Eternal Vigilance (The Divided America Zombie Apocalypse Book 4)

by B. D. Lutz

  The doctor quickly situated himself on the cramped bench-style seat. Smoothing out his hair, McCune faced Pat and said, “It’s a pleasure to finally meet you. Please take me to my patient. Time is of the essence.”

  Pat, feet now resting atop the boxes, asked, “So, Doctor. Why on earth is all of this stuff needed to perform a routine appendectomy and draw a vial of Andy’s blood?”

  McCune stared unblinking at her as Jackson eased the truck into gear and wheeled towards the main gate.

  After a long silence Jackson added, “Doc, Pat asked you a question.”

  Doctor McCune closed his eyes, leaned his head back, and said, “I’ve never mastered the art of deception. Please believe me, I mean you no harm.”

  Chapter 24 – Men In Black

  Timmons fishtailed the Humvee to a stop at the hospital’s main entrance. Leaving the battlewagon running and the turret gunner in place, he dismounted and charged through the sliding glass doors. The screaming voices and gunplay echoing through the tiled hallways signaled his orders hadn’t been obeyed.

  Timmons slammed to a stop in the expansive reception area. He strained to identify the direction of the chaos. Corporal Philips had exited the Humvee and quickly joined him. Their heads pivoted between the three hallways branching off the lobby.

  Wide-eyed, the corporal said, “It’s coming from the containment area.”

  Timmons acknowledged Philips by rushing toward the slowing gunfire. Thirty seconds later, M4 at high ready, Timmons sliced the corner to the hall leading to the containment room holding the blue savage.

  The sight greeting him boiled his blood. A man in black ACUs stood over a downed soldier, smoke trailing from his gun’s muzzle. Soldiers scrambled to put distance between their defensive perimeter and the containment room.

  Timmons shouldered his M4 as Phillips broke to their left flank, leveling his battle rifle at the chaos in front of them. With no obvious enemy to fire on, Timmons focused on the man who had obviously killed his soldier. “Drop your weapon, NOW.”

  The man in black ignored his command, spun on his heels, and disappeared into the containment area. The action spurred Timmons forward, with Phillips holding his position.

  “What the hell is happening?” he asked a wide-eyed soldier named Alvarez.

  “These two idiots from the CDC tried to enter the containment room. Claim to have orders to secure that thing, and McCune.” Her eyes shifted to the downed soldier. “That blue… whatever it is, bit Murphy.”

  Timmons pivoted towards the room the same instant a knife plunged into the savage’s skull. Breathless, the duo turned to face the sergeant, quickly realizing he viewed them as a threat.

  “Whoa, ease up. We’re on the same team.”

  “Bullshit,” spat Timmons. “If we were on the same team, you would have followed my orders and my soldier would still be alive.” He glared at them through his Aimpoint, its red dot resting on the bearded man’s forehead. “Identify yourselves. If you tell me you’re from the CDC, I will shoot you.”

  The men exchanged an uneasy stare. Timmons was clear; their next move could cost them their lives.

  “Names aren’t important, Sergeant.” A bearded man, and the obvious leader, began. “Orders are. We’re here to retrieve McCune and any of his test specimens. As you can see, we failed in securing the test subject.”

  The second man tugged on his sleeve while stepping forward. “I’m sorry about your soldier. This thing moved like lightning. It blasted through the door the instant we finished removing the barricade. Your man got caught in its path.”

  Timmons’ red dot now rested on the seconds man’s throat. “Out, now! Remove yourselves from my facility. Phillips, escort our teammates to their vehicle. Shoot them if they resist.”

  “You heard the man. Move your asses,” said Phillips.

  “What about the doctor? Our orders are to escort him to the CDC in Atlanta.”

  Red dot still trained on the second man in black, Timmons answered, “You’re probably standing on him, or parts of him. Like you pointed out, that thing moved like lightning. He was dead in the blink of an eye.”

  The duo’s leader made a show of looking around the containment room. “Funny, we only found one head, which clearly doesn’t belong to McCune.”

  Patience gone, Timmons hard-stepped towards the men and slid his finger inside his M4’s trigger guard. “I told you to leave my facility. NOW!”

