United states of z boo.., p.1
United States of Z - Book 2: A Post-Apocalyptic Thriller, page 1
United States of Z
Book 2
Olin Lester
Copyright © 2025 by Olin Lester
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
The United States of Z series is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or locations are entirely coincidental.
Cover design by Coversbychristian.com
For the men of 2nd Platoon, Alpha Company...RLTW!
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Contents
Free Book
Prologue
1. A New Start
2. New Life
3. The Briefing
4. Waking Up
5. Escape and Evade
6. A Chance
7. New Ride
8. One Day at a Time
9. Nightmares
10. Salt Air is Fresh Air
11. The Black Perl
12. Dark Night
13. Arrival
14. The Decision
15. Time for a Dance
16. Duty Calls
17. A Gift
18. Run
19. A New Chance
20. Not on My Watch
21. A New Friend
22. A Dark Man
23. Dinosaurs
24. Evidence
25. Step One
26. The Condo
27. Tag and Bag
28. Wicked Men
29. Bingo!
30. Time and Place
31. Exit
Next in Series
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Glossary
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Also by Olin Lester
Until Next Time
Necessity by Marshall McGurk
“Necessity—the mother of invention”
Falsehood and Fallacy!
Necessity is sans sex. It is
Alpha; It illuminates what Is.
It will be what it will be
Except for those who cannot
See. Ignoramuses, refuse to
See, stumbling to their demise.
Necessity the Mother would not
Protect them. Necessity the Father
Would not scold them. Necessity is
Neutral expect in necessary
Negligence, allowing lemmings to
Leap off their cliffs. Necessary
Necessity: it will be what it will be
Future days to be seen by those
Who honored necessity.
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Prologue
When the dust is thick and the deeds are dirty, who will come for you? When the chips are down and you’re pushed to the edge of the cliff, how will you survive? When all hope is lost, will you fold or rise to the occasion? The truth is…no one’s coming for you. Live or die, it’s all up to you!
Gasping, choking, then ultimately vomiting, Josh Allman shot to the surface of the San Diego Bay. Salty seawater slipped from the end of his dark bangs as he wiped his face clear, desperate to see again. The salt air was quiet yet filled with the distinctive smell of JP8 used to fuel every American aircraft he had ever flown aboard.
Twisting and turning, Josh used all four extremities to tread water and orientate himself. He had to find the shoreline or risk drowning. To Josh, it seemed like only a few moments ago that he had been thrown from the blood-red Silverado as it hit the water, and now? Now, Josh tried to clear his head and formulate a plan before he drowned in the black abyss.
A red flare shot across the sky, drawing his attention. For a second, he pondered its beauty, seawater tickling the back of his throat, until he realized it was aluminum chaff fired from the side of a Chinook…the Chinook he was supposed to be riding off on. His exfil bird was leaving without him, and there was nothing he could do about it. Not one thing.
Closing his eyes, he arched his back, floating to save his limited energy. He had long since dropped his gear to the bottom of the bay, making his body seem weightless, yet Josh found himself wondering how far down had his pistol sank. His M4 was gone, his plate carrier and helmet things of the past. Every tool he had trained with most of his adult life, to keep him alive, to keep him and others around him safe and sound, had all vanished to the bottom of the mesmerizing ocean.
Josh used his hands to spin himself slowly as he stared between the stars and the perceived shoreline. Everything was black, blending together as if he were in the middle of the ocean, bobbing helplessly like a weather buoy. Oddly, he thought about the Titanic sinking and that the stars and water were all the survivors had, before the bitter cold took them over, engulfing their souls.
In the moment, he thought about the life he had lived, the people he had saved, and the missions he had led. There were absolutely zero regrets in his mind as he slowly continued to tread water. A glimmer of his sister passed through his mind, recalling the time as young children they had planned to run away. She was so small at five years old. A loving creature that God took way too young. A smile slipped across his face as he had his first inclinations that he may be seeing her soon and how he had dreamed of the day ever since she died at the youthful age of ten.
Then, out of the corner of his eye, a flicker of yellow-and-orange flames licked the shoreline, illuminating his path to freedom and safety. Josh paused as he faced the beacon of hope. In his mind, he had surfaced deep within the ocean, having been pulled out to sea by an outgoing tide, but in actuality, he was no more than a couple hundred yards offshore. In the haste of battle, he had been ejected from the truck after it took flight, finally landing with a solid impact into the dark water. Josh had been sucked under, but when he surfaced, he had missed his ride home.
Now oriented, he knew what he had to do: swim to shore, but not directly to the light. The light was not necessarily safety, but only a beacon to guide his path. The light was, in fact, the burning bodies and charred remains of the truck that had been chasing them. It was all that was left of the Russians after the A-10 smoked a massive gun run on the unsuspecting force.
