“But—what are we supposed to do?” the woman asked.
Mr. Gonzales stepped forward. “We make our deaths count for something. Do you have any more of those bombs?”
“Yeah.” Jennifer held out her hands, clutching three bombs. “We made them.”
Mr. Gonzales looked to the other infected. “I’m going to Bastopol. I’m going to find some Russians and take them out. If I have to die, I’m going to make sure I take as many of them with me as I can. Who’s with me?”
“Mr. Gonzales, here.” Anton stepped forward, eyes somber. He picked up a machine gun off the ground and passed it to the older man. Jennifer and Dal handed their remaining bombs to the group of infected people.
“My farm isn’t too far from here,” Mr. Gonzales said. “We’ll take my truck and go to Bastopol.”
“The elementary school,” Leo said. “That’s where the Soviets are stockpiling supplies.”
Mr. Gonzales nodded, eyes flinty. “Consider it done.”
“Good luck,” Leo said, his throat was tight. He’d known Mr. Gonzales his entire life. “Dal, come on. It’s time for us to go. Jennifer, I need you to stay with Anton and help him with the weapons.”
“No,” Jennifer began. “I’m coming with you—”
“No.” Leo glared to let her know this was not up for discussion.
She glared right back. “She’s my sister.”
Leo was running out of patience. “The situation has changed. These guns are important. We need them. And Dal is a better shot. If we run into trouble getting Cassie, two good shots will be better than one.”
Jennifer’s mouth tightened with resignation. She knew he was right. “You better bring her back to me, Leo.”
“We’ll meet you back at the cabin after we get Cassie.” Leo turned his back on her, sweeping his eyes over the survivors. “The rest of you, find someplace safe to hole up until help comes. Anton. Did you bring the spray paint?”
“Damn right I did.” Anton pulled out the can of orange paint from where it was secured against the small of his back with his belt.
“Make sure those assholes know who hit them.” Leo strode away without another word, Dal at his side.
5
Bad Plan
Cassie wished she had joined the basketball team. Jennifer always said she had the height of a basketball player. It had been her sister’s way of trying to make her feel good about her six feet of height and the full figure that went with it. If Cassie had taken her advice, she’d be in shape and have a better chance of outrunning the infected when she let them in the house.
Using her index finger, she pushed aside the blanket that had been nailed over the living room window. Her eyes took in the infected that prowled around the yard. Two were within eyesight. They circled around a garbage can, snarling and kicking at it.
Stephenson and Amanda had made it in the attic. Cassie heard them moving around overhead as they made their way to the front of the house. It was time for her to let the infected inside.
At least the zombies didn’t have higher thought. If higher thought had been combined with those freakishly fast, cannibalisitic tendencies, America would be well and truly screwed.
There were at least two other infected out there. The idea of all four of them rushing into the house made Cassie want to throw up all over her shoes. Thank God Mr. Nielson had killed a few of them already. Cassie would probably hyperventilate on the spot if she had to contend with more than four.
As it was, she was so scared she couldn’t see straight. She was seriously reconsidering the Vicodin plan. Was it really such a bad idea? It would bypass pain and panic. That seemed like a pretty good option at the moment.
What the hell had she been thinking? This was the worst plan in the history of bad plans. And history was chock full of bad plans.
Battle of Waterloo under Napoleon. Invasion of Moscow during World War II. Battle of Hattin that led to the loss of Jerusalem during the Crusades. Those were all bad, bad plans.
Cassie was pretty sure her plan would go down in flames just like those. She would be the first to go when the zombies caught her. Stephenson and Amanda would likely be right behind her. There would be no one left to pen an account that could be analyzed by historians of the future.
But what else could they do? They were destined to be zombie food if they sat around and did nothing. Her plan might have terrible odds, but terrible odds were better than no odds at all.
Use your brain, Cassie. You can do this.
