spouse about the weekly rendezvous at Stubby’s – often times, both Alexander and Amanda had joined them. Craig and Julie were very close friends, nothing more. Craig took the opportunity to call Amanda as well to let her know that he had been working late and had a few errands to run after he and Julie finished their drinks at Stubby’s. The lab partners filled their significant others in on their current whereabouts and most of the day’s events (minus the lack of a birthday gift) and promised to drive safely home when they were done. Both ended their phone conversations simultaneously with “I love you.”

  “Craig, finish up your drink. I just had a great gift idea. You know that little store in the Mall? The one in between Victoria’s Secret and that little place that sells all the reproduced Incan artifacts?”

  “You mean Mayan artifacts?” Craig corrected.

  “Yes, Mayan…I knew that. Alexander corrects me every time I mix up the two,” she frowned, trying to make yet another mental note to keep the two civilizations separate in her mind.

  “That store between Victoria’s Secret and the Mayan store…I think the store you are thinking of is…Colleen’s Collectibles.”

  “Yes! That’s the one. Amanda would love one of those keepsake bracelets that you put a new gemstone in every year, right?” Julie inquired.

  “That is an excellent idea!” Craig became very excited. Those bracelets were pricey but he felt that he could splurge on such an item even though the Masters’ family was now a one-income family. Once again, Julie had come to his rescue saving him from Amanda’s ire and a cold night sleeping in the garage.

  Craig paid the bill a
nd left a pretty decent tip. He was usually fairly frugal (although others considered him “cheap”) regarding his tipping policies, but tonight he was in a great mood. The two friends exited the bar into the frosty October night and drove to the Mall.

  The Mall was full of shoppers taking advantage of early pre-Christmas sales. While Craig enjoyed the holiday season, he felt that each year the giant corporations moved their sales up earlier and earlier into the year to get extra money for their bottom line. Soon people would be shopping for Christmas gifts and fireworks simultaneously. However, he couldn’t let his inner Scrooge out just yet…because he could still get a great deal on some jewelry for his wife. After his purchase, he could go back to being angry at the overzealous shoppers and the greedy, faceless corporate giants.

  The two friends made their way through a tidal wave of shopping drones as they meandered towards Colleen’s Collectibles. As they browsed merchandise on display in a small rack outside of the main store, they could hear a TV from next door in the Mayan shop reporting how the Mayans predicted a possible Doomsday event on the winter solstice, December 21, 2012.

  “What do you think about that, Julie?” Craig asked, referring to the program on the TV next door.

  “I’ve talked to Alexander briefly about it. He says some folks think it’s going to be a worldwide calamity to end civilization. Other people think it’s just the end of an era. I don’t really think much of it. People have been predicting the end of days forever and none of them have been right so far. Right?”

  “Well what if this is the big one - the end of life as we know it? You know, an E-L-E…an extinction level event?”

  “It’s going to be an E-O-C,” she enunciated each letter with a pseudo-concerned look on her face.

  “What the hell is that?” Craig inquired, confused, trying to piece together the acronym.

  “End-of-Craig,” she said giggling at her own joke. “Some call it ‘Death by Amanda’ and it will happen very soon if you don’t focus on finding her a gift and stop listening to that mumbo jumbo.”

  Both laughed loudly. They moved into the store and found a perfect gift for Amanda. A polished chrome bracelet with an emerald gemstone embedded in the first link. While a bit more expensive than Craig had originally intended to pay, it was the last one in the display case and would surely keep him on his wife’s good side.

  They left the Mall and returned to the desolate parking lot at Illumination Pharmaceuticals. Only two security guards were there - one working the front gate and one patrolling the grounds in a golf cart. The gate opened and the gold SUV was waved through. Julie dropped Craig off at his truck.

  “See you tomorrow,” Craig said, waving and starting up his truck, allowing it to warm up. His perfect gift was placed gently on the passenger side seat.

  “I hope to see you too,” Julie replied, winking and waving as she drove home.

  Chapter 3

  October 22, 2011: Saturday 6:15 AM - the home of Craig and Amanda Masters …

  WHAA!! WHAA!! WHAA!!

  The alarm clock screamed promptly at 6:15 AM, but Craig did not move. The work from yesterday coupled with the stress of dealing with his boss had exhausted his mind and body. He teetered on the edge of a narcoleptic coma; his senses immune to pretty much all forms of external stimuli.

  “Would you shut that thing off?” Amanda pleaded, unable to reach the alarm herself, more than a bit confused as to why the alarm was even set to go off so early on a Saturday morning.

  WHAA!! WHAA!! WHAA!!

  The emboldened alarm clock taunted the couple once again. Each morning this same scene played out. Maybe this time the clock would finally win? The alarm would continue to shout for hours…announcing its victory to all who came within earshot. It had felt the stinging hand of defeat every morning for years. Maybe today would be different?

  WHAA!! WHAA!! WHAA!!

  “Craig, turn it off, please!” his wife begged as she elbowed him softly in the side.

  “Ouch!” Craig screamed, trying to swat the alarm clock, but his right arm was immobilized. “Oh my GOD - I’m paralyzed!”

  “Don’t be dumb,” Amanda joked as she rolled to her side, freeing his arm. “Why the hell is the alarm even set?”

