Zommunist Invasion Box Set | Books 1-3

by Picott, Camille

  “Dal.” Lena yanked on his arm. “Look! Over there by that orange Datsun.”

  Dal’s breath caught in his throat. Bending over to peer into the driver’s side window of an orange Datsun was a familiar beat-up, brown leather jacket.

  Mr. Cecchino.

  In wordless unison, Dal and Lena broke into a run. They were hampered by the guns they concealed under their clothes, but even so they managed.

  Mr. Cecchino turned just as they reached him. Dal had just enough time to register a wan, dirt-smudged face before Lena threw herself into her father’s arms.

  “Daddy!”

  Mr. Cecchino’s mouth fell open with a gasp of relief. His eyes watered as he held his daughter tight. He rocked her as she wept into his shirt.

  His eyes met Dal’s over Lena’s dark head of hair. His mouth moved, but no sound came out. He settled for reaching out and giving Dal’s shoulder a hard squeeze. Dal returned the shoulder squeeze, his heart brimming. He made it a point not to look directly at the dart marks studding Mr. Cecchino’s forearm. They marred the tanned skin jut below the rolled-up sleeve of his flannel shirt.

  The three of them stood like that for a long minute, Lena in her father’s embrace, the two men grasping one another’s shoulders.

  Then Mr. Cecchino gently extracted himself from Lena. By this time, his eyes had dried. Dal had watched him deal with grief when Mrs. Cecchino had been diagnosed with cancer. Their small exchange had been as expressive as Mr. Cecchino ever got.

  “Dallas.” Mr. Cecchino at last found his voice. “If anyone could find my Lena, I knew you could.”

  “Don’t give him all the credit.” Lena flicked her ponytail over one shoulder and wiped her cheeks dry. “I had to hit two Soviets with a megaphone when they first attacked. I had to fight off two more with a chair leg while I waited for Dal to find me.” She smiled at Dal, her eyes shining at him in a way he’d never seen before.

  “We have a car,” Dal said, ignoring the way Lena’s smile made his stomach flutter. “Two blocks north of here.”

  “Good.” Mr. Cecchino wiped at the sweat that beaded his forehead. A bruise was forming around one eye. “I was considering the wisdom of breaking into this one and hot wiring it.”

  Dal and Lena exchanged looks. Mr. Cecchino measured them, then shook his head. “Just take me to the car. We have to get back to the farm. I sent Nonna and the rest of the family to the cabin. A couple of Anton’s teammates were with them.”

  They hurried up the street and arrived unmolested at the blue Mustang. Mr. Cecchino took in the car with a raised eyebrow as Dal fished the keys out of his pocket.

  “We took it from some Russians,” Lena explained. She slid into the back seat and pulled out her machine gun.

  “Did you take that from some Russians, too?” Mr. Cecchino raised both brows.

  “After I shot them, yeah.”

  Despite Mr. Cecchino’s skeptical expression, Dal didn’t miss the glint of pride in his eye. “Are you okay, honey?”

  Lena rolled her eyes. “I’d rather shoot a Russian than a deer. At least deer are pretty.”

  Mr. Cecchino cleared his throat, clearly fighting a grin. “Good job, sweetheart. Today you lived up to the family namesake.”

  Dal pulled out his own machine gun after he slid into the driver’s seat. He passed the weapon to Mr. Cecchino. “You’re officially riding shotgun.”

  Mr. Cecchino took the gun and readied it across his lap. “Gladly, son.”

  Lena snickered as Dal unbuttoned his pants and pulled the extra magazines out of his crotch. Dal angled his head, hoping she didn’t notice his blush. It was just as embarrassing as it had been when she watched him stash them in the first place.

  “Sorry.” He grimaced as he set the magazines on the floor by Mr. Cecchino’s feet. “I didn’t have anywhere else to put them.”

  “Son, you aren’t going to see me complain about having extra bullets to kill Russians.”

  Dal fired up the Mustang. By now, there were other cars on the move as more and more people from the plaza made it to their vehicles. Dal scanned the road, looking for fatigue uniforms. He still wasn’t sure they would really let them all just leave.