Josh could feel himself drifting further from shore and knew the tide was not going to help him gain landfall. Surmising a spot just west of the flames, Josh began to swim toward it. One stroke at a time.
Breathing on his left shoulder, Josh swam hand over hand, his fingers outstretched, and through all of his life, he had been taught to swim until his fingers touched the ground. And that was exactly what he did, concentrating on breathing and stroke counts. Every third stroke, he would take his breath, and every fifth stroke, he would raise his head from the water to make sure his sight picture was still the same, verifying he was on course.
Time passed like sand in an hourglass. One grain at a time.
Stroke. Stroke. Stroke. Breathe.
Josh pulled his arms through the water as his shoulders began to burn. The journey at first seemed just a hop, skip, and jump away, but being in the water was like being on the moon. Nothing was as it seemed, nothing was easy, and every time he pulled his head from the water to sight his landing area, his mind seemingly played tricks on him in the dark.
Until, after what felt like the final hour of hell, a miracle occurred: his fingers touched sand.
He froze.
Coming to a complete stop, Josh let his legs sink to the bottom of the bay, where he then stood tall. His size twelve Danners gripped the sandy bottom of the San Diego Bay, and he stepped one foot at a time toward the surf line.
Small waves crashed across the sandy beach that parallelled the bay shore wall. To his front was a beach with lights flickering in the far background, while to his far right—further east than he had anticipated, much further—the dwindling flames of the fire that had once engulfed the technical vehicle the Russian’s used to drive them into the water still burned.
Stepping from the water now, his uniform ripped and bloated with salty seawater, Josh knew one thing his years of military service had taught him—it was time to escape and evade. He had to move into the city and hide, make contact with his unit and survive until search and rescue could find him. If, in fact, they were even looking for him.
Taking a quick knee to catch his breath, Josh surveyed his surroundings and made a decision that would save his life. He was on his own and would act accordingly. In no shape, fashion, or form would he rely on the government to save him. Just like he was taught, he had to understand that no one was coming for him, and survival would solely depend on his actions.
Within two deep breathes, the decision was made. Josh stood tall and stripped his uniform top off, leaving it on the sandy beach as he moved from the ocean in a brown, sweat-stained T-shirt toward the nearby road and finally into the urban areas that were team
Chapter 1
A New Start
Doctor Ava Carter
USNS Mercy
Classified Location Pacific Ocean
25 April 2025
21 Days After Exfil…
Ava smiled as she thought about the last few days. Snuggled in bed, her mind reeled with the adventure her and her husband, Danny, had just returned from. For months, she had been working long days, and the getaway to the Keys had been exactly what the doctor ordered. Sun, sand, and the occasional drink was soothing to her soul as she lazily lounged on the beach next to Danny.
She awoke the next morning to a vacant house. Danny was gone, presumably back to work, keeping the city safe for all to bear.
Then a knock at the door jerked her from thought. It was akin to a waiter dropping a platter of filled drinks across a tile floor. The shocking sound ripped anyone and everyone from mid-conversation, leaving the patrons to stare oddly at the waiter.
Glancing outside the front window, rain had begun to fall, yet the road was saturated as if it had been raining all night and then some. In the road were police cars, all with blue-and-red lights rotating and flashing from their overhead spots. They were mesmerizing as another knock came to the front door. The door Ava stood a mere four feet from, yet she dared not answer.
Voices on the other side. Familiar voices. Yet she didn’t want to hear them. Not on that day. Not ever.
A third knock. This time she felt herself drawn to the door. Maybe he’s not dead? Maybe he’s just hurt and needs me, just maybe. No matter how slim the odds were, she knew a procession of police cars in front of her house would never result in good news. No lottery ticket winning, no fancy call to action, no, not for Ava. She wholeheartedly and miserably understood the visit was for one thing and only thing only.
Stepping to the door, she placed her right hand on the doorknob but then hesitated as her eyes peered over the vacant living room. No TV. No furniture, no more family photos adorning the walls, all replaced now by peeling, aged paint.
She opened the door, and the chief of police stood staring at her. She didn’t even need to hear the words. Danny had been killed. She knew it, and a single heart-shaped tear rolled down her cheek.
The chief simply nodded.
Ava shot up from her bed, lightning flashed outside her porthole window as the ship rocked in the high seas. Her eyes shot around the room, realizing she wasn’t at home, but still aboard a hospital ship, the USNS Mercy, having nightmares of the day she was notified that her husband, Officer Daniel Carter, had been killed in the line of duty.