  Feeling quickly returned to his right arm and Craig delivered a devastating hook directly into the face of the annoying alarm clock, knocking it off the nightstand and silencing it for at least another day. The alarm clock sulked quietly under the dresser, waiting for its next chance to interrupt someone’s dreams. The battle was lost; however, the war was far from over.

  “I have to go into the office today. We have a few tests that need to be redone before this afternoon. You know how Karl gets.”

  Heavy scrambling feet glided across the wooden floor in the hallway and the bedroom door burst open. The couple tried to react but it was too late! A streak of black lightning shot through their door and darted under the covers at the foot of the bed; the intruder quickly wiggled its way to an opening near the headboard. It was as if the bed itself had given birth. A slobbering furry head popped out from under the blankets, its body wedged snuggly between husband and wife!

  “No! Bad, Buster! You’re a bad dog!” Amanda scolded their ten year old Doberman Pincher. Buster rolled over on his back almost knocking Craig out of the bed. “Bad, dog!” Amanda tried to feign anger but couldn’t contain herself; she started to giggle uncontrollably as Buster licked her ear.

  Craig sat up and rolled out of the bed cringing slightly as his bare feet touched the cold floor. “I have to get ready for work. I’m going to take a quick shower.”

  “No worries,” Amanda said. “I have to let this beast out anyway before he pees in our bed.” Buster’s nub tail wiggled excitedly as Amanda looked at him. Buster understood the keyword “pee” and he jumped from the bed taking the comforter hostage in his mouth as he darted downstairs towards the door.

  Buster took his sweet time to finish his “business” as Amanda patiently waited on the doorstep. Craig showered and dressed in the time it took for the duo to return to the kitchen. Amanda entered the house and sat at the table with the morning paper - flipping page by page, not really reading but searching for something. Most turns of the page were followed by a heavy, almost disgusted sigh.

  “Is there anything good in there, Mandy?”

  “Is there ever?” she said rolling her eyes, her disdain for reading about recessions, murders, sociopaths and reality show idiots was quite obvious. Why is there never any good news? She knew the answer. Good feeling stories with happy outcomes don’t sell papers. She felt the majority of world like to read about other people’s suffering and misfortune…that allowed the reader to feel better - realizing that others were worse off.

  “No, baby doll – I guess not. You know me – ever the optimist.” Craig said, smiling at his beautiful wife.

  Craig had busied himself with all the ingredients necessary to make breakfast. The coffee was brewing, the toast was warming and the smell of bacon wafted throughout the entire house. Buster sat at attention just between the kitchen and the formal dining room – his nub tail wiggling with joyful anticipation. The sun beamed through the French doors glistening off the light brown highlights in Amanda’s hair. Craig absolutely adored his wife.

  Amanda was the total package. She was thirty-four years old, quick witted, charming and absolutely gorgeous, even without make-up on or wearing fancy clothes. She had curly auburn hair, insightful and caring hazel green eyes, and kissable pouty lips. She was pleasantly plump and Craig loved that. She was curvaceous with a sexy waist-to-hip ratio; she was not some skin-and-bones anorexia victim – which the media promoted as “beautiful” and “healthy.” Craig had absolutely no interest in those wafer-thin models, the ones where it appeared that their collar bones were mere millimeters from escaping from their torso. Of course, he couldn’t forget about the twins. Craig often referred to his wife’s breasts as “Mount Mandy,” much to her chagrin.

&nb
sp; “Hey, dork! You’re burning the toast! You’ll set off the smoke alarm.” Amanda said, snapping her fingers to get her husband’s attention and covering her nose with the front of her t-shirt.

  “Damn!”

  Ten minutes later, the couple enjoyed a hearty breakfast of eggs and bacon sans toast. Even Buster got a few strips of the pork goodness, his early massacre of the comforter apparently forgiven, if not entirely forgotten.

  After breakfast, Craig went into the garage and started up his tan colored F-150. He sat in the cab and opened the gift box, proud of the fine piece of jewelry – imagining Amanda’s reaction to his gift.

  “What are you doing in there?” Amanda asked, tapping on the passenger side window and peeking inside the truck - startling her husband.

  “Damn! You scared me, Mandy - don’t sneak up on me like that!” Craig replied, clumsily trying to hide the gift but it was too late. Amanda’s innate jewelry sensor had been activated.

  “Give me!!” Amanda yelled joyously as she slid into the passenger side seat.

  Craig put the bracelet on his wife’s hand. “Happy birthday, baby.”

  Amanda fully extended her arm watching the bracelet glitter in the morning sunlight. She grabbed Craig’s head, forcefully planting a giant, wet kiss on his lips.

  “I love you honey, but we can’t afford this...can we?”

  “Anything for you, Mandy.”

  “Let’s go back inside…so I can thank you appropriately!” She flirtatiously winked, rubbed his inner thigh and motioned towards the door leading into the house.

  “I can’t. I have to get into the office to finish up some tests. But I’ll be back by four at the latest. I have some dinner reservations for this evening. After all that is done, then you and I can do it like monkeys!”

  “You’re a dork,” she said, lovingly gazing into her husband’s eyes.