by B. D. Lutz
Angling to move their focus to another subject, I shifted gears to the government’s plan to exterminate the UC plague. “Do you think Operation Blue Savage will be successful? I’m guessing it’ll make things worse.”
My ploy seemed to work; the cab went silent, then I opened my fat mouth. “We should work with Dillan on adding some height to the barrier. If these new UC monsters prove as dangerous as Lucas and McCune led us to believe, we’ll need the added security. We should probably install those perimeter alarms, too.”
“So, Dillan and Lisa as mom and dad. Are they getting married? Hey, you should perform the ceremony, Otto. That’d be something to see.” Jackson’s a jerk.
“Come on, Jackson, let it go. And don’t tell anyone, including Natalia. Lisa will tell everyone when she’s ready. And I can’t have her in my house, commiserating with Darline and plotting revenge on me for talking.”
I grabbed the radio, attempting to both redirect the conversation and confirm my suspicions. I got Pat on the line and, after several minutes of back and forth, confirmed that the guard towers and foot patrols hadn’t observed any UCs for several days.
“This isn’t good, guys. Is another insurgent attempting to gather thousands of UCs together to attack us?”
“We don’t have the resources to fend off another attack,” Jay interjected.
“I know. Ammo production has ground to a virtual halt because of a lack of projectiles. Al’s been pulling lead, balancing weights from car rims to cast them old-school-style. Add to that, his team is splitting their time between manufacturing and pest control,” I said while staring out the passenger side window, my imagination running wild with images of our home being overrun.
“Not to mention we lost three good people during the attack plus an additional dozen wounded and out of commission.”
The cab went silent after Jackson finished. We couldn’t do it; not a chance we’d repel another attack even half the size of the last one. I realized we needed the heavy equipment for more than disposing of the bodies. We needed them to help us fight back.
Still staring out the window and trying to control the panic taking root, I caught a flash of brightly colored fabric as we sped past the high school football field. I thought it was simply remnants of clothing stuck in the fence surrounding the stadium, maybe some trash, until it dashed to the left and disappeared from sight.
“Whoa, what the hell was that?” I shouted.
The truck slowed as if responding to my statement. Answering my questioning stare, Jackson confirmed he’d seen it too.
Jay’s head swiveled side to side as he tried to figure out what we were talking about. I radioed Tesha. She had seen nothing. Stone confirmed that no one in his truck had seen it either. We decided FST1 would recon the school after securing the equipment and escorting it home.
I was hyper-vigilant as we rumbled up to the service yard gate. The area appeared untouched and empty. But letting our guard down wasn’t an option. And I couldn’t shake the sensation that something wasn’t right.
“Okay, ladies,” Tesha started, “looks like they’re going to make us work for it. I’m guessing they stored the heavy equipment either in the service garage or the parking lot behind it. Andy will cut the lock; Stone, your team follows me, and we’ll search the garage. Jackson, your team will search behind the building. Radio your findings.”
“Why does she keep calling us ladies?” I asked.
Ignoring my indignation, Jackson glanced at Jay and asked, “How long will it take to get the plows attached to the trucks?”
Jay appeared to do some quick math before answering. “Good question; depends on the type of hitch and its condition. Regardless, plan on an hour.”
Jackson pressed the radio’s talk button. “Andy, leave enough padlock to hold the chain in place after we enter. I want to avoid another situation like we ran into at Jay’s construction yard.”
“Jackson, I’m going to guard the gate. I have a bad feeling, plus we probably stirred up every UC within a mile of here. I’ll post up behind that stack of pallets next to the gate,” I said while gripping the door handle and preparing to exit the cab.
When our truck entered the yard, I hopped out and bolted for the pallets. “Andy, let Tesha know this lady has our six.”
He smiled and nodded his understanding as he ran back to the Hummer.
I slapped at my tactical vest, searching for my binoculars. The football field was a straight shot from where I was standing, but it was partially blocked by some pine trees and shrubs. I figured I’d be able to get a decent viewing angle from my position.
