Zommunist Invasion by Picott, Camille (ebook reader ink TXT) 📗

she hadn’t recalled them so clearly in her mind, it would be easy to imagine away what she was seeing. But the truth sat in front of her like a dagger through the heart.

And there had been the blood on Marcello’s hands. The blood on Luca’s face when he’d been struck.

Still kneeling on the ground beside Luca’s frozen blood, Valentina hung her head. She wanted to disappear and cease to exist. Fresh tears gushed out of her eyes. She was helpless to hold them back.

It wasn’t every day you lost a beloved brother and a beloved cousin.

Footsteps crunched in the snow behind her. “Valé? What are you doing out here?”

Nonna was out of breath by the time she and Stephenson made it back to the cabin. A long ache had settled into her back, making her clench her teeth against the discomfort. She was feeling her age.

Nonna Cecchino was not going to let a little back pain get her killed by mutant zombies. To hell with that. She fully intended to survive the mess she had gotten them into.

She wasn’t surprised by the empty dirt clearing that greeted them when they got back to the cabin. Dal, Lena, and Amanda had not yet returned.

Now was not the time to dwell on what that meant. Not now. She could grieve later. But not until she and Stephenson took care of the mutants on their way to the cabin.

The first thing she did was fetch the old mare Lena and Dal had brought from Rossi. The animal would be zombie food if they left her out. She stashed the animal in the storage room with all the supplies and locked the door.

“Think she’ll be safe in there?” Stephenson asked. “What if they break down the door.”

“It’s the best we can do. Come on, we need the high ground.” Nonna marched up the porch steps, her shoes ringing on the wood stairs.

Stephenson hustled after her. “What do you mean?”

“I’m old. You’re skinny. Neither of us stands a chance if the mutants catch us on the ground.”

“Are we going to make our stand on the porch?” Stephenson asked.

“Nope. Higher.”

“The trees?”

“The roof.” She glanced over her shoulder in time to see Stephenson’s nod of understanding. “Grab a backpack. Load it with weapons. I’ll get food and supplies. You have five minutes.”

“Five minutes. Okay.” Stephenson dashed away.

Nonna saw determination in every line of his body and nodded to herself in satisfaction. He was transforming before her very eyes. His fear of the world was falling away as he released fear of himself. The sight of those pink shoes on his feet made her heart sing.

She grabbed a spare backpack that hung on a peg by the door, distantly noting that it belonged to her son. Her mind skittered around the thought, not daring to get close enough to touch it. She missed her sweet Giuseppe every day. It was easier not to think of him, especially in times like this.

She filled two canteens with water. On reflection, she grabbed a bottle of grappa and tossed it into the backpack. Then she changed her mind and switched out the grappa for the bottle of whiskey she kept hidden under the sink. Today definitely called for a few shots of whiskey.

There was no telling how long it would take the mutants to find them, but she had no doubt they would come. She and Stephenson had called them as surely as a red cape called a bull. Especially with all that screaming from Stephenson.

She bustled around the kitchen, gathering up silverware and food. A leftover carton of chili went into the backpack, along with a half-eaten loaf of bread, a wedge of cheese, and some venison jerky.

With the bag packed, she ducked into the girls’ bunk room to grab extra clothes. It got cold outside at night. There was no telling how long she and Stephenson would have to wait for the mutants to find them.

When she came back out, she didn’t see Stephenson. On the floor by the front door was a backpack crammed full of magazines and their homemade bombs. He’d retrieved two additional machine guns from their supply in the basement. Good boy. He was using his head.

Where was he? She was about to head into the boys’ bunk room in search of him. Just as she did, Stephenson stepped out of the hallway.

He had completely transformed. He had stripped off his dirty boy clothes. In its place was the woman’s clothing she’d left for him.

He looked like he’d been born in that pink tank and the black mesh top. The tapered jeans were a perfect fit on his lean frame. He looked better than he ever had in his boy clothes.

Seeing her, Stephenson let out an unconscious laugh and ran his hands down the woman’s clothing. Only a fool would have missed the reverence in his fingertips.

“If I’m going to die, I’m going to die as myself.” His eyes were wild, yet there was a determination in the set of his jaw she’d never seen before. “I’m tired of being so fucking scared every day. I don’t want to be scared anymore.”

The words made Nonna’s heart sing. But it didn’t stop her from delivering a whack to the side of his head. “Language.”

They looked at each other. A beat passed before they both laughed. Nonna affectionally tousled Stephenson’s hair.

Everything that had led her to this moment—to being with Stephenson in the middle of the Russian invasion and zombie apocalypse—was worth it. Every. Single. Thing. She’d do it all again just to see that light in his eyes. It was like looking up at her big brother after living a lifetime with the vacuum of his absence. Stephenson would never know how much she wanted to hug him right then.

She hoped Luca looked down on her from heaven with a smile.

38

Waiting

The surge of recklessness Stephenson had experienced back in the cabin faded. He sat on the roof of the Cecchino