Zommunist Invasion Box Set | Books 1-3

by Picott, Camille

  The feed store backed up to a vineyard. Leo had a clear view of the white parachute draped across the vines. He and Jennifer galloped between the rows, beelining for the parachute.

  “Hello?” He pitched his voice loud enough to carry, not wanting to draw attention of anyone—or anything—that might be around. “Hello? Are you hurt? We’re here to help.”

  A groan answered him.

  “It’s okay. We’re Americans.” Jennifer jumped off Thunder as they reached the parachute. She gathered up great armloads of the fabric, pulling it down to hide it from view.

  A man lay facedown on the ground. One side of his leg was burned, blistered skin showing beneath a singed pant leg. He groaned softly as he unclipped his parachute and got to his feet. Soot and grime smeared his face. There was a long gash in the right arm of his uniform.

  “There were two others with me,” he said.

  “One of them went too far north. The other landed nearby.” Jennifer paused to look around. “There, on the edge of the vineyard. Leo?”

  “I see him,” Leo replied. “Get him onto Thunder. I’ll meet you at the back of the feed store.”

  She nodded as Leo galloped away. Growls sounded from between the grapevines as Leo made his way to the other American soldier. Shit. Nezhit. Just what they needed right now. They must have been attracted to the sight of the parachutes dropping to the ground.

  “Jen, zombies,” he shouted over his shoulder. “Get the hell out of here!”

  The parachute billowed as the second soldier struggled free. He was dark-skinned with blood streaked on the side of his face. Leo guessed him to be Filipino.

  He drew to a stop beside the man, holding out a hand. “Get on,” he said. “We don’t have much time.”

  “You’re a sight for sore eyes.” The man grabbed his hand and swung onto Stealth. “I’m Spill.”

  “I’m Leo. Hold on tight. We’ve got zombies.” He kicked Stealth back into a gallop, cutting through the vineyard back toward the feed store. A chorus of barks and howls followed them. Fucking shit. Would they ever get a break?

  “Zombies,” Spill snarled over the rumble of horse hooves.

  “You’ve seen them before?”

  “Hell, yes. They’re everywhere, man. They’re the reason these Soviet bastards have maintained their toehold on American soil. Shit, there they are.”

  Two infected leap-frogged over the grapevines. Their black-veined skin looked eerie in the light of the full sun. More of them dashed beneath the vines. There was a whole pack of them headed straight for Leo and Spill.

  “Thank God they’re regular zombies,” Leo said.

  “What do mean, regular zombies?” Spill pulled out his gun and started to shoot.

  The guy probably never trained from the back of a moving horse. And the nezhit were fast fuckers. Spill missed every last zombie. Dammit.

  Stealth burst free of the vineyard. Jennifer and her soldier were already there, guns raised. Leo saw the zombies shift direction, the pack now streaming straight for the feed store.

  The horses shied nervously. Dammit. They couldn’t risk losing the horses. They were their only way home.

  “Jennifer, with me,” Leo barked, sliding down from Stealth. To the soldiers, he said, “Cover us. Whatever you do, don’t let the horses spook or get eaten. We lose them and we’re all KGB hamburger meat.”

  Jennifer jumped down from Thunder and ran toward him. “Are we playing chicken with a pack of zombies?” she screamed.

  “Do you have a better idea?” He planted his feet between two grapevines, in plain sight of the descending infected.

  He counted five. Shit. This was a bad fucking idea.

  He started shooting. He felled two with head shots. Jennifer was laying into the pack with her machine gun, but they were all torso shots. It took five bullets before she dropped one.

  “Get out of here,” Leo ordered. “Get the soldiers to safety.”

  “When the hell are you going to learn?” she fired back. To his consternation, she leaped into the air. Using her hands, she vaulted onto the wooden pylon staked at the end of the row. It was no more than five inches across, but Jennifer balanced on it easily.

  The two remaining nezhit went berserk at the sight of her. They attacked the vines, attempting to climb on top of them in an effort of reach her.