After several searches, I finally located my binoculars and started glassing the football field for signs of a UC infestation. I focused on the area where I had spotted the movement just moments ago. Nothing!
“Come on, you nasty prick, where are you?” I whispered and began scanning to the left. There! It happened again—a flash of color, the same bright yellow as before. It looked like a hi-visibility vest, like the type a road or construction crew wears. And it was wrapped around the body of a heavily decayed UC.
I adjusted my focus on the vest-wearing UC, and my breath hitched. It was being dragged behind pine trees skirting the football field’s fence. I focused on the beast pulling the yellow-vest-clad UC as it quickly disappeared from sight, but I saw enough to know who it was.
Black ACUs covered mottled, translucent skin. It was the missing CDC operator. I had found the hybrid UC.
Chapter 38 – Operation Blue Savage
The surge started three days after RAM dispersed the antidote over selected areas of Blue States United. The initial wave was comprised of regular UCs, the enemy they knew. But something became clear several hours into Operation Savage Blue. An unseen force was smashing the UCs against the wall from behind.
With air support grounded to avoid the accidental spread of the antidote, they were blind to the cause and performed their duty as ordered, cutting down thousands of monsters. Bodies began piling up at the base of the wall. The first layer of dead was quickly covered by a second layer, then a third.
Lucas noticed the mounting bodies and realized the threat. She ordered her team to cease fire and radioed a situation report to Fort Stateline’s TOC. Moments later, the entire mile-long barrage abruptly ended, and two drones were soon scouting behind enemy lines.
Mallet had deployed Lucas’ team to Entry Point Ten on the Idaho and Washington State border; they were positioned on I-90 in Stateline Village, Idaho, one hundred yards from the entry gate. They were hot, sweaty, and trying to fight a battle wearing MOPP gear designed to protect them from the deadly antidote.
Their location dictated the MOPP gear. Entry Point Ten had been inundated by refugees at the onset of the virus. Now, the area beyond the gate held only countless shambling dead. But the primary concern was Spokane, Washington’s location a mere nineteen miles away. When they dispersed the antidote over Spokane, it marked the nearest city to RAM’s border to be targeted and posed the greatest threat for antidote drift.
Lucas and thousands of other troops had sheltered in one of two enormous, big-box stores, converted to Entry Point Ten’s operations center, until the area was deemed safe for humans to enter.
Seventy-two hours later, Lucas’ unit found themselves reengaging the enemy. But this time, they held a significant advantage: a squadron of AH-64 Apache Attack Helicopters hovered to their north and south, cutting down the threat at the rear of the horde being pressed against their gate. The Apaches engaged the battlefield at high altitude and from Right America’s side of the wall to minimize rotor-wash pushing the antidote onto RAM’s forces.
When the warbird’s M230 chain guns rattled to life, Sergeant Lucas gave the command to fire at will. Hundreds of battle rifles answered her order by sending a wall of copper-jacketed death into the advancing monsters. She marched back and forth along the line of soldiers, screaming her encouragement. But she was hiding behind the bravado of her words. I
n truth, what they were witnessing terrified her.
The drone footage showed tens of thousands of Blue Savages moving into position behind the monsters already clustering at the gate. They moved as an organized fighting unit, exploiting the cover provided by their UC brethren to advance towards the gate unseen.
But the thing that terrified Lucas was when Blue Savages started using UCs as shields against RAM’s military barrage. They forced them forward, smashing them against the wall and into the maelstrom, moving from UC to UC to avoid becoming a target.
Lucas recognized that this new threat couldn’t be allowed to enter Right America, no matter the cost.
She was lost in the images of her country being overrun until a voice snapped her back to reality. “Sergeant Lucas!” The soldier’s name tape identified him as Smith; his face identified him as barely seventeen years old. “These things are acting like the zombies from World War Z.”
