Date: 2021-12-15 08:00:00+00:00
Description: Intelligent zombies with an insatiable appetite for brains. A guerrilla band on the run. Can a new secret weapon change their unraveling fate?Jennifer lost her sister. With nothing left to live for, she throws herself into the fight against the Soviet invaders with no care for her own safety.When she returns to the Sniper hideout, she learns of a new weapon that could be the key to defeating the Soviets-but the secret to making it lies hundreds of miles away.What's worse, the zombie virus has mutated. The infected have transformed from mindless monsters into intelligent predators-and they're r
Publisher: Amazon Digital Services LLC - Kdp

SENTIENTS

BOOK 4 OF ZOMMUNIST INVASION

CAMILLE PICOTT

Copyright © 2021 by Camille Picott

All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

Created with Vellum

For the Patreon Zombie Recon Team, with Gratitude

Caronda Bourgeois

Jessica Sefert

Daryl Schumann

Jenyfer Conaway

Lisa Lewis

Jessica Stephenson

Brian D Spillane

Jenn Miola

Lisa Unciano

Nanciann Lamontagne

Larry Guevara

Linda Huggins

Many thanks to my beta readers and copy editors

Linda Bellmore

Chris Picott

David Taylor

Jenn Mitchell

Johanna Murphy

Daryl Schumann

Sam Stokes

CONTENTS

FREE BOOK

1. A Promise Broken

2. Defector

3. Walls

4. Attack

5. Battle

6. Bees

7. Not Forgotten

8. Rescue

9. Science

10. Haircut

11. Orange Crush

12. After Death

13. Vultures

14. Gas Station

15. Negotiations

16. Napa

17. Checkpoint

18. Prey

19. Herded

20. No Way Out

21. Cattle

22. Boy

23. Apology

24. Potatoes

25. What Will You Chose?

26. Dumpster

27. Scalps

28. Movie Theater

29. But for the Grace of God

30. Dissension

31. Training

32. Still Standing

33. Stand Off

34. Forward Scouts

35. Plea

36. Truce

37. Faded Poster

38. Found

39. Mutants

40. Not Fighting

41. Diversion

42. Coins

43. One Alive

44. Betterment

45. Infiltrate

46. Be Aggressive

47. Freedom Fight

48. Infiltration

49. Caravan

50. One of Us

51. Lab A

52. Fire Station

53. Battle

54. Life

55. Nightmare

56. Asleep

57. Wrench

58. Survivors

Epilogue

FREE BOOK

Want to know how the zombie virus was developed in Cold War Russia? Sign up and get an exclusive Zommunist Invasion origin story.

Join at subscribepage.com/nezhit

1

A PROMISE BROKEN

Jennifer stood at the foot of Cassie’s bed. Her sister’s long, wavy blond hair spilled across the pillow. A stuffed Cabbage Patch doll was tucked beneath her chin, one arm curled tightly around it.

Today had been Cassie’s thirteenth birthday. She’d spent the day high on sugar, celebrating with her friends. Now she was out cold. Presents, wads of wrapping paper, and boxes lay scattered all over her bedroom.

A poster of Kirk Cameron sat partially unrolled on her dresser. Newly opened music cassette tapes were strewn next to the tape player; INXS, Tears for Fears, and REM were among the booty. Cute new leg warmers and stretch pants draped over the back of her desk chair.

All in all, it had been a good birthday haul for Cassie.

Outside the bedroom, Jennifer heard the stairs creak. Mom had left an hour ago for the graveyard shift at the hospital. The only people awake in the house were her and her dad.

She lightly touched Cassie’s foot through the bedspread. “I’ll protect you,” she whispered. “Whatever it takes.”

The creaking of the stairs grew louder. Jennifer hurried out of Cassie’s bedroom, quietly closing the door so as not to wake her.

Dad’s thick shock of dark hair bobbed before her as he came up the staircase. Uneasiness shivered through her body. She planted herself in the middle of the hallway, determined to be brave.

She would do whatever she had to do to keep her little sister safe.

* * *

I broke my promise.

Wind streamed over the top of the Soviet jeep, battering Jennifer in the face. She stared straight ahead without blinking, letting the wind pull tears from her eyes. They mixed with the real tears she hadn’t been able to quench since leaving Luma Bridge yesterday.

