Cassie’s breath caught in her throat. “Headlights,” she breathed. They slipped in and out of sight as they followed the natural curve of the land.
“Several sets of them,” Jennifer said grimly. “Think it’s the Russian busses?”
“It has to be. Who else would be out here? Come on, we have to hurry.”
They drove down the bridge to the last set of trusses. Jennifer didn’t waste any time scaling up the side. Cassie kept her eyes on the approaching vehicles, nervously chewing at her bottom lip.
Thanks to the vantage point of Luma Bridge, they could see for miles down the coastline. The Russian busses were still quite a ways off, but they would eat up that distance quickly.
The arrival of the busses changed everything. Blowing the bridge was only part of the mission. The original plan had been to blow the bridge with the Russians on it.
Zugzwang. She’d come full circle from her time in the Nielson house, once again faced with bad choices on all sides.
They had only two moves.
a) They could wait and blow the bridge when the Russians were on it and likely die in the process.
b) They could blow the bridge now and save themselves, but leave four busses of invaders out there, who would eventually make it to West County.
What were they supposed to do?
In chess, the answer was easy. But life wasn’t a chessboard.
Or maybe it was a chessboard. Jim had proven that, hadn’t he? Cassie was just having a hard time accepting it.
Jennifer finished placing the bombs and dropped back to the ground just as Cassie cut the last fuse. She took one look at Cassie’s face and set her lips. “I know what you’re thinking.”
Cassie glanced in the direction of the approaching busses. The headlights had momentarily disappeared behind a curve in the land, but she knew they were getting closer by the second. “We have to try and take out the busses. We’ll blow the lower portion of the bridge now.”
“You think it’s safe? What if the bridge falls?”
Cassie shook her head, recalling the details of the Anarchist’s Cookbook page in her mind. “The Cookbook showed that both sections need to be blown to completely disable the bridge. Blowing the first section will weaken it, but both sections have to go to bring it down. We’ll wait for the busses to arrive before blowing the second section. Then we drive as fast as we can and hope for the best.”
“No.” Jennifer shook her head. “If they see the jeep on the bridge, they might figure out it’s a trap. You need to take the jeep and wait for me at the entrance. I’ll stay behind and light the last set of fuses, then run like hell. I’ll have several minutes before they explode.”
“But what if you’re spotted?”
“I’ll be hard to see. They won’t be looking for someone on foot. They’ll be so distracted by the fuses they won’t even see me.”
That was a big if. The thought of losing Jennifer left Cassie feeling sick. She opened her mouth, but Jennifer forestalled her with a raised hand.
“Of the two of us, I have the best chance of escaping on foot.”
Cassie swallowed. “They’re not great odds, Jen.”
“I know. But I’m willing to take the risk. I’m the athlete, you’re the brains.” Jennifer tenderly touched the side of Cassie’s cheek. “It has to be me.”
She was right. A bishop couldn’t fight a knight’s battle anymore than a rook could fight a bishop’s battle. Every piece on the board was designed for a specific purpose. Only working in tandem could true military brilliance be achieved.
If they were going to take out the busses, Jennifer was the best person to do it. Cassie blinked away tears. Now was not the time for a breakdown. This was war. They were playing for keeps.
Besides, Jennifer was awesome. If there was anyone who could escape an exploding bridge and four busloads of Russians, it was her.
“We have to do it now while the busses are out of sight,” Jennifer pulled out her Zippo. “Get ready, Cas.”
She was right. The land still blocked the busses from view. Cassie knew a long stretch of the highway snaked inland for many miles. With any luck, that meant they could set off the first explosion without being seen.
Jennifer began to ignite the fuses. The first of them lit with a hiss, sending out a soft glow of orange light.
Something moved on the bridge. Cassie’s heart froze. Was that a person? Who would be out here in the middle of the night?
You are, Cas, she chided herself.
Jennifer lit the second fuse. More light flooded the night.
There was most definitely a person on the bridge. Whoever he was, he was coming from the south and moving fast.