She released the blanket and turned to survey the room. It was a straight shot from the back door, through the living room, to the kitchen entryway. The zombies were radically fast. She’d seen them streak across the yard when they attacked Mrs. Nielson.
Cassie grabbed a recliner chair and dragged it into the egress between the back door and the kitchen. Then she did the same thing with the coffee table. There. That provided two obstacles for the zombies.
Of course, they would also be obstacles for Cassie when she opened the back door. She snorted at the momentary mental vision of herself flying over the furniture like an Olympic hurdler. Who was she kidding?
She frowned, her mind working as she took in the details of the Nielsons’ back entrance. There was a plain wooden screen door on the outside. The infected would plow through that in less than a second.
But the main door had a dead bolt and a door chain. Cassie licked her lips. How long would the door chain hold? Thirty seconds? A minute?
Long enough for her to make it into the attic?
It was a plan. And not a bad plan, if she did so say herself. So long as it worked the way she hoped it would.
In chess, this situation would be considered a zugzwang—a situation where a player is forced to move into a disadvantageous situation simply because it’s his turn.
She’d fought her way out of zugzwangs on numerous occasions. It hadn’t been pretty. The last time it happened, she’d had to sacrifice a bishop to get out of the mess.
Hopefully, the door chain, recliner, and coffee table would be sufficient sacrifices. Hopefully, Cassie wouldn’t end up as dead meat like her bishop had.
She was burning daylight. If she didn’t want to have to run for her life through the dark, she had to move now.
She tiptoed to the back door and double checked the door chain. It looked solid.
“Here goes nothing,” she whispered.
She turned the dead bolt. It made a soft, distinct snick. Holding her breath, she turned the door knob. The door squealed loudly on un-greased hinges.
The roar of the zombies was instantaneous. Cassie screamed and leaped back from the door as the first of them smashed into it. The wooden screen cracked under the assault. The back door shook in its frame.
She tripped over her own feet when she tried to turn and run. She knocked her knee painfully against the coffee table, but caught herself.
Should have joined the basketball team. The thought skittered through her mind as she bolted away.
She dashed around the chair as the roaring behind her crescendoed. Her foot hit the chipped linoleum of the kitchen when she heard the back door snap off its hinges.
She was so scared her brain stopped working. She didn’t turn to see if her obstacles truly functioned as such. All she could do was run in blind panic.
She barreled past Mr. and Mrs. Nielson’s bedroom. Mrs. Nielson was frenzied, beating so hard at the door that she’d managed to knock a hole through the wood.
Cassie screamed at the sight but didn’t slow. She hit Amanda’s bedroom and leaped onto the bed. The ladder-back chair still rested precariously against the wall and mattress. What the hell had she been thinking? That was worst plan on the planet.
The chair bobbed as she leaped onto the bed. Her heart hammered painfully in her chest. The zombies howled outside in the hall. She’d never been so scared in her life.
Or at least, that’s what she thought as her Vans found purchase on the edge of the c
hair. Then the first of the zombies burst into the room.
Nope. Ten seconds ago had been kitten’s play. This was officially the scariest moment ever.
The infected was a plain-looking man in blue jeans and a jean shirt. His feathered blond hair was encrusted with blood splatter. There was blood smeared all over his mouth.
At the sight of Cassie, his lips pulled back from his teeth. Balanced precariously on the ladder-back chair, she had a perfect view of teeth and gums laced with blood and chunks of skin.
The zombie shrieked. So did Cassie.
She leaped, pushing off the chair with both feet just as the infected lunged across the bed. The chair scraped against the wall, tearing out the kitty-cat wallpaper and a chunk of sheetrock. Cassie grabbed the exposed rafter just as the zombie tackled the chair out from under her.
Cassie had done exactly one pull-up in her entire life. It had been in gym class under the duress of getting a B in the class if she couldn’t get her body to do the impossible. She remembered dangling from the bar, an impatient Mrs. Fink tapping the eraser of her number-two pencil against the clipboard.