  He pulled the three-pointer and got the car moving in the direction of the freeway onramp. They had only driven a few blocks before Lena spoke.

  “Dad?”

  “Yes, honey?” Mr. Cecchino kept his eyes out the window, scanning the road and buildings for any sign of danger.

  “I have to tell you something.”

  Dal looked at her in the rearview mirror, unease prickling his skin.

  “What is it?”

  Lena sucked in a breath. Dal felt the familiar tug of foreboding in his stomach.

  “The Russians said something.”

  “The Russians said a lot of things, honey.”

  “I mean, when Dal and I were trying to find you. We were walking past a group of them and I … overheard something important.”

  Dal felt the breath leave his body. He had a sinking feeling he knew where this conversation was going. He sped up, hurrying toward the freeway.

  Lena licked her lips. “I overheard one of them. All his friends were laughing.”

  “What did you overhear, Lena?”

  “The Russian said, ‘They’ll all be sick within the next twelve hours. Then everyone they know will be sick. Then everyone will be dead and this place will be ours.’ ”

  Dal’s blood ran cold. He forced himself not to look at Mr. Cecchino. He’d studied the dart bites on the other man’s forearm. There were four of them. The wounds were puckered red and black at the edges.

  No one spoke. The only sound was the roar of the Mustang.

  “That’s not all.” Lena’s eyes met Dal’s briefly in the rearview mirror. She leaned forward, propping her arms on the back seat. “I heard them say they’re the first wave. Everyone who volunteered for the first wave gets first choice of property when … when the stupid Americans are gone.”

  There were going to be more. Dal licked his lips. There were going to be more Russians. Fucking hell.

  “Stop the car,” Mr. Cecchino ordered.

  “What?” Dal gaped at him, sure he hadn’t heard him correctly.

  “Stop the car.”

  “But—”

  “Stop the car, Dallas.”

  Dal obediently pulled over. He gripped the steering wheel in silent frustration as cars whizzed past them.

  “What else did you overhear?” Mr. Cecchino asked his daughter.

  “They kept using the word nezhit. I think that’s the name of the poison they put into the darts. I couldn’t understand everything they were saying, but the general context is that there’s going to be a lot of dead within the next twelve hours.”

  Mr. Cecchino shifted so that he could look at both Dal and Lena. “This is important information. There aren’t a lot of people anywhere who understand Russian. Lena could be one of the very few people who has this information.”

  Oh, shit. Dal knew where this was going. Lena was cut from the same cloth as her father.

  “This information is too important to go back to the farm with us. We have to get it to the authorities.”

  No one spoke. Dal knew Mr. Cecchino was right.

  It didn’t mean he had to like it.

  “H—how?” Lena asked. “They have the radio station. They probably have the police station, too.”

  “What about other radio stations?” Mr. Cecchino asked. “Or television stations?”

  “From what I overheard, they’re taking all the broadcasting stations up and down the west coast,” Lena said. “Television and radio. They’ve probably done it by now.”

  “They likely plan to spread their communist propaganda. There probably isn’t an unoccupied station anywhere nearby,” Dal said. Then something occurred to him. “Unless—maybe …” He clamped his mouth shut.

  Part of him wanted to take the words back. All he wanted was to get Lena and Mr. Cecch
ino to the cabin. To safety.

  “Unless what?” Lena leaned forward.

  “What are you thinking, son?”

  Dal sighed, knowing it was too late to take back his words. “The junior college has an amateur radio station, but it doesn’t have a wide range. It only broadcasts around campus. But there’s a chance the Russians won’t know about it. The transmitter is small and portable. If we can get the equipment … if we can find a large antenna … maybe a big TV antenna. The campus station runs on FM waves, same as a TV antenna. A large TV antenna can send out a broadcast to a large area.”

  “Brilliant.” Mr. Cecchino slapped him on the shoulder. “Let’s go to the campus and get the transmitter.”

  “But …” Dal flicked his eyes in Lena’s direction, attempting to ask a silent question.

