Zommunist Invasion | Book 1 | Red Virus

by Picott, Camille

  They crept to the back of the furniture shop with the Walkman.

  “Did you bring anything besides Russian language tapes?” Dal asked.

  “Of course. I brought Queen.” Lena gripped the cassette player in one hand, the portable speaker in the other. “Freddy Mercury should be enough to get their attention.”

  They reached the metal door that led into the alleyway. Dal drew his knife and turned the dead bolt. There was a soft snarl on the other side. A second later, something rammed against the other side of the door.

  Shit. They had to get rid of this nezhit before he brought more.

  “Get ready,” Dal whispered.

  Lena pursed her lips and nodded, one finger hovering over the play button on her Walkman.

  Dal braced his leg against the door and turned the knob. The infected slammed into the door, but Dal leaned into it and kept it from flying open. The nezhit went berserk, howling and barking as he tried to force his way through.

  Dal jammed his knife through a narrow slit in the opening, aiming for the zombie’s face. The blade slid off the cheekbone and punctured the left eyeball.

  The howling and barking was cut off. The zombie died instantly, sliding backwards off the knife. Dal made a mental note that head blows were the most effective way to kill a nezhit. Wish he’d figured that out sooner.

  As soon as the zombie was down, Lena dashed forward. She set the Walkman next to the dead zombie, positioned the speaker in the cradle of his arm, and hit play. Queen’s Hammer to Fall blasted out of the tiny speaker.

  The reaction was instantaneous. Howls lit the night, a crescendo that crashed over the downtown like a tidal wave. It sounded like they’d snagged the attention of every nezhit in a half-mile radius.

  Dal slammed the alley door and turned the dead bolt. He and Lena retreated back to the front of the shop and hid behind a La-Z-Boy.

  They peaked over the edge of the couch and watched a huge pack of nezhit lope past, all of them barking and growling. Their attention was zeroed in on the entrance to the alleyway. Freddy Mercury’s voice poured into the night and filled every crevice.

  The road to the superstore was clear.

  “Come on.” Dal grabbed Lena’s hand. They ran for the bikes.

  Chapter 38

  Statue of Liberty

  “WHAT THE HELL?” LEO raced to the edge of the theater roof, pulling out his binoculars. He scanned the downtown, which seemed to be the epicenter of the uproar. Barks and howls assailed his ears.

  “It sounds like the zombies are having a riot,” Jennifer said. “What do you see?”

  “Nothing. It’s too dark.” He lowered the binoculars, frustration clawing at him.

  “That noise is coming from downtown,” Jennifer said. “Dal and Lena are in trouble.”

  Leo had come to the same conclusion. “Dammit, guys,” he muttered. “What’s going on down there?”

  Jennifer raced to the backpacks they’d left in the middle of the roof. Leo reached her just as she began pulling out bombs.

  “Not yet,” he said.

  “What are you talking about?” She glared at him like he’d lost his mind. “Dal and Lena are in trouble!”

  “I know.” The next words were some of the hardest he’d ever spoken. “But our job is to distract the Russians so they can make the broadcast. If we attack too soon, we jeopardize their chances.”

  “If we don’t attack now, Dal and Lena might die!”

  Leo closed his eyes, fighting the anxiety knotting his chest. Hearing the crazed zombies made him want to do something. Anything.

  But they’d all agreed on the Statute of Liberty play. Quite a few things had to happen for that play to work.

  The receivers and lineman had to look convincing. The quarterback had to have the ball in the right place at the right time. The player making the run had to be there to grab the ball.

  If anything was off, the play went south.

  Timing was everything.

  “We have a chance to save hundreds of lives. Maybe thousands,” Leo said. “The mission is the broadcast. Dal and Lena know the broadcast time.”

  “Have you lost your mind?” Jennifer cried. “What if they don’t live to make the broadcast?”

  Leo clenched his fists. He trusted Dal and Lena with his life. He trusted them to make the play.

  “We wait,” he said. He held up his watch for Jennifer to see. “Twelve minutes.”

