Eternal Vigilance (The Divided America Zombie Apocalypse Book 4)

by B. D. Lutz

  Randy’s right eye twitched, more like spasmed. He pulled a deep breath and spoke through clenched teeth. “You couldn’t have understood the words coming out of that hole in your face, Otto. Let me repeat them to you.”

  “I’m good, Randy,” I interrupted while waving a dismissive hand in his face. “And I still think it’s possible. We could start thinning the herd while we wait for FST1 to return. We own the element of surprise, a tactically superior position, and enough ammo to end this now.”

  Randy shook his head, returning his gaze to the football field where over a hundred monsters shambled aimlessly around the once immaculately cared-for monument to wasted taxpayer money.

  I glanced around the classroom, once again cursing the voters who had approved the tax levy that built this school. I realized that this was the first time I had stepped foot inside its walls, even though my tax dollars paid for it. “Man, if I had that money back, we’d have a lot more ammo.”

  Again, Randy locked me in his crazy stare.

  “Randy, just keep looking for the zombie wearing the bright yellow vest. The hybrid seems fixated on him. We’ll wait for the others to return and follow the original plan. However, I still think my plan is better.”

  The original plan was simple. Randy and I had stayed behind to recon the area and monitor the CDC operative turned hybrid UC’s movements. After the frontend loader and dump trucks were delivered to the community, one of the newly acquired plow trucks would return along with one of our up-armored International 4300s.

  A quarter-mile from the field, Stone and Andy would dismount and take positions on rooftops of low-slung outbuildings located to the northeast and northwest of the field. The plow truck would then block the main gate while the up-armored truck blocked the smaller emergency exit. Once in place, Andy and Stone would open up with M249s while Randy and I focused on killing the infected CDC agent. The crossfire we were planning would tear the rotting corpses to pieces, with no risk of friendly fire killing our team. Only problem was, we couldn’t locate the hybrid.

  The number of monsters visible inside the field’s confines was much smaller than expected, but as Randy watched through his binoculars, it became clear that smaller numbers didn’t equate to less dangerous.

  He slapped my arm, bringing my focus back to the field. “Look at that! He’s bringing more monsters to the field.”

  I glassed the area he was pointing to, and what I saw nearly stopped my heart. The black-ACU-clad hybrid UC was using a push-broom to herd three terribly decayed UCs through the main gate. Once through the gate, he closed and secured it behind him, locking them inside.

  It moved with purpose to the center of the mass as it waved its arms wildly above its head. The setting conjured up images of a football coach admonishing his team after a sloppy practice. Whatever this new variant was, it had to be stopped.

  Randy brought his rifle’s scope to his eye and panned back and forth until he landed on the hybrid. “Otto,” he started with fear creeping into his voice, “it looks like it’s yelling at them, or trying to.”

  Randy’s scope was much more powerful than my small binoculars, affording him a higher level of detail. But I trusted him and said, “Take the shot, Randy. We can deal with the other UCs afterwards.”

  He pulled his AR in tight as his finger moved to the trigger. His breathing slowed, then stopped. His finger began taking up the pre-travel. Recognizing the sequence, I went silent, knowing Randy was in the zone. This monster was going to die in three, two… static filled the air, causing Randy to flinch, sending his shot down and right, clipping his target in the shoulder and spinning it to the ground.

  I launched a string of obscenities as Randy scrambled to reacquire his target. I watched through my binoculars as the wounded monster grabbed another beast and used it as a shield while zigzagging to the exit.

  “Randy, this one’s trouble. We have to stop it. Do you have another shot?”

  “Not a kill shot. But I’m going to try to slow it down. Feel free to join in, Otto. More bullets are always better!”

  “I say again, Stone for Otto or Randy, we’re moving into position.”

  Ruger tight to my shoulder, I paused to respond to Stone’s second broadcast. “Get your asses in position. Target is on the move towards the main entrance. Do NOT let that thing past you!”