Beside her in the driver’s seat, Leo leaned hard on the accelerator. The jeep tore down the country highway, turning the farmland on either side of the car into a blur. Jennifer felt the devastation rolling off him.

I broke my promise.

The thought went through her like a nuclear explosion. It detonated at her core, spreading through her body in a shockwave of grief and shame.

Why did I do it? she wondered. Why had she insisted Cassie come along on the mission to Luma Bridge? She could be safely tucked away in the Cecchino hunting cabin with her friends right now.

Instead, her body was somewhere at the bottom of the Pacific Ocean, buried beneath the bridge she’d detonated to keep busloads of Soviet invaders from infiltrating their home.

Cassie had been the sweet one in the family and never been very confident. Jennifer always worried that made her easy prey. She thought that, if only given the opportunity, Cassie would come to recognize her inner strength.

Strong.

Yes, Cassie had been strong. Jennifer hadn’t gotten that wrong. It was that very strength that led her to sacrificing herself.

Jennifer pursed her lips to keep from sobbing. She ached with loss from the inside out.

She didn’t deserve to grieve.

Leo. He deserved to grieve. She’d pushed him toward Cassie. Look where that had gotten him.

Was she destined to sow destruction everywhere she went?

Pressure compressed her chest. She suddenly found it hard to breathe. Digging her nails into the car seat, she kept her eyes pinned on the road ahead of them, silently fighting the emotion raging inside her.

A scream gathered in her throat. She stuffed it back. Her heart pounded so hard it was painful.

She squeezed her eyes shut. Memories floated before her. A flash of Cassie’s wavy hair. The hunch of her shoulders when she sat before a chessboard. The way she’d looked at Leo with complete adoration.

The way Leo had looked back at her with the same emotion.

“Hey, guys, do you see that?” Bruce’s voice jerked her out of her tailspin. The varsity football player leaned forward, resting one arm on her seat. “Are those dead Soviets?”

Leo let up on the accelerator. Jennifer was careful not to look at him. She fixed her gaze on the road ahead, sweeping it across the rows of apple trees.

She spotted what Bruce had seen: two dead bodies in Russian uniforms in the middle of the road. They were green lumps on the ground at least a mile ahead of them. Bruce had good eyesight.

“Be ready.” Leo pulled the .22 from the holster at his waist, holding it in one hand while he drove.

In the back seat, Spill and Bruce hefted Soviet machine guns and rested them on their shoulders.

The pressure in her chest subsided; it was easy to shut off grief with danger ahead of her. Jennifer rose, putting one knee on the seat and bracing her other foot on the floor. She shouldered her machine gun, alert for any sign of danger.

She expected Leo to tell her to be careful. He always did stuff like that.

This time, he didn’t say a word. Maybe his protective instincts had been left at the bottom of the ocean with Cassie.

Jennifer shied away from that train of thought, throwing her attention on the corpses ahead of them on the road.

Her mouth went dry as they came into focus. Even from half a mile away, she saw their heads had been smashed open. Red smeared the road just beside the ruined skulls.

“Slow down,” she said to Leo.

He didn’t argue. As the jeep decelerated even more, she scanned the trees on either side of them.

Smashed skulls meant one of two things. Either Russian soldiers had been killed and eaten by mutant zombies, or they’d been killed and eaten by sentient zombies.

“Watch the trees,” Leo said, obviously coming to the same conclusion.

There had been sentient zombies back at Luma Bridge. They weren’t mindless monsters like regular zombies.

They were smart. Cunning. Strong. Fast.

More dangerous than anything they’d yet come up against.

Jennifer wasn’t a scientist, but she guessed the nezhit vaccine given to all the Soviets had mutated. Instead of turning them into regular zombies, it turned them into smart zombies.

Let it be sentient zombies. The thought skittered through her mind. She didn’t care if she lived or died in the next sixty seconds, but she sure as hell would love to kill some communist bastards.

“On your left,” Spill barked. “Ten o’clock.” Bullets leapt from his gun.