  Chapter 39

  Guy’s Electronic Superstore

  DAL AND LENA PEDALED frantically down the street, swerving around dead bodies.

  Dal immediately realized their miscalculation. The music had indeed drawn every nezhit on the downtown street in front of Guy’s. What he hadn’t taken into considering were the zombies coming from farther away.

  A pack of five burst around a corner. At the sight of Lena and Dal on the bikes, they howled.

  Shit. Dal didn’t want to use his machine gun, but he had no choice. The nezhit would be on them in thirty seconds.

  He’d long ago learned to ride without hands. Never letting up on the pedals, he shifted his weight backwards in the seat and grabbed his machine gun. Sighting down the barrel, he began to fire. The foremost of the zombies dropped with three shots to the head and chest.

  Shots rang out beside him. In his periphery, Dal saw Lena also riding without hands. She fired her machine gun mercilessly into the oncoming nezhit. She was the most beautiful fucking thing he’d ever seen.

  Three of the nezhit were down, but the last two kept coming. Dal and Lena kept firing.

  He hit the first nezhit several times in the chest. The zombie howled, flailing as she fell twitching to the ground. Hopefully that had been enough bullets to really kill her.

  Lena took out the legs of the remaining zombie. He collapsed to the ground—right in front of Dal’s bike. Dal hissed, jerking at the handle bars. He clipped the heel of the zombie.

  The bike lurched. Dal stuck out a leg, barely managing to keep himself from falling. He felt the rubber tear on the sole of his Converse.

  Howls lit the night behind them. They’d drawn the attention of the nezhit that had run toward Freddy Mercury. A massive hoard of the undead now thundered down the street, coming straight toward them.

  “Keep going, Lena!” he cried, struggling to right his bike.

  She gave him a wild look before flying by him, racing for the superstore. Dal managed to straighten out his bike and zoomed after her.

  They reached the front of Guy’s Electronic Superstore at the same time. The world around them was bathed in the yellow-and-blue neon light of the store’s sign.

  Like many of the other shops on the street, several of the front windows had been shot out. The difference was that Guy had black iron bars on all the windows for security. If they could just get inside, they’d be safe.

  Unfortunately, there were bars on the front door, too. They dropped their bikes and tried the handle, hoping to find it unlocked like the one at the furniture store.

  No such luck. The dead bolt was firmly in place.

  Before Dal could formulate a plan, Lena raised her machine gun and aimed it at the door.

  “Lena, no—”

  “There’s no one other way, Dal.” She opened fire.

  Bullets tore through the glass, sending shards to the ground in a showering cascade. The dead bolt snapped under the onslaught and the door flew open.

  They hauled ass into the superstore, barreling through the ruined front entryway. Glass crunched underfoot.

  Guy’s Electronic Superstore was crammed full of televisions, VCRs, and car stereo systems. Many of them lay on the floor in mangled heaps, shot up by Soviet bullets.

  “The stairs!” Lena cried. At the back of the shop was a set of stairs leading to a mezzanine that was crammed full of boxes.

  They dodged through the store. Just as they reached the stairs, the first of the nezhit burst inside. A long, low growl rippled through the shop. Seconds later, several
more prowled inside.

  Dal and Lena raced to the top of the stairs. Dal looked around wildly at the large cardboard boxes filled with televisions and other electronic equipment. Should he start chucking them down onto the nezhit? Could they use them to barricade the stairs? How they hell were they supposed to connect the transmitter to the antenna?

  “Dal.” Lena yanked on on his arm, trying to get his attention. “Look!” She pointed to a roof access hatch set into the ceiling.

  Roof. That was perfect. If they could get to the roof and lock out the nezhit, they’d have access to the antenna.

  In wordless agreement, Dal and Lena scrambled onto the large boxes, rushing for the access hatch. Boxes tipped and fell in their haste. One of them broke open, spilling a three-hundred pound television to the floor. The reverberation of its fall echoed through the shop.

  Below, the zombies howled in a frenzy. The pounding of feet echoed in Dal’s ears as the infected came for them. He launched himself at the access hatch.

