Zommunist Invasion | Book 1 | Red Virus

by Picott, Camille

  The headlights kept coming. It wasn’t just one vehicle. Leo counted five in total, all in a tight line.

  Something was off. Caravans didn’t come out this way.

  “Leo?” It was Anton. “Nonna said you better come and eat before your dinner gets cold ... woah. That’s a lot of cars.”

  Anton leapt up beside Leo, quiet and nimble footed in the dark. “Can I see?”

  Leo passed him the binoculars, waiting in silence while Anton scanned the road. As they watched, the line of vehicles stopped.

  “Russians.” The words fell out of Anton’s mouth like rocks. “They’re in trucks. I can see the uniforms of the guys in the back.”

  “Are they military vehicles?” Leo tensed, anticipating the answer.

  “No. They’re regular cars. They probably stole them from people they killed.”

  “Let me see.” Leo took back the binoculars. Two of the vehicles peeled off from the group and drove toward the Craig cattle farm. The other three continued down the road and disappeared from sight.

  “What are they doing?” Anton demanded.

  “Two trucks are driving toward the Craigs.” Leo followed the Russians on the Craig farm until they were out of sight.

  Jim and Tate Craig were good friends of his. They’d played football with Leo, though they were one and two years older.

  “I’m going down,” Leo said. “The Craigs might not have a clue about what’s going on. They’re going to open their doors to Russians.” If the Soviets even bothered to knock.

  “We can’t drive down there,” Anton protested. “They’ll see us coming.”

  He was right. “I’ll take one of the dirt bikes.” There were a handful stashed under the cabin in the storage room from when they were kids. Even their parents had ridden with them from time to time.

  “The dirt bikes? Those are, like, small. We haven’t used them since we were kids.”

  Leo shrugged “Better center of gravity for us.”

  Anton cocked his head. “Us?”

  “Aren’t you coming with me?”

  “You’re being weirdly nice, but yeah, I wanna come.”

  Leo turned and leaped lightly across the boulders. “I invited you to come spy on Russians and possibly kill them. I’m not sure that’s nice.”

  Back at the cabin, Nonna heard them in the storage room and came out on the deck. “What are you boys doing down there? Leo, your dinner is cold.”

  “I’ll eat later, Nonna. There are two trucks with Russians driving to the Craig farm.”

  Leo expected argument. If not for their mission, then for his disregard of the warm meal she’d made. To his surprise, the deck boards creaked as Nonna went back into the cabin.

  “Think she’s mad?” Anton asked.

  “She’s probably worried. You know she and Mrs. Craig are friends.”

  By the time Anton and Leo extracted two dirt bikes, donned headlamps, and rolled into the clearing, Nonna came down the front steps with rifles and spare ammo clips. Jennifer and Bruce followed on her heels.

  Nonna handed the weapons to the boys. “Bring them here if possible.”

  Leo nodded.

  “You’re going to the Craig farm?” Bruce asked.

  “Leo and I saw two trucks of Russians headed down the road to their farm. We have to help.”

  “On dirt bikes?” Jennifer frowned.

  “The truck will make too much noise and they might be able to see the headlights in the dark.”

  “I want to help.” Jennifer started down the steps.

  “No way,” Leo said.

  Anton said, “There are extra bikes in the storage room.”

  Leo glared at his little brother. “You’re not coming,” he said to Jennifer. “It’s too dangerous. You don’t even know how to shoot a gun.”

  “Yeah, but she’s a freaky gymnast,” Anton said. “That saved your life, bro.”

  Jennifer arched a triumphant brow at him before marching into the storage room.

  “Headlamps are in the white box on the back left shelf,” Anton called.

  Oh, hell. Leo looked to Nonna for help. She just shrugged.

  “I’m a good shot.” Bruce cracked his knuckles. “Is there an extra bike for me?”

  “Yeah,” Anton said. “Mom bought us lots of different bikes at yard sales when we were kids.”

  Approximately five minutes later, Leo found himself riding down Pole Mountain with Anton, Bruce, and Jennifer. The headlamps—something they kept around for the organized hunts—lit the bumpy dirt road.