The third fuse hissed to life like a dying star.
It was just enough light for Cassie to see the man on the bridge was a Russian. He wore the familiar uniform with the star, sickle, and hammer. He ran on cat’s feet down the bridge, gun in hand.
Where had he come from?
Was he human or zombie?
Whatever the case, his sights were set on them. His machine gun was raised—aiming straight for the two of them.
“Come on,” Jennifer screamed, running for the jeep.
Cassie didn’t budge. “Soviet! Look out!” She grabbed her machine gun and sprayed bullets into the night.
46
Drive-In
Leo was propped on his knees in the back seat of the jeep as Bruce roared down the highway. He’d traded his rifle out for a machine gun. He was ready to open fire on the Soviet bastards as soon as they came into sight.
They weren’t far behind. He caught glimpses of their headlights, but this part of the highway was twisty. Every time the Soviets came into sight, Bruce tore around another corner and lost them.
“We need a plan.” Spill was next to him, machine gun also in hand. “We can’t just try to outrun them. It’ll never work”
He was right. Sooner or later, they’d run into zombie, mutants, a car wreck, or more Russians—maybe all of the above. They had to take these guys out.
He wracked his brain, mentally scanning the road ahead of them. It wouldn’t be long before the highway straightened out and widened into a proper four-lane freeway. They had to be rid of the Russians before then.
“Bruce,” he shouted over the roar of the wind. Leo shifted his weight as Bruce took a hard corner. “Have you ever been to the old drive-in theater on Bolinas Ridge?”
“I know the place. Took a few girls there for dates.”
“The turn-off is coming up,” Leo said. The drive-in was situated on top of a bluff, the back of which overlooked the freeway. “If you can get up there fast enough, we might be able to get the drop on the Russian bastards.”
“Got it, Cap.”
Leo was nonplussed by the title. He’d graduated before Bruce had joined the varsity football team. He realized with a jolt of surprise that Bruce wasn’t making a football reference; he was calling Leo his commander.
Leo unzipped his backpack, dumping a few extra bombs onto the seat between him and Spill. “We’re outnumbered,” he said. “If we can hit them with these, it will even the odds a bit.”
“Let’s hope they don’t have RPGs,” Spill replied.
“Hold on!” Bruce slammed on the brakes and made a hard left, hitting the narrow frontage road that led to the drive-in. It paralleled the freeway for several miles before winding up a small hill to the outdoor theater.
“Kill the lights,” Leo shouted. This plan wouldn’t work if the Russians figured out they’d gotten off the freeway. “And floor it, Bruce.”
“Got it, Cap.” The headlights switched off as Bruce accelerated. The scent of burned rubber filled Leo’s nostrils.
Not more than a mile behind them, the Russians barreled into view. Leo could see their headlights. With any luck, they’d be so busy looking at the freeway, they would’t realize the Snipers had taken a different route until it was too late.
“Stay ahead of them,” L
eo said. If they could reach the bluff, they could drop bombs straight onto the Soviet bastards.
The old jeep raced up the road. Leo kept his gun up, tracking the Russians. They were getting closer to the frontage road exit. Closer, closer …
Leo let out of whoop of triumph when both jeeps shot past it, never even slowing.
The frontage road drifted away from the freeway, wending up the small hill to the drive-in. Three large white movie screens loomed into view, relics from a time before zombies and war. Leo’s father had brought them here on several occasions over the years. He remembered sneaking sips from his dad’s beer can when he went to the bathroom. Dal and Lena always scolded him, while Anton tried to wheedle a sip for himself.
The memory flashed through Leo’s mind, a fleeting piece of happiness he could hardly comprehend. As soon as Bruce hit the brakes beneath the big screens, Leo scooped up a handful of bombs and raced to the bluff at the back of the parking lot.
His feet crunched on bits of popcorn and discarded candy boxes as he ran. A cardboard popcorn bucket bounced off his shoe. He skidded to a halt behind a chainlink fence that overlooked the freeway, snatching a lighter out of his front pocket.
