Eternal Vigilance (The Divided America Zombie Apocalypse Book 4)

by B. D. Lutz

  Darline had already heard enough. “Okay, knock it off. I have to get back to work. Can I trust you two not to kill each other? You know what, I don’t care. Randy, Stone, these two are your problem. If they break anything, I’m holding you responsible.”

  After Darline slammed the door and her muffled tirade faded, Lucas looked at me and said, “She’s a mean one; doesn’t even care if I kill her husband.”

  “Right? I’m surrounded by mean people that don’t appreciate the stress that comes with being me.”

  I answered her questioning stare. “I’m always running headlong into the fray, with no regard for personal safety, to save my loved ones.”

  “Holy sh… You don’t believe that, do you? Don’t answer; I already know.”

  The group ignored my ramblings and took positions around the living room. The grim looks on their faces told me I should shut up and listen.

  “I received some INTEL,” Lucas started. “Our search team believes they spotted the missing CDC operative. They spotted the target running for cover to avoid the team.”

  The news made me attempt to sit up, and I quickly regretted it. Instead, I grabbed a couch cushion and propped my head up, giving me a better view of Lucas.

  “Why would he avoid being found? No rational person would purposely get caught alone, outside our gates.” My eyes went wide when understanding found me.

  “Looks like you just figured it out, Otto. And to remove all doubt, the description of the target matches what Doctor McCune observed during the antidotes human trials.” Lucas glanced around the room. “McCune spoke with Sergeant Timmons from Saint Joe’s. He confirmed that the CDC goons engaged a level two UC being tested for its response to the antidote. It appears we have a hybrid monster resulting from that level two UC to human transfer.”

  “So we do have a ‘Twenty Eight Days Later’ situation on our hands?”

  “Not following. What’s that mean?” Lucas asked.

  “It’s a movie that scared Otto out of his skin. In short, it means fast, very aggressive, intelligent zombies,” Randy said.

  “Got it, and yes. We have that Twenty whatever scenario playing out as we speak,” Lucas began, “only this time, you’re being asked to write the happy ending.”

  “You never saw the movie, did you? It’s not the best ending. The sequel is even worse. No, we’re in trouble.” I paused, glancing at each member of FST1. “We need to get ready for the fight of our lives.”

  Lucas leaned forward in her seat, concern dominating her features. “Otto, there’s more. The Joint Chiefs are pulling ninety percent of ground forces to the entry points and strategic locations along the border wall. Mallet is planning an offensive on BSU soil. He’s concerned it’ll cause a surge of UCs to hit RAM. He’s deploying us to fortify the troops already guarding our border.”

  “Well, aren’t you a ray of bright sunshine?” I began while repositioning myself on the couch. “Seeing we’re going to be on our own, fighting a new and deadly UC monster, how about you reconsider leaving us that Bradley?”

  “Still a negative on the BFV, Otto. But I’ll make sure we resupply the community with ammo and medical supplies.” Lucas stood and nodded. “You’ll hear from me within twenty-four hours on the resupply.”

  With that, Lewis and Stevenson followed her through the door.

  I counted the faces in the room and realized one was missing. “Where’s Andy?”

  “I’m down here!” Andy’s voice sprang from the basement, nearly jolting me from the couch.

  “Andy, why are you sneaking around my basement? How long have you been there? You scared the crap outta me.”

  As Andy emerged from hiding, he filled me in on the circumstances that led him to my home. “Long enough to know that you should repaint your ceiling. And I really don’t understand why I’m hiding. Darline snatched me from guarding the gate and dragged me here. Said she didn’t have time to explain. When she brought you home, I figured she’d tell you; when she didn’t, I figured she was hiding me from you. I’m really confused, Otto.” Andy stood at the end of the couch, staring at the ceiling.

  “You’re right. It should be repainted,” he said, then added, “you talk to yourself, a lot.”

  The entirety of FST1 was staring at my ceiling when a hard knock shook the front door, followed by Pat bursting through it. She followed the group’s gaze and said, “You should repaint your ceiling.”

