Eternal Vigilance (The Divided America Zombie Apocalypse Book 4) Read online

  Eternal Vigilance

  The Divided America Zombie Apocalypse

  Book Four

  B. D. Lutz

  © 2021 B.D. Lutz.

  ISBN: 978-1-7352793-2-9

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental. All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.

  All rights reserved. Except as permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, transmitted or distributed in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without the prior written permission of the publisher. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights.

  Contact the author via email: [email protected]

  Acknowledgements

  Edited by Monique Happy Editorial Services

  www.moniquehappyeditorial.com

  Thank you for your hard work and guidance. But most of all, thank you for answering a random email from a newbie.

  Cover designed by: Kelly A. Martin

  www.kam.design

  Kelly, you are a master at your craft!

  Photography by lchumpitaz (DepositPhotos), olga_simonova_ph (DepositPhotos), benkrut(DepositPhotos), gsagi (DepositPhotos), Leoq (DepositPhotos), nilovsergei (DepositPhotos), YAYImages (DepositPhotos), realinemedia (DepositPhotos), chagpg (DepositPhotos)

  Prologue

  October 30th, 2018

  One Week Prior To The Divide

  Shafter glared across the conference table at the freshman congresswoman from New York. She’d been a disrupter from day one, and today was no exception. She interjected with nonsensical observations and utterly ridiculous strategies at every stage of the conversation. Her manner of speaking was like nails on a chalkboard. When did public schools stop teaching proper pronunciation?

  At his wits’ end, Shafter moved to muzzle the Pit Bull once and for all. “Representative Cortina. We are one week away from the people of our great nation voting to divide into two separate countries. I’m advising you that the time for your useless ramblings has passed. Our plan is already in play. Our poll numbers are strong. We will prevail. So please stop speaking.”

  Cortina’s mouth snapped shut. She was stunned by the harsh rebuke from her colleague, but only for the briefest of moments. She pulled a sharp breath and plowed forward with her statement, “As I was saying before the most esteemed Senator Shafter interjected. Our reliance upon polling in 2016 is what led us to this point.” She locked Shafter with an icy stare and continued, “The stakes are, like, much higher this time. We must apply more pressure. And apply it non-stop until we count every single vote.”

  Shafter slammed his notepad to the table. His patience had vanished. It was his turn to talk. “We have submerged this country in violent protests for two years. TWO YEARS. During that time, our staffs have fed a never-ending stream of misinformation to the media. We have infiltrated every college campus in the country. Ms. Cortina, simply put, we’ve inflicted the damage necessary to succeed in turning this entire country to our party.”

  Cortina gazed defiantly over the rims of her unnecessary eyeglasses. The political vipers seated across the table from her had become irrelevant. She would act on her own, but first they needed to suffer her anger. “Speaker Piles, Senator Shafter, Congressman Shank, and Senator Finkelstein. You are making a mistake. Like, one that will cost us dearly. You are short-sighted, withered prunes. Bottom feeders, actually. I will act to ensure we win this vote. When I’m elected President of our newly established country, I will have each of you tried for, like, treason or something.”

  Piles’ incensed expression belied her evenly toned response to the child seated across the table from her. She locked the freshman in an icy stare and slurred her response, “Dear, bless your heart, where did you attend college? I can barely understand you when you, LIKE, speak.” Waving a liver-spotted hand in dismissal, she continued, “Never mind. It’s not important. And knowing who’s responsible for your education won’t change the fact that you’re an idiot.”

  Cortina bristled, hinging her oversized maw open to respond, but Piles stepped on her words. “You will do as you’re told. Have I been clear?”

  Cortina shot to her feet and stormed from the room. She would take the appropriate action to ensure they won. No longer did she need the irrelevant politicians of yesteryear. She was “New and Now,” with fresh ideas and a mind free from the bourbon-soaked delusions of has-beens.

  Her footfalls echoed loudly in the hallowed halls of the Capitol Building as she stormed back to her private office. Her administrative assistant startled when the door burst open and slammed against the wall. She stood and approached the petulant child across the visitor’s waiting area. Cortina waved her off, then screamed, “I need cold, filtered, un-bottled water. Are you capable of that task, Betty?”

  Her assistant had grown used to Cortina’s demeaning ways. She wrote it off to poor interpersonal skills that so many of her generation suffered from. She still disliked the young woman but needed the health insurance afforded by her position. With that thought in mind, she spun on her heel and proceeded to the cafeteria where she kept Cortina’s supply of water. She smirked at the thought that she’d been bringing the brat bottled water, poured into a pitcher, since the day the witch set foot in the office. It’s the little things, she mused as she sauntered towards the cafeteria.

  Waiting a ten-count after Betty’s exit, Cortina pressed the send button on her personal cell. After two rings, a thick Hungarian accent filled the speaker. Not waiting for salutations, she launched into the conversation. “We need more protesters in the streets by day’s end. Advise on their locations and I’ll inform my contacts where to send their news crews.”