  It was the perfect distraction. The grapevines were made of thin wire, much too thin to climb on. The infected kept falling off.

  Leo fired. His first shot missed as his target jumped for the grapevine. When he hit the ground, Leo killed him.

  One left. Jennifer laid into the female zombie. Bullets ripped out of her machine gun. She might not have precision, but she made up for it with sheer volume. Leo counted no less than twelve bullets thunk into the last zombie.

  Silence descended as the last of the infected fell.

  Leo rounded on Jennifer, glaring. “The next time I tell you to get the hell out, get the hell out.”

  “Fuck you.” Jennifer jumped to the ground, unperturbed. “I know you have some male ego fantasy about sacrificing yourself for the greater good, but that’s not happening on my watch. You’re welcome, by the way.”

  Leo felt his temper flare. He reined it back. Jennifer might piss him the hell off, but she’d just saved them.

  “Come on,” he snapped. “We have to go.”

  He spun around to find the two soldiers gaping at them. Gaping at Jennifer, really. Speaking from a purely plutonic point of view, she looked fantastic in her tight jeans with the machine gun slung over her shoulder. The two soldiers looked like they both wanted to give her babies on the spot. Jennifer always had that effect on guys, even before she started carrying a Soviet-issued weapon.

  “Who are you guys?” Spill asked.

  “I’m Chaz,” said the other solider. “You guys look like high school kids.”

  Jennifer snorted and returned to her horse. “We graduated almost three years ago.”

  Leo jerked his thumb in hasty introductions. “That’s Jennifer. I’m Leo. We’re part of a group called the Snipers.”

  “Wait. Did you just say you’re with the Snipers?” Spill and Chaz stared at him with twin expressions of incredulity.

  Leo swung back on to his horse. “Yeah. You’ve heard of us?” For some reason, that gave him a sense of pride.

  “We listen to Deejay Sniper,” Spill said.

  “That’s our friend,” Jennifer said. “He sends out broadcasts to the people.”

  “We were sent here to find you guys,” Spill said.

  “Looks like we found you. We gotta go before the Russians get here. The only reason they haven’t found us is because these back country roads are a maze.” Leo heeled Stealth back toward the road. The two horses broke into a trot.

  “Why were you sent to find us?” Jennifer asked.

  “We have information from the American government,” Spill said. “We need your help with a mission.”

  The government wanted their help? Leo exchanged a look with Jennifer.

  "Things must be really shitty if the government wants our help,” he said.

  “You don’t know the half of it,” Chaz said. “The Russians targeted major cities in every state. They chartered planes and dropped live zombies out the back with parachutes. The infection spread like wildfire. Our forces—the ones still alive—are building and maintaining lines to hold back the undead. We have very little manpower left to fight Russians.”

  Leo felt his stomach sink into his feet.

  “That’s not all,” Spill said. “The Soviets have occupied all the land between Los Angeles and the Washington border.”

  Leo wasn’t sure how to digest this information. It was a lot to take in. He’d known things were shitty. He just hadn’t realized how shitty.

  “Tell us what’s going on here,” Spill said.

  Where to start? Leo gave them an abbreviated version of the invasion and how the Russians were currently rounding people up to sprea
d the infection.

  “We have someone with us who speaks Russian,” he said “The virus is supposed to kill a person in seven to ten days. Some of them die off before that. But until they do, their sole desire is to infect as many people as possible.”

  “It’s an effective way to clear out land you want to take over,” Chaz said bitterly.

  “Faster and more effective than a concentration camp,” Spill added. “You have to take us to your leader. Things are about to get worse if we don’t get help.”

  Again, Jennifer and Leo exchanged looks. Before either of them could say anything, the rumble of a car engine reached their ears.

  27

  Airstream

  “Get off the road!” Leo guided Stealth through a thick clump of oleander bushes lining the side of the highway. As they pushed to the other side, he spotted the McAlister’s house. They were the elderly couple who used to own the feed store before they sold it and retired. Their sprawling ranch home was no more than a hundred yards away down a gravel road.

