Zommunist Invasion Box Set | Books 1-3

by Picott, Camille

  Under Nonna’s direction, the guys hefted the big burlap sacks onto the counter. It turned out they contained ordinary farm products, sulfur and potassium nitrate—which were also ingredients in black powder.

  “You mean we were sitting on bomb ingredients at the farm and never knew it?” Anton asked.

  Nonna gave him a feral smile. “You’d be surprised how household products can be transformed with the proper recipe.”

  Leo leaned in for a better look at the gun powder recipe. Or, to be more precise, recipes. There were no less that eleven different explosive recipes contained in the book. Many of the ingredients were common in crop management. Who knew he could have been mixing bombs all these years?

  “We must be precise in our work. No shortcuts,” Nonna said. “Leo, you and Anton are in charge of measuring and mixing. Move over to the kitchen counter so you’re not in the way. Jim and Tate, you’re in charge of measuring and cutting the fuse wire.” Nonna surprised the hell out of Leo by producing a spool of wire. “This is fuse wire. One day I’ll tell you what it took to acquire this, but not today. Cut them three inches long. There’s a ruler and wire cutters in the bottom left drawer of the kitchen. It’s important that you be precise. Two inches of the wire will go into the powder. The one inch that sticks out will give you exactly ten seconds to light the fuse and throw it.”

  Tate and Jim beelined to the kitchen, taking the fuse wire with them.

  “What about me?” Bruce asked.

  “You’re with me and the ladies. You too, Dal.” Nonna grabbed a long roll of oil cloth that had been leaning against the wall. Leo hadn’t noticed it until now. It was the same red-and-white checkered material she used to make tablecloths.

  Nonna rolled the cloth out on the kitchen table. “The black powder has to go into water proof casing,” she explained. “We’re going to be cutting eight-inch squares. Then we’ll measure out the powder and tie them up in little bundles with the fuses.”

  “Dynamite sachets,” Lena exclaimed.

  “Correct,” Nonna said. “Now let’s get to work. There’s no time to waste. You ride out tonight to Bastopol. Lives depend on us.”

  33

  Apology

  Leo lay in the top bunk, his mind whirling. His blood hummed with anticipation, like it used to before a big game.

  It was well past ten o’clock. They planned to leave at midnight for their mission into Bastopol. They’d spent the rest of the afternoon making explosive sachets, as Lena liked to call them.

  Nonna had sent them all to bed after an early dinner, ordering them to get a few hours of sleep before their mission. There was steely-edged hardness to his grandmother that Leo had never seen before. Truth be told, he found it unnerving.

  Dal snored softly in the bunk beneath Leo. His friend had been asleep within seconds of his head hitting the pillow.

  Anton and Bruce had the bunk across from them. Tate and Jim had the third set of bunks that sat in front of the window.

  This was the bunk Leo had used since he was a kid. He kept a notebook and pencil stuffed between the mattress and the side of the bunk, along with a small flashlight.

  He pulled them out, holding the flashlight between his teeth so he could see. He flipped through the tiny notebook, which was filled with page after page of football plays. Even as a kid, he had enjoyed designing plays.

  He stopped on an empty page and sketched out the plan for tonight. Even though he’d been over it a hundred times in his head, seeing it on paper helped cement it in his brain.

  The Russians might have the upper hand, but the Snipers had the ultimate sneak play. They had the Statue of Liberty. And they had Nonna’s bombs. The Soviet bastards would never see them coming.

  He had everyone up and moving a little before midnight. They dressed in plain jeans with dark shirts and jackets. Nonna was waiting for them in the kitchen with cups of espresso.

  Those who knew how to handle a gun—which was everyone except Jennifer—grabbed weapons. Leo gave Jennifer a small .22 caliber, just in case.

  “Just make sure you’re close to your target if you fire,” he said. “And make sure none of us is nearby in case your bullet goes wide. Okay?”

  Jennifer gave him a hard stare. “I’m going to hold you to your promise to teach me how to shoot.”

  “Later. After the mission.”

  She nodded and took the .22 from his hand, her fingers grazing his palm during the exchange. For once, he wasn’t pulled back to the shiny days of his youth when he was near her.

  He was learning it was pointless to dwell on the past. Leo wasn’t going to do it anymore. He’d spent the last two and a half years angry and resentful. It was time to look forward. He had a new team to lead and a homeland to defend.

  He threw a rifle over his back and grabbed a few extra magazines, shoving them into his belt. “Headlamps for everyone, then grab a bike,” he called. It had been decided they’d take bikes. It was easier to travel quietly that way, whereas horse hooves would clomp on the paved streets. Besides, the animals might spook in battle.

  Leo was the first to ride out, lighting the way for the rest. He kept his eyes and ears peeled as he rolled down Pole Mountain.

  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 i
nto 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.

  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 everyo
ne 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.