His finger brushed the torn remains of the crinkly condom package. Those blissful moments with Cassie seemed almost as far away as his memories of the drive-in.
The Russians were almost beneath them. He lit his first bomb just as Spill skidded to a stop beside him. The soldier touched a bomb to Leo’s Zippo. Both bombs ignited with a sizzle of the fuse.
They threw them at the same time, twin arches sparking through the night. They landed inside the first jeep just as it tore past beneath them.
“Get down,” Spill cried, throwing himself into the dirt.
The explosion was magnificent. The engine ignited with the blast, sending a giant fireball into the night. Leo flattened himself to the ground just as bits of metal and other debris flew through the air. He and Spill exchanged exhilarated grins.
Their triumph was short-lived.
“Guys!” Bruce ran toward them, gun in hand. “Fuck, guys, the second jeep just turned around. They’re coming for us.”
Leo jumped to his feet. Sure enough, the second jeep was driving south on the northbound lane, racing back into the direction of the frontage road.
Leo refused to go down. “Get your weapons,” he barked. “We’re taking these fuckers out. Get up on the catwalks behind the movie screens.”
Bruce and Spill hauled ass toward the screens. Leo was right behind them. He wanted the high ground. They were going to hit the Soviet bastards hard and fast.
They each ran to a different screen, scrambling up a ladder to the wooden catwalks. It was perfect. When those Soviet assholes roared into the drive-in, Leo’s people would hit from them three sides. They wouldn’t stand a chance.
Leo crouched, his rifle once again in hand. His machine gun hung around his neck, a backup in case he needed it.
Headlights appeared on the frontage road. The Russians had found the entrance. They were coming for the Snipers.
“Joke’s on you, assholes,” Leo growled. “The Snipers are ready for you.” He raised his rifle, sighting down the barrel.
A streak of light burst from the oncoming jeep, speeding straight for the drive-in.
“Incoming!” Spill bellowed.
An RPG hit the gray jeep. The vehicle exploded. Leo covered his head as shrapnel tore clean through the movie screen.
“Fuck, I’m hit,” Spill said.
“Suck it up,” Leo yelled back. “You can whine after the Soviets die.”
“Yes, sir!” Spill’s voice had a manic edge.
The Soviets roared into the drive-in. Leo was behind the screen closest to the road. He poked his rifle around the screen, aimed for the driver, and pulled the trigger.
Satisfaction coursed through him as a spray of red painted the night air, but he didn’t let up. As the jeep careened through the parking lot, he aimed at the next closest bastard in the back seat. Another spray of red burst into the air.
“Fuck, yeah. Take that, assholes.”
The last two Russians jumped out of the car, making a run for it.
Leo instantly saw they were not up against regular Russians. The two men moved so fast they blurred as they raced for the periphery of the drive-in. They bounded like animals, using both their hands and feet to propel them forward. They’d been infected by the nezhit vaccine.
But no matter how fast they were, they couldn’t outrun their own machine guns. Especially when the shooters had the high ground. Bruce and Spill gunned them down. They died like dogs in the dirt.
Leo, Bruce, and Spill climbed down from the movie screens and met in the middle of the carnage. Pieces of burning jeep were scattered throughout the lot. Part of Bruce’s screen was on fire, having been hit by a piece of burning shrapnel.
Spill had a big, twisted piece of metal lodged in his shoulder. He walked hunched over from the pain, but his smile was wide.
“You are one crazy motherfucker. It is a damn fine pleasure to serve with you, Captain Cecchino.” Spill stuck out his good hand, grinning from ear to ear.
Leo shook his hand, not bothering to argue with the title. He didn’t give a shit what the guys called him so long as they helped him fight.
“Let’s get that shrapnel out of your shoulder. Bruce, hold his arm.”
Bruce obliged, taking up position behind Spill and holding his wrist.
Leo braced one hand against Spill’s good shoulder, wrapping the other around the twisted chunk of metal.
“On three,” he said. “One, two, three—”
Spill bellowed as Leo yanked out the metal. Blood gushed out of the wound.
