Eternal Vigilance (The Divided America Zombie Apocalypse Book 4)

by B. D. Lutz

  An uncomfortable pause greeted her. She prepared to repeat the question when Natalia said, “We do. Give us ten for your resupply.”

  Darline clipped the radio to her belt. Anger and worry seeped in around the edges of her emotional wall. She glanced back to the battlefield. The sight spurred her to slam the door on her feelings; she had a job to do. Dropping the PMAG-30W magazine from the Ruger, she counted five rounds. Her Steyr had one full, fifteen-round magazine left. She’d be out of ammo long before Natalia arrived with her resupply.

  “Well, standing around waiting for the ammo fairy isn’t going to help anyone,” she said to no one. Her words propelled her to action. She pulled the Ruger tight to her battered shoulder and braced for the painful recoil of the powerful rifle.

  She lined up a monster when it suddenly exploded into a bloody mist. Her confusion quickly cleared when the massive dump truck filled the Ruger’s scope. Raising the rifle’s optics up to the cab, she found Pat and Jackson smiling at her. She grinned in response.

  Darline yanked the radio from her belt and pressed the talk button. “Darline for Jackson and Pat.”

  Pat’s voice responded, “Pat here. Hold your fire, Darline. We heard you radio for ammo. Thought we’d offer our help.” She paused a tick, then continued in a voice just above a whisper, “You gotta try this. I’ve never had so much fun.”

  Darline laughed at Pat’s childlike enthusiasm. She lowered her gun to watch the devastating power of the big International dump truck rumbling through their enemy.

  Jackson zigzagged through the UC horde, destroying the dead by the hundreds. At this rate, Darline wouldn’t need more ammo. Her mind slipped to thoughts of Otto. This was his strategy, and it was brilliant.

  Her thought snapped when Randy’s voice blared from the tiny speaker, screaming for Otto to answer him. Darline held her breath and waited for Otto’s voice to respond, to tell them he was alive and coming home. But all she heard was the chatter of a community frantically defending itself.

  She couldn’t help herself and pushed the talk button. “Otto, please tell us you’re alive.”

  A single tear streamed down her face when Otto didn’t answer.

  Suddenly a voice rose above the truck’s growling engine, breaking her thoughts. “Darline, let’s do this!”

  She searched for the voice’s owner and found Kit working a pike through the fence. Darline knew what she had to do. She locked away the thoughts of her husband and joined her sister-in-law. The battle wasn’t over!

  Chapter 15 – Pearly Gates

  I heard the fear-strained voices of my friend and wife calling to me. I wanted to reply. But I was preoccupied trying to stop Long John from killing me.

  I asked, “What’s your name?” Then realized I didn’t care. “Never mind. I’ll just call you Long John.”

  Similar to countless other times in my life, my voice appeared to have an extremely negative effect on my one-eyed opponent. His body shuddered as his efforts to free himself from my grasp intensified.

  Unfazed, I plowed on, “Tell me about your brother. Specifically, why he abandoned you. That’s the part I don’t understand. Why’s that, you ask? Well, my brothers are searching high-and-low for me, because they care about me. If they find you, they will kill you. But Herbert, that guy left you to die.”

  My observation fueled a fresh rage in Long John. His breathing came hard and fast, spewing bloody spittle through the air. He pulled hard against my grip as his body thrashed, attempting to wrench free.

  I was in trouble; I wouldn’t be able to hold him much longer. My body was surrendering to exhaustion as my mind rationalized my death as the inevitable outcome of trying to survive a zombie apocalypse.

  Long John’s unfocused eye signaled it was time to act. I glanced over his shoulder, fixed my stare on a picture hanging on the wall, and said, “You must be Herbert?”

  One-eye went stiff, then twisted to greet his savior. I mustered my last threads of strength and landed a vicious blow to his throat. I found the sensation of his windpipe collapsing under the force of my fist morbidly gratifying.

  His panicked gasps quickly filled the room as he tumbled to the floor. He clawed at his neck, trying to remove the hands strangling the life from his body. His eye filled with terror when reality found him. My hands weren’t there. He was choking to death.