Ten o’clock? She had no idea what that meant—it had to be closer to four or five—but she saw where Spill aimed. Jennifer shifted her stance and fired, adding her bullets to the fray.

Something dropped down from the tree and dashed away, heading deeper into the apple orchard.

“Sentient zombie.” Leo downshifted and made a hard left, heading into the orchard in pursuit.

The sentient Soviet zombie churned through the trees ahead of them. He was like an Olympic runner on steroids, moving faster than any regular human could. Leo’s knuckles were white on the steering wheel as the jeep bumped its way over the uneven ground of the orchard.

Something moved in her periphery. Jennifer swung to the right, firing on instinct. A Soviet uniform disappeared behind a tree trunk.

“There’s a second one!” She held steady, aiming at the tree trunk as Leo continued to drive.

“A third one,” Spill said. “Eight o’clock!”

It occurred to her that Spill might be referring to the hands on a clock. She heard military guys did that sometimes.

Jennifer sighted on the Soviet as he came into view. She fired and was awarded with a spray of red blood. The bastard shimmied up the trunk and disappeared into the boughs of the tree.

No fucking way. She wasn’t going to let him get away. She threw open the passenger door. The ground whizzed by below her.

“What the fuck are you doing?” Leo shouted. It was the first time he’d spoken to her since they left Luma Bridge.

Jennifer didn’t answer. She flipped the safety on her gun, timed the jump between the trees, and leaped out of the moving jeep. She hit the ground hard.

Her years of training as a gymnast, and later a cheerleader, kicked in. Her momentum threw her into a foreword roll across the ground. She somersaulted over leaves, twigs, rotting apples, and popped nimbly onto her feet.

She broke into a run, both hands around her machine gun. A cloud of fruit flies burst into the air around her as she trampled over rotting apples. Flipping the safety off, she aimed upward into trees sagging with overripe fruit.

Behind her, Leo slammed on the brakes. “Jen!”

“Don’t stop,” Jennifer yelled over her shoulder, never taking her eyes of the apple tree. “Get the others.”

To her surprise, Leo sped away. Good. For once, he was listening to her and not trying to be the knight in shining armor.

There. She spotted the dark green uniform among the red-and-green skinned fruit. She laid into the trigger.

The Soviet flew out of the tree, leaping for her. Jennifer dug in her heels, never letting up on the trigger. Blood flew from his torso as bullets tore into him. She shifted the barrel of the gun up, screaming in defiance. Bullets ripped up through his head and neck.

The monster smacked into her. The air whooshed out of her lungs as she hit the ground with the Soviet on top of her.

He was dead, his face a pulpy mess from the bullets. Hot blood gushed onto her.

She shoved him aside. Gray patches covered exposed parts of his skin, another sign that he’d been a sentient.

Heart hammering from the adrenaline, Jennifer jumped to her feet. She scanned the orchard, alert for other sentients.

Leo had caught up to the first sentient and run him over with the jeep. He now finished the job by bashing in the skull with the butt of his rifle. Spill and Bruce stood over the body of the last sentient, who also lay dead in the dirt.

Jennifer’s chest constricted. She was desperate for another fight. Her eyes scanned the trees, the road, and the rows of trunks.

Nothing moved.

Where was a fucking Soviet asshole when she needed one? She was itching to kill. To fight. Who cared if she died in the process? It wasn’t like there was anything to live for now that she’d lost Cassie.

The orchard stood in serene silence, inflated with the summer heat. Birds chirped in the distance. A fly buzzed around her head a few times before landing on the body of the dead invader.

Nothing. No Soviets. No mutant zombies. Nothing but flies and birds.

Leo and the others got back into the jeep. She rested the machine gun on her shoulder, waiting as Leo pulled a three-point turn and accelerated in her direction.

She braced herself for his wrath. He always got pissed when she did something ballsy. He never seemed to care if one of the guys risked his neck. But anytime she tired to pull her weight, she caught shit for it.

Leo didn’t say a word as he pulled up beside her. He looked directly at her, clearly waiting for her to get into the jeep.

It was the first time she’d looked fully into his face since they’d lost Cassie. The grief she saw sent shame and sorrow down her spine.

In that moment, she hated Leo from the depths of her soul. She hated him for the anguish he carried in his eyes. She hated him for falling in love with her little sister.

