Table of Contents
Prelude
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
KILLER Z
By
Greg L. Miller
Copyright © 2013 by Greg L. Miller
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the author, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.
Disclaimer
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, organizations, places, events and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Acknowledgments
Thanks goes to God and Jesus for the successful completion of this creative project.
Thanks to Kelly Carter-Miller for the cool book cover and endless editing and to friends such as Emmanuel Bagrowski and Brandon Plumley for their support and encouragement. Special thanks to Northern Michigan University, Library of Congress and to the reader!
In memory of my grandpa, Tom Riberdy.
This story took four years to create and was written in USA, Costa Rica and Spain.
Prelude
The Canary Islands, North African Coast
A flock of exotic birds take flight over the lush greenery covering the volcanic Isla de La Palma. Dr. Joseph Herbert walks along the path leading to the Cumbre Vieja observatory. Eight months out of the year he teaches at Michigan State. The other four months he’s in the Canary Islands doing volcanic research. A lizard flip-flops across the dirt path. It pauses and watches Herbert with calm eyes. He stills himself knowing any movement could startle the magnificent specimen.
Herbert mutters, “You’re a Gallotia auaritae. I thought the La Palma Giant Lizards were extinct?”
Taking out a local dessert made from honey and almonds, he makes a clicking sound. The lizard flicks its tongue, tasting the odor. He sets the treat on the ground. It wobbles over and licks the dessert twice and then disappears into the dense brush. He’s surprised the lizard is so high on the volcano, they usually travel only 700-900 meters past sea level.
“Hey, professor!” a squeaky male yells.
Steve Myers, a graduate student in his study abroad course, stumbles into view. The lanky boy peers at him through thick glasses, his eyes bright with excitement.
“Hello, Steve. What brings you out this fine morning?”
“I’m trying to gain evidence for my blog about the conquest of the Spaniards over the locals in 1400.”
Herbert tries walking around the student but Steve proudly thrusts a stone arrowhead under his nose. Herbert resists rolling his eyes.
“I remember when you found a local fisherman’s wheel and thought it was an ancient pirate wheel two weeks ago.”
“Give me a minute professor.”
Herbert follows Steve into a clearing. Steve points to a hollowed tree. At the base of the tree is a pile of rags. Herbert opens the rags, revealing a scabbard.
“Steve, did this come from in the tree?”
“Yup! It’s old, isn’t it professor?”
Dr. Herbert fumbles through the filthy cloth and finds a short sword.
“Steve, this is an officer’s sword from the time of Alonso Fernandez de Lugo.”
“Who’s that? There’s more stuff.”
Herbert looks at the boy with narrowing hazel eyes and asks, “Haven’t you been paying attention to anything I teach? Lugo is the Spaniard who defeated the local chief Tanausu in a 1493 ambush.
“Oh. Is this worth anything on eBay?”
Steve withdraws a helmet from the tree. Herbert imagines the new discovery leading to future grants and published journal articles. His academic fantasies are short lived as the earth shifts underfoot. Steve yelps as the clearing rattles.
“Is this the big one professor?”
“No, Steve. This is normal for the island. I have a few friends who can help us determine the age and origin of the sword and helmet in Santa Cruz de La Palma.”
Herbert walks down the path with Steve and the artifacts.
“Professor, what happens if the volcano erupts and creates a tsunami?”
“There’s no record of a tsunami destroying the eastern sea board like you said in your paper. Yes, Philadelphia and Delaware experienced a tsunami in 1817 and 1884 respectively, but those events inflicted very little damage.”
“This isn’t about my paper. I had a nightmare about a tsunami, again.”
“I already debunked your idea last week. Don’t you read my comments?”
“But professor, if Cumbre Vieja erupts, it’s going to send a massive landslide into the ocean. In turn, this would send a three hundred foot tsunami to America’s east coast!”
Herbert loses patience with the boy’s paranoid fantasies and yells, “Did the volcano erupt? Are we dead?”
“But in 1949 an eruption created a separation in the island that almost started a tsunami…”
“Steve, it could happen any time between ten years to fifty thousand years!”
“You’re wrong!”
“The probability of either of us being alive if it happens is zero to none.”
“Professor, I read your marks against my paper and understand a massive failure on the left flank is unlikely, but I think the situation is more perilous then you give credit.”
“Your hypothesis is not based on fact,” Herbert replies and regains his professional calm. “Current data shows the western flank is stable because it’s made of pillow lava which is supported by pyroclastics.”
“What happens if an earthquake causes the sea floor to buckle? Wouldn’t a gravitational pull create a landslide triggering the tsunami?”
“Steve, the rift created in 1949 is only 2 meters deep. There’s no scientific data showing the volcano to be unstable. The BBC document End Day already addressed your hypothesis and debunked it.”