  I struggled to a sitting position, but that was all I could muster. My own reality began setting in after I noticed the floor where I had been lying was soaked thick with my blood. If I didn’t get help, and soon, my death would soon follow.

  My vision dimmed as unconsciousness tugged at my brain. I had to move.

  Long John choked out his last breath as I struggled to hands and knees and crawled, fighting for every inch I traveled.

  I glanced to the shattered door; it seemed miles away. Not a chance I’d make it. My head dropped as acceptance took root. I smiled at the memories of the life I had lived. “Saint Peter, I hope you’re going to cut me some slack.” I chuckled when I thought of what he’d say when I arrived at the Pearly Gates.

  The thought fresh in my mind, a voice suddenly pierced my haze. “What’s your name, son?”

  Too weak to lift my head, I answered, “Saint Peter, shouldn’t you already know my name? I thought you guys had it together up here.”

  “You must be Otto.”

  I raised my head, determined to walk into Heaven holding it high. What I saw confused my already muddled mind. A man leaning on a cane stood back-lit in the doorway.

  “This isn’t what I expected, not at all. Shouldn’t I be healthy again? Seriously, where’s the warm light, the angels singing? I want the whole shebang, Peter!”

  “Otto, I can’t help you with any of that. But if you give me your radio, I’ll call for help.”

  Son-of-a… My radio! Never thought to use it to save myself.

  “You’re not Saint Peter, are you?”

  The man chuckled as he knelt at my side. “Nope, I’m Olaf. The youngster guarding the door is Russ. How about that radio?”

  “On my belt,” I wheezed as my arms gave out and I slammed to the floor, my world going dark.

  Chapter 16 – House Call

  McCune slapped the phone to his desk. “Sequestered, my ass. You intend to execute me!” The doctor’s mind raced. He had to escape Flocci’s men. But escape to where? The world was full of flesh-eating monsters. The answer struck with lightning force. He rummaged through the paperwork and charts littering his desk, his anxiety building with each passing second until he found it. The radio, his single connection to the community that had started his journey down this path, would now save his life.

  He needed to convince one person to allow him to enter. McCune selected the community’s channel, raised the radio to his mouth and, with as much calm as he could force into his voice, he pressed the talk button.

  “This is Doctor McCune calling for Pat. Come in, please.”

  Nothing.

  “Again, this is Doctor McCune. I must speak with Pat.”

  His radio suddenly filled with the frantic voices of people fighting for their lives. McCune’s heart pounded as he listened to the pandemonium coming in bits and pieces through the speaker.

  Panic-stricken, he screamed over the bedlam, “I MUST SPEAK TO PAT.”

  A static-distorted voice answered, “McCune, switch to channel nine.”

  Hands shaking uncontrollably, the doctor struggled to find the requested channel. He finally located the frequency and spoke immediately, “Pat, are you on the line?”

  “Go for Pat. Make it quick, Doctor. I’m a tad busy at the moment.”

  “Understood. It’s urgent that I draw several additional samples of Andy’s blood. I must conduct additional tests. We’re on the verge of a breakthrough.”

  Pat spoke forcefully to be heard over the roar of the International 4300’s massive engine. “Doctor, you said ‘I’ must draw the blood. Why you? You’ve requested dozens of samples from A
ndy. You sent the military or your staff to collect the sample each of those times.”

  The question caught McCune off guard. He hadn’t anticipated being grilled by the matriarch. Although he should have; Pat had treated them with suspicion since day one.

  Grasping for an answer that wouldn’t expose his true intention, McCune attempted to deflect. “Pat, I also intend to bring medical supplies, antibiotics, and increasingly rare antiviral medications. With winter on the horizon, so too is flu season.”

  The maneuver didn’t escape Pat. But she weighted the offer of the medications against the risk. It was worth it, but not without some rules. “You can see him. But our people will be present to monitor you and whoever you bring with you. As I’ve already told you, we will not turn Andy over to your group. Understand?”

  “Yes, yes, I understand.”