Sweat dripped from her forehead, down her back, and along her arms as she realized her T-shirt was soaked through. It had been a while since she’d had that nightmare, but with all things considered, having barely escaped death herself recently, she wasn’t shocked to be revisiting that horrible day. Her body ached with despair as she missed her husband more than words could evoke.
She swung her legs to the side of the bed. She felt sick. Not just from the nightmare, but more so from the steady push back and forth of the storm waves rocking the hospital ship. Her nap, while desperately needed, had resulted in more stress than rest.
The hospital ship pitched slightly as the storm brewed outside. Tall waves the size of buildings slapped the side of the ship as the rain and wind pushed hard through the corridors exposed to the elements.
Doctor Ava Carter closed her eyes and shook the motion sickness from her head as her stomach retched into the red plastic bag she held firmly around her mouth. Bile and her morning breakfast splashed into the bag before she wiped her face with the back of her sleeve. Why couldn’t I have gone back to Atlanta? She puked again.
Taking a breath, Doctor Carter wiped her mouth again. This time, her stomach seemed to have settled, just as the ship began to finally steady itself within the storm. For three weeks, she had been forced to live and work aboard the United States hospital ship Mercy, when all she wanted was to head back to Atlanta, where she was comfortable, with her own lab to try and solve the outbreak paradox of vaccine or cure, which one was the best answer. Which one could she find?
Dropping her upchuck bag into a trashcan, she knocked on the room door before entering.
No answer, as usual. She hung her head, wanting, hoping, or maybe just wishing for an answer before she walked in.
The ship leaned a bit to the port side, causing her to stumble, then she walked into the patients’ room. Three medical beds lined the wall, two of them empty, but the one occupied was done so by retired Sergeant Major Mark Moon.
Doctor Carter stared upon the man who had saved her life, and all she could do was pray. Hope was of no use now. It was prayers that would see her friend through the darkness, or so she thought. It had been twenty-one long days since the Chinook had plucked them from the salty waters of San Diego Bay.
Her eyes gazed upon her friend as they had every day they’d been on the boat. She knew he had been under the water for far too long, his brain deprived of precious oxygen, but to put him in a coma as a result of it was a hard pill for her to swallow.
All of a sudden, the boat seemed to stand still. Like the waves stopped rolling, or the captain had finally moved the boat to safer waters.
“How’s our patient doing today?” a familiar voice called out as he walked into the room. It was Doctor Alan Cho, the ship’s lead neurologist. From day one, he had taken care of Mark Moon and did so with grit and horror.
Ava looked to the doctor. “Still nothing. Every day I visit with hopes and dreams, and every day I leave them broken on the floor as I walk out.”
“We’ve spoken about this before,” Doctor Cho explained. “It’s not all doom and gloom. We believe he did wake up as he arrived but fell back into his comatose state shortly after.”
“I know, but still—”
“That was a good sign,” he explained. “Look, the bay water was cold that night, unusually cold for this time of year, but that played to his favor. We know the flight crew performed CPR quickly, so I have high hopes that brain damage is not a factor. He received advanced care within a satisfactory time frame—”
“Satisfactory is a word Moon was not accustomed to,” Ava Carter snapped.
“Bad choice of words, but you understand his odds do decrease with the longer he is asleep.”
“You’re batting a thousand right now, Cho,” Carter replied.
“It’s been a long day, and you know I’ve done everything I could and continue to do for this hero. I know it’s not the outcome we both want but—”
Moon’s eyes fluttered as his jaw slacked open. Drool slipped from his tongue as a soft, guttural moan slipped from deep within his gut.
Doctors Cho and Carter’s conversation stopped abruptly as they turned back to the bed, stepping closer to Moon. They both leaned over him as his hands slowly moved up to his face…then he fell silent again, motionless.
“Ava, this is how they wake up sometimes. A small bit at a time. We call it a disorder of consciousness phase. It’s the early stages of awakening. I’ll make sure and push fluids and turn up the room temperature. Sometimes that will help coax them along.”
A tear rolled down Ava’s cheek as she gazed at her hero. Moon had kept her safe after saving her life, as did the rest of his men. But Moon had literally pulled her from the jaws of death itself, dragging her lifeless body to the bay surface, giving her mouth to mouth until she voided all the saltwater she had swallowed. He was her angel, and she would never fully be able to repay him. But she would damn well try.
“Ava?” Cho questioned. His head canted as he stared at her.
“I know you’ll have to assess his cognitive function, his awareness, and his motor responses as he does gain alertness. I pray he’s not brain dead and can make a full recovery.” Ava’s eyes welled. Her heart swelled, too. Thank you, Lord, for bringing him back. Please continue to watch over him as he awakens.