Cassie had spent weeks doing arm curls in her bedroom with a pair of weights she’d picked up at the second-hand store. Jennifer had given her a workout routine. She even did push-ups with Cassie.
And somehow, miraculously, Cassie had pulled a single pull-up out of her ass on exam day. She thought she would be free of pull-ups for the rest of her life.
She’d been dead wrong. As the zombie tackled the chair out from under her, she was left dangling from the roof rafter.
Pure adrenaline shot through her arms. Cassie knocked out the best pull-up ever, yanking herself straight up. She would have declared the feat radical, had her brain been functioning on a level that allowed speech.
She swung her Vans to the side just as a second infected leaped onto the bed. Cassie rolled sideways away from the opening, panting as she landed in a pile of fluffy pink insulation.
Crap. She was going to be covered in fiberglass cuts. If she didn’t fall through the ceiling. Already she could feel the panel bowing beneath her weight.
She grabbed the nearest support beam and dragged her body onto it. A hand with bloody fingernails reached through the opening in the ceiling, swiping. She could tell by the noise that all four zombies were in the room below her.
“Cassie!”
She turned. Amanda and Stephenson were at the far end of the attic. The vent had been removed, exposing a small circle of open air.
“Cassie, hurry up!” Amanda cried.
Cassie scrambled to her feet. Holding her arms out for balance, she scurried down the beam to her friends. Stephenson was halfway out the opening by the time she got there.
“You did it.” Amanda threw her arms around Cassie. “I was so afraid you’d die.”
Cassie returned the hug. “Me, too.”
“I heard you screaming and thought for sure you were a gonner.”
Cassie glanced back in the direction of the hole in the ceiling. There were now several hands in the opening, searching the empty air. “Come on, guys. We gotta go.” Before one of those zombies figured out it could climb on its buddies to get into the attic.
Stephenson scrunched up his eyes and let go. To his credit, he didn’t yell or shout as he dropped to the porch below.
“Go,” Cassie urged, pushing Amanda to the opening.
“But—”
“Go! I’ll keep their attention occupied.” Cassie illustrated this point by calling, “Here, zombie zombie zombie!” across the attic.
Amanda hissed between her teeth. The infected snarled, several of them making a disturbing barking sound. Amanda dropped out of sight.
“Come and get us!” Cassie called one last time before following Stephenson and Amanda out the air vent.
After the run through the house with infected on her heels, the short drop to the top of the porch was practically a cake walk. She landed lightly on the balls of her feet, then turned to scan the area.
The Gremlin was parked just below the front porch. Stephenson and Amanda crouched on the end of the roof, staring nervously at the downspout. There was no immediate sign of zombies, but they had to get the heck out of here before the monsters realized they were no longer in the attic.
Cassie hustled over to the gutter. “Come on, guys.” She grabbed the edge and swung out over the ground.
Stephenson gasped with worry. “Be careful, Cas!”
“We have to hurry.” She wrapped her ankles around the downspout. She transferred her hands from the gutter to the drain.
Less than a month ago, Mrs. Fink’s PE class gave her nightmares. Today, she was damn grateful that sadistic woman had made them shimmy up and down ropes in the gym. Cassie slid down the downspout, using her feet to control her descent, just as Mrs. Fink had taught them.
She hit the ground and looked up at her friends. “Hurry up!” She made sweeping gestures with her arms in the direction of the Gremlin. “We have to go!”
Stephenson and Amanda exchanged looks. Cassie thought her head might explode. “Stephenson, come on!”
He had grit. She knew that for a fact. She’d seen Stephenson roll up his sleeves and take on chess players of higher rank. She’d seen him narrow his eyes and kick ass on the black-and-white board. Stephenson could dig deep with knights and pawns.
But Cassie saw none of that grit now as he timidly gripped the edge of the gutter and dropped over the edge. He let out a shout of fear as his feet floundered for purchase on the downspout. The rubber soles of his tennis shoes made squeaking noises against the metal.