  “Thanks for offering. I’ll get you a roller and drop cloth after the apocalypse ends. Right now, though, I’d like to know why you’re in my house.”

  My question grabbed everyone’s attention, and all eyes fell on Pat in anticipation of her smacking me down. Instead, she focused on Andy. “Thank God. I hadn’t been able to find you. I was worried some government goons had already snatched you.”

  Andy’s confusion grew deeper and he asked, “What’s going on, Pat? Why would government goons want to snatch me? I’m getting a bit freaked out. Can someone please tell what the hell’s going on?”

  His expectant gaze floated to each person in the room, then locked on Pat.

  “Take a seat, Andy. I have some information.”

  Pat went through the conversation she’d overheard between McCune and an unknown person or persons. It tied into what Lucas had told us about the UC variant possibly running loose in the streets outside our barriers. Then she cleared up the confusion surrounding Andy hiding in my basement.

  “You will not be a guinea pig, Andy. Not on my watch.” Her tone removed all doubt that she meant what she said.

  “Nor do I want to be a guinea pig, Pat. But if they’re only looking for blood samples, maybe some small tissue samples, I’m okay with it. It’s a small price to pay if it helps them find a cure.”

  “We’ve already supplied them with blood samples, a lot of them. What do you think they want now, a sample of your brain, heart, maybe your intestines?”

  Andy appeared to deflate into the cushions of his chair. “I’m not okay with that, but if I hold the key to saving my family, your family, or every person on the planet, I think I owe it to humanity to at least see what they want from me.”

  Pat waved him off. “Nope, not today, not ever. These idiots have accomplished nothing outside of making things worse. They get blood, and that’s it.”

  Changing the subject, she shifted to the new threat lurking on the horizon. “I’m canceling all scavenging runs until we have a handle on what this hybrid monster is capable of. And I’m ordering this team to develop a plan to eliminate the threat. Work with your military friends and figure something out.”

  Will spoke up. “Pat, Sergeant Lucas informed us we’re on our own; no military assistance. For the next couple of weeks, anyway.” He paused, searching for the words that wouldn’t send Pat into full-tilt crazy. “We need those supply runs, Pat. Winter is around the corner. The late start hampered our food production. Our MRE stash will probably get us through, if, and only if we start strict rationing immediately. We only picked up a few of the propane conversion kits. Not to mention we need to locate and secure sufficient amounts of propane. We can’t stop the supply runs; we simply can’t.”

  Holding Will in a withering stare, Pat appeared to be digesting the reality behind his words. “Well then, what’s your plan?”

  “We don’t have one yet. But we will soon enough.”

  “Then this is how it’ll work. The gates remain locked until you have one, and execute it.” She shifted abruptly to address Andy, causing him to flinch. “As for you, your name is now Ralph. And it will remain Ralph until we determine if we can trust the doctor. He’s having portable labs delivered to our little slice of heaven, so apparently, he’s planning on setting up shop behind our walls. That should tell you how much he trusts our government. It also means you are to steer clear of him and those labs. I’ll get the word out that we’re now calling you Ralph. I’ll work with McCune on supplying him with blood samples. If the good doctor requests anything else, I will
deny his request. Have I been clear?” She held the group in her fiery eyes until we confirmed our understanding. Sweet baby Jesus, that woman is intimidating.

  She stood to leave, then froze. “One more thing. The next time any of you sends someone to the supply area, tell me ahead of time. I nearly beat a man senseless today before I figured out who he was and that he was delivering our venison. Pay attention, people, we’re in a war.” She stomped through the front door, slamming it behind her.

  Stone finally broke our stunned silence. “Anyone want to tell her we had nothing to do with Russ dropping off the meat?”

  “Sure,” Andy started, “right after I tell her I don’t care for my new name.”

  Their comments brought some welcome but short-lived laughter.

  No time for levity. We needed a plan.

  Chapter 36 – Stench

  It was a week after the attack on our community, and the heavy equipment Lucas had requested was nowhere in sight. The stench from the rotting bodies littering the ground around our community had reached unbearable levels.