  Luckily, it was a simple latch. He flung it open as the first of the nezhit reached the mezzanine.

  Dal seized Lena around the waist and boosted her through the opening. She accidentally kicked him in the face as she scrambled onto the roof. Dal jumped after her, grabbing the edge of the hatch. He hauled himself up as two nezhit leaped onto the boxes and began scuttling toward them.

  “Get out of the way!” Lena cried.

  Dal rolled sideways. The loose gravel on the rooftop bit through his jeans and shirt. Lena slammed the hatch shut. The zombies howled below them in frustration.

  “Can they get it open?” Lena whispered.

  Dal got to his feet, heart still pounding in his chest. There was seven feet of space between the hatch and closest boxes. It wasn’t impossible to think a zombie could knock it open and get through.

  “You have to stand on it,” Dal told her. He didn’t like it, but there was nothing else up here to hold the hatch shut.

  Eyes wide, Lena moved to stand on top of the hatch. “As far as backup plans go, this one sucks.” Her hands shook, but her eyes were fierce. Lena was in this to the end, even if she was scared shitless. “I can feel them hitting the hatch.”

  “I’m sorry to ask this of you.” Dal hated putting her in harm’s way. “We could drop a bomb on them, but that would leave no way for us to escape.”

  “It’s okay. We all have to do our part.” Her gaze traveled to the massive TV antenna perched above them on a tall pole. It had to be at least twelve feet long. “Get moving, Deejay Granger.” She gave him a gentle shove. “The world needs you. I’ll hold back the zombies.”

  Dal hurried toward the antenna. He had seven minutes.

  Chapter 40

  Time’s Up

  JENNIFER STOMPED AROUND the rooftop, glaring at Leo. He ignored her, shoulders tense as he watched downtown Bastopol.

  “If you insist on waiting, I’m at least going to get ready,” she snarled.

  Muttering angrily—Leo was sure he was supposed to hear every word—Jennifer began lining up Nonna’s bomb’s along the edge of the roof. Leo joined her, preparing for the attack that was to come. Despite the raucous coming from downtown, the nezhit around the theater building hadn’t budged.

  “Try not to hit the ladder when you drop the bombs,” Leo said. “We need it to get off the roof.”

  Jennifer rolled her eyes, lining up more bombs. Leo pulled out two Zippo lighters, placing them at intervals along the neat line of black powder sachets.

  Five minutes of mayhem. That was the plan. Set off a shit ton of bombs, raise holy hell, draw every Soviet in Bastopol to the high school, and then make a run for it.

  Leo was well aware that fifty thousand things could go wrong with this plan.

  “Four minutes,” he said.

  Jennifer just shook her head at him.

  Grabbing the binos, Leo once again checked on Jim and Tate. They were ready and waiting on the cafeteria, bombs lined up along the ledge. Anton and Bruce also had bombs lined up and waiting to go.

  Leo shook his hands up and down, trying to dispel the adrenaline that made them shake. He hoped they could pull off this mission. He hoped he wasn’t royally fucking things up. He hoped his decision to stick to the plan wouldn’t get Dal and Lena killed. He hoped—

  Jennifer grabbed his arm, turning his wrist so she could see the watch.

  “Time’s up, Leo.”

  Without waiting for his permission, she lit the first bomb and dropped it on the nezhit below.

  Chapter 41

  Deejay Sniper

  DAL LOWERED THE TRANSMITTER to the rooftop and yanked the plug out of his backpack. Luckily, there were electrical outlets up here. He flipped open a switch cover and plugged in the cable.

  Now he just had to connect the antenna to the transmitter. This would have been a lot easier if they were inside with access to the cable. Instead, he was going to have to hardwire the transmitter to the antenna. Between having to work on the Beetle and the shop classes he’d taken in high school, Dal knew how to strip wires and reconnect them. Luckily, he had his Swiss Army knife. That would do the trick.

  The antenna was on a six foot pole. Dal flipped open the Swiss Army knife and worked fast, undoing the screws that kept the pole upright. As soon as the pole came loose, he laid it sideways and exposed the wires going into the roof. Perfect. That’s what he needed.

