Zommunist Invasion | Book 1 | Red Virus

by Picott, Camille

  They hurried out the way they had come, slipping back into the alleyway behind the Goodwill. The sky outside was a dark purple, stars speckling the sky.

  Even before they reached the far end of the alley, Dal heard the strange sound. It was grunting and growling, not unlike the sounds the girl in the Goodwill shop had made.

  He pointed to his ear, then to the far end of the alley. Lena and Mr. Cecchino nodded. They heard it, too.

  They cautiously peered around the corner.

  There, in the middle of the street, were three people. Their faces and necks were covered in black veins. Their eyes were bloodshot. They growled and gnashed their teeth. They moved in a group, scanning the buildings around them like a hunting pack.

  Dal sucked in his breath. They looked just like the girl who had attacked them in the store.

  “Infected,” Lena breathed. “They’re all infected with the Soviet poison.” She threw an anguished look in her father’s direction.

  The three infected moved down the street in their direction. They entered the mouth of alley just as Dal, Lena, and Mr. Cecchino ducked behind a dumpster. Dal pressed his cheek against the brick building so he could see through the narrow gap between the dumpster and the wall.

  The monsters sniffed around the edge of the alleyway, barking and growling to one another like a pack of dogs.

  Dal felt pressure on his forearm. He glanced down to find Lena’s hand clamped around it. One look at her face told him everything she was feeling. She was terrified of the crazed sick people, but she was more terrified for her father.

  Mr. Cecchino didn’t look good. The front of his shirt was soaked with sweat. His breath came in short gasps. Red glazed the edges of his eyes. The infection in his arm was spreading before their eyes.

  Dal refused to imagine Mr. Cecchino like the woman in the Goodwill shop, or like these three in the alleyway. He squeezed Lena’s knuckles with his free hand.

  Somewhere in the distance came the sound of breaking glass. A collective growl went up from the infected. They turned and loped away, disappearing from sight.

  Dal’s mind raced. Thousands of people had been hit with those darts. They could not rule out the possibility of thousands of homicidal maniacs roaming the streets within the next few hours.

  “Let’s go,” he said. They had to move now, and they had to move fast.

  Chapter 20

  Campus

  THEY HURRIED TO THE mouth of the alley. The street beyond was empty except for the dead bodies. The infected had disappeared in search of the sound that had captured their attention.

  The junior college campus was just past the storefronts and across the street. They jogged to the street corner in a tight group. Dal made sure Lena was always within reach.

  As they paused to survey the campus, shouting erupted. Three students sprinted out from between the buildings, shouting as they raced across the lawn. A pack of four infected tore after them.

  Now was their chance, while the infected were distracted. “Come on.” Dal grabbed Lena’s hand and yanked.

  They dashed across the street with Mr. Cecchino, dodging through the cars parked along the sidewalk and the dead bodies littering the road. They reached the campus lawn and cut across it. Dal led them toward the auditorium near the front of the campus.

  Just before they reached it, he glanced back. The shouting of the students had drawn other figures. They were now being chased by no less than seven infected.

  “Should we help them?” Lena asked.

  “We can’t.” Mr. Cecchino pulled his daughter into the recess of the auditorium. “We have a job to do. We can’t get distracted.”

  “But ...” Lena’s eyes flicked to her father’s face. Argument died as she took in the clammy skin and bloodshot eyes. It was clear to all of them that Mr. Cecchino was getting worse by the minute. Getting the transmitter was the best way to help him and everyone else who was infected.

  The first of the infected caught up with the students. It was a young woman with red hair. She sprang through the air like an animal, tackling a chubby student at the back of the pack. She dragged him down and sank her teeth into his neck. She was like a lioness cutting the weakest gazelle from the herd.

  The sight momentarily paralyzed Dal. He was close enough to see the gory detail. The infected woman tore a chunk of flesh from the chubby boy, then leapt away and continued to chase after the other fleeing kids. The boy sat on the grass, screaming while blood poured out of him. The entire attack took no more than fifteen seconds.