  The putrid bodies created a second potentially deadly situation. An immeasurable amount of pests had descended on our community. It started as a wall of flies so thick it was impossible to see the bodies beneath them. Carrion birds soon followed in numbers large enough to blot out the sun. When they were startled into flight, the effect often plunged us into mid-day darkness, not to mention their foul droppings were becoming a serious health hazard. The birds unable to fight through the masses to get to the putrid feast found our remaining, un-harvested crops easy pickings.

  However, the reason for our meeting under the northeast tower was the arrival of hundreds of rats. Sometimes they’d cluster together in numbers so large sections of the ground appeared to be an undulating living organism. The lack of human intervention had allowed their population to grow unchecked for months, and we’d unknowingly rung the dinner bell.

  Our efforts to keep them from breaching our barrier proved futile and led to several members being bitten. They found their way into our homes and our community storage area, threatening our emergency food supply. Our community was turning into an unlivable cesspool.

  “We launch our plan, and we launch it today. First order of business is to clean this nightmare up!” I barked while taking in the fear-invoking image outside our wall.

  In a compromise with Pat, our original plan called for two days of observing the area for signs of the missing CDC operative turned hybrid UC. But before we knew it, the current plague had taken hold, forcing us to divert resources to fighting the invasion of pests currently overwhelming us.

  I turned to face the others as they stared at the horrific scene from our perch on the earthen section of the northeast barrier. I had donned a raincoat to protect against the bird droppings that often rained from the sky without warning, coupled with ankle-high boots to guard against rat bites. My outfit drew accusations of overreaction from the team, but thanks to Alfred Hitchcock, I’m not a fan of birds or the fact that they use the world as their toilet.

  “How, Otto? How do we clean them up?” Pat asked while gesturing to the gruesome landscape.

  “We find more dump trucks, like the Internationals, and fit them with snowplows. That should allow us to push the dead away from the wall and into piles. Then we locate backhoes and use them to load the bodies into the trucks, move the carcasses as far away as possible, then burn them. They won’t fit into our burn pits. We can dump them in the mall parking lot and burn them there. It should lower the risk of the fire spreading to a minimum and keep this plague to our south.”

  “Where do we find the equipment?” Stone asked, not moving his gaze from the dystopian landscape.

  “The city’s service garage should have everything we need. At least they did the last time I drove by the garage on my way to work. Front-end loaders would be more efficient. They have larger payloads than backhoes and should fill the dump trucks twice as fast.” Tesha nailed it. Speed was imperative. The teams operating the heavy equipment would pose easy targets for both the pests and UCs. We needed to operate in double-time if we wanted the plan to work.

  “Jackson, are both Internationals ready to go?”

  “I finished up-armoring the second one yesterday, Otto.”

  “Okay then, we roll in twenty,” I said as a giant bird-shit hit the edge of my raincoat’s hood, speckling my face in nastiness. “Son of a BITCH! It’s like they heard us talking about them. Make it twenty-five. I need to scour this off with boiling water before I do anything else.”

  Thankfully, their hysterical laughter made it impossible to talk, sparing me from their childish ridicule.

  I stormed home with a slight limp caused by my attempt to protect my sutured wound. It was healing nicely but remained extremely sensitive. I hadn’t taken a single practice shot or participated in any training since being stabbed. FST1 started using the rats for target practice but stopped because of our dwindling ammunition supply. Not only hadn’t the heavy equipment arrived, but Lucas had also never delivered the promised resupply of ammunition. In fact, the only pledge the government had delivered on was the mobile labs and medical supplies McCune had insisted we receive.

  The stench, bird crap, and occasional rat scurrying across my path during my trudge home combined to infuriate me! I entered through our sunroom and stripped to my skivvies, then tossed my clothes into a trash bag set up for just such an occasion.

  “This is such bullshit!” I bellowed upon entering the kitchen and flipping the faucet to hot. While I waited for the water to reach optimal sanitizing temperature, I realized Darline hadn’t responded.