  Lena snorted. “Don’t think you can sideline me. Besides, it doesn’t make sense to drive all the way back to the farm, then turn around and come back to Rossi.”

  “She’s right,” Mr. Cecchino said.

  Dal wanted to curse. Of all the Cecchino kids, Lena was the most like her father. All he wanted was to get the two of them to safety. All they wanted to do was run into the lion’s den and be heroes.

  He ran a hand through his shaggy hair. “I don’t think it’s a good idea. The campus was hit hard by the Russians. Even if we can get to the equipment, getting our hands on a large TV antenna isn’t going to be easy.”

  “We have to try,” Lena insisted. “This information is too important to keep to ourselves.”

  Damn. How could he argue with that?

  “Let’s move the car and get a little closer to campus,” Mr. Cecchino said. “We can see how things look. If there are too many Soviets, we’ll go back to the farm and come up with another plan.”

  “But—” Lena began.

  “We can’t get the information to the authorities if we’re dead,” Mr. Cecchino said. “Dal is right. We have to be cautious.”

  Dal didn’t wait for Lena to argue. He threw the car into drive and headed toward the junior college. This was the best way to derail the entire plan. As soon as Mr. Cecchino saw the campus overrun with Soviets, they could give up this crazy idea and get back to the farm.

  14

  Domestic Violence

  Leo and Anton returned from the creek with soaking wet towels. The fact that they only argued twice was a sign of just how fucked up things were. Leo switched off the truck in front of the cabin and set the parking brake.

  “I’m telling you, Lars needs a doctor,” Anton said for the four hundredth time. “Wet towels won’t do shit to help him. Since when are wet towels prescribed to fight Russian poison?”

  Leo didn’t disagree. If not for Dal’s message, Leo would have suggested taking the risk to get Lars to a doctor. If things were as bad as Dal had implied, going to a hospital would be more deadly than staying here.

  But all he said to Anton was, “How do you know what will and won’t work? Since when are you a doctor?”

  “You’re such an ass.” Anton slammed the truck door and stalked inside.

  Leo grabbed the big plastic garbage bag out of the back of the truck and followed his brother upstairs. The wet towels were inside. Leo felt inadequate bringing them inside for Lars.

  Nonna sat at the table, meticulously inventorying all their supplies. She pointed a finger at various cupboards and shelves, directing Bruce to put things away after she noted them on her list.

  “Lars is getting worse,” Nonna said by way of greeting as Leo and Anton entered the cabin. “You two need to run back down to the farm. There’s a leftover bottle of penicillin in the bathroom cabinet from when your dad got sick last spring.” For a split second, her eyes clouded with worry. “The poison in the back of his neck is spreading. If the penicillin doesn’t work, I may need to lance the infected area.”

  Leo felt his muscles tense with alarm. His grandmother would’t think of sending them back to the farm if things weren’t desperate. The bag of towels in his hand felt like a joke.

  “Go now,” Nonna ordered. “While you’re down there, clean out all food and supplies before the Russians show up and take everything. Otherwise, with the way you boys eat, we’ll be out of food in a little over a week. If anything looks amiss, turn around and come back. Here, I’ve made you a list. The Russians will hopefully be too busy in the towns today to bother with our farm.”

  Leo took the list before turning to Bruce. “Up for a supply run?”

  “Bruce stays here to help me with Lars,” Nonna said. “It will be faster if Anton goes with you since you both know where everything is.”

  Leo checked an irritated grumble. Everything Nonna said made sense, but he didn’t like being saddled with his entitled little bother again.

  “Don’t worry,” Anton said with an easy smile, “I’ll be sure to get underfoot.” He marched out of the cabin. He probably would have given Leo the middle finger if their grandmother weren’t standing there.

  Nonna gave Leo a severe scowl. “Be nice to your brother.”

  Leo snorted and stalked out of the cabin. Be nice to your brother. Was it any wonder Anton was so cocky? He had everyone looking out for his needs. In the meantime, the farm was dying around them and Anton did next to nothing to pull his weight.