It was a neon banner flashing the biggest failure of her life—her broken promise to keep Cassie safe. Looking at Leo felt like losing Cassie over, and over, and over again.

Lips tightening, she yanked open the passenger door and climbed inside. Churning emotions made her want to throw back her head and scream.

She dealt with it by yanking out the spent magazine and slapping in a new one.

2

DEFECTOR

Kozlovovitch didn’t know what to expect when he rescued Anton the Sniper. To be honest, he’d half expected the young man to try and kill him before they escaped Rossi. Tortured within an inch of his life, Anton was a ticking time bomb.

But he hadn’t killed him. Not only had he not tried to kill Koz, but he’d taken him to the elusive Snipers headquarters.

Koz had fabricated ideas about the Snipers’ secret base. Everyone at headquarters had theories about the Snipers.

Koz had convinced himself they had an underground hideout somewhere in an apple orchard. He imagined the Snipers hiding like moles in the dirt.

Some of his colleagues thought they’d taken over a house or an office building somewhere in Rossi. Others thought they were mobile, living out of cars and always moving their location so as not to get caught.

Koz could not have been more surprised when Anton led him to a tiny cabin sitting on top of a mountain. The place was … cozy. Warm. Inviting. His Polina would have loved the views, especially at sunset.

The Snipers’ hideout was not the only thing he and his colleagues had pondered. They’d also spent an inordinate amount of time postulating on the composition of the American guerrillas.

Sometimes, they imagined a group of hardened farmers and Vietnam vets who knew their way around a gun. Other times, they imagined a contingent of law enforcement officers who had escaped the First Offensive.

Every scenario built a guerrilla force of hardened men fighting like cornered badgers to defend their homeland.

Not a single one had ever anticipated a pack of kids. A pack of kids, and a grandma. Not only were the Snipers a bunch of kids, half of them were girls. Koz had never seen such a thing.

This pack of kids and their grandma sure knew their way around a gun. And they knew how to make bombs and set tripwires with household ingredients and supplies. When his people took it upon themselves to attack the Cecchino cabin, they would be in for a surprise.

His people. Koz had to stop thinking of them like that. He was a defector. Mother Russia was responsible for the murder of his family. Those who served her were no longer his people.

He would see them pay in blood if it was the last thing he did.

“Pass the wire cutters, will you?” Amanda said. She and Anton sat at the table with Koz, the three of them constructing tripwires and landmines.

The teenage girl with short, spiky hair gave him a friendly smile. When he’d first met her two days ago, she’d had long, dark locks that hung past her shoulder blades.

Now, her hair had been cut short, the tips dyed blond. A handful of slimy, clear goo-like substance—Koz would have liked to know the ingredients, except he couldn’t read the English label on the bottle—had her hair standing up in spikes all around her head.

He wasn’t sure what to think of the haircut. It looked a lot like a boy’s cut, even if it did nicely accentuate the angles of her face. Americans were strange. He’d always known that, but being smack in the middle of Snipers put him up close with their oddities.

He picked up the wire cutters and handed them to Amanda. She was a big, sturdy girl. Strong. She smiled easily and warmly anytime their eyes met.

Looking at her brought memories of Polina to the surface. If they’d had a daughter, he imagined she would have looked like Amanda.

Thoughts of his dead wife prodded a deep ache he carried inside. Koz hardened himself.

The Snipers are tools, nothing more, he reminded himself. A means to an end.

He shifted his attention to the book that lay open on the table. Amanda called it the Anarchist’s Cookbook. It contained fascinating diagrams on how to build bombs and blow things up.

It made Koz wish for the hundredth time he could read English. In all the years he’d taken secret English lessons with American prisoners, he’d never thought to study letters.

The book was a reminder of what an odd place America was. A book such as this would never be allowed in Russia.

“What’s wrong?” Amanda asked.

“I was thinking of my wife.”

“Is she back in Russia?”

“No. She is dead.”

“Oh.” Amanda’s brow wrinkled with sympathy. “I’m sorry to hear that. My parents both died in the First Offensive.”