  Phillips pulled his battle rifle tight to his shoulder. “You’ve got a three-count to move. My orders are crystal clear. One… Two…”

  “Alright, alright, we’re going. At ease, soldier.”

  “I don’t take orders from unidentified government goons. Step lively, gentlemen.”

  Timmons was enjoying the exchange. Phillips was a tough nut and wouldn’t hesitate to follow his orders. As Phillips stepped aside, allowing the men in black to pass, Timmons noticed that all of his soldiers had trained their weapons on the men. No orders needed. They trusted their sergeant and mirrored his actions.

  As the threat disappeared around the corner, his team sprang into action. They secured Murphy’s body and re-sealed the containment room.

  As he watched them work, the weight of his actions hit him. God, please don’t let this backfire on us.

  ***

  Donny sat quietly in the passenger seat as Leo radioed in a situation report. Cutting a glance at his partner, he stealthily wiped an increasing amount of sweat from his brow. Pain radiated from his right wrist, intensifying as each second ticked by.

  Relief spread over Donny as Leo slid the borrowed Humvee into gear when the transmission ended.

  “We’ve been ordered to search a community about ten klicks south. The CDC suits suspect the good doctor’s hiding there.”

  “Leo, do those idiots realize every single person still alive is armed, some with mil-spec weapons?”

  “What’s going on, Donny? You’ve never cowered from a fight.”

  Donny cut him off. “Look, if McCune’s hiding, he knows what’s coming. Those people will protect him. I brought two magazines. How many did you bring? Answer? Not enough. This should have been an easy retrieval, no shots fired. Not an assault on a well-defended civilian stronghold.”

  Leo chewed on the insight; they’d get slaughtered if things went sideways. But the suits had worked themselves into a lather over McCune. Disobeying their orders could prove equally fatal.

  “No worries, I’ll charm our way past the gate.” A crooked smile creased his features.

  A guttural growl pulled Leo’s eyes from the road. They locked onto his longtime friend a moment before a ghost-white hand snapped his neck.

  Chapter 25 – M134

  Heads ducked for cover behind the community’s earthen barrier, and guns fell silent as the Black Hawk settled into a hover just north of the battlefield, a mere hundred feet above blood-soaked terra firma. A second later, the telltale sound of an M134 Minigun filled the air, its 175-grain projectiles pummeling the UC ranks.

  Rapt by the display of power, I flinched when an all too familiar voice sullied my ears.

  “You look like shit, Hammer.”

  I snapped around, my side punishing me for the quick movement. Instinctively reaching for my side, I was rewarded with jolting pain for my effort. Finally able to assess the damage to my body, I found a ragged hole in my shirt; it was drenched with blood, which had soaked my side down to my ankle.

  “He ruined two of my shirts,” I blurted.

  “What are you talking about, Hammer?” Lucas asked.

  “Long John ruined two of my shirts. One was my favorite flannel and now this one.”

  Face in palm, sitting in her Humvee’s driver seat, its door open, Lucas said, “You’re a piece of work. The battle, your wound, the giant helicopter, all those things and it’s your shirts you’re most concerned about. Really?”

  “But… they were my favorites.”

  Suddenly, the M134 fell silent, pulling our at
tention to the battlefield and ending our bizarre conversation.

  The broken bodies of the monsters, which had been attacking my home only moments earlier, littered the area. The Black Hawk began circling the community’s perimeter, disappearing behind a line of mature pine trees, its devastating gun coming online in short, controlled bursts as it mopped up the stragglers from the undead army.

  As Olaf tended to his son, with Russ at his side, Lucas exited her Humvee, standing shoulder to shoulder with me. She grabbed her radio. “Lucas for Camp Hopkins, how copy?”

  “This is Camp Hopkins, good copy.”

  “Hopkins, we’re going to need heavy equipment. Send two frontend loaders and two dump trucks. We have a lot of shit to clean off the streets. Lucas, out.”

  As she finished speaking, she turned to face me. It was then she got a clear look at my bloody side. Locking me in a hard stare, she said, “Well, you weren’t kidding; that son-of-bitch ruined your shirt.”