Steve is about to protest further when the earth rattles deeply. Trees shake and fall. Herbert is speechless as fountains of lava jettison into the sky, shooting hundreds of meters high. He looks to the bay. The sea boils and seethes. Brown mud lifts from the sea floor and soars into the darkening sky. Boats are tossed like toys and collide into the port city.
“I dreamed this, professor!”
The ocean surges into Saint Cruz de La Palma. Within seconds 90,000 inhabitants are swallowed whole. An ear shattering boom echoes through the island as the western flank of Cumbre Vieja slides int
o the ocean carrying five hundred kilometers of earth, rock and timber.
…
Chattanooga, Tennessee
“With all the money airports make they would invest in comfortable seating along with free wireless,” Alex says.
The Chattanooga airport bustles with activity. Jessica, Alex’s wife, ignores his complaint as she detangles the sticky hands of their two year old toddler from her hair.
“Jessica, I can’t even get a page to download.”
Alex closes the laptop and shoves it into his carry-on. Matt, pokes at his five year old sister. Elizabeth. Alex watches the nine year old boy smear ketchup from his overpriced airport sandwich on Elizabeth’s arm.
“Matt, stop getting sauce on your sister and clean up.”
Matt puts the remains of the sandwich down and leaves for the bathroom. Elizabeth picks a tomato off her own barely touched sandwich.
“Jessica, how long do you think it’s going to take? Kyle’s going to chew me out for not showing. We should’ve been in D.C. hours ago.”
Matt bounces back from the bathroom and flicks water at Elizabeth who is sticking out her tongue. The family spent the weekend at Jessica’s sister’s house enjoying the sights of Chattanooga, Tennessee. It had been fun, but everyone is ready to go home and sleep.
Alex looks at his phone. There are four unheard voice mails from his boss, Kyle. He works in the IT department at the Smithsonian. Most days he sits at a computer, a position resulting in perpetual paleness and an ever expanding gut, but occasionally the office has him set up presentation equipment.
“I was told to have everyone evacuate the terminal,” an airline agent says.
“Whatever for?” a second asks.
“An earthquake struck the east coast.”
“That’s ridiculous. The east coast doesn’t get earthquakes.”
A sick feeling of dread builds in his stomach. His cell phone rings again.
“Hello?”
“Where are you?” Kyle asks.
“I’m still at the airport in Chattanooga.”
Alex walks to the terminal window overlooking the tarmac.
“What’s the hold up, Alex?”
“Earthquakes, I think.”
“You’re not important! I don’t care what you want,” Kyle yells.
“I’m sorry….?”
A deep rumble shakes the floor.
“Alex, I’m not talking to you, sorry. Be in the office tomorrow.”
The call ends. Alex looks around. Nervous energy pours from the airline agents and travelers. Security guards rush down the airport’s main hallway. He recalls the New Madrid fault and how it snakes through Tennessee, Kentucky and into the Midwest. The fault is rumored to be an earthquake risk. He dismisses the idea.
The floor buckles and passengers tumble. Alex panics as smoke fills the terminal. It’s impossible to see Jessica or the kids. The terminal windows explode with a boom.
George Washington Hospital, Washington D.C.
“Natalie, help us, damn it!” Lin yells.
Along with four strong orderlies, he struggles to hold down a newly awoken coma patient. His dark bald head glistens with sweat.
“She’s hiding in the hallway again, praying,” Seth grumbles.
“Natalie, get your ass in here!” Lin shouts.
“I will no longer do Satan’s work!” Natalie shouts from the hallway.
The patient thrashes on the bed. Her eyes turn milky white.
“Calm down, Mrs. Anderson,” Lin says.
Dr. Morris enters the room. A muscle twitches in the doctor’s jaw as he sees yet another patient gone mad. Seth hands him the patient’s medical charts. Morris scans through the pages with unreadable icy blue eyes.
“The patient is acting like the others,” Dr. Morris says.
Seth fills the appropriate data into the chart. The doctor places a firm hand over the patient’s forehead and flashes a pen light into her milky white pupils.
“We aren’t paying you to preach Natalie!” Dr. Peterson bellows from the hallway.
A second balding doctor enters the room with a wicked looking syringe which he plunges into the patient’s thigh.
“Keep the restraints on her,” Dr. Peterson says and directs Dr. Morris to the window. “Did they locate the missing Z compound?”
“Not yet. Without the compound we’re risking more violent outbursts.”
“The director of the CDC is going to want a report.”
“Let’s give it another week. I don’t want to get shut down.”
Peterson frowns and shrugs.
Seth taps Lin on the shoulder and says, “I could use your help in the lab.”
“We need to do the will of Jesus,” Natalie yells as they exit the room.
“Whatever,” Seth sneers.
Natalie shakes a Bible at the two CDC employees and says, “I became a nurse to help those in need, not to take care of the damned.”