  The night air was cool against his skin. It carried with it all the scents of the forest: the damp earth, the yellow grasses, and the bay trees. If there weren’t Russians afoot, Leo could almost imagine he was a kid out on a mindless bike ride.

  It took them twenty minutes to ride down the mountain.

  “What’s the plan?” Bruce asked as they reached the orchard.

  “We scout the road. If it looks safe, we go to the Craig farm.” Leo refused to think about all the different scenarios they might find.

  “The Russians might have already come and gone,” Jennifer said.

  “If the way looks clear, we check on the Craigs,” Leo repeated.

  The apple orchard was quiet as they rode beneath the trees. The half moon in the sky cast dappled shadows on the dark ground.

  “I wish Nonna had given me a gun,” Jennifer said.

  “Why? You have your stilettos.” Leo knew he was being a dick, but couldn’t help himself.

  “Dude.” Anton frowned at him. “She killed a zombie with a stiletto. You need guns to kill Russians.”

  He looked at Jennifer out of the corner of his eye. She had a right to defend herself against the Russians as much as everyone else. Besides, what if she were staying with them for a while? A team was only as good as its weakest player. That lesson had been drilled into him over the years of playing football.

  “I’ll give you some shooting lessons when we get back to the cabin,” he said. “If you want.”

  Jennifer straightened. “Really?”

  “Yeah.”

  “I can give you lessons,” Anton said.

  Leo rolled his eyes. “Or Anton can give you lessons.”

  “I’d rather have them from you,” Jennifer said.

  Leo glanced at her before he could stop himself. Her hair was in disarray, but she looked beautiful under the dappled shadows of the orchard.

  Stop it, he told himself. Don’t go there, idiot.

  They reached the Cecchino farmhouse. Nothing was out of place. It looked just as it had when they’d left it this afternoon. They continued on to the main road, which was nothing more than a narrow two-lain road. It was deserted, not a sign of a car or Russians anywhere.

  Leo peered through the dark in the direction of the cattle farm. Too bad they didn’t have long-range walkie talkies. Nonna could have kept watch on Pole Mountain and given them a report of everything she saw. A person could see just about everything from up there.

  “Let’s go.” Leo led the way onto the highway.

  They rode past the entrance to the Granger farm. What were Dal’s crazy parents doing right now? Did they know about the Russian invasion?

  Another mile up the road, they hit the entrance to the Craig cattle farm. This side of the Gravenstein Highway were rolling hillsides dotted with oak trees, perfect for cattle. The Craig farm was nearly four times the size of the Cecchino farm. They not only raised cattle, but they had a small dairy and made cheese.

  They pedaled down the road in a tight cluster. Leo was in the lead, his eyes glued to the black horizon. He searched for the familiar lights of the Craig farmhouse.

  There. The lights popped to life as they rode up the crest of a small hill. The farmhouse was intact. That was good. Leo had been half afraid they’d find it on fire.

  But some of the lights were moving. It took Leo a moment to realize the moving lights belonged to vehicles.

  “Get off the road,” h
e barked. The tone wasn’t unlike what he had used on the football field back in high school. “There are cars coming. Could be the Soviets.”

  Leo jumped off his bike and pushed it into a stand of oak trees. The trunks were covered with moss and lichen. Acorns and dead leaves crunched underfoot as the others followed him. They propped their bikes against the trees.

  The cars continued to rumble up the road, spewing up a line of dust. Leo raised the binoculars to his eyes for a better look.

  “What do you see?” Anton asked.

  “Russians. Two each in the front cabs.” Leo could just make out their uniforms through the binoculars. “They’re stealing cattle. I see a cow in the back of each truck, and—oh, shit.”

  “What?” Bruce demanded. “What is it?”

  “They have Tate and Jim.” His two childhood friends were in the back of the lead truck with one of the cows.

  Leo hadn’t seen the Craig brothers much after they graduated. They both got their associates degree from Rossi junior college before working full time on the family farm. What did the Russians want with Tate and Jim?

