Zommunist Invasion | Book 1 | Red Virus

by Picott, Camille

  It took them twenty minutes to ride to the bottom of the mountain. They reached the apple orchard at the back of the Cecchino farm without incident. Even in the dark, he saw ripe fruit dotting the ground. He hated seeing the fruit rot even more than he hated picking apples. At least his father wasn’t here to see their hard work going to waste.

  Jennifer pedaled up beside him as they rode underneath the apple trees. “How are you doing? You know, with everything?”

  She was talking about his dad. Leo shrugged. Honestly, he was just glad to have a mission to focus on. It made it easier to push grief to a distant part of his brain.

  She glanced over her shoulder at the others, who were a ways behind them. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you when your mom died.” Her words came out in a rush. “That was really shitty.”

  Leo was hit with a wave of remembering; of aching with grief for his mom and aching with longing for Jennifer. It was like being sucked into a black hole.

  That pain had almost broken him. He shook himself to be free of it.

  “You’d already broken up with me. You didn’t owe me anything.”

  “That’s not true. I ... I should have called. Something. I shouldn’t have stayed away like that.”

  He didn’t know how to respond. More than anything during that time, he’d wanted her to call. “Why are you apologizing now?”

  “Because you’re my friend. Friends apologize when they screw up.”

  Even if said apology was over two years late? He frowned at her. “Why? We’re exes.”

  She snorted. “Everything is always so black and white with you. Just because we’re exes doesn’t mean we’re not friends.”

  He looked at her, incredulous. “How do you figure?”

  She stared at him as though his brain had fallen out of his head. “We took each other’s virginity.”

  Leo almost went ass over teakettle off his bike. The front wheel hit a root and wobbled dangerously. Jennifer slowed beside him as he righted it.

  “Look,” she said, “I didn’t get it. How I hurt you, I mean. I thought ... I just didn’t realize what it meant to be in love with someone. But I met this guy at Riverside ...” She suddenly looked small and sad. “Let’s just say I finally understand how it feels to have your heart broken.”

  Leo didn’t know what to say to this. Hell, a week ago, he would have been thrilled to learn someone had hurt her the way she’d hurt him. But something had changed. When he saw the sadness plain on her face, he felt empathy for her.

  “I’m sorry you had to go through that,” he said at last.

  Jennifer heaved a sigh. “Serves me right, I suppose. After what I did to you, I mean.”

  Leo suddenly understood why things were different between him and Jennifer since she’d walked back into his life. She was different. So was he. They’d both gone through their own shit and come out the other side as different people. That was why he hadn’t felt anything when they embraced last night.

  “I just wanted you to know how sorry I am. You know, in case we don’t survive.”

  Leo’s impulse was to contradict her, to assure her they’d survive the mission. But that would be a lie. There was no telling which of them would survive the night.

  “Sometimes, I wonder ... I think about how life would have been different if I’d been ready to get married like you were. Maybe we’d be parents by now.” Jennifer glanced away. If possible, she looked even sadder than she had before.

  “Parents?” Leo wasn’t even old enough to buy alcohol. He’d always planned to have a family, but not until he was at least twenty-five.

  Jennifer just shrugged, still not looking at him. Her silence had a weight to it he didn’t understand.

  Anton chose that moment to pedal up to them. “What’s up, guys? Why are you stopping?”

  “We were just talking about high school,” Jennifer said.

  “Oh, okay,” Anton said. “Well, let’s get going. We’re burning darkness.”

  They avoided all the roadways into Bastopol, instead choosing to cut through farmland. They circled around the town and came out on the south side. The group paused on the periphery, taking a moment to absorb the sight in front of them. Through the neat rows of apple trees, Bastopol was nothing more than an indistinct smudge in the darkness.

  The nezhit could be heard in the distance, making those odd howling and barking sounds. Leo did his best to ignore the unease stirred up by the sound of so many zombies. They were going into the lion’s den.

  “This is where we split up,” Dal said.