  I turned to call out for her and found her note on the counter. She had gone to rat-proof the community storage area. The note set me off. We’ve lived through a zombie flipping apocalypse, and now a bunch of rodents were threatening to take us out.

  Turning back to the faucet, I found steam billowing from the sink. In a controlled rage, I stuck my face into the scalding stream.

  Funny how skin melting from a person’s skull can cause them to lose track of their surroundings. I confirmed this to be true because it happened when my skin sent the message to my brain that I was an idiot. I jerked my head to the side, smashing it off the inside of the sink, causing it to bounce back into the lava flow pouring from the faucet. Again my head jerked and slammed against the inside of the sink. I had become a human pinball.

  I broke the cycle when I regained control and pulled my head up and shut off the water. My face felt raw, my head throbbed, but I was no longer covered in bird poop.

  Chapter 37 – Glimpse

  I crawled carefully into the cab of the International 4300 being piloted by Jackson. With Jay occupying the space between us, the cramped cab was uncomfortable as I shifted around, attempting to protect my side from being jolted by Jay’s elbow.

  “Jay, who conned you into joining us?”

  “Your brother. Told me something about picking up a front-end loader and needing me to drive it back. You better pray it has a closed cab. If we find one, that is.”

  As we waited for the Hummer and the other International to pull through the gate, I caught Jackson staring at me from the corner of my eye.

  “What’s on your mind, Jackson?”

  “Your face is awfully red and shiny. Looks painful, too.”

  “I’m in no mood, Jackson.”

  “Is that a blister on your cheek?” He was grinning and crawling onto my last nerve.

  “Seriously, I’m in no mood. Just drive the damn truck and try not to kill us. You’re making Jay uncomfortable, so cut the crap.”

  “Nope, I’m not uncomfortable at all. But I am curious about your face. It looks really uncomfortable.”

  Thankfully, Tesha’s voice crackled over our radio, drawing attention away from my face and back to the mission ahead.

  “Listen up, ladies. We stay tight this time. If we run into another herd of UCs, the size of the one that attack
ed us, we’ll be forced to abandon the Hummer. If that happens, pull your rigs up to block our sides, and we’ll exit through the windows and into your rigs. Are we clear?”

  Both rigs confirmed their understanding and established which side of the Hummer each would cover in case of a forced evacuation.

  We’d settled in for the short drive to the city service garage when I noticed something. We hadn’t encountered a single UC. RAM’s military had done an excellent job of defending our borders, and our city had a relatively small population of UCs; sightings by our tower guards had declined steadily. Nevertheless, we always found at least one of the nasty beasts wandering the streets. So their absence was alarming.

  “Jay, Jackson, where did all the zombies disappear to?”

  Jay spoke first. “Probably killed most of them during the attack. Don’t you think?”

  “I’d like to agree with you, Jay. But to Otto’s point, Willis and his team found empty shipping containers near the insurgent’s headquarters. And I’m sure there were dozens more stashed throughout the city. So those UCs are accounted for. We were still seeing them shambling around just before the attack. Meaning the BSU insurgent hadn’t corralled them all. Something isn’t right.” Jackson glanced in my direction and nodded at the radio.

  Taking his cue, I grabbed the radio and hailed the other vehicles to inform them of our observation; both agreed and confirmed they’d noticed the same.

  Nerves on edge, I figured talking about Lisa’s news might lighten the mood. “So, Lisa, Dillan, and baby make three. I’m happy for them. Although I’m not thrilled at the prospect of having Lisa’s spawn running wild in our streets. Seriously, what was Dillan thinking?”

  Their bugged eyes and sharp breaths telegraphed that Lisa’s condition was news to them. “Oh, God, please don’t tell anyone, especially Lisa. I figured everyone already knew. Didn’t Dillan tell everyone?”

  Jackson finally pulled his focus back to the road but was obviously still in shock. “Dillan has been spending all of his time with Lisa. He took her home yesterday, maybe the day before. And considering our current state of affairs, I haven’t had time for a social visit. Who told you?”