“What are you talking about?” Jim asked.
“You haven’t heard?” Mr. Craig switched on a tiny radio that sat on the kitchen counter. Leo remembered him using it to listen to baseball games when they were kids. Mr. Craig adjusted the volume, letting a thick Russian accent fill the cozy kitchen.
“The United States of America is no more. This land has been claimed by Mother Russia. Do not resist, and you will not be harmed.” The message looped.
Leo’s hands fisted so tightly he heard his knuckles crack. Rage nearly choked him.
“It was quite a coup to snag those few minutes on the airwaves,” Mr. Craig said, switching off the radio. “How did you guys do it?”
Jim gave his dad an abbreviated version of their mission into Bastopol. He played up the good parts and omitted most of the dangerous parts. Mr. Craig looked ready to burst with pride by the time Jim finished. His wife’s eyes were wet with worry, but the smile she gave her sons was one of pride.
“You did America proud,” Mr. Craig said. “Too bad you don’t have a way to make more broadcasts. America could use a voice in the darkness. It gives people hope.”
“Actually, we do have something in the works,” Leo said. “We hope to start regular broadcasts soon.” With any luck, Stephenson and Dal would have the antenna and transmitter attached to his dad’s truck and ready for prime time later today.
When they made the broadcast in Bastopol, Leo’s only thought had been to disseminate their information about zombies and Russians to as many people as possible. He hadn’t thought about it from a morale standpoint. It now seemed more important than ever to get broadcasts out to the people.
“You guys need to know what else is going on,” Anton said. He told them about the round-up they’d seen yesterday, while Leo filled them in on the mutant zombie.
“Mutant zombies and Russian round-ups. Things just keep getting worse.” Mr. Craig ran a hand through his thinning hair.
Leo realized how exhausted the older man was. It couldn’t be easy running the farm without the help of his sons. “We were wondering if you guys had heard about any of this from the Russians when they come to take supplies from the farm. Any information you have could help.”
“Sorry, son,” Mr. Craig said. “They speak mostly Russian when they come here.”
“How many times have the Russians been back?” Tate asked.
“Those bastards come like clockwork every other day to steal from us.” Mr. Craig’s face was tight as he passed around the milk pitcher. “You two are wanted for murder.” This statement was directed at Jim and Tate.
The Craig brothers sobered at this declaration.
“There is one Russian who speaks a little English,” their mother said. “He questioned us the last time he was here. They suspect the two of you somehow managed to get the better of the soldiers who kidnapped you. They think you burned the trucks to fake your deaths. They threatened to turn your father over to the KGB.” Mrs. Craig kept her attention on her muffin plate as she spoke.
“The KGB?” Leo sat up straight. This was the first time they’d had any indication the KGB was in America.
“Of course,” Mr. Craig said bitterly. “You didn’t think the Soviets would launch an invasion without the KGB, did you? Luckily, we’re the only local dairy farm.”
“It’s a thin safety net.” Mrs. Craig pulled her muffin apart without eating it. “It’s the only reason we’re still alive.”
“You should come back with us to the Cecchino cabin.” Jim’s fists were white-knuckled on the tabletop. “It’s not safe here.”
“It’s not safe anywhere,” Mr. Craig countered. “Besides, we have a certain strategic advantage if we stay here. Maybe we’ll overhear something important.”
“But you said they mostly speak Russian when they’re here,” Jim said.
“They do, but you never know. We may be able to learn something important.” Mrs. Craig looked to her husband for support. “Now that I’m thinking about it, we actually heard them talking about Westville when they were here. That’s where you said the round-up was, right?”
“It was.” Leo pursed his lips.
“Too bad neither of us speaks Russian,” Mr. Craig said.
All eyes went to Leo and Anton.
“Lena needs to be here the next time the Russians come.” Leave it to Jennifer to call out the elephant in the room.
“No way,” Anton said.
“Lena is probably the only person in three counties who can understand Russian,” Jennifer said. “If we want to get the jump on the Soviets, we need her to spy on them. There’s got to be someplace she can hide to eavesdrop on them the next time they come.”