  Leo decided then and there that he wasn’t going to stand by and let the invaders kidnap his friends. No fucking way.

  “Anton, hide behind the trees on the other side of the road. We’ll have a better chance of taking out the Russians if we shoot at them from both sides.”

  Anton’s jaw sagged open. “We’re attacking?”

  “Hell yes, we’re attacking. We’re not letting them take Jim and Tate.”

  Bruce gave a soft hoot of approval and racked his rifle. “Those communist bastards are going down.”

  Anton’s shock morphed in gritty determination. Gripping his rifle, he raced across the road and disappeared into the trees on the other side.

  “Jennifer,” Leo said, “stay back with the bikes.”At her mutinous look, he added, “Just until we get you proficient with a gun. Then I promise you can fight.”

  She glared at him. “Fine. But don’t expect me to stand by and do nothing if things go sideways.” She stalked into the trees.

  “Just stay back until we tell you it’s safe.”

  No response. That was not a good sign.

  “Jennifer?”

  “I heard you.”

  “Just stay back until we’re done shooting, okay?”

  “I said I heard you, Mr. Football Captain.”

  Hearing him and agreeing with him weren’t the same thing. He pursed his lips. He only hoped she wouldn’t do anything stupid. The sooner he got her comfortable with a gun, the better.

  “Wait for my signal,” he called to the boys. They needed to wait until the Russians were almost on top of them. It was too dark to do any decent shooting otherwise.

  Leo raised the rifle to his shoulder, sighting down the scope. Hunting was one of the few things he enjoyed these days. There was something about connecting with the land and putting food on the family table that brought him a sense of peace. Leo didn’t feel peaceful very often—not since his mom had died and Jennifer had dumped him.

  And he didn’t feel peaceful now. He was about to kill Russians. He’d never shot anything that could shoot back. Blood pounded in his temples. His hands were sweaty and his breath came a little too fast.

  Calm down, he told himself. Focus. This was for Tate and Jim.

  When the first truck was twenty yards away, he fired.

  Chapter 24

  Ambush

  AS SOON AS THE FIRST bullet leapt from Leo’s barrel, Anton and Bruce opened fire. Bullets sprayed the front windshield of the first truck. Leo racked his gun and fired repeatedly. He’d been hunting for so long, his movements were automatic.

  The hood to the first truck flew open. The vehicle careened off the side of the road, rolling partway into the field before stopping. The cow, tied down in the back, lowed in distress.

  As soon as the truck stopped, Leo spotted Tate and Jim. The two men were bound in the back near the cow, both thrashing in a vain attempt to get free.

  They no longer had the element of surprise. The second truck accelerated, bearing down on them. One Russian rose out of the open passenger-side window, machine gun spraying fire. Leo ducked behind an oak tree, breath catching as he felt bullets thud into the wood behind his back.

  Shit. Now what? Bruce was also hiding behind a tree, doing his best to avoid the gunfire. Anton returned fire from the other side of the road.

  Leo dropped to his stomach and rolled to the right as bullets peppered the area. His angle was all wrong for firing at the Russian in the passenger seat. Instead, Leo aimed at the front wheel of the oncoming truck.

  He exhaled and pulled the trigger. His shot flew true. The front driver’s side tire popped. The truck fishtailed. The cow in the back went crazy, lowing and straining against the ropes that held it in place.

  He aimed a second time, this time at the back tire of the driver’s side. It wasn’t so different from hunting a wild pig. He fired twice.

  There was a loud clunk as the second truck listed to one side and skidded to a stop. The two Soviets leaped out, hiding behind open doors to return fire.

  Leo stayed low to the ground, giving himself half a second to assess the situation. It wasn’t so different from what he’d done as a quarterback. He could assess an entire scene in the blink of an eye.

  The driver of the first truck was dead, shot through the windshield by Leo. The second Soviet was in a shoot-off with Anton on the other side of the road. Tate and Jim were still tied up in the back, struggling to get free while bullets flew around them.