  The two friends exchanged a long, silent look. Leo hadn’t realized how hard this moment would be.

  His eyes flicked to Lena, who balanced on her bike a few paces behind Dal. He didn’t have to ask Dal to watch out for his little sister. He already knew his best friend would die for her. “You have thirty minutes to get into position.”

  “We need to synchronize our watches.” Dal gave him a lopsided smile. “Too bad all we have are cheap Timexes.”

  Leo turned his watch, letting the light of the moon glance off the face. “One thirty-five.”

  “Mine says one thirty-seven.”

  Lena shouldered up between them with her bike. “Now you guys are splitting hairs. We’ll be ready to broadcast when the bombs start going off. You only have to keep the Russian busy for five minutes. That’s all we need to get the message out.”

  “This is really like your junior year,” Tate said. “Only we’re going up against zombies and Russians instead of Hornets.”

  Leo could still remember how the way air smelled the night he used the Statue of Liberty play. A light rain fell. The scent of wet earth and grass had permeated his nose. The wet metal of the school bleachers squealed under the sneakers of the spectators who had come to watch the game. He was only a junior, but he had been picked as first-string quarterback.

  The Hillsburg Hornets, a neighboring football team, turned out to be better players than anyone expected. Leo’s team was driving hard down the field, but an impressive Hornet defensive line was holding them. It was fourth down at the fifty yard line with only ten seconds left in the game. If they didn’t score on their next play, the game would be lost.

  It had been Leo’s idea to try the Statue of Liberty. He’d read about it, but they’d never practiced it. Still, when he explained the concept to the team in the huddle, he knew it would work.

  And it had. They’d won the game, twenty-one to eighteen.

  The play had forever changed Leo in the eyes of his older teammates. They took him seriously after that. They began looking to him for leadership.

  He could only hope tonight’s play would go as well.

  “Thirty minutes,” Leo said. “Be ready for us to light up the night.” With one last look at Dal and Lena, he rode away into the night with his team.

  Chapter 34

  Fifth Grade

  THE TRANSMITTER WAS once again strapped to Dal’s back. He and Lena approached Bastopol from the south side of town. They’d chosen the elementary school for their entry point. It was at the end of the downtown strip, only two blocks from Guy’s Electronic Superstore.

  He and Lena were each armed with a Russian machine gun and a knife. Dal hoped they could avoid using the guns, but at least they were Soviet-issued weapons. With any luck, if they had to shoot, enemy soldiers would assume the shots came from Russian soldiers.

  “Do you think the whole town has been turned into zombies?” Lena asked as howling pierced the night.

  “I don’t know. I imagine there are some survivors.” Which was another reason they had to get their broadcast out. If anyone out there had an infected friend or family member who hadn’t turned, they needed to know the danger they were in.

  They reached the back of the elementary school. The soccer field bordered the orchard. He and Lena paused to scan the field. There were bodies there, both dead and—based on the way they moved—zombified. The bodies were small, clearly the figures
of kids.

  The elementary school had been attacked with the same ruthless efficiency as everywhere else. God, the Soviets were such sick assholes. Who killed kids in an invasion? It’s not like they were a threat.

  “Look.” Lena raised her hand and pointed. “Over by the gym.”

  Past the soccer field was the gym. The door was open, light spilling out. Dal saw Soviets inside.

  “We need a closer look,” Lena said. “Maybe we can learn something else important for the broadcast.”

  Dal shifted uneasily and glanced at his watch. “We only have twenty-eight minutes to get to Guy’s.

  “I know.” Lena chewed at her bottom lip. “But the more information we have, the better.”

  “We won’t have any information to share if we get ourselves shot.”

  Lena reached across the darkness and pressed a hand to his knee. “We won’t take any unnecessary risks. We have to go past the school anyway. Three minutes. That’s all I ask. Let’s just see if we can learn anything else important.”

  She was right. If they were careful, and if they could learn anything else useful, it was worth the risk. “Okay. Three minutes.”