Leo had nothing to bandage the wound. Cassie had the first aid kit. He had Bruce cut the sleeve off Griggs’s shirt, using it to bandage the wound.
When they had Spill patched up, Leo looked around the drive-in. The Soviet jeep was still idling, having rolled into the chainlink fence when Leo shot the driver.
“Come on,” he said. “We’re getting out of here.” Cassie and Jennifer were waiting for them. Hell if he was going to stand them up.
47
Trade
Bullets zipped across Luma Bridge while the fuses hissed up into the night.
Cassie was so scared she could hardly think. It occurred to her she should take cover behind the jeep, but all she could do was lay into her trigger and scream.
One of her bullets connected with the Soviet’s gun hand. The soldier was up against the bridge railing. Cassie had just enough time to register the gun tipping over the side before a searing pain went through her calf.
“Cassie!” Jennifer grabbed her as she crumpled, dragging her behind the jeep.
Pain burned up her leg. Cassie looked down and saw blood gushing from the side of her right calf.
“I’ve been hit,” she said dumbly. It hurt so badly she could hardly breathe.
“You’re fine. Stay right here.” Jennifer positioned herself in front of Cassie and raised her machine gun. She peered around the vehicle. “Dammit, where did he go?”
Cassie took in great gulps of air, trying to breathe through the pain. “I got his gun hand. He dropped his gun over the side when I hit him.”
“But I don’t see him.”
“Maybe he fell over the side, too?”
“I’m not sure we’re that lucky. We have to move. Those bombs are going to blow any minute now.”
Nonna had told Cassie it took thirty seconds to burn through a foot of fuse. The longest fuse was ten feet, but the shortest fuse was six feet. They didn’t have much time.
Cassie bit her lip and dragged her butt into the passenger side of the jeep. Pain shot up her leg with every step she took, but she hadn’t come this far to get blown up. She wrapped clammy hands around her machine gun as Jennifer fired up the engine.
Cassie scanned the road beside them as Jennifer drove forward. She was greeted with an empty brid
ge. There was no sign of the Soviet anywhere. Where the hell was he? Had he taken cover behind a truss? Had he taken off because he no longer had a gun?
They reached the second set of trusses without incident. Cassie’s paranoia ratcheted up to an all-time high. Where the hell was that Soviet, and why wasn’t he attacking them?
They got out of the jeep. Cassie limped around the vehicle, fuse spool in her hand. Jennifer grabbed bombs, once again tucking them into her shirt.
That’s when Cassie saw the shadow. It moved like like a giant spider across the upper section of the bridge, leaping nimbly between the trusses.
It was the Soviet. No, it was the Soviet zombie. He leaped from the truss with the inevitability of an avalanche. There was no way a regular human could move like that. And he was nearly upon them.
Correction: he was nearly upon Jennifer.
She’d thought regular zombies were scary. She’d thought mutant zombies were terrifying.
Nothing prepared her for the fear of staring up at a Russian zombie that moved like a demonic arachnid.
Her world narrowed. She could see nothing beyond the Russian zombie and the death he promised. Jennifer hadn’t even noticed him yet.
“Jen, zombie!” She laid into the trigger of her machine gun, firing over Jennifer’s head.
The zombie leaped sideways, avoiding her stream of bullets. He latched onto a truss and swung through the air, still coming for them—fast. He was too damned fast. Nothing should be able to move like that.
Cassie jerked the barrel, trying to gun him down as he leaped from truss to truss like Tarzan. Jennifer joined her, the two of them attacking.
Cassie sensed the moment when their bullets connected with the monster. She heard them thud into his skin. He let up a pain-filled keen before falling from the trusses. He hit the ground no more than ten feet away from them.
“We are so fucked if the entire Soviet army turns into zombies,” Jennifer’s breaths were shallow from the near-miss. “Thanks for saving my ass.”
Cassie nodded. “You better go.”
Zommunist Invasion Box Set | Books 1-3 Page 49