  Returning her bloodshot stare, I said, “Can you even see through those eyes? It looks like the veins would cover your retinas. Worse than cataracts, actually.”

  As I spoke, I swayed like a flag in a lazy breeze. My vision swam, my thoughts went fuzzy. But Lucas’ angry mug burned through my haze.

  In a preemptive strike, I asked, “Can you take me home? I’m not feeling so good.”

  Lucas hard-stepped in my direction, causing me to raise my arms to cover my face. Instead of a right-cross, her arms hooked under my shoulders and pulled me to the back door of the Humvee.

  After getting me situated, she said, “People seem to like you. I don’t know why, but they do. So, I’m going to stuff my first instinct of leaving you here to bleed out. But I promise you, if you utter one word while I’m driving, ONE WORD, I will take your life. Have I been clear, Mister Hammer?”

  When I didn’t respond, Lucas appeared to have a psychotic break. “I asked you a question. Answer me!”

  Through my foggy stare, I said, “You told me not to speak. Actually, you said you’d take my life if I uttered ONE WORD! Look, Sergeant Lucas, if we’re going to have a solid working relationship, you’ll need to work on your communication skills. So which is it, I don’t speak, or I answer your question?”

  Air pumping through flared nostrils, Lucas sputtered through a half dozen words, then gave up. “Lewis, escort this… this… person to the gate. If they choose to take him back, make sure he gets medical attention. Or not, I really don’t care.”

  The door slammed as she finished speaking. A flash later, Lewis sat in the driver’s seat and motioned for Olaf to follow us.

  I began voicing my opinion of Lucas when Lewis held up his hand, silencing me. He grabbed the radio and hailed Dillan to let him know he was bringing me home.

  Chapter 26 – FST1

  Andy remained behind cover as the full-auto gunfire raged. He knew FST1 wasn’t the source of the barrage. He checked his ammo, shouldered his AR, and prepared to fight the unknown enemy. His grip threatened to crush his rifle’s pistol grip. An anger burning deep in his body promised to explode, sending him headlong into the fray. If these people intended to cause harm to his team, they would pay the ultimate price. His legs twitched, ready to carry him to the fight at the same instant the gunfire ceased. The voices of his team called to him, frantic and filled with concern, soon joined by the telltale rumble of a diesel engine growing in volume.

  The sound of boots crunching broken glass prompted him to stand. Weapon still shouldered, he swept its muzzle left to right, searching for a threat. When it found Will and Stone, Andy’s finger slipped into the trigger guard.

  The action didn’t escape his teammates, and they dove for cover. “Jesus H., Andy. We yelled clear, and we meant it. The area is all-clear.”

  Andy could see the beads of sweat rolling down Will’s face through his red-dot, his vision crystal-clear through the non-magnified device.

  He ignored Will and swung his AR toward the unknown vehicle approaching rapidly from the direction where FST1 had entered the big box store. A confused boyish face filled his Aimpoint’s lens.

  His mind struggled to break free of its hyper-vigilant state. RAM soldiers packed the Humvee, ones that had, only moments ago, added their guns to the fight. He held his defensive posture for a tick longer before lowering his weapon.

  Will and Stone approached cautiously, guns at low ready. “You okay, Andy?” asked Stone.

  “Yeah, I’m good. Jacked up, but good. I thought we were about to roll into another fight. I’m good now.”

  Will kept a suspicious eye on Andy. Something told him his friend wasn’t good. “I’ve never seen a man fight like you just did. Where’d that come from?”

  Andy searched for an answer to his friend’s question. His jaw hinged open, but an authoritative voice coming from the Humvee cut him off. “Gentlemen, we need to move out. We’ll escort you back to your home.”

  Will snapped to attention. Their community was under attack. “FST1, rally at our Humvee. Our home is under siege.”

  ***

  Under six minutes later, FST1 was following Lewis’ Humvee and an unidentified Ram pickup truck through the east gate. They split from the tiny convoy as it raced toward the community’s clinic.

  Using the Humvee to block the now open gate, FST1 dismounted and took up firing positions behind the massive battlewagon, covering community members as they killed the last of the undead, giving dozens a second death as their bodies flailed on the defensive obstacles laid out before the barrier.