  They resumed their ride to the school, pedaling behind a cluster of portable classrooms where they were shielded from sight. They propped the bikes up against the side of the building.

  “This is the right thing to do.” Lena stood on her toes and kissed him softly on the lips.

  He pulled her against him and held her for a long moment, pressing his nose into her hair. Lena gave him one more peck on the cheek before breaking away. They crept along behind the back of the classrooms, moving in the direction of the gymnasium.

  The gym had been installed a few years ago after some aggressive fundraising by the PTA. When Dal had been in high school, classmates had groused about the little kids having the nicest gym in the county. Some of the local churches and clubs even rented it out for events.

  Dal heard the Russians before he saw them. They weren’t making any effort to moderate their voices. He and Lena peeked around a fifth-grade classroom and had a perfect view of the gym.

  “Is this close enough?” he whispered to Lena.

  “Yeah, it’ll do.”

  They crouched against the back of a fifth grade classroom, watching. The Russians had a fleet of shiny new trucks and jeeps. It looked like they’d raided a car dealership. In the back of the vehicles were boxes. Lots and lots of boxes, which they unloaded into the gym.

  “It’s food,” Lena said.

  “It looks like they cleaned out every grocery store in town,” Dal whispered. “They’re stockpiling it all in one place.”

  That didn’t bode well. If there were survivors in Bastopol, there’d be no supplies once family cupboards were empty. He planned to tell everyone where these supplies were in his broadcast tonight.

  “They keep talking about the Second Offensive. That’s the name of the second wave of soldiers Jim and Tate told us about. I think they’re stockpiling the food for that.”

  They continued to kneel in the darkness behind the fifth-grade classroom. Dal ran a hand over the pre-fab siding, recalling what it had been like to be eleven years old.

  Fifth grade was a dark time in his memory. It was the first time his dad had thrown him so hard into the wall that his shoulder had been dislocated.

  He remembered snot dribbling out of his nose onto the brown linoleum floor as he cried. He remembered choking on his own saliva. He remembered the smashed bits of sheetrock on his clothes and in his hair. He remembered that even though the kitchen reeked of Pine-Sol, his mom could never keep it clean enough to satisfy his father.

  “Daddy didn’t mean it.” That’s what his mom always said. “Daddy didn’t mean it. You’ll be all right, Dal. Let mommy see your shoulder.”

  He would never forget the pain of having his arm slammed back into the socket. It echoed all the way back through the years.

  Daddy didn’t mean it.

  How many fucking times had he heard that as a kid?

  Daddy didn’t mean it.

  What were his parents doing now? Had his dad made it back from Rossi? Did they know about the zombies?

  Were they safe?

  Why did he even care if they were safe?

  There would always be that little piece inside him that belonged to his parents. A little boy who wanted his parents to love him.

  Dal hated that part of himself. Almost as much as he hated the rage that lurked inside him.

  Something warm touched his hand. He looked down to see Lena’s fingers laced with his. She squeezed his hand.

  Her touch brought him back to the present—back from the tunnel of hell that had been his fifth-grade year. The voices of the Russians crashed in around him.

  “Two weeks,” Lena was saying.

  “What?” Dal asked.

  Lena squeezed his hand again. She’d only been a scrawny kid when Dal had been in fifth grade, but she’d been old enough to recognize he didn’t carry normal-kid bruises. He always figured her parents instructed her not to ask about them. He remembered her staring at them, but she never said a word.

  “The Second Offensive will be here within the next two weeks,” Lena said. “They’re coming by cargo boat.”

  Dal let the enormity of those words sink in. The Russians had created a virus that turned people into zombies. Then, after the nezhit rampaged around for a week or a more, they would all die out.

  Then the Second Offensive would arrive. There would be food and housing for everyone.

  America would be theirs for the taking.

  “Did they say anything about their immunity?” Dal asked.

  “No.” Lena took one last look at the Soviets in the gym. He knew she wanted to stick around longer, but all she said was, “We should go. We’ve been here long enough.”