“Stephenson,” Cassie hissed, “stop making noise!” She licked her lips, looking nervously toward the house. The zombies snarled and growled inside.
Stephenson half slid, half fell to the ground. He grunted as he hit the dirt and landed on his butt.
Cassie yanked on the car door. It was locked.
“Stephen, we need the keys!”
Stephenson fumbled in his pocket for them. He had just fitted the key into the lock when Cassie saw an infected rip down the blanket that covered the kitchen window. Their eyes met through the glass above the sink. It was the same man with feathered blond hair and denim shirt.
“Amanda, hurry!”
The monster leaped onto the counter and slammed both fists against the glass. A long crack spidered across it.
Stephen finally managed to get the car unlocked. He dove inside and slammed the door.
Amanda now hung from the gutter and was in the process of wrapping her ankles around the drain. Cassie saw the rest of the infected charge the front window.
“Amanda!” Cassie shot a single look at Stephenson, who sat wide-eyed behind the driver’s seat. “Start the car.”
“But—!”
“Start the car,” she screamed, just as the front window exploded outward.
6
Jock Face
Two zombies hit the window opening simultaneously. It was the feather-haired man and a chubby woman in a cherry print sundress.
The expanded midsection of the woman slowed their process. She and the guy with feathered hair got stuck in the broken window. They pushed and shoved at each other, trying to claw their way free. Blood spurted as they cut themselves on glass. The feather-haired man gained ground on the fat woman, quickly squeezing past her wriggling form.
Cassie didn’t have time to think her way out of the escalating situation. Amanda was halfway down the drain. She’d drop right onto the zombies if Cassie didn’t do something.
There wasn’t a lot of light around the Nielson house due to the towering trees, but that didn’t stop the Nielsons from attempting to cultivate a tiny garden. Their five tomato plants were just starting to ripen, even though it was late in the season. Stakes of rebar kept the tomatoes from falling over.
Cassie grabbed one of the rusty pieces of rebar and yanked it free.
Amanda hit the ground just as the feather-haired zombie tumb
led free. She landed on her butt. The zombie cracked his head on the cement slab of the porch and smeared blood all down the front of the house. He rolled sideways and bounded to his feet, blood-shot eyes fixated on Amanda as she scrambled up
“Amanda!” Cassie raced to get between her best friend and the zombie. She wielded the rebar like a spear.
She didn’t think beyond protecting her friend. She aimed for the zombie’s sternum, thinking to shove him back. It didn’t even qualify as a plan; it was more of a half-formed idea.
Cassie braced her feet against the ground, knees bent for leverage as the zombie hurled himself at her. What she didn’t factor in was the sheer momentum of the charging monster. The metal stake tore down the front of his chest and plunged right into his gut.
She felt the vibration of the tearing flesh and organs all the way up the length of the rebar. Cassie squealed in terror.
The zombie let out a moan of protest before collapsing at her feet. Blood gushed out of his body, wicking across the front of Cassie’s black-and-white checkered Vans.
The chubby zombie in the sundress had finally wormed her way free of the window. She scuttled across the porch on all fours, blood dripping from the torn skin on her torso. She was like a giant, bleeding beetle in cherry print.
Right behind her were the rest of the zombies
Cassie was out of ideas. Her rebar was under the body of the dead zombie. There was more rebar in the small garden, but she was only one girl. No way could she stand against all three infected. Her only hope was to get to the car, which rumbled to life with Stephenson behind the wheel.
Cassie took two stumbling steps backward as the sundress zombie launched herself off the ground. She flew straight at Cassie, teeth bared in a rictus. Cassie saw her death in those bloodshot eyes.
A shot rang out. Cassie jumped as a bullet slammed into the forehead of the sundress zombie. The infected let out a pained cry before dropping to the ground in a flabby puddle.
Zommunist Invasion Box Set | Books 1-3 Page 28