  “We have to go,” Mr. Cecchino said softly. “We need to get the word out. That’s our best way to help them.”

  Dal forced himself to turn away. Mr. Cecchino was right. They had to get to the broadcasting studio. He didn’t turn around when more screams peppered the air.

  He led the way into campus. There were dead bodies everywhere. Blood made dark puddles in the gathering dark. Dal felt sick. He recognized some of the bodies they passed. They’d been shot down like cattle.

  The sight of it hardened something inside of Dal. The Russians had caught them off-guard. He didn’t know how they’d managed it, but he would do everything he could to fight them.

  The broadcasting studio was in the center of campus in an unassuming second-story classroom. Dal had taken an introduction course last semester. The modest studio had two small transmitters and a handful of microphones. Nothing fancy.

  Dal had always dreamed of sitting behind a large transmitter that could be heard all over the county. Today, he was glad for the simple studio. It meant the equipment was small enough to be portable. Once they had that, it was just a matter of finding an antenna large enough to transmit their broadcast.

  They had almost reached the studio when the sound of Russian voices reached them. With all the tall buildings, it was difficult to tell where the sound came from. Dal scurried toward a hedge fence that concealed the cafeteria garbage bins. It reeked of rotting food.

  They crouched behind the hedge, listening. Lena’s head was cocked, her eyes wide as she listened to the Russians talking freely. Dal watched her face, trying to gauge what she might be overhearing. From the look on her face, it wasn’t good.

  One of the Russians raised his voice and called out. He was somewhere near the astronomy building.

  Someone answered him. That voice came from a different direction, from the language arts wing.

  Within the next thirty seconds, Russian voices rang out all over the campus.

  Dal barely dared to breathe. Thank God the sky had transitioned from dusk to nighttime. The pocket behind the cafeteria where they hid was inky black. They were well hidden.

  Peering through the hedge, he had a clear view of the small quad beyond. Half a dozen picnic tables filled the area. As he watched, nearly two dozen Russians sauntered into view, all of them congregating around the tables. They talked in jovial tones, laughing and passing out cigarettes.

  Lena poked him in the arm to get his attention. She pointed to the far side of the quad, in the direction of the Language Arts building.

  Something moved in the dark. There was just enough light from a lamppost for Dal to make out a black-veined face. An infected man eased out of the shadows, stalking toward the Russians. Four others followed him, their black-veined faces eerie in the darkness.

  Dal’s pulse kicked in his chest. He wanted to see those Russian fuckers attacked and killed by their own creations. It would serve them right. He and the others could slip away in the confusion.

  The lead infected was only five feet away from the Russians when he was spotted. Dal expected the Soviets to pull out their guns and start shooting.

  The men only laughed, smoke from their cigarettes puffing up into the night. They gestured in the direction of the infected, chuckling.

  What the hell? Dal exchanged looks of confusion with Lena and Mr. Cecchino.

  The five infected spread out in a semicircle. They snarled and growled, nostrils flaring as they regar
ded the Russians. The invaders laughed, a few of them flicking cigarette ashes in their direction.

  Why weren’t they attacking? Why were they just standing there? Why—

  The answer hit Dal like a sledgehammer. It was Russian poison that had turned these people into monsters. Was it really such a stretch to imagine the Russians had engineered a vaccine that made them immune?

  His theory proved correct as, one by one, the infected slunk away into the dark. The Russians jeered at them as they disappeared.

  Dal gripped the poker so hard his hands ached. The soldiers hung around and finished their cigarettes. Then they dispersed, breaking off into groups of three and four. All that remained was the cloud of cigarette smoke.

  “What were they talking about?” Mr. Cecchino asked Lena.

  She hesitated before answering. From the look on her face, Dal could tell she didn’t like delivering the news.

  “The . . . infected don’t die like normal people,” Lena said. “They’re like drug addicts. The poison amps up their systems. Sometimes it takes multiple blows to kill them.” She held her breath. There was more, but she wasn’t speaking.