“Jennifer is right,” Mrs. Craig said. “If you want better information on the Russians, Lena needs to be here when they come. We can hide her under the house. No one will ever see her.”
“Spying from our cattle farm isn’t safe for anyone,” Jim said to his parents. “Our actions could be traced back to you guys.”
“You already said the KGB had their eyes on you,” Tate added. “It’s too dangerous.”
“This is our home.” Mrs. Craig pressed both palms to the table and leaned forward to stare down her sons. “It’s our duty to protect it. We all have to join the fight in whatever manner we can. For your father and me, this is how we fight. We run the farm. We help you get information.”
“I agree with your mother on this.” Mr. Craig took his wife’s hand. “We all do our part in this war.
The table fell quiet. Jim and Tate both looked uneasy. Leo sympathized with them. It couldn’t be easy for them to know their parents were putting themselves in harm’s way.
“Everyone is at risk,” Jennifer said. “The Russians are here. Whether we fight or hide, we’re all in danger. All we can do is choose how we want to exist. We have to leave the rest up to fate.”
Leo raised an eyebrow at her, but didn’t comment. She wasn’t wrong.
“It’s settled,” Mrs. Craig said. “The Russians come again the day after tomorrow. Have Lena here by dawn. We’ll make sure she’s safe.”
12
Chess Club
“So let me get this straight. You hardwired the transmitter to the truck through the stereo.” For emphasis, Dal toed the car radio that now sat on the ground by his feet. “You hard wired the antenna to the car battery. As long as the car battery is on, the transmitter and the antenna will work?”
“Yep.” Stephenson frowned critically at his work, clearly not thrilled with it.
Cassie could understand why. Stephenson’s work was acceptable, but it was anything but neat. He liked his electrical projects to be neat.
There were quite a few wires strung across the cab of Mr. Cecchino’s truck. The transmitter sat on the front seat. One wire disappeared into the box that used to hold the radio. The other went out the cab window to the antenna which, at the moment, lay in the back of the truck bed. The plan was for someone to hold it up in the air when it was time for the broadcast. There was yet another wire from the antenna that went down the front windshield and disappeared under the hood.
“I could have done a better job if there’d been more to work with,” Stephenson said. “This looks like it was done by an idiot with a blindfold on.”
“Who cares how it looks?” Lena said. “You got this whole thing set up in less than two hours. That’s radical.”
A timid smile lit Stephenson’s face. He, Amanda, and Cassie were all seniors like Lena, but that didn’t mean they’d ever interacted much with her. Her status as Anton’s twin put her on a social status rung that was miles above the three chess club kids. She could have been popular if she hadn’t been so into the world peace and anti-nuke stuff.
If Lena was aware or cared about any of this, she didn’t give any outward sign.
“We need to test this out,” she said. “Dal, let’s go make a broadcast.” At Dal’s nod, she turned to Stephenson. “You should come with us to make sure everyt
hing works.”
“Uh …” Stephenson threw a panicked look at Amanda and Cassie.
“We’ll go with you,” Cassie said.
Stephenson blanched. That clearly wasn’t the help he’d been looking for. Cassie didn’t let him off the hook. This was his chance to contribute.
“Yeah, Cassie and I will go with you,” Amanda said. She shot Stephenson a fierce frown, letting him know he wasn’t being given a choice.
“Okay, I guess,” he muttered.
“Any of you guys know how to use a gun?” Dal asked.
“Um, I know the basic theory,” Amanda said. “You point at things and pull the trigger.”
Dal and Lena exchanged looks. He had an arm around Lena’s waist. Cassie wondered how long they’d been a couple.
“We probably won’t need to shoot anything where we’re going,” Lena said to him. “We’re taking a dirt road to that mountain over there.” She gestured in a vague northern direction toward a scattering of small mountain peaks. It was impossible to know which one she was talking about. “There’s not much of a chance that we’ll run into anyone.”