  “Come on,” he said. “We need to get out of sight.”

  The drapes of the McAlister’s house were drawn, making the house look deserted. Leo didn’t relish the idea of breaking in. He hoped the McAlisters were okay, but if they’d been turned into zombies, he didn’t relish the thought of having another fight on their hands.

  “The garage is over there.” Jennifer pointed to a large, detached building with an oversized roll-up door that looked as though it had been built to house a motor home.

  “Good idea. Come on.” They could hide in there with the horses until the Soviets had passed.

  They reached the back door of the garage. It was locked. Spill threw his shoulder into it a few times. He was a big guy, tall and wide and well-muscled. The door broke open under his force. Leo would have liked to have this guy on his defensive line.

  The sound of the approaching car made Leo’s back go rigid. He hurried to the edge of the garage, peering around the corner toward the road.

  A familiar jeep drove into sight. It was the KGB agent and his pack of assholes from the Craig farm. And they had the third American soldier in the jeep, bound and gagged in the back seat.

  “Griggs.” Chaz breathed the name. Leo hadn’t even realized the man was standing behind him. “The fuckers got him.”

  To Leo’s horror, the Russians turned into the McAlister’s driveway and stopped in front of the house. They were probably checking every house on this road in hopes of finding Spill and Chaz. They knew the other two parachuters were out here somewhere.

  “They’re looking for us,” Chaz said grimly.

  “No shit. Come on, let’s get inside.”

  Leo and Chaz hustled into the garage. Jennifer and Spill already had the horses inside. Leo closed the door behind them.

  There was a shiny Airstream inside. It gleamed even in the gloom of the garage. The McAlisters must have bought it when they retired from the feed store. There were also two regular cars inside the garage, a brown station wagon and a blue sedan.

  Leo hurried over to a dirty window that overlooked the front yard. It was covered with grime and spider webs.

  Jennifer joined him, the two of them pressed shoulder to shoulder. Three Russians exited the jeep. The fourth one stayed behind to guard the prisoner. He took up position just outside the vehicle, scanning the road. The KGB agent lit a cigarette and strolled around the driveway.

  “Why did you come after us?” Spill whispered. “You had to know the risks.”

  “We couldn’t leave you guys to be captured by the KGB,” Jennifer said.

  The Russians fanned out around the house. For the moment, their attention wasn’t on the garage.

  “Jen.” Leo jerked his chin toward the back of the garage. To the soldiers, he said, “You guys keep watch.”

  Spill nodded, maintaining his position at the window. Chaz took up position on the other side of the garage door, watching from a second window that was even dirtier than the first.

  “Did you see how they just took orders from you?” Jennifer whispered.

  “They want to live.”

  “You know what I mean.”

  He did know. These were real soldiers, not kids playing at being soldiers. And they’d taken his orders without a second thought. It must be his football captain voice.

  He and Jennifer crept to the back of the garage. Leo’s mind worked fast.

  Sooner or later, the Russians were going to check the garage. They would see the door had been broken open. They were either going to have to fight their way out of this situation, or come up with a plan.

  That’s when he heard the growl.

  They froze. The growl came a second time.

  Slowly, Leo and Jennifer turned in the direction of the Airstream. For the first time, he saw past the gleaming, spotless exterior.

  He saw the window on the side. A window smeared with blood. And he saw bloody footprints on the garage floor leading to the motorhome.

  There was a zombie inside the Airstream. One of the McAlisters.

  It was a measure of the situation that he actually perked up at the realization there was a zombie in the garage with them. They just might be able to use this to their advantage.

  The Russians might have a vaccine to protect them from zombies, but that didn’t mean zombies weren’t an x-factor. They might cause just enough of a distraction to help them get away.

  He felt like an asshole for using the McAlisters, but he whispered a plan into Jennifer’s ear anyway. To his surprise, she nodded eagerly. Probably because his plan involved her risking her life.