Lucas followed Smith’s outstretched hand to find he was pointing towards the growing pile of twice-dead bodies.
Missing his meaning, Lucas hard-stepped at Smith and barked, “Thank you for sharing your worthless observation, Smith. Now, aim your gun at the monsters and pull the trigger.”
Lucas pivoted and took a step just as the firing line fell silent. Her eyes shifted to the AH-64s and found they, too, had ceased fire. She followed the gaze of men and women under her command and pulled a sharp breath. Nothing moved. The onslaught had ended.
“Stateline TOC, this is Sergeant Lucas. I need a SITREP, over.”
“Dark Sky Actual for Lucas,” the AH-64 squad leader cut in. “This is your SITREP. The Blue Savages are tumbling like dominos. It appears our INTEL was accurate. They’re dying en masse. Dark Sky Actual, out.”
Train sat quietly watching the drone footage displayed on the war room’s half-dozen monitors. Each showed the same scenario playing out across Right America’s westernmost states. The antidote had achieved its desired effect: devastation.
The Joint Chiefs stood gathered around one monitor in particular, and Train could swear that none of them had taken a breath in over an hour. Their focus was Stateline, Idaho, and the mounting body count pressing against the wall.
Mallet landed hard in his chair and turned his gaze to Train. “It held, the wall held. But we need to devise a strategy to minimize the stress placed on it, especially when engaging densely populated areas near our border.” Mallet stopped and met the stares of his staff. “Mister President, we’re also working on a strategy to eliminate the threat on RAM soil.”
Train nodded solemnly, noticing that Mallet appeared to have aged twenty years over the last seventy-two hours. “Chairman, get to work on that strategy. It’s time to take our country back.”
Chapter 39 – Operation Micro Blue
A week after the successful execution of Operation Blue Savage, Lucas found herself swiping at her eyes, but the stinging liquid continued to pour into them from overhead. She ordered her troops to use their camelbacks to flush the blue liquid from their faces. Lucas knew it was hopeless but refused to die without a fight.
She stormed down the firing line, helping soldiers clear the sticky liquid from their skin. Her anger unchecked, she lowered her boom-mic and screamed, “What the hell just happened? I’ve got two hundred soldiers covered in blue liquid. Someone confirm: Is this the antidote?”
Lucas noticed a pitch change from the AH-64’s turbine. “I say again, was my team exposed to the antidote?” With an eye on the squadron of attack helicopters, she watched in horror as they moved into formation to the rear of her team’s position. Lucas recognized it for what it was: attack formation.
“Hostiles, twelve-o’clock, Sergeant.”
Lucas twisted around to face Lewis. Covered in gummy liquid, the soldier’s battle rifle was tracking hundreds of targets shambling towards the gate. She stole another look at the gunships, their 30mm chain guns lowered in her direction. She understood what it meant. Lucas gave a sharp salute to the pilots, turned her back to them, and gave the order for her team to open fire on the monsters.
***
Sergeant Major McMaster slammed the After Action Report to his desk, causing Nathan to flinch. The action was out of character for his father; the elder McMaster was an emotional rock. He’d never seen the man lose his temper or act out of frustration.
“We lost Lucas and her squad today,” his father growled.
The news stunned Nathan. Sergeant Lucas was an exemplary leader. Her team was comprised of battle-hardened, well-trained, and fearless warriors. True tip of the spear soldiers.
“What the hell happened?”
The sergeant major nodded at the AAR. “Read it. The short version is the JCS was overconfident, began Operation Micro Blue too soon, and it cost hundreds of soldiers their lives.”
Nathan pulled the report from the desk. After two minutes, he realized the magnitude of the challenges that had caused the launch of Operation Micro Blue to fail spectacularly.
Mallet had designed the operation to ease the burden placed on the gates and wall at the entry points without using the C130 air disbursement, as they had during Operation Blue Savage, close to RAM’s borders. Although well-intentioned, a government desperate to slow the virus’ spread and defend its borders had rushed it into action.