  He grabbed the lead-in cable, sliced off one end, and quickly cut through the casing. Then, using the Swiss Army knife screwdriver, he opened the back of the transmitter.

  Despite everything, he grinned at what he saw. The transmitter had a simple screw terminal. All he had to do was wrap the wires around the screws and they’d be in business.

  In only a few minutes, Dal had the transmitter connected to the antenna and ready to go. Not bad for a rush job.

  “Lena,” he called, “I’m ready to broadcast. I’m going to need you to push the antenna upright so the signal will go out instead of up. Are the nezhit still trying to get up here?”

  “I can hear them.” She remained planted on the hatch. “But I think they knocked the boxes over. None of them has tried to push open the hatch in the last two minutes.”

  “We’re going to have to risk it.”

  “Okay.” With one last look at the hatch beneath her feet, Lena hustled over to the antenna. It wasn’t heavy—no more than twenty-five or thirty pounds—and she easily pushed it upright.

  Dal plugged the microphone into the transmitter and flipped the “on” switch. He let out a shout of triumph when it lit up.

  “Are we live?” Lena asked.

  “Yeah.” Dal looked down at his watch. Just as he did, several explosions went up simultaneously from the high school.

  “That’s my big brother. Right on time.” Lena turned at Dal. “Your turn, Deejay Sniper.”

  Deejay Sniper. That had a nice ring to it, even if he wasn’t a Cecchino by blood.

  Dal raised the microphone to his lips. This might not be how he’d envisioned his deejay dream coming to pass, but in a weird way, he was still fulfilling a dream.

  “This is Deejay Sniper broadcasting to you live from West County, California. I’m reporting from the middle of the hostile Russian takeover. I repeat, the Russians have taken over West County, California. I have important information for everyone out there. Please listen carefully and share with everyone you know. It may save lives.”

  Explosions continued to go up from the high school. Zombies howled and he heard vehicles rushing through the streets. It took all of Dal’s willpower to stay focused on his task.

  He lifted the pocket-sized notebook he’d carried here from the cabin. It contained a list of all the information they’d gathered since the invasion began a mere two days ago.

  Dal leaned into the microphone, beginning with the story of how Russians soldiers arrived in Greyhound busses. He talked about the nezhit virus that turned people into zombies, and how the zombies were driven to bite and
spread the virus. He shared the chilling fact that the Russians had figured out a way to make themselves immune to zombies.

  Dal even revealed the Russians expected everyone infected with the virus to be dead in seven to ten days, and that a Second Offensive unit was arriving in the next two weeks.

  He talked as fast as he could, all the while keeping an eye on his watch. Five minutes. That’s all he had. Once five minutes was up, Leo and his team would cease their attack and fall back.

  Dal planned to make every second count.

  Chapter 42

  Kill Box

  “THIS ISN’T WORKING,” Jennifer cried. “If we want to use this ladder to get off the roof, we’re going to need to drop some bombs on the other side of the theater.”

  She was right. For every nezhit they killed with a bomb, another took its place. The bodies were piling up, but so were the ranks of the undead. They were effectively blocking their escape route.

  Lucky for them, the small, homemade bombs were effective at killing zombies with one strike. Those who survived the blast were often incapacitated in some way. Body parts—mostly arms and legs—were strewn across the concrete and planters.

  “Come on.” Leo grabbed his backpack and raced to the side of the roof that bordered the street. They began lighting bombs and lobbing them over the side at nezhit. As soon as the bombs began to go off, more zombies streamed into sight.

  “Time?” Jennifer asked.

  “Two minutes.”

  A group of five nezhit barreled into view. Even in the dark, it was impossible to miss the infected black veins bulging across their faces, necks, and arms.

  Poor bastards. It wasn’t their fault they ended up like this.

  Leo lit a fuse and dropped the bomb, then a second one for good measure. They exploded in a gory array of blood and skin. Jennifer dropped a few on another group that came around from the south.