  Chapter 1 – Scale

  Shafter’s swollen eyes glared at Williams. “Is that what you wanted to hear? IS IT? We’re responsible for everything, the violence, The Divide, the virus. All of it.” Spittle flew from the senator’s mouth as he screamed, “I… we are the reason the world is dying. But you have to believe me, this was not our intent. We wanted to reunite the country.”

  Williams leaned into the dim light thrown by the room’s single overhead light bulb, casting his face in demonic shadows. “I always suspected you had your thumb on the scale. But you were standing on it. You tore us apart.” He glared at the senator, reveling in his fear. “Now I tear you apart.” He turned his head towards the door. “Guard, did you get what you needed?”

  A single knock came in response. Shafter’s eyes bulged. “What’s the meaning of this? That’s entrapment. You cannot use my words against me in court.”

  Williams stood, a wicked grin dominating his features as he stalked towards the senator. “Shafter, this was your trial. You’re guilty as charged. Now we move to the punishment phase of our proceedings.”

  The guard waited until Shafter’s screams ceased, then knocked twice. Williams stood facing the door, the senator’s broken body at his feet, and told the guard to enter. He was ready for this to end.

  A smile creased his face as the execut
ioner entered the room.

  Chapter 2 – Ghost

  Nathan smashed Ghost through the skull of the monster which bore a striking resemblance to Elvis. The resulting explosion hurled gore in every direction. The now headless body tumbled down the rocky hillside, splashing into the water below. Twirling Ghost in his right hand, Nathan prepared to annihilate the last of the undead freaks. With the force of ten men, he swung for the fences, finding the monster’s neck. The sound of shattering vertebrae and skin tearing spurred his rage. He pulled Ghost back and used the end of her barrel like a pool cue, sending the beast to rest on the unforgiving rocks jutting from the hillside.

  Nathan bent, hands on knees, gasping for air while allowing the bloodlust to clear from his mind. He stared at the lifeless husks strewn about the ragged rocks below, their devastated bodies a testament to the brutality of his assault.

  The blood of his victims dripped from the barrel of his Easton Ghost baseball bat. Its thirty-three inches extended his kill zone, enabling him to dispatch the monsters before they crept close enough to latch onto him. He’d seen it repeatedly. People underestimated these devils only to get pulled apart and devoured.

  He rose to his full six feet and screamed, “This hill belongs to me! Have I made myself clear? I was homeless, not helpless.” His voice echoed through the derelict buildings surrounding his hill.

  Something inside him had sparked to life when he’d left his home two weeks earlier. The violence felt familiar to him. It calmed and focused him. His movements were precise, each battle playing in his mind’s eye before he swung Ghost. Yes, he was built for this, built for violence.

  Nathan retreated into the copse of exotic foliage that had served as his home for the last two days. It afforded him an elevated view of his surroundings while the water encircling it functioned as an early warning system. His position also enabled him to observe the Blue States United soldiers as they corralled the monsters into trucks and whisked them away.

  Initially he’d thought BSU had finally mounted a counterstrike, but that logic didn’t fit. Why not kill them? Risking human life to load them up for termination at some remote location wasn’t how you fought a war. He didn’t understand why he recognized the flaw in their tactics, but he did.

  He curled into a ball as the evening air chilled. The climate reminded him of a place he had visited, a land with sweltering days and cool nights, fraught with danger. Nathan realized he had to leave this place. He needed food, a fortified shelter, and a bed to make. That simple task started each of his days; it centered him, gave him a slight sense of pride.

  The last day he’d made his bed was the day he’d overheard the conversation between Wild Bill and that North Korean agent. Nathan had noticed the duo of DPRK operatives lurking around the Sepulveda Basin encampment weeks earlier and avoided them like the plague. The drugs they peddled to the encampment’s residents were potent and shielded the DPRK operatives from the abrasive reception usually shown to newcomers to the Sepulveda Basin.

  He’d told the police about the Asian dope-slingers but couldn’t articulate how he knew they were DPRK agents. I just do wasn’t good enough for LA’s finest.

  Nathan didn’t understand why the conversation between Wild and the DPRK agent had set his mind on fire, but he’d known it was time to abandon his tin shack and leave Los Angeles. He was driven east by an invisible force to seek safety behind Right America’s walls.

  By the time he’d reached the Nevada border, he was killing dozens of monsters every day. The fighting never ended. His blistered hands screamed at him to stop as he wielded sticks and rocks, fighting for his life.

  He could have cried with joy when he stumbled across the deserted baseball diamonds just off I-15 in Hesperia. That’s where he’d found Ghost lying forgotten among the rotting corpses.

  The low rumble of a diesel engine broke his thoughts. Nathan’s mind sputtered like a TV trying to tune in a channel, then went crystal clear. He needed to know what the BSU soldiers were doing with the dead.