  I dropped my radio and sent dozens of rounds into the UC’s path as it scrambled for the exit. Randy had hit the zombie shield with a half-dozen rounds but hadn’t slowed the CDC monster’s progress towards the main gate. But my strategy seemed to force it to slow and then alter its route, sending the freak for cover under the bleachers.

  With no clear shot, I shifted my aim to the moldering corpses left shambling on the fifty-yard-line by their hybrid leader. The plow truck rumbled into the lot, sped into position, and screeched to a halt as the up-armored International pulled sidelong to the emergency exit.

  The sweet sound of both M249s purring to life reached me as we shifted our assault into overdrive.

  “Randy, keep searching for the smart one. Stone and Andy have the other UCs under control!” I screamed above the chaos of battle.

  He responded by shifting his focus to the bleachers, searching for the single most dangerous UC walking the planet.

  As the number of targets quickly dwindled, I shot to my feet, my side punishing me for the sudden movement and forcing a yelp before I yelled my intentions to Randy. “I’m going down there. This ends now. Hold your position and cover me.”

  Randy spun to face me. “Not a chance, Mister Cripple. Take a seat, and you cover me.”

  Ignoring my protest, Randy shouldered his way past me as he barreled into the hall. Indecision gripped me as I vacillated between charging after him and retaking my over-watch position.

  The gunfire had trickled to short, controlled bursts indicating the team was mopping up stragglers. I felt a jolt of panic as I raced after Randy. If the team lost track of our primary target, he could easily approach from behind and kill them or escape into the streets and spread the new mutation.

  “Stone, Andy, watch your six. We’ve lost visuals on the hybrid and are no longer in over-watch position. This one is dangerous, boys. And there’s no telling what he’s capable of.”

  “Tesha for Otto, I’m at the main gate with a wide view of the east side of the stadium and haven’t seen him.”

  Will’s voice crackling from my radio immediately followed Tesha’s broadcast. “Otto, I’m on the west side of the stadium and watched him disappear under the bleachers. I haven’t seen him since.”

  “Good news. Hold your positions and radio any updates,” I said while gulping air, trying to match Randy’s pace. He exploded through large double doors and made a beeline for the field as I dropped further behind. I’m too old for this…

  My thought shattered as the ground exploded in front of Randy, forcing him to veer hard to his right.

  “Who the hell is shooting? You almost killed me!” He barked into his radio as he zigzagged away from the stadium.

  Every member of FST1 confirmed they hadn’t taken a shot.

  “Not good, people. We have another…” The ground exploded in front of me, cutting off my sentence and sending me to the ground seeking cover.

  “Otto, move your old ass. We can see you, which means the shooter can too,” Stone’s voice buzzed from my radio.

  He had a point. But my hard landing had knocked the air from my lungs and sent white-hot pain shooting from my side. I laid motionless, hoping the sniper would think he’d scored a kill and move to another target, allowing me to catch my breath. Nothing happened for a ten-count. I rolled to my side and was pelted by flying dirt as the ground just inches from my face erupted.

  Rolling hard to my right, I shot to my feet and headed in the same direction as Randy. “Anyone have eyes on the shooter? He’s a lousy shot but still dangerous. And he’s pissing me off!”

  “Otto, this is Will. I hate to ruin your day. That
shot came from underneath the bleachers. I caught a muzzle flash and a shadow moving in your direction. I’ve lost track of him. This SOB has a gun and knows how to use it. RUN!”

  I was already running as fast as my old legs allowed. I lost sight of Randy but assumed he had taken up position behind a two-man blocking sled fifty feet away. It wouldn’t stop a bullet, but it would make it harder for the shooter to target us.

  Three feet from the sled, my head wandered in front of my legs, throwing me off balance. I tumbled to a stop next to Randy, who quickly reached out and dragged me behind the sled.

  “You’re a hazard, Otto. Seriously, how have you not been eaten by a zombie? It’s like you look for ways to make this even harder on yourself.”

  “Thanks, Randy, I’ve been asking myself that same question since seventh grade. I really don’t have an answer for you.”

  “Rhetorical question, Otto,” Randy said in response to my questioning stare. “I didn’t want or expect an answer.” He returned to scanning the bleachers through his AR’s scope.