  Jennifer backed up and took a running start. Her foot hit the Airstream’s front tire. She leaped, grabbing the top rim of the windshield. She secured a grip, digging her nails into the rim. She slung one leg sideways and easily scrambled the rest of the way onto the motorhome.

  She hadn’t made much noise, but the zombie inside went berserk. He threw himself at the front windshield.

  Spill and Chaz gaped in their direction. At Leo’s gesture, they fell back from the windows, scurrying for cover as shouts came from outside. They grabbed the horses and hid on the far side of the garage behind the station wagon.

  Leo stayed near Jennifer, ready with his machine gun if shit went sideways. Licking her lips, she dropped to her stomach and pounded with both fists against the windshield.

  The howls intensified within the Airstream. Leo realized Mr. McAlister wasn’t alone inside. Mrs. McAlister was with him. A crack appeared in the glass as the couple beat at the windshield.

  Leo had a fleeting look at the two zombies. Even under the mass of infected black veins and blood, he recognized the elderly couple. They must have hidden in the Airstream, possibly planning to make a getaway in the vehicle before they both got sick and turned.

  Now they were going ballistic inside the Airstream. The front windshield shattered outward. Leo had just enough time to dash out of sight as the two zombies hurtled free of the Airstream. They landed inside the garage and immediately began to circle the motorhome.

  Leo hid near the front tire of the neighboring car, crouching down so he could look through the window to see what was happening on the other side.

  Jennifer was separated from the rest of them. Shit. That had not been part of the plan. He’d just wanted her to rile them up enough to draw the attention of the Russians so they could get away.

  Just to make things worse, they weren’t regular zombies. They were mutant zombies.

  Mr. McAlister had an enlarged neck and chest. One side had grown larger than the other, causing his shoulders to be off-kilter. His gray hair was streaked with blood.

  Mrs. McAlister had one enlarged leg. The thigh and calf muscles had grown so large the pants had ripped. They hung in tatters. One cheekbone on her face was also distended. Coupled with her teased gray hair, she was most definitely the scarier of the two.

  Mr. McAlister charged the Airstream. He hit the side of it so hard he
left a dent. Jennifer scurried to the center of the motorhome, putting as much distance between herself and the mutants as possible. Where were the damn Russians when they needed them?

  Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Spill rise up from the far side of the station wagon. Leo gave a shake of his head. This was a precarious situation. One false move and they could all be zombie food.

  Mrs. McAlister took a running leap at the Airstream. She was mid-leap when the garage door burst open. Three Russians swarmed in around the motor home.

  Mrs. McAlister spun in mid-air. Her husband charged like a maddened bull.

  Leo had seen zombies interact with Russians plenty of times. They snarled and circled, but never attacked. Sometimes they even followed the Russians around and made nuisances of themselves, but that was the worst of it. Usually the Russians just shot the ones who didn’t get out of their way.

  That was all Leo had hoped for. Something to distract the Soviets. Something to draw their attention while Leo and his people slipped out the other door.

  The Russians took in the maddened zombies with cocky calm. Their gaze swept past the monsters while they scanned the garage.

  Then something unexpected happened.

  With a howl that bordered on glee, Mr. McAlister leaped on the foremost of the Russians. The monster grabbed the soldier’s head between his hands, driving it to the pavement. The soldier’s head cracked open like an egg, spilling blood and brains everywhere.

  The world seemed to stop moving. Jennifer froze in place atop the motorhome. Even the Russians were momentarily frozen in shock.

  The enormity of what he saw crashed down on Leo.

  Mutant zombies can kill Russians.

  In that split second, the female zombie reached the Russians. A second soldier went down with a scream of fear. The other Russian began to fire wildly. Bullets tore through the garage. The horses whinnied in fear.

  And still the mutant zombies kept going.

  Mr. McAlister slurped up a mouthful of brains before leaping at the next closest soldier.