  “Oh, one more thing. Bring a surgeon with you. We think we have a potential case of appendicitis we need to address.”

  “Pat, I’m a board-certified surgeon. I’ll be able to tend to your patient.”

  “Excellent. Andy is currently on a mission with FST1. I’ll advise you when he returns and we aren’t busy attending to the security of our community.”

  McCune’s knees threatened to drop him to the floor. He had to leave the hospital now; Flocci’s men would arrive within the hour. “Pat, due to circumstances beyond my control, I’ll be leaving the hospital inside of fifteen minutes. I’ll attend to your appendicitis patient while I await Andy’s return.”

  Pat stared at the radio. McCune was afraid of something or someone. His insistence was unsettling. Something was happening, something bad. But again she weighed the benefit against the risk. Prepared to decline his request, she allowed the images of the community’s wounded to override her apprehension.

  “Very well. But Doctor, travel with an armed escort. A well-armed escort. Arrive at the main gate. The east gate is currently inaccessible. Pat out.”

  McCune felt a momentary sense of relief; he had secured safe refuge. Now he needed to get there alive. He immediately radioed Sergeant Timmons. This time his deception was more polished.

  “Sergeant Timmons, I must secure transport to one of the civilian communities. They have a medical emergency which they cannot remedy without my intervention.”

  Timmons’ agitated voice pierced though the speaker, “Well, Doc. I’m dealing with an emergency too. That thing you created is still alive. I’m not sending my men into that room with that savage.”

  “Sergeant, I fail to see how that’s an emergency. If it’s contained, it poses no threat. Correct?”

  Sergeant Timmons’ booming reply threatened to destroy the tiny speaker in McCune’s radio. “Doctor, it has been attacking the observation window since you scurried away. If it weren’t reinforced glass, your nightmare would already be roaming the halls of this hospital. But it won’t be long until the window fails. This thing has already created several cracks; it’s only a matter of time.”

  McCune’s response displayed more confidence than he felt., “Shoot it through the window, Sergeant. Problem solved.”

  “My soldiers will not shoot through the window. I’m not taking the chance of a single shard of that blood-covered glass cutting my men. But thank you for telling me how to do my job.”

  Desperate to retake control of the conversation, McCune resorted to surrendering to the sergeant’s authority and sense of duty to protect the citizens of his country. “I apologize, Sergeant. I should have known better. Mine was a foolish suggestion. However, we have living human beings that need my help. Can you secure the area until we devise an adequate plan to dispose of the infected?”

  Timmons’ gruff response sparked hope in McCune. “We’re working on that now. Where do you need to go?”

  “Thank you, Sergeant. I’m securing some medication and surgical supplies now. I’ll be ready to go in a few minutes. We’ll be visiting the community established by Otto Hammer, where Sergeant Willis’ family lives.”

  He hoped the mention of a fellow soldier’s family would prompt the crusty war-fighter to action. It did.

  “I’ll take you. Meet me by the main entrance in sixty seconds.”

  “Thank you, Sergeant. You’re saving lives. Also, I’ve been told you should be well-armed.”

  “Always, Doctor. You have fifty seconds left. Move!”

  Chapter 17 – Big Box

  Stone took a knee and was blasting round after round into the UCs blocking their path. His attempts to clear a path proved woefully insufficient. They needed more guns concentrating on the area. What the hell is the team doing?

  As the thought crossed his mind, gunfire erupted behind him. He glanced over his shoulder, and his eyes went wide. The team had formed a circular defensive perimeter, battling monsters approaching from all sides. Well, that answers my question. We’re surrounded.

  Scrambling to his feet, Stone yelled, “We need to move, I’m on point.”

  The members of FST1 immediately fell in behind their point man. Stone noticed the garden center doors sat ajar. A regular customer at the big box hardware store, he knew that the area held its own exit. He made the call. “Garden Center, now!”

  The command spurred them forward. Time for some offense!

  Tesha moved into position off Stone’s right shoulder, adding her gun to the frontal assault. Andy and Will covered their right and left flanks. Their pace left the monsters to their rear at a safe distance, but only if they kept moving. It was a risk they had to take.