  Eight minutes later, the team had fallen silent as we scanned the area for our deadly prey. While Will’s position offered him the clearest line of sight, the bleachers’ design only allowed a few inches of open space between its seats. Coupled with the shadows cast by the mid-day sun and his distance from them, he couldn’t pinpoint the monster’s location.

  The fence stood ten feet tall with privacy slats from top to bottom. The combination made it impossible for us to see anything at ground level.

  “Wait a minute,” I started, “he had to be able to see us to shoot at us. Scan the upper sections of the bleachers.”

  Randy shifted his aim up as I radioed my observation to the team.

  “Otto, if he’s elevated, he’s able to climb.” Will sounded rattled. We knew what he meant. If he could climb the support beams, he could climb a fence and may have already escaped.

  “Well, Randy, you ready to clear a giant football stadium?” I asked while praying he had a better idea.

  “No, but it’s our only option. The good news is that he’s not using a rifle. I didn’t see one when I had him lined up, plus I think we’d already be dead. But a bullet’s a bullet, and running headlong toward said bullet seems really stupid.”

  Randy was referring to the wide-open field we needed to cross to reach the bleachers. Not to mention the fact that once we reached them, the only thing separating us from the gun-wielding monster was a chain-link fence.

  “Okay then, let’s do this before I find a reason not to,” I started, then remembered our training. “We zigzag our way to the fence and keep enough distance between us to make him work to kill us both.”

  We got to our knees and prepared to bolt from cover when Andy’s voice crackled from our radios. “I’ve got a bead on him. I’m going to flush him into the open. Be ready, people.”

  Randy and I exchanged surprised looks, then broke from cover and ran for our lives toward the fence. I expected to face a wall of bullets, but nothing happened. Not a single round found its way in our direction.

  I could hear the team’s radio chatter but was too focused on not getting killed to pay attention. I slammed against the fence and, as I caught my breath, the chatter became clear. The monster was on the move with Andy on its tail.

  “Randy, we need to get in there.”

  “No kidding, Otto. Are you ready to climb the fence?” Randy shot back.

  The fence! I hadn’t thought about what we’d do once we made it here. For some reason, I pictured us simply vaulting over it with guns blazing. Reality hit me with a gut punch; we were fighting a new enemy. The second our heads poked over the fence, that thing would have a clean headshot and end us in seconds.

  “Well, now what, Randy?”

  He didn’t have time to answer as gunfire erupted from behind the fence. “It’s close to our position,” Randy yelled while searching for cover.

  “This was a terrible idea, Randy. Why didn’t you talk us out of it? I gave you the chance; now we’re going to die. And when they tell our story, it’ll start with they weren’t the brightest members of the team.”

  Randy glared at me as he ran past me. I had no idea where he was going, but I wasn’t planning to die alone. I turned to follow him when the fence shook violently. I took two steps back and raised my Ruger. With my finger on the trigger, I screamed for Andy to say something. The fence shook more violently in response to my voice.

  Indecision gripped me. If Andy were on the other side of the fence, and I pulled the trigger, I’d kill my friend. “Come on, Andy. Answer me.”

  My answer was thick goo slapping to the ground at my feet. I slowly raised my head and found myself staring into the savage’s murderous eyes. The monster sat atop the fence like a gargoyle perched on a medieval church spire, thick drool pouring from his gaping maw. His translucent, blood-spattered skin pulsed with dark bulging veins stretched over sinewy muscles.

  “You sneaky little bastard,” I said. The beast threw its head back, roaring in triumphant laughter. He had won and was preparing to claim his prize.

  It released its grip and sprang into the air; I pulled my Ruger up but knew my effort was futile. A battle cry poured from my lungs as gravity pulled it closer. I locked eyes with my executioner as its body cast my world into shadow. In those eyes, I saw hatred so pure it froze my heart, but not my body. I forced a step back, trying to buy an extra second just as its head evaporated into a pink mist.

  My shock gave way to self-preservation, and I scrambled backward to avoid being drenched in the infectious particulate wafting towards me.

