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

there was likely something that needed shooting. “What’s going on, Antony?”

“I need you to meet someone. Just—don’t shoot him, okay?”

She waited without responding, uneasiness mounting in her chest.

Anton’s mouth tightened, but he didn’t try and sway her again. He knew better.

“Koz. You can come out.”

Out of the hallway stepped the largest man Nonna had ever seen in her life. He had bushy, gray-streaked hair and a beard that was mostly white. One of his arms was easily three times the size of her leg. He was equivalent to the size of three full-grown men.

The sight of him made every square inch of her body tingle with alertness. It didn’t take a genius to know he was Russian.

No wonder Anton had asked her to put her rifle down. She was inclined to use it on the spot.

“Where’s Tate?”

“He’s dead.”

She hadn’t thought it was possible for Anton to look anymore empty.

She’d been wrong. At the mention of Tate’s name, Anton’s expression seemed to fold in on itself. His eyes glazed over. He looked like he was someplace else.

“The Craigs are all dead. The whole family. This is Kozlovovich.” Anton flicked a glance at the towering man. “You can call him Koz. He’s the reason I’m standing here.”

“He’s an invader.” Shooting this man in the head was not beyond the realm of possibility.

“He helped me escape.”

Anton didn’t elaborate on what had needed escaping. Nonna didn’t need to hear the details to understand them. It was obvious he had been tortured meticulously and mercilessly. And the Craigs had all been murdered by Russian scum.

She hardened herself and kept her spine straight. She was proud of Anton. He was a fighter. A warrior. Only true inner strength could have enabled him to survive a KGB torture chamber.

“Thank you for helping my grandson escape,” Nonna said at last. “What is it you want in return?” Did the beastly man even speak English?

“He needs our help, Nonna.”

She harrumphed. Anton brings a Soviet into her home and proposes their family help him? It was almost too much for her to take.

“Go take a shower,” she told Anton. “I will make lunch.” She glared at the Russian. “He may sit at my table, but I won’t hesitate to shoot him. You tell him that.”

Two days ago, Anton would have laughed at this statement. Today, he just nodded. “Okay. He speaks a little English. Koz, have a seat. The coffee is almost ready. My grandma is a good shot.”

“Thank you.” The big man’s voice rumbled through the room.

The sound of it put up Nonna’s hackles. She slammed a pot down on the counter.

Studiously ignoring the monster who took a seat at her table, she set about preparing a simple pasta with venison sauce.

“Antony.”

Her grandson paused in the hallway, glancing back at her.

“Wait for me in the bunk room when you’re finished. I’ll see to your wounds.”

“Okay, Nonna.”

The pipes whined as the shower turned on. Nonna gripped the edge of her tile countertop, taking a moment to gather herself.

Voices sounded from the bunk rooms. Lena rushed into the sitting room, still clad in her pajamas.

“Anton? Leo? Nonna, I heard voices. Are they back—” Lena stopped short at the sight of Koz, mouth falling open.

The big man sat with his hands folded on the tabletop. He looked like he was trying to make himself inconspicuous.

Everyone knew it was impossible for a bear to make itself inconspicuous.

“Anton is back.” Nonna snapped on the stovetop. “He brought a . . . friend.”

“Oh.” Lena stared openly at the Russian. He studied the tabletop, not uttering a word.

“What the heck?” Amanda, Dal, and Juli piled into the room behind Lena. They all gaped at the big man in a stained white lab coat.

Juli, once again dressed in women’s clothing, was no longer the most interesting person in the cabin.

“Sit,” Nonna ordered. “I’m making lunch.”

“Is he—is he Russian?” Juli asked.

“I am Russian,” Koz said. Everyone jumped at the sound of his deep rumble.

Lena spoke, rattling off a string of Russian words. It was Koz’s turn to blink in surprise. He responded to Lena. They exchanged a few words as Lena and the others took a seat.

Nonna felt her temper getting the better of her. The Soviets had murdered her son. They had tortured her grandson and killed the Craig family.

Now one of them sat at her table, talking to her granddaughter. She couldn’t take it anymore.

“Lena.” Nonna may have put the plates down on the table more heavily than necessary. “Set the table. Juli, get the colander out. Dal, we need another load of firewood.”

“I’ll help Lena.” Amanda practically flew to the silverware drawer.

With everyone bustling around her, Nonna felt her nerves calm. She dropped a fistful of noodles into boiling water.

43

Mirror

Anton was too exhausted and aching to stand in the shower. He sat on the floor under the hot stream of water, eyes closed as water washed away the filth. He rested his forehead on his knees, silently crying.

He tried to suppress the tears, but it was no use.

Confronting his grandmother in the kitchen had been one of the hardest moments of his life. He was a failure. He’d ridden off with Tate, intent on saving Mr. and Mrs. Craig.

Not only had he failed to save their family friends, but he’d lost Tate in the process.

Nonna hadn’t said a word about the Craigs, but he’d seen the moment when the shock of their deaths hit her. He’d seen the pain in her eyes. It was almost enough to make him wish he was dead.

Anton Cecchino was a failure, pure and simple. He’d set out on a mission and failed everyone he cared about.

He saw Tate’s dead body on the floor of the prison cell. He saw Mr. and Mrs. Craig, both of them executed like they were nothing more than garbage. He saw them die over, and over, and over again.

It was a reel of the worst moment of his life. Try as he might, he couldn’t shut off the projector. His body