  As Leo drove back down the hill with Anton, his little brother took Nonna’s list and ripped it in half.

  “What did you do that for?” Leo snapped.

  “Half for you, half for me.”

  Leo was incensed. “Did you even look at the list before you did that? We should split it up by area, not just tear it in half.”

  Anton rolled his eyes. “You’re overthinking it. Our house isn’t that big, man.”

  As much as Leo wanted to argue the point, it wouldn’t help anything right now. He and Anton would be more efficient if they weren’t arguing.

  When they were less than a mile away from their house, he stopped the truck and got out.

  “What are you doing?”

  Leo ignored his little brother, pulling out the binoculars he’d grabbed on the way out of the cabin. He climbed onto a large rock outcropping, which gave him an unobstructed view of the farm.

  He scanned the orchard for any sign of Russians. Nothing moved among the apple trees.

  He skimmed past the orchard to the barn. Nothing looked out of place there, either.

  Lastly, he studied the house. Everything was as they had left it, even down to the skid marks from his father’s truck when he left to find Lena and Dal.

  Anton joined him on the outcropping. “Can I see?”

  “In a minute.” Leo was checking the highway leading to the farm. It was clear. No Soviets anywhere. Nor was there any sign of his dad, Lena, and Dal.

  Leo passed Anton the binoculars. “It’s clear. Come on, we can drive down.” Leo had been prepared to leave the truck behind and go on foot if necessary. They wouldn’t have been able to get food supplies, but they could have gotten the penicillin.

  The rest of the drive passed in silence. Anton was out the door before Leo could turn off the engine. By the time Leo got into the house, Anton was in the living room with the television on.

  “What are you doing?” Leo snapped. “We didn’t come down here so you could watch your favorite show.”

  “For your information, I was checking to see if there was any news.” Anton glared at him. “What’s with you? You’re always on my case. Nothing I do is good enough.”

  “You need to grow up.”

  Anton’s face turned red. “Just because you’re pissed off about losing your football scholarship doesn’t give you the right to be such an asshole all the time. I’m sorry you’re not at Berkley playing ball, okay? I’m sorry your shoulder got fucked up. No wonder Jennifer dumped you. Who’d want to be with a dick wad every damn day?”

  Mentioning Jennifer was like throwing a gas can onto a fire. Leo’s temper detonated.

  “Do you know how much debt Dad is in?” he
roared. “He leveraged everything to pay for Mom’s chemo. Everything! We could have lost the house and farm if I didn’t stay and do something.” Leo stormed out of the room. He was so angry he could hardly read the crumpled list in his fist.

  He stomped into the bathroom and rifled through drawers until he found the Penicillin. Shoving it into his shirt pocket, he stalked toward the utility room to grab some empty boxes and garbage bags.

  Anton had left the television on in the living room. It let out that awful blare and displayed the emergency broadcast system’s color bars. Leo switched it off. Apparently, there was still no news. Dal’s single broadcast from the radio station was the only hint of the Russian invasion taking place ten miles down the road.

  The closet outside the bathroom held all the extra blankets and towels. Sticking to Nonna’s list, he shoved them into garbage bags. As he did, he caught sight of his father’s small desk inside the master bedroom. On the desk was a small bill organizer stuffed full of paperwork.

  All the fight went out of him.

  How he wished he’d never snooped in his father’s private things. How he wished he could turn back the clock to a time when he was as oblivious as Anton. To a time when grappling with the enormity of mom’s illness had been the only worry on his list.

  He shouldn’t be such a dick to Anton. No one made him fake the shoulder injury. No one made him walk away from his dream of playing football.

  A scream punched through his eardrums.

  Leo reacted on instinct. He dropped the bag of blankets and raced onto the front porch. Anton was already there, rifle gripped in his hands.

  Someone screamed a second time. It came from the east, from the Granger family farm.

  Anton and Leo exchanged looks. In wordless agreement, they hurried to the fence line that separated their two properties.

  If there were Soviets on the Granger farm, they were fucked. They’d have to ditch the truck and make their way back to the cabin on foot or risk drawing attention to themselves.