  The second truck was more problematic. Leo didn’t have a clear shot at either of them. The Soviets rained fire down on the oak stand while Leo and Bruce fired back.

  Leo needed to come at them from the side. A quarterback sneak, he thought.

  “Cover me,” he said to Bruce. If it was one thing the tight end knew how to do, it was cover his quarterback. Even if they were playing with guns instead of footballs and the opponents were communist invaders.

  Leo army crawled as fast as he could across the grass. The yellow blades didn’t provide much cover. Under the moonlight, he was exposed for anyone who was looking. His hope was to get at the Russians before they thought to look for him in the field. He had a reputation for being a sneaky quarterback.

  Bruce kept firing, keeping all attention on the oak stand. Leo crawled as fast as he could, silently thanking Coach Brown for all the damn bear crawl drills he made them do.

  Another ten yards of crawling and the Russian behind the driver’s side door came into view.

  Leo zeroed in on the enemy soldier. His mouth was dry. His heart hammered in his chest. Popping up out of the grass, he opened fire.

  Nerves made his hand shaky. The first shot flew wide. Dammit. He summoned the calm he reserved for the football field. His fingers stilled. He fired two more shots.

  The first Russian dropped.

  Leo threw himself back to the ground and rolled as the second Russian shifted his attention and opened fire. He came around the truck and sprinted across the road, coming straight for Leo.

  “Cover me!” he screamed. “Bruce!”

  “I’m out of bullets,” Bruce shouted back.

  Leo didn’t come out here to die tonight. He sure as fuck wasn’t going down in the dirt like a coward.

  He sprang to his feet and returned fire. The sneaky Russian dropped down into the shallow ditch beside the road. It wasn’t a deep ditch, but it was just deep enough to provide cover. The tip of the machine gun poked over the side, spraying fire.

  Leo threw himself back to the ground, hissing as a bullet grazed his shoulder.

  They needed machine guns. Rifles couldn’t complete with the sophisticated weapons of the Russians.

  How was he going to take out the Russian in the ditch? If he continued to lay exposed in the field, chances are one of those bullets was going to find him. How—

  He looked up just in time to see a figure spring onto
the hood of the truck. The curvy silhouette of Jennifer was unmistakable.

  She’d always been fearless, especially on the gymnastics vault. He’d seen the way she charged the flat runway and attacked the horse.

  This wasn’t so different, except that he’d never been terrified of her dying in a gymnastics meet.

  She vaulted onto the truck, took two light steps, and sprang off the other side. Her steps were soundless on the road. The Russian never saw her coming. Her hand arched down.

  The Russian sprang up, screaming. Bullets sprayed wildly into the air. Jennifer dropped to the ground as the Russian shrieked. In the moonlight, Leo saw the handle of a knife sticking out of his back. The Russian floundered, trying to reach it.

  Jennifer was too close. He couldn’t shoot at the Russian for fear of hitting her.

  Leo’s hand closed around something. A rock. It was the size of his fist. He seized it and sprang to his feet.

  It was like being back on the field with three seconds left in the final quarter. All his attention homed in on the Russian.

  Leo threw the rock with the force and precision of a quarterback who should have played for Cal Berkley.

  The rock connected with the Russian’s head. He dropped. Leo sprinted across the field, lifting the rifle to his shoulder and firing as he ran.

  A wild yell rose from his throat as his bullets ripped into the prone man. He didn’t stop shooting until he stood over the body, chest heaving.

  “Jennifer?”

  She picked herself up off the ground. She had blood splatter on her cheek, but otherwise looked to be in one piece. She dusted off her hands on the side of her pants.

  “Nice throw,” she said. “You’d never know that you permanently injured your throwing arm.” She gave him a critical look.

  “Where did you get a knife?” Leo countered.

  Jennifer rolled her eyes. “You don’t think I walked around the streets of Southern California without self-protection, do you?”

  “We’re not in Southern California.”

  “No, but I brought my pocket knife with me from Riverside,” she shot back. “Did you really think I was stupid enough to come with you without some sort of weapon?”