  “Lena?” Dal asked.

  She shook her head. “I’ll tell you later. We should get out of there.”

  The fact that she didn’t want to say anything else meant the information she had was either bad, or complicated. Or possibly bad and complicated.

  They dashed through the quad and past the astronomy building. Just on the other side was the science building. The second floor was where the communications classes were held. Dal tested the door, sighing with relief when it opened.

  As it swung closed behind them, he wished it was still daytime. None of the hall lights had been turned on; it was even darker inside than outside. Unable to see more than the dim shape of the hallway, it was impossible not to hear Mr. Cecchino’s ragged breathing. He wasn’t doing well.

  “We need light.” Lena rustled beside him. A second later, a tiny beam illuminated the space in front of them. It was a keychain light on her house keys. “It’s better than nothing,” she said.

  “I’ll go first.” Dal exchanged a look with Mr. Cecchino, who slid in behind Lena to bring up the rear. He looked worse than ever, but when he shouldered the Soviet machine gun, Dal knew he was ready to fight.

  Dal raised his poker and advanced toward the stairwell, which was in the middle of the hall. Lena stretched her arm out, doing her best to shine the light in front of him.

  The science wing was a mess. Many of the classroom doors were open. Inside were unmistakeable lumps of dead students and teachers. The dark made it easy not to look too closely at the bodies.

  Books and other debris were scattered up and down the hall. Dal stepped over them. His Converse crunched on something. Were those crackers?

  A growl echoed down the hall.

  Shit. Dal froze, blood hammering in his head. His hands were sweaty.

  “Nezhit,” Lena whispered.

  “What?”

  “Nezhit. That’s what the Russians are calling the infected people. It’s the name of the virus in those darts.”

  “Nezhit.” Mr. Cecchino made a sound of disgust. “Fucking Soviet bastards.”

  It was a measure of the situation that Mr. Cecchino was resorting to foul language. Dal could count the number of times he’d heard the other man swear on one hand.

  “Can you tell where the growl came from?” Dal whispered.

  “Step on the crackers again,” Lena said.

  He didn’t like the idea, but he liked the idea of stumbling into a nezhit even less. He ground the heel of his shoe into the crackers.

  The growl sounded again. It was somewhere in front of them, from one of the classrooms on the left.

  Dal gestured with his poker. The others nodded in agreement.

  They crept down the hall. Dal paused in front of each open doorway. The needed to find the nezhit and get rid of it. They couldn’t risk it sneaking up on them. He’d seen how fast they moved. If they weren’t careful—

  A dark shape barreled out of a room two doors up. And it wasn’t alone.

  Two more were with him.

  Chapter 21

  Nezhit

  THE THREE FORMS FLEW at them through the darkness like demons. Dal held his ground, doing his best to shield Lena and Mr. Cecchino with his body.

  They don’t die like normal people. Sometimes it takes multiple blows to kill them.

  Lena’s pathetic flashlight beam danced over red eyes and snarling faces. That was all Dal saw before the nezhit were on them.

  Dal swung his fireplace poker as the first of the infected reached them. He smashed the infected in the face. Dal heard the hollow sound of bone snapping as the poker caved in the young man’s cheekbone. The nezhit staggered back a few steps, then charged again.

  The flashlight and keys fell to the floor in a clatter. Shots rang out on either side of his head. The barrels were so close that he felt the shock of the recoil against his skin. The inside of his ears were stabbed with needles of pain. Dal saw one nezhit fall from a bullet to the head, but the other two kept coming.

  This time, instead of swinging the poker like a baseball bat, he stabbed forward.

  He was still raw from the rage that had gripped him earlier. A small part of his mind railed at what he did. You’re killing people. You’re murdering innocents.

  But a larger part of his mind was engulfed in fear—fear for his own life, but even more than that, fear for the two people on either side of him.

  It was this emotion that powered his arm and sent the poker right through the throat of a young man with crazed eyes and snapping teeth. Blood sprayed out from the force of Dal’s blow.