“You’re crazy,” Seth says.
Lin looks apologetic but follows Seth.
Seth’s small, thin frame shakes in anger as they stride through the hospital.
“Lin, I got piss tested,” he hisses as they turn down an empty corridor and slip into an unoccupied room.
The global pharmaceutical and bio-research company Zurvan assigned them to the Compound 172-Z project six months prior. Seth was brilliant in the lab, but he wasn’t suited to working on a team.
When the drug trials began many patients reported an intense euphoric reaction to the medication. Seth stole a few, finding being high was the only way he could deal with the job. The high had been amazing. He shared it with Lin and within a week they were stealing and altering Compound 172-Z for recreational use.
Seth pulls out a zip-lock bag filled with hundreds of small white pills.
“Seth, do you think they’re onto us?”
“I don’t know. Here’s the latest batch of Killer Z,” Seth says and tosses the bag to Lin. “The Zs are stepped on to high hell but work.”
“The locals can’t get enough of this shit.” Lin says and tosses a wad of hundred dollar bills on the unmade bed.
Seth dry swallows a Z as Lin continues, “Another twenty thousand dollars is coming tonight. We’ve got people moving it from New York to Miami. Even a few connects in the Midwest. A few people are getting violent and one nutcase tried eating a jogger’s face.”
“The docs are going to notice you’re gone,” Seth says as his pupils dilate.
“Maybe we should lay off the Zs,” Lin says, knowing neither of them will.
Seth sprawls on the unmade hospital bed. His eyes grow heavy as the drug sweeps him away and doesn’t hear Lin leave.
1
Juliet’s fingers dance on the laptop keys. Her elf character casts healing and protective spells on her party. A snippet from the Lord of the Rings soundtrack shatters her concentration and her elf paladin perishes. The paladin’s disembodied spirit reappears in the graveyard near the dungeon’s starting point. She curses and re-applies boosting spells to her character.
The phone rings a second time and she begrudgingly disconnects from the game server. She assumes it’s her father. It’s been over a week since she’s talked to him. They often work opposite shifts and she’s been spending all her free time gaming. The caller ID tells her it’s Burger Baron. She’s late for work again.
Juliet steps over empty energy drink bottles and empty pizza boxes. Gaming friends lay sprawled and snoring over whatever piece of furniture or floor they passed out on. She puts her shiny dark hair into a pony tail and slips into a work shirt. She rubs at the dark circles under her soft, almond-shaped eyes in front of a mirror, a gift from her Chinese mother.
A knock comes from the front door. Juliet peeks through the peep hole and sees Matt’s obese frame.
“Matt, you’re late,” she says and opens the door. “Jim’s pissed. Something about you having party favors?”
“Shit, yeah. Want to try one?” Matt says an
d pulls out a bag full of white pills.
“Nah, got to work.”
“They’ll make your day fly.”
“Not my thing. Walk with me to the Metro?”
Matt nods, cheeks flushed. It’s obvious he likes her, but he doesn’t act on it, and she’s grateful. It wasn’t that Matt isn’t nice; she’s just not interested in dating.
Outside, Juliet punches Matt’s meaty arm and says, “We could have used your hunter yesterday.”
“Mom needed me at the church.”
“Oh. Yeah, I understand.”
When her mother was alive she was involved in Matt’s church. They lost many childhood weekends to bake sales, used clothing drives, and the yearly Christmas and Easter performances. After cancer took her mother’s life she stopped going. She stopped dating too. She stopped doing anything but work and gaming.
“Mom says you’re welcome anytime.”
“Tell her I’m busy with work.”
Matt rants about online bullies as they turn the corner to the metro station. Her mother would be disappointed she wasn’t attending church. The unfairness of the loss had left a hole in her heart. She couldn’t deal with church or God.
Matt’s rant trails off as a disheveled man bursts through the double glass doors of the metro. The man snarls and eyes are pale and wild. Juliet freezes as he runs straight towards her.
Matt hauls her out of the crazed man’s path as two cops run out of the station with a young K-9. The man flees into the parking lot.
“Damn junkies,” Matt mutters as they enter the station. “You ok?”
“Yeah, let’s hurry,” she says, trying to ignore the knot of dread sitting in her stomach. “I’m going to be late for work.”
2
Michael Ellis waits for his wife Rebecca at the newsstand. The sun pushes through the smog and glints on her sable hair, sleek in its chignon. She flips through a fashion magazine, then sets it down and pays for a newspaper. Michael glances at his phone as she counts out exact change.
“Rebecca, we can grab breakfast if we catch the next train.”
They’ve been married over twelve years. He’s learned to work around her endless flakiness but her new migraine medication has been making it difficult to get anywhere on time. He doesn’t understand why she’s wasting time looking at fashion magazines. She wears a curve hugging navy pantsuit for his special presentation.
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