  The transport came into view a moment after clarity struck him. Nathan gathered his meager possessions into his backpack and waited for his opportunity. The tractor-trailer backed up to the enormous doors of the glitzy glass and concrete building. Regardless of the building’s marquee, this was no mirage.

  Twenty feet before the entrance, a soldier exited the cab, opened the doors of the trailer, and directed the driver into position between the barriers set up as a funnel for the dead. When the truck stopped, a second soldier exited and took a position opposite the first. With a nod, they both grasped a large steel pole attached to the building’s doors and pulled. As the doors inched open, the dead exited one by one.

  From his vantage point, Nathan watched countless dead fighting against the building’s glass entrance, trying to escape. If the glass fails, the monsters will pour into the streets. He’d no sooner finished the thought when he heard it. The telltale sound of glass failing!

  Both soldiers dropped their poles and bolted for the truck’s cab, abandoning the monsters already headed for its trailer. NOW! his mind screamed, and he broke from cover, focused on the truck’s empty spare tire carrier mounted beneath the trailer. The truck bucked and kicked as the panicked driver tried to find a gear, giving Nathan the time needed to catch up to the rig and calculate how he would stuff his sizeable frame into the compact space.

  The sound of glass shattering spurred him to action. He grabbed the underside of the moving trailer and slid in legs first. When his groin slammed into the center support beam, the pain nearly rendered him unconscious. He lost his grip on the trailer and his upper body arched backward, leaving his head mere inches from the pavement rushing by. Fighting through the pain, he first righted his upper body then began folding himself into the tight space. He repositioned his legs to one side and scooted his upper body out of sight. Nathan brought Ghost to his chest and fed her through his backpack’s chest straps. Her cool aluminum body calmed him.

  Staring up at the corrugated metal as the pavement rushed by beneath him, he realized he was smiling. His pulse quickened as he grasped the reality that had eluded him for years. He was doing what he was meant to do. I’m a soldier!

  As the truck rolled on, Nathan’s body paid the price for his poor choice of concealment. During the hours’ long journey, the truck rumbled over dead bodies, chuckholes, and curbs, slamming him around his metal confines. The impacts promised to snap his spine and probably would have if not for the small amount of cushioning his backpack provided. He had lost the feeling in his dangling legs, and Ghost managed to bust his lip after a particularly hard jolt.

  He was searching for a way to support his back and legs when the semi made a hard left turn, nearly ejecting him to the road to be crushed under the big-rig’s rear wheels. After some maneuvering, the truck inched backwards, then came to an abrupt stop.

  He readied himself when the cab doors slammed, followed by the footfalls of its occupants.

  “Why’s the truck empty?” a voice yelled over the idling engine.

  A screeching voice answered, “We damn near got eaten alive, that’s why.”

  Another voice chimed in, “This is bullshit. No more trips to Vegas, or anyplace else for that matter. We’ve dumped thousands of these monsters. I’m done. And when the hell are we getting a resupply? When is BSU…”

  A gunshot silenced the voice. When Nathan saw a lifeless body slam to the dusty ground, he knew it was time to move.

  He eased himself out of hiding. With his legs still numb, he crawled to some nearby brush and faded into the landscape.

  In a growling whisper he made a promise, “I will end this place.”

  Chapter 3 – Beautiful Sound

  As the sun faded into the horizon, Nathan emerged from the cluster of brittle bush and yucca he had been hiding behind. His mind no longer struggled to find his memories. He was a soldier and today he would join the fight to win back his country.

  Nathan crept to the si
de of the building housing the big-rigs and their drivers. Removing Ghost from his backpack, he approached the open overhead garage doors. Four BSU soldiers huddled around a tiny folding table, playing poker at the edge of the opening. Money was won and lost while the men hurled insults at each other’s mothers, sisters, and girlfriends.

  He considered the banter and realized he’d be facing young, capable men. His attack would need to be swift and merciless. Nathan’s only advantage was the element of surprise.

  As he leaned his head around the corner of the building, a soldier suddenly lurched across the table, sending cash and playing cards skittering across the floor. “You cheating scumbag!” he hollered at an unseen player.

  The area erupted with the sound of angry men trying to beat one another to death. The timing was perfect. Nathan charged the area and brought Ghost across the face of the first soldier he encountered. The sound of bones fracturing resonated over the din of battle, drawing the attention of a soldier who had avoided the brawl and was frantically grabbing the cash strewn about the floor.

  He locked eyes with Nathan as Ghost began her deadly descent towards his head. His reluctance to drop the cash clutched in his fists cost him his life. His face split open as Ghost crushed his skull.

  Nathan spun toward the two remaining soldiers locked in a life or death struggle on the oil-stained concrete. He reared back and sent Ghost whistling through the air. With no specific target, he let Ghost choose her victim. Nathan feared she would overshoot the men when the brawl's agitator suddenly gained the upper hand and climbed atop his opponent. As he prepared to pummel the double dealer, he glanced up to find Ghost inches from his face.