  As they reached the paint counter, a few hundred feet from their goal, things suddenly bounced sideways.

  Stone shouted, “Reloading.”

  At the same instant, Tesha announced a stovepipe-jam.

  “Tap—rack—bang!” Stone yelled while searching his vest.

  “No kidding, Stone. The next round is mangled,” Tesha countered while slapping the forward-assist, attempting to fully chamber the deformed round. Her action proved futile.

  She pressed the mag-release, allowing the troubled magazine to fall to the floor. Tesha pulled the charging handle but couldn’t eject the now wedged-in-place bullet. She snapped her spring-assisted Kershaw Leek open, pried the 5.56 round free by its case-rim, slapped a fresh magazine into the mag-well, released the bolt, and rejoined the fight.

  The maneuver took under a minute. But it wasn’t quick enough. Dozens more UC now flooded their path, stopping their forward progress cold.

  Stone scanned the immediate area. They’d been hemmed in.

  “Paint counter,” Will barked as he bolted past Stone and Tesha.

  The rectangular-shaped wide-topped counter would provide separation from the horde. But it would also trap them.

  As the team charged for the temporary safety of the paint counter, Andy’s anxiety built at the prospect of dying in the cavernous store. He planned on living.

  As the members of FST1 tumbled over the counter and took up defensive positions, Andy slammed to a stop in the aisle. “Will, I’ll clear a path to the garden center, recon the area, and report back. Cover me.”

  Chapter 18 – Mindful of Ma

  Albright paced behind the Unmanned Aircraft Systems Operator as she held the UAV in a circling pattern over the community. The images broadcast to Camp Hopkins’ TOC were sobering. They showed a community fighting for its life.

  Albright had already dispatched a fire team to assist. The team was comprised of two Turreted Humvees, a Bradley Fighting Vehicle, and eleven soldiers. A Black Hawk was refueling and would soon join the fight.

  The fire team was being led by Sergeant Lucas. Stevenson and Lewis accompanied her in the lead Humvee, with Anderson manning the turret gun.

  Lucas raced along the ravaged streets of the city en route to the community, her driving bordering on recklessness. Her intensity put the soldiers on edge, but they respected her urgency. This community, and its people, meant a great deal to the soldiers. It represented the never-say-die American Spirit. They fought f
earlessly and sacrificed much to save their home. They put their shoulders into every challenge they faced and pushed back with a collective force rarely witnessed by these battle-hardened war-fighters. It was the reason Willis moved his family there, and why Lewis and Stevenson intended to do the same.

  The cab of the Humvee was silent except for the radio broadcasting the frenetic voices of a community under siege. The voices were familiar, but one rose above the chaos. Dillan choreographed the battle like a veteran strategist, one the soldiers would have followed unquestioningly. His voice was firm and direct while projecting a calm confidence.

  “That Dillan’s a natural leader. Tell me about him,” Lucas said after listening for several minutes.

  Lewis’ jaw hinged open to fill Lucas in on the young man, when a strained voice pierced the radio.

  “FST1 for Dillan. We’re being overrun. We need backup immediately.”

  “Dillan for FST1. Negative on backup. We’re under attack.”

  The men regarded Lucas as the conversation between FST1 and Dillan sounded in the background.

  “Stevenson, advise FST1 we are sending backup. Get their location and tell them to fight like animals until it arrives. Let Dillan know RAM’s military has joined this fight.”

  Stevenson radioed FST1 the instant Lucas gave the command. While he relayed the message, Lucas used her shoulder-mounted radio to split the trailing Humvee off then gave them the location when Stevenson relayed it to her.

  Her decisive reaction eased the doubt that had been nibbling at Stevenson and Lewis. Till now, they hadn’t known what to expect from their new leader. Lucas had just proved they could trust her.

  Lucas watched from the side-view mirror as the trailing Humvee broke formation and sped toward its new assignment. Her knuckles went white on the steering wheel as they rapidly closed the distance to the community.