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

cabin with Nonna as the sun set behind the tree-covered hills, fiddling with the hem of the pink tank. What the hell had he been thinking?

The adrenaline rush of helping those cyclists had made it hard to think straight. He’d felt on top of the world and simultaneously scared out of his mind. Putting on the clothes had felt like putting on armor to go to war, like drawing his Sword of Protection and transforming into a warrior princess who rode a flying unicorn.

Only now it was getting cold. And fighting mutant zombies dressed like a girl was seeming weirder by the second. He tugged at the mesh top, wondering if he should risk sneaking back down into the cabin to change into sensible boy clothing.

“I brought you a jacket.” Nonna pulled one from a pile of blankets wadded on top of the roof.

Stephenson took the heavy canvas jacket from her. “Maybe I should go back downstairs and change my clothes?”

Nonna’s answering frown was fierce. “Why would you do that?”

“It’s not right.” He tugged at the spaghetti strap, twirling it between his fingers. “I’m not right.”

Nonna’s frown deepened. “Says who?”

“Um, everyone.”

“Well, everyone out there is a bunch of idiots.”

“Not really.” Stephenson sighed. “Thank you for being so nice to me. It means more than you’ll ever know . . . but I’m not normal, Nonna. I wasn’t born right.”

“You are exactly as God made you.”

Her words stirred emotions he had spent a lifetime suppressing. “Was your brother really killed by one of Mussolini’s fascists?” He met her gaze, refusing to look away.

Nonna stared back. She didn’t verbally answer him, but the look in her eyes was terrible.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have asked. It’s none of my business.”

Her bony shoulders sagged. “The war was hard on everyone.”

Stephenson shrugged into the big hunting jacket. He pulled his knees up to his chest, watching the first stars come out. “How long are we going to stay up here?”

“Until the mutants come and we kill them.”

“Yeah but, how long are we going to wait?”

“As long as it takes.”

Jeez. This had seemed like a decent plan as hour ago. Now that he was faced with the coming of the night and sleeping on a roof, Stephenson wasn’t so sure. What if he rolled off in the middle night? Heck, what if Nonna didn’t intend to let him sleep?

He wasn’t brave enough to voice any of these questions. If Nonna said they had to stay up on the roof for five days, he would do it.

He decided not to ask how to go to the bathroom until he couldn’t hold it any longer. In Stephenson’s mind, peeing in front of Nonna Cecchino seemed akin to flag burning. Going number two wasn’t even in the realm of possibility. He would hold it for a week if he had to.

“Are you hungry?” Nonna asked.

“Yeah.”

“I brought some chili.” She fished around in her backpack, pulling out a carton and some spoons. “Here you go.”

He took the spoon she held out to him. She popped off the lid and scooped out a mouthful. It wasn’t until she was on her third scoop that he realized she expected him to eat out of the same carton with her.

“Sort of feels like we’re Lady and the Tramp.” He shoved a spoonful into his mouth.“Only with chili instead of spaghetti. And I suppose we’re both ladies.”

“And there are zombies and communist bastards.” There was a twinkle in her otherwise serious expression. “It’s been a long time since anyone has called me lady.”

Stephenson snorted. “Well, no one’s ever called me that.” Gosh, he loved Nonna’s chili. “If we die tonight, at least I’ll have a belly full of your food. I swear you’re the best cook I know.”

Nonna snorted. “We’re not going to die.”

“We might.”

She poked him in the shoulder. “My country would have been strangled by Nazis and Mussolini’s fascists if we’d had that attitude.”

It struck Stephenson that Nonna had experienced a lot in her lifetime. So much war and death.

“What’s worse?” he asked. “Soviets, Zombies, or Nazis?”

“Nazis spent years killing Jews and terrorizing Europe.” Nonna pursed her lips. “The zombies and Soviets haven’t even been at it for two weeks yet.”

He supposed that had been a dumb question. It was hard to believe it had been less than two weeks since the invasion. It felt like years.

They ate in silence, watching the stars brighten as the night deepened. When the carton was nearly empty, Nonna pushed it in his direction.

“You finish it. A growing boy needs energy.”

He didn’t argue. Using his fingers, he licked the bowl clean, not caring that he looked like a pig. Despite what Nonna said, he knew there was a chance they might die tonight. He wasn’t going to waste an ounce of Nonna’s chili.

When he was done, he licked his fingers clean and returned the carton lid to the container. He noticed the orange lid belonged to the same Tupperware set his mother used. “My mom once told me that if I’d been born a girl, my name would have been Julie.”

“That’s a nice name.”

“Julie Stephenson.” He tasted the five syllables on his tongue. “I always secretly thought that should have been my real name. Only it would be Julie without an ‘e’. J-U-L-I.” He spelled it out for emphasis.

“That’s what we’ll call you. Juli without an ‘e’.” Nonna held out her hand. “My name is Valentina Julietta Trione Cecchino. It’s nice to meet you, Juli.”

Being addressed as Juli sent a shockwave through Stephenson’s body. It felt like coming home after a lifetime of not even knowing he was lost. He blinked back tears, not wanting to fall apart on the cabin roof while they waited for mutant zombies to find them.

Solemnly, he took Nonna’s hand and shook it. “It’s nice to meet you, Valentina Julietta Trione Cecchino.” He swallowed. “Nonna, you said before that you think God made me this way on purpose.”

“He did.” Her expression was fierce. “God doesn’t make mistakes.”

“But, why?” He suppressed the