Zommunist Invasion Box Set | Books 1-3

by Picott, Camille

  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.

  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.

  The sound of car engines filled the air, mingling with the barks and howls of the zombies. Russians were on their way.

  Leo forced himself to keep his cool, reminding himself this was all part of the plan. They would give Dal and Lena the full five minutes. They were counting on them.

  Luckily, the Russians and zombies weren’t the only things making noise. Echoing through the campus was the sound of bombs and gunshots: Anton, Bruce, Jim, and Tate were busy. His team was making a spectacle, as planned. They took out infected up and down the narrow street.

  “Over there!” Jennifer pointed.

  Leo followed the line of her finger to the northern end of the road. The first of the Russians had arrived. They drove right into the kill box, oblivious to the trap that had been laid.

  There were four open-top jeeps speeding down the street. They knocked aside any nezhit in the way. Russians were packed inside, many of them perched on the roll bar with their machine guns.

  Their attention was on the street as they scanned for the source of the attack. They hadn’t yet realized the attack came from above.

  The four jeeps drove straight past the cafeteria, unaware of Jim and Tate lying in wait. As soon as the Soviets were within range, a dozen bombs sailed over the edge of the building.

  His friends might not be quarterbacks, but they both knew how to throw a ball. Their aim was true. Leo let up a shout of triumph as Nonna’s sachet bombs landed in the back of the jeeps.

  The explosions were nothing short of spectacular. Bodies were ejected out of the vehicles. Machine guns exploded. The bottom blasted out of one jeep, spewing the tires every which way.

  “Take that, fuckers.” Jennifer readied another round of bombs as the next group of vehicles poured onto the street.

  This time, there were six jeeps. It looked like the Russians had raided a car lot. Every last one of them was in a shiny new jeep.

  “Get the hell out of there, guys,” Leo murmured. Jim and Tate were supposed to fall back as soon as they gave up their location. This next wave of Soviets would fall to Anton to Bruce.

  Sure enough, the Russians stopped and opened fire on the cafeteria. While their attention was on the western building, Anton and Bruce attacked from the east.

  The bleachers were at least twenty-five yards south of the Russians, Anton was up to the challenge. Watching through the binoculars, Leo saw Bruce light fuses and pass bombs to Anton. From the top of the bleachers, his little brother lobbed bomb after bomb at the Russians. The sparking sachets lit the night like tiny fireworks.

  They began to explode. The back of a jeep was torn off. More bodies were ejected out o
f vehicles. A rocket launcher went off, sending a missile straight into the air. It detonated over the school like a firework, lighting up the campus.

  Leo looked at his watch. Sixty seconds. Time for Anton and Bruce to retreat. The next group of Russians belonged to him and Jennifer.

  Shouting drew Leo’s attention. A group of five Soviets on foot burst into view, running out from between the buildings and onto the street. They beelined straight for the bleachers, heedless of the nezhit that still prowled the street. To them, the infected were harmless. They opened fire on Anton and Bruce.

  “Shit.” Leo dropped to one knee and sighted down his rifle. “Jennifer, keep an eye out for more Russians.” He didn’t like revealing his location, but with any luck, he’d get rid of these assholes before the next fleet of vehicles arrived.

  Leo fired. The first Russian dropped, a clean shot to the back. Leo racked his weapon and fired a second time, dropping a second Russian.

  Two down. Three to go. And now he had their attention. Good. It would give Anton and Bruce time to regroup.

  Leo sighted on the third Russian. The idiot looked around wildly, trying to discern where the shot had come from. Leo shot him in the chest and racked his gun.

  Two left. They raced around a car parked on the road and took shelter in a circle of nezhit, using the infected for cover. Assholes. The infected barely noticed them, their attention still on the bleachers.

  Leo inhaled slowly, waiting for an opening. Distantly, he noted the sound of cars—a whole bunch of them—getting close. Really, really close.

  “Leo,” Jennifer hissed, “they’re here!”

  Leo tuned her out. His sole focus was Anton and Bruce. Hell if he was going to let anything happen to them.

  Shots cracked out from the bleachers. Anton and Bruce returned fire at the Russians. One of the Soviets yelped, momentarily slipping out from behind a zombie. Leo took him out with a shot to the head.

  One more. He racked the gun, never taking his eyes from the crowd massed at the base of the bleachers. Get out of there, Anton!

  “Leo!”

  He could just make out the last Soviet. He was using a knot of three nezhit as a shield.

  “Screw this,” Jennifer muttered. “We don’t have time for this shit.”

  Before Leo could stop her, she lobbed a bomb. It sailed straight for the knot of nezhit.

  43

  Touchdown

  “What the fuck?” Leo shouted, never taking his eyes from the street below. “You just gave up our location!”

  “I gave up our location?” Jennifer screamed. “The Russians are here!”

  Her bomb exploded. The explosion sent a ripple through the mass of zombies. The Soviet was exposed for no more than a few seconds.

  It was long enough for Leo to drop the man with two shots to the chest. “Get out of there, Anton!” he bellowed.

  Shots ripped through the air, zipping over his head and thudding into the side of the auditorium. Leo threw himself down flat against the roof. Jennifer shrieked and dropped to the rooftop beside him. More bullets flew over them.

  “Fuck!” Leo pounded his fist on the tar and gravel beneath him.

  He’d fucked up. He knew it. He’d deviated from the plan. But it was either that or let his little brother get pinned down by those communist bastards.

  He’d made his choice. Now he had to live with it.

  Fuck it. He was ready to die to save the ones he loved. It was a good way to go out. He grabbed a Zippo and two bombs.

  “Get out of here,” he said to Jennifer. “Take the ladder. I’ll catch up when I can.”