  Stone peeled off and searched the faces of the community’s defenders. Hollow eyes stared back as he made his way along the barrier. A grim smile broke his hard features. Their defenses had held!

  As he walked, anxiety took hold. He wasn’t finding the faces that mattered most to him. He stopped cold when familiar voices rose above the murmurs of the warriors surrounding him.

  “Lisa, you’re going to the damn clinic. NOW!” Dillan yelled.

  “Watch your tone, Slim,” answered Lisa, voice full of anger.

  “Don’t make me use this tone, Lisa, and you won’t hear it! And why the hell are you calling me Slim?”

  “Because you’re skinny like a beanpole… Slim.”

  Stone rushed toward the argument, his anxiety easing by a fraction. The sight would have been comical if not for Lisa’s blood-soaked ACUs, her anger the result of Dillan dragging her by the rescue-strap of her tactical vest. The fingers of her right hand clawed the ground as her Sig, duct-taped to her left hand, bounced along at her side.

  Stone joined them as Dillan lowered the pickup’s gate. Without a word, he bent to help Dillan lift Lisa into the pickup’s bed. Resignation setting in as the men tasked with transporting the wounded strapped her down, Lisa stared at Dillan, her grimy hand grasping his tightly.

  “I love you, Slim.”

  “I love you too. And please, whatever you do, don’t crawl out of the truck. We’ve got this under control.”

  She nodded as Dillan released her hand and slammed the gate. He watched the truck until it rounded the corner, disappearing from sight.

  Dillan turned to face Stone, then quickly wrapped him in his arms. “It’s good to see you. Please tell me you’re not alone.”

  “We all made it, Dillan. It was close, but we lived.”

  “Was that Otto?” Randy’s frantic voice startled both men.

  “Jesus, Randy. You scared the living shit out of me,” barked Dillan. “No, Otto was in the first Hummer. He should already be at the clinic.”

  Stone stiffened at Dillan’s words. “Why is Otto going to the clinic?”

  “Because he’s a bullheaded fool who’s forgotten that he’s an old man,” Randy shot back.

  Stone, ignoring the truth in Randy’s statement, bolted for the clinic, the sound of Randy’s boots slapping the pavement close behind.

  “Randy, where are Kit and Darline… where’s everyone? Is our family safe?”

  Randy caught up to Stone
as they rounded the corner, bringing the clinic into view. “Kit and Darline are defending the north barrier. Natalia’s taking care of resupply. Nila is at the east gate helping with first aid. Jack and Pat are outside the gate in the dump truck.” He paused a long second before continuing, “Stone, we lost people today. We may lose more.”

  Stone slammed to a stop. “Who, who did we lose?”

  Randy stammered, trying to remember the names of the friends lost to the sniper’s scope. Stone waved him off. “No time. I need to see my brother,” he said before continuing the race to the clinic.

  Their pace quickened as they reached the clinic’s tree-covered lawn. The sudden hiss of air-brakes pulled their attention to the International 4300 coming to a stop and blocking the clinic’s driveway. The truck was an intimidating sight. Its improvised armor appeared medieval as the blood of its victims pooled on the pavement.

  Stone didn’t notice Jackson behind the killing machine’s wheel and restarted his trek towards the clinic. Randy split off and charged towards the truck, intent on telling Jackson that they had found Otto.

  His steps slowed as a third form came into view. Instinct pushed his hand to the 9mm holstered to his side.

  “Who’s that?” Randy asked, pointing at McCune.

  Pat swung open her door while answering, “Relax, it’s Doctor McCune. He’s here to help with our wounded.”

  Eyes wide, Randy blurted, “Otto’s in the clinic. So is Lisa. Both took a beating. Get the doctor in there. NOW.”

  Jackson rocketed from the truck’s cab and bolted to the clinic, leaving McCune and Pat behind. The sights and sounds greeting Jackson inside the clinic were that of a battlefield hospital. Durrell and Sabrina barked orders to the volunteers helping with the wounded.

  Pushed aside by Pat as she led McCune into the clinic, Jackson launched into a string of questions about his brother, all of which were overridden by Pat’s single statement.