“Yeah, so long as the Russians don’t initiate flight patrols,” Stephenson muttered.
Cassie’s mouth went dry at the thought of getting shot to pieces by Russians in an airplane, but she kept her mouth shut. There hadn’t been any air patrols yet. She had to hope their luck held.
Dal eyed the three of them. “We should take some of the machine guns,” he said at last.
Fifteen minutes later, Cassie found herself seated in the back of the pick-up with Amanda, Stephenson, the antenna, and no less than three Russian-issued machine guns.
“How do we know those things won’t go off when we hit a pot hole?” Stephenson asked.
“The safeties are on,” Dal said from the front seat, firing up the engine. “Make sure you take them off if you need to shoot anything.” He shifted the truck into drive and started down the main dirt road they used to come and go from the cabin. Nonna waved goodbye from the porch.
“Should we leave her alone?” Stephenson asked. “Maybe I should stay behind. You know, just in case any zombies or Russians show up.”
Lena’s laugh carried to them from the front seat. “Nonna’s a good shot with a rifle. She’ll be fine. Besides, Leo and the others will be back soon.” She turned in the seat, looking back at them through the open cab window. “How come everyone calls you Stephenson anyway? Back in fifth grade, you went by Jeff.”
Stephenson’s eyes widened. Cassie wasn’t sure if he was more surprised that Lena remembered they were in fifth grade together, or that she remembered his real name was Jeff. His mouth opened and closed, but no sound came out.
“His name changed in sixth grade,” Amada supplied. “When he joined the school band. There were two other Jeffs in the class. To keep everyone from getting confused, the teacher started calling them by their last names.”
“It stuck after that,” Cassie said. “Now everyone calls him Stephenson.”
Lena nodded thoughtfully before turning away. Cassie and the others watched the back of her head, waiting to see if she was going to turn around and talk to them again. When she didn’t, the three of them leaned together.
“You know we have no business being on a mission, right?” Stephenson said. “I mean, the only reason we survived Amanda’s house is because Dal and Leo saved us.”
“I know.” Amanda wrung her hands. “We should use science terms to make ourselves sound smart so they won’t think we’re useless. We could talk about lattice and lanthanides at dinner in front of everyone.”
“We are smart,” Cassie said, trying to be optimistic. “I think we can do this. All we have to do is keep watch and make sure the broadcasting equipment works.”
“What do we know about keeping watch?” Stephenson countered.
Cassie decided to apply Leo’s logic. “We just treat the situation like a chessboard. Make sure we’re always thinking three to five moves ahead—”
“You’re the only one of us who can see that far ahead,” Amanda said. “The best we can manage is two to three moves.”
“That doesn’t matter,” Cassie said. “The point is, we’re good at seeing the big picture. We just have to do that.”
“You want us to apply chess logic to Russian invaders and ravenous zombies?” Stephenson snorted. “You’re crazy, Cassie. It’s not even the same thing.”
“Of course it is,” Cassie said, though secretly she wasn’t so sure. She was just trying to make her friends feel better. She played with her black knight pendant, rolling it between her fingers. If only she was as sure of herself in real life as she was on the chessboard.
She’d be more confident if she weren’t terrified of the weapon pile at their feet. Maybe she’d ask for some shooting lessons when they got back. For all of Leo’s talk about her being a strategist, she’d feel a whole lot more useful if she knew how to use a gun.
Dal turned off the main road, cutting through a wide meadow. As the truck bumped over the uneven ground, Stephenson nudged the machine guns with his shoe, turning them so that the barrels pointed away from the three of them. Cassie pressed her feet to the floor to keep her butt from bouncing up and down.
“What if they throw us out?” Stephenson said. “What if they figure out we’re useless and dump us somewhere to fend for ourselves?”
“If we get desperate, we can always offer to take care of laundry and cleaning,” Amanda said. “Even a guerrilla army needs clean clothes.”
“Yeah, I guess so.” Despite his words, Stephenson didn’t sound convinced.