  Randy’s whooping followed the wet slap of the headless beast hitting the ground.

  “Did you see that shot? I have to take a picture. Anyone have their phone, or a camera?”

  He was running in my direction while patting at his pockets, trying to find his phone. About halfway to my position, he locked me in a hard stare. “I thought you were going to die, Otto.”

  My head went foggy, and my vision blurred. “I’d like to go home now. I don’t want to do this anymore; it’s not fun.”

  I stumbled in Randy’s direction as the fence once again shook to life. Pulling my Ruger to my shoulder, I pivoted to face this new threat and found Andy flashing a toothy grin. He placed both hands on top of the fence and vaulted over it, free-falling to the ground.

  “What’d I miss?” he said, brushing dirt from his ACUs.

  “Only the single greatest shot I’ve ever made,” Randy said, sliding to a stop just short of the blood-soaked earth surrounding the UC’s headless body.

  “We need to burn the body, and the earth, and our clothes. Then we go home. I want to go home.” I hadn’t attempted another step; my legs felt like rubber bands, and I really didn’t want to fall down again.

  Andy stared a question at me while Randy admired his work. “This new variant is more dangerous than any we’ve seen. Just a drop of it is enough to turn one of us into this.” I nodded at the headless carcass. “It’s the reason we lost Willis. We can’t take the chance of bringing it home. So, we strip to our underwear and burn everything that may have come in contact with this fiend’s blood.”

  Randy finally pulled his attention away from the body. “Otto, I’m not burning my gun or my boots; they’re Danners. This,” he held out his AR, “is my Daniel Defense. I’ve had it for years; I love it like it’s my child, the son I never had. You can’t be serious about burning it… and my boots.”

  I answered him by tossing my Ruger on top of the UC and peeling off my ACUs. Bright red (and possibly crying), Randy followed suit and tossed his beloved Daniel Defense to the ground and stripped to his tighty-whities. Andy followed suit; thankfully, he’d left the M249 behind when he flushed the now-headless monster from cover.

  I left my gloves on and, before tossing them and my radio onto the pile, radioed Tesha and Will and told them to hold their positions. We would come to them and would ride home in the truck beds.
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  I attempted to remain as stoic as one can while bouncing around the bed of a dump truck with two other men, wearing only our underwear and nursing a severely blistered face. I focused on the smoke rising from the fire, now distant on the horizon, which was consuming my beloved Ruger.

  I sorted through my thoughts. The one at the forefront was how bad the apocalypse hurt; I’m talking physical pain. The books talk about it, but the characters always rebounded, charging courageously back into battle. Not me. I just got hurt and stayed hurt. Every bump, bruise, nick, and cut refused to heal. I wanted a do-over.

  Fifteen minutes later, I entered the gates of my community, returning from my last mission as a member of FST1… in my boxers.

  Chapter 41 – Luna-tic

  It was a beautiful early summer day, a tad warm. I waited behind a line of cars in our grade school’s student pickup lane. It felt like a perfectly normal pre-virus day, but the guards perched on the building’s roof reminded me of the threat we still lived with.

  It was a proper school, not a converted home, or trailer, but a brick and mortar school. We’d reclaimed it from the dead two years earlier and had no shortage of children and teachers to fill it.

  I smiled and waved at Maxine (Mac) Divination; she glared back at me from behind the wheel of one of her dad’s fuel haulers. Whatever Lisa had told her all those years ago seemed to stick. I still don’t know what Lisa said, but at least I remembered Maxine’s full name.

  Max and his family had joined our community seven years earlier and brought their fuel and knowledge of oil refinement with them. The bombardment at Entry Point One had put them on edge as its intensity grew. But the visit from RAM’s military, informing them of their plans to spread the antidote just outside Entry Point One, spurred them to action.

  He contacted us via Ham radio and was calling our community home a few short days later. It stunned me to learn how much oil churned beneath Ohio’s soil. Our pre-virus output topped five million barrels a year. Within months, Max was producing twenty gallons of petrol a day, more than enough to sustain our community early on.