  He touched the Zippo to the fuses. As soon as they began to spark, he jumped up.

  In a split second, he took in the mayhem on the street below him. There were wrecked cars and bodies everywhere.

  Another ten jeeps had arrived. They weaved through the destruction, their sights set on the theater. The foremost of them was almost upon them. Even in the dark, Leo could see the rocket launcher aimed in their direction.

  He threw both bombs and dropped, scuttling back from the edge—and ran smack into Jennifer.

  “What the hell?” He grabbed the back of her jean jacket and dragged her backward. “I told you get out of here.”

  “Fuck you,” she shouted back. “I’m not leaving your crazy ass up here to die!”

  The rocket hit the top edge of the roof where Leo had been standing and exploded. The shockwave sent them both rolling across the rooftop. Gravel tore at his exposed skin and bit through his jeans. Seconds later, more explosions went off—this time from below them.

  Leo scrambled back to his feet. There was a gaping hole in a huge section of the roof. At least half of it was gone. Shit. If he went anywhere near there, the whole thing could collapse under his weight.

  “Get out of here, Jen. I mean it!” Crouching low, he ran to the north side of the building, giving the hole a wide berth.

  Jennifer followed him, pulling more bombs out of the backpack. “I already told you, I’m not leaving your ass to die up here.” She lit a bomb and shoved it at him.

  Gritting his teeth, Leo took a few running steps and threw. The bomb sailed through the air, heading for the next closest jeep.

  His bomb wasn’t the only one. Popping up from behind the bleachers, Anton lobbed several bombs of his own.

  “Touchdown,” Anton bellowed as one of his bombs took out the side of a jeep. “Take that, fuckers!”

  Leo ducked back down as the Russians returned fire. God dammit. Why wasn’t anyone listening to him? Why weren’t they falling back and getting the hell out of here? It was clear from the look on Jennifer’s face that she wasn’t going to budge.

  He chanced a look back out at the street. Three jeeps were down, but there were still seven to go. Due to the wreckage and debris cluttering the road, they were forced to slow and weave their way up the street. The closest of them was fifty yards away. Leo could make a fifty yard throw with his eyes closed.

  Another rocket was fired, this one at the bleachers. It struck the northern side, spewing shrapnel in every direction.

  “Anton!” Leo cried.

  Jennifer shoved another sparking bomb into his hand. Leo made his next throw.

  Jennifer kept lighting. He kept throwing.

  The bleachers listed to one side. Leo could hardly believe his eyes when Anton popped up on the far end and lobbed another bomb. He joined Leo in the assault, lobbing bomb after bomb.

  Fifty yards. Fifty-five yards. Sixty. The two brothers lit up the night. Their arms were strong and their aim was true.

  Bullets pierced the air around them. Leo and Anton began ducking down between throws, doing their best to avoid enemy fire. Soon, only two jeeps remained.

  But the Soviets had wisened up. They drew to a halt when they were seventy-five yards, maybe even eighty yards away. He saw them readying their rocket launchers.

  Leo knew he could throw the ball at least seventy yards. He’d done it many times. It was one of the reasons he’d been so heavily recruited senior year.

  If he hoped to survive the next sixty seconds, he was going to have to throw farther than that.

  Once again, Jennifer shoved a lit bomb into his hands. “Give them hell, Leo.”

  Everything leapt into focus around him, just as it always had on the football field. Jennifer beside him. Anton and Bruce nearby. The enemy three-quarters of the way down the field.

  His entire life was all about this moment. Leo knew it as sure as he knew the color of his own eyes. Everything boiled down to right now. He would either live or die.

  He sure as fuck didn’t plan on dying.

  He ran several steps forward and threw. The sparking bomb zipped through the air in a perfect arc.

  It was a damn good throw. Damn good. Seventy-five yards at least.

  It bounced onto the hood of the first jeep.

  Then something happened. The bomb went off, but it wasn’t a regular explosion. Nonna’s bombs, while
effective, were modest in their blast radius. They were just enough to fuck shit up. They weren’t enough to blow shit to the moon.

  The explosion that went off in front of Leo was like something out of a Hollywood movie. A huge fireball filled the street. It blasted the jeep straight into the air. It caught several other jeeps in the blast.

  He realized the Russians were carrying large munitions, things more powerful than the rocket launchers they’d encountered so far. Missiles or grenades or who-the-hell-knew-what. And Leo had hit the vehicle carrying them.

  The heat of the blast seared over Leo’s skin. Shrapnel spewed down the street. He covered his face and hunched down as debris hurtled through the air. A wheel hit the rooftop no more than five feet to his left.

  Off to either side, he heard Jennifer and the others yelling his name. He distantly realized they were cheering for him. His own personal crowd in the biggest game of his life.

  “Cal Berkley is eating shit right now!” Jennifer cried.

  “Time’s up,” Leo replied. “We’re out of here.”

  Jennifer didn’t argue with him. She beelined for the ladder. Leo was right behind her. They raced through the campus. Leo kept his rifle up and shot anything that moved.

  They met up with Bruce and Anton at the edge of the school. The younger boys were covered in soot and grime. Their eyes were hard, their jaws set. Leo realized that in a few short minutes, they’d transformed from boys into soldiers.

  He grabbed Anton in a rough hug. “Nice throws.”

  Anton thumped Leo on the back. “You too, brother.”

  “Time to get the hell out of here,” Leo said. The Russians were in disarray, but that wouldn’t last long. He hoped Jim and Tate were safe.

  “Wait.” Anton pulled a bottle of orange spray paint out of his jacket.

  Time was short, but Leo didn’t stop him. He wanted the Soviets to know who had fucked up their day.

  He and the others kept watch while Anton quickly sprayed the word Snipers in giant orange letters on the pavement.