  They slunk away from the buildings, pushing their bikes back into the apple orchard. Once they were safely in the trees, they paused to get back onto their bikes.

  As they did, a loud snap came from their left. Dal and Lena spun just as a Soviet soldier stepped out from behind a tree. His fly hung open.

  Time froze. The Soviet stared at them. Dal and Lena stared back.

  Then the Soviet moved, hand flying to his waist as he drew his dart gun.

  Dal reflexively threw Lena to the ground, shielding her with his body. Several red darts flew over the top of them as they landed painfully on top of their bikes.

  Dal barely registered the pain. He scrambled to his feet and dove for the enemy soldier, tackling him around the legs. Lena jumped up and rammed the heel of her Converse on the Russian’s forearm, pinning the dart gun in the dirt.

  Everything happened so fast. The Russian rolled, freeing his arm from Lena’s shoe. Dal attempted to hold him in place, but the other man was bigger. He kneed Dal in the stomach and shoved him aside.

  Dal’s back hit an apple tree, the breath whooshing out of his body from the impact.

  The Russian sat up, dart gun aimed at Lena.

  Dal’s entire universe stopped spinning. All he could see was Lena, the dart gun, and the Russian who intended to hurt her. Rage and fear surged inside him like a red tide.

  He grabbed his knife and charged. He buried the blade in the man’s back. The man tipped over and collapsed.

  Fury pumped through him. Lena. This asshole had tried to hurt Lena.

  The rage inside his body was like an inferno. Dal couldn’t control himself. He stabbed the man over, and over, and over again.

  Something barreled into him from the side. Lena. The force of her body rocked him sideways.

  It was enough to snap the spell. He tumbled sideways into the dirt beneath the apple trees. He lay there, panting, with Lena sprawled out on top of him.

  He forced himself to release the knife. When he raised his hand, he found it coated with blood. His eyes jerked to the Russian.

  The man was dead, his back and chest a bloody mess. Dal wanted to shred the
bastard with his bare hands.

  “Dal.” Lena held his face between her hands, eyes searching.

  Their eyes mat. Dal felt sick. All the rage and fury boiling inside him drained away in an instant. All that was left was shame.

  Shame that he had inherited the worst imaginable trait from his father. Shame that Lena had seen it.

  And not just once. How many times had he lost his temper in the last twenty-four hours? This invasion was bringing out the worst in him.

  He felt sick. He extricated himself, turning his back when Lena tried to put her arms around him.

  She deserved better. Mr. Cecchino wouldn’t want a monster for his daughter.

  He wiped his bloody fist on the pant leg of his jeans. The face of the slack Russian loomed large in his periphery. Dal didn’t—couldn’t—look directly at the damage he’d done, but he saw the mash of red from the corner of his eye.

  He was a monster, no different from the nezhit. The asshole had been down as soon as Dal sank his knife into his back. There had been no need to keep stabbing him.

  There had never been a need for his father to beat him or his mom, but he did it anyway.

  “We have to go.” Lena dragged him toward the bikes. “I don’t think they heard us, but sooner or later someone is going to come looking for this guy.”

  She was right. Dal numbly climbed onto his bike, careful not to look at her.

  “Dal?”

  He pushed his feet against the pedals, racing away through the dark.

  Chapter 35

  Bastopol High

  BASTOPOL HIGH.

  Leo and his team pedaled silently toward the school. The cream stucco walls rose up before them. Nearby were the bleachers and football field.

  Leo inhaled the familiar scent of the turf. It filled his nostrils, but mixed with it was the tang of death. There were bodies everywhere, both dead and undead. He could almost imagine the zombies scuttling around on the field were football players, not murdered teenagers. Almost.

  It had been a bloodbath here.

  The lost days of his youth came rushing back to him. Leo could almost reach out and touch the boy he had been. Eighteen years old and madly in love with the captain of the cheerleading squad. Eighteen years old and on top of the world with a football scholarship and a bright future. Eighteen years old with a mom still alive.