  As the nezhit died on the end of the poker, the third and final infected broke past him. The machine gun fired again, but the monster didn’t stop. Mr. Cecchino yelled as he went down.

  “Dad!” Lena swung her gun. The butt connected with the side of the infected’s head, but the blow wasn’t hard enough to phase the creature. The nezhit sunk his teeth into Mr. Cecchino’s shoulder.

  “Daddy!” Lena’s voice went up several octaves.

  Dal yanked his poker free and spun around. He shoved Lena to the side with his free hand, swinging the poker with the other. The end tore off skin and half of the infected’s ear.

  The nezhit hissed, releasing Mr. Cecchino and spinning in the air like a cat. He hit the floor and launched himself at Dal.

  Panic hammered through Dal’s body. His poker spun in a frantic arc. He hit the creature so hard he heard bone crack, but still it kept on coming. The blow barely slowed it.

  He stumbled back with a shout and swung again. The poker arched up and smacked the nezhit in the bottom of the chin. His head whipped back. Blood flew.

  Lena jammed the barrel of her machine gun against the nezhit’s temple and fired. Blood and brain matter sprayed the wall as the infected collapsed to the floor.

  “Dad!” Lena raced to her father.

  Mr. Cecchino sat up, pressing a hand to the blood that bubbled out of his shoulder.

  Dal’s breath sawed over dry lips. Shock welded his feet to the floor. All he could do was stare at Mr. Cecchino and the blood that welled up between his fingers. Dead bodies of the infected surrounded them. He’d never seen so much blood in one place, not even when he went hunting and butchered animals with the Cecchinos.

  “Dal, help me!”

  Lena’s voice snapped him out of his stupor. He dropped the poker, looking around for something to staunch the bleeding. He tore the sleeve off his light-weight jacket and tied it around the wound.

  “I’m okay, son.” Mr. Cecchino smiled weakly.

  Dal’s eyes strayed to Mr. Cecchino’s shoulder, to his bloodshot eyes and clammy skin. To the forearm that was now entirely laced with infection. His mind refused to process what all those things meant. He couldn’t apply the knowledge in his brain to Mr. Cecchino.

  “Help me, Dal,” Mr. Cecchino
said. “We have to get to the studio.”

  Dal didn’t argue. He and Lena got on either side of Mr. Cecchino and helped him stand. He had to put a hand against the wall to steady himself.

  “Dad?”

  “I’m okay, honey. Just a bit dizzy. Lead the way, Dal.”

  This time, by silent agreement, Lena took up the rear. Dal didn’t like her being exposed at the back, but there was nothing he could do about it. They had to get to the studio and get the hell out of here as fast as possible.

  Lena recovered her tiny flashlight, illuminating the way as they climbed the stairs. There was blood smeared on the walls, but no bodies here.

  How the hell did they end up in a horror movie? It was hard to believe they’d woken up to a normal world this morning. His biggest worry had been a statistics test. Now every step sent a jolt of fear through his bloodstream and he had no idea if he’d live to see another five minutes.

  As they neared the top of the stairs, Dal heard the soft scrape of shoes against the floor. Even worse, there was more than one pair of shoes. No doubt the racket they made on the first floor had alerted other nezhit in the building.

  He didn’t like the idea of making more noise, but after two encounters he knew just how dangerous the nezhit were. If they wanted to live, it was better to kill them from afar.

  He nudged Mr. Cecchino, gesturing to the machine gun. Mr. Cecchino shrugged off the strap and passed it to him.

  Dal held his breath and peered around the corner. His eyes had adjusted well enough that he could see.

  Shit. There were two on the left side of the hall and two on the right.

  At least they had two guns. He’d hoped to keep Lena out of this fight, but there was no way around it. If they wanted to reach the studio alive, they have to fight together. Mr. Cecchino was too weak to fight.

  He held up two fingers and pointed left, then another two fingers and pointed right. Lena nodded in understanding. She shouldered her gun and waited for his signal.