Cassie understood their fears. It was hard to feel useful when confronted with the Snipers. They were like seasoned soldiers. In high school, they’d all been popular and athletic. There were a lot of reasons the chess club never hung out with the varsity kids. It was like trying to mix oil and water.
Leo hadn’t seemed to have any doubts about her usefulness when she’d played chess with him. He’d been dead serious when he’d named her official strategist. She only hoped she could live up to his expectations.
Cassie had secretly replayed their time over the chessboard at least 237 times in her head. She was crushing on him big time. Hell, she’d been crushing on him since freshman year. She tried not to read into the fact that he’d seemed to enjoy playing chess with her, even when she kicked his ass. She still wasn’t sure why she’d done that.
No, that wasn’t true. She’d done it because she’d been nervous as hell and babbling like an idiot. Creaming him at chess felt like evening the field, so to speak.
Crushing on Leo was stupid for several reasons.
a) He was Jennifer’s ex.
b) They’d probably get back together any day now. Why wouldn’t they? They were Jennifer and Leo, for crying out loud.
c) Even if point A and B weren’t true, guys like Leo didn’t go for girls like Cassie. Period.
d) Just because he was nice to her didn’t mean he liked her. See points A, B, and C for further clarification.
A particularly deep pothole rammed Cassie’s back into the side of the truck. It was painful enough to jar her from her thoughts. She decided it was best to bury her crush in a deep part of her mind. That was the only sensible thing to do.
Stephenson spoke up, thankfully diverting Cassie from thoughts of Leo.
“I was listening to the radio with Nonna yesterday,” Stephenson said. “Did you know the Soviets are pumping out propaganda every hour? They keep saying we’re all part of New Russia, when in fact they’re rounding us up and infecting us.”
“That’s why Dal and Lena need to make their broadcasts,” Cassie said. “They’re making sure people know the truth of what’s going on. Helping them is important work.” She leaned on this last part so they could all feel like they were making a contribution to the war effort. From the weak smiles she received, she knew they got the point.
Dal cut over two more hills and met up with another di
rt road. He turned onto it and kept driving. There were cows scattered across the rolling hillsides.
They bumped along the dirt road for nearly an hour before Dal finally stopped the truck. He set the parking break on a tall hillside. The top was covered in dry, yellow grass. Oak trees draped the hillsides around them.
A cow had wandered up near the top. It stared at them warily, ears flicked forward as it chewed a mouthful of grass.
Lena got out of the truck, the Russian machine gun resting easily on her shoulder. She looked completely badass.
“Where are we?” Cassie asked her.
“The Cayson property,” Lena replied. “It borders our property on the north side. The owners don’t live here. They lease the land for cattle grazing.”
Cassie jumped out of the truck and landed beside Lena. She gave the other girl her perkiest smile. “What can we do to help?”
“We need Stephenson in the truck with Dal to make sure everything goes smoothly with the transmission,” Lena replied. “You and Amanda can each grab a gun. We’ll keep watch around the perimeter.”
Cassie and Amanda exchanged covert looks before gingerly picking up machine guns. Or at least, they thought they were being covert.
Lena smiled at them in amusement. “Don’t worry, I’d never fired one of these things until a few days ago, either. The recoil is nasty, but once you figure out how to compensate for it, it’s pretty easy.”
Said the girl who had grown up hunting on a farm with her brothers, Cassie thought.
“How about a shooting lesson while the guys get things set up?” Lena offered.
Cassie had a mental vision of Leo standing by while she gunned down a few zombies. “That sounds great,” she said.
Amanda said, “Um, do you guys need someone to take care of laundry? I can do that.”
“Girls are good for more than laundry,” Lena’s said. “You need to know how to defend yourself.”
She sounded like she’d been hanging out with Jennifer. Jen was a rabid feminist. Cassie thought she overdid it, although that never seemed to deter the hoards of guys wanting to date her.
Zommunist Invasion Box Set | Books 1-3 Page 32