The teams had set up behind steel barriers strategically placed two hundred yards from Entry Point One. They’d launched M252 mortars packed with the antidote into the UCs massing at the gate. Using mortars loaded with minimal explosive charges as the delivery system reduced their horizontal blast radius, lowering the possibility of airborne drift and decreasing the possibility of the new variant infecting the frontline soldiers.
Attack copters patrolled outside the defensive perimeter, as they had in Stateline, Idaho, while infantry troops held ground positions.
The operation went sideways after the first 81mm mortar struck a tanker truck filled with gasoline which had been mired in the gridlock outside Entry Point One. The resulting explosion sent the antidote in every direction, and the subsequent mortar blasts supplied additional antidote to the drift. The military had ignored the forecast for twenty-mile-an-hour winds, which pushed the antidote to the defensive positions and saturated the unprotected troops on the ground.
The AH-64s were forced to fire on their own infected RAM ground troops.
Nathan’s head snapped up to meet his father’s eyes. “Why weren’t they wearing MOPP gear?”
“We ran out of them. They burned the ones used during Operation Blue Savage after the teams disengaged from our wall out west. JCS claims they acted out of an abundance of caution to avoid accidental contamination. That action decimated our MOPP gear supply. They knew of the situation but moved forward anyway.”
McMaster ran a hand down his face. “You don’t have to read anymore; it doesn’t get better. But we’re taking a walk.”
In silence, the men rounded the corner from Trooper Drive to Kitty Drive, heading towards the PX building.
Nathan noticed the sergeant major surveying the area, for what he didn’t know. “Dad, what’s with the cloak and dagger routine?”
The elder McMaster responded without slowing his stride. “The rest of the AAR talked about the military’s intent to move more refugees to Riley and moving us to ad hoc Forward Operating Bases. Then increase the pace of Operation Micro Blue. Even after the cluster at Entry Point One, the JCS still sees value in OMB and plans to move forward.”
“When are they planning on moving us?”
“Two weeks from today. They’re activating Fort Riley for the mission. Son, I can’t stop them from sending you into that cluster… if we’re still here.”
Nathan slammed to a stop, faced his father, and locked him with an angry glare. “Dad, are you suggesting I go AWOL? That I shirk my responsibilities?”
“Nothing of the sort, Nathan, but understand this. Our family has dedicated its entire life to this country. We have both run headlong into the fire.
Hell, I nearly lost you to government bureaucracy. We’ve sacrificed enough. I will not allow them to send you to your death, a horrible death, on a whim. I can’t stop them from unleashing this new variant on our country, but I sure as hell can stop them from making you one of its victims.”
“Well, I’m not deserting, so what’s your plan?”
“I submitted our transfer paperwork this morning. Camp Hopkins is now low on troops and people to lead them. They’re tasked with a renewed search and rescue operation and need soldiers like you. Our country needs soldiers like you. We can house at that community Willis moved his family to.”
The mention of Willis jolted Nathan. “Any update on him?”
“Nothing since his last transmission. He sounded animalistic towards the end of our conversation. I’m not sure what was happening to him, but I know he’s not coming home. We’ve scrubbed the mission, permanently.”
The revelation brought understanding to Nathan. He now knew why his father was moving them.
“Alright, let’s pack up. But you need to understand, I’m still a soldier, and I refuse to cower from this fight.”
Sergeant Major McMaster smiled at his warrior son and nodded. “You’ll be fighting, son, fighting the enemy you can see.”
Chapter 40 – Boxers
From our perch in an open window of what appeared to be a high school science room, overlooking the football field, Randy stared at me through his patented crazy eyes.
“Why the crazy eyes, Randy?”
“Did you hear the words that just came out of your mouth, Otto?” Randy asked, nearly breaking to full voice from his stage whisper.
“I did, Randy. And before you ask, I actually picked my words carefully. I didn’t want to overwork that tiny brain of yours.”