The girl was an orphan. For some reason, this information made Koz want to comfort her. But that would accomplish nothing. He wasn’t here to make friends. Besides, he didn’t know the first thing about comforting a teenage girl, let alone an American teenage girl with spiky hair.

He decided to attempt small talk. The Americans were always talking. This was another strange thing they did. Small talk was considered treasonous back in Russia. If you make idle chat, you help a spying rat.

“Your parents taught you how to do this?” He gestured to the bomb and tripwire she was making. Secretly, he was pleased by how much his English had improved during his short time with the Snipers.

“Did my parents teach me how to make bombs?” Her eyebrows nearly climbed off her forehead. “No, they didn’t.”

“You did not have a copy of this Anarchist’s Cookbook in your home?”

He hadn’t thought it was possible for her eyebrows to go any higher. He was wrong.

“This isn’t exactly a coffee table book.”

Koz struggled to comprehend her meaning. “What is coffee table?”

“Coffee table?” Amanda chewed her bottom lip. “Look.” She abandoned her bomb and moved into the sitting area. Resting her hand on a smooth wooden table in front of the sofa, she said, “This is a coffee table.”

“Ah. Yes, okay. You have special books made for coffee tables?”

“Yeah, but this isn’t one of them.” Amanda came back into the kitchen. “The Anarchist’s Cookbook is kind of hard to find. I don’t know how Nonna got her hands on a copy.”

Nonna. Koz had been tracking her movements all morning. She was on the other side of the kitchen, busy preparing a meal they would eat later today. Her slight body belied a strength he saw in her eyes every time she glared at him.

Of all the Snipers, she was the one who saw through his facade. She saw him for the monster he was. It was obvious every time she looked at him.

It was a problem that needed to be dealt with. Nonna held tremendous influence among the Snipers. She said jump, and every Sniper jumped.

The Snipers were essential to his plan. He could not afford for her dislike to stand between him and vengeance.

“Done.” Amanda smiled proudly at her finished bomb. “Nonna, where should this one go?”

“Basement,” Nonna replied from her position at the stove. “Set it behind the door. We’ll set up the tripwire if the communist bastards try to attack.”

She turned around as she spoke, looking directly at Koz as she said this.

Communist bastard. The message loud and clear. She tolerated his presence only because he’d rescued her grandson. That, and he’d proven that he contained valuable information that could help her country.

If not for those two things, Koz had no doubt she would have shot him, skinned him, and turned his remains into a door mat.

If he’d been lucky, she would have done it in that order.

He supposed he and Nonna were not so different. They each saw one another as a means to an end.

Koz was nothing if not methodical. Nonna’s intense dislike was a problem that needed solving. And the best way to solve a problem was with trial and error.

Trial Number One: small talk.

“What is your name?” Koz asked.

“Nonna.”

“Not that. That is what the kids call you. What is your real name?”

“That is my real name.”

The glare she gave him was hard enough to rival one of General Petrov’s.

Koz had spent a lifetime rallying under such glares. He tried a different angle. “What is the name your parents gave you?”

“That is none of your business.”

Polina hadn’t liked him to begin with, either. Koz was nothing if not persistent. It’s one of the reasons he was a good scientist. “My name is Viktor. Viktor Kozlovovitch.”

“Nonna.” Anton, intent on the landmine detonator he was constructing, didn’t look up from where he sat at the far end of the kitchen table. It was the first time he’d spoken in nearly an hour. His face was a mix of purple bruises and dark scabs from the cigarette burns. “Koz is being friendly.”

“I have all the friends I need,” Nonna said.

Anton never took his eyes from his work. “Her name is Valentina Trione Cecchino.”

Valentina. The name fit the trim woman who ran her kitchen with the efficiency of a military officer.

Small talk was clearly not the way into her fortress.

Trial Number Two: cooperative attitude.

“I am finished, Valentina.” Koz held up his own bomb and tripwire like a peace offering. “Tell me where I am to put it.”

She sniffed and turned her back on him. “Put it by the door with the others.”

It was clear she didn’t trust him. Well, he didn’t blame her. His people had invaded her country and devastated it with the nezhit virus. He counted himself lucky not to be a door mat.

He hoped the tripwires and bombs would never have to be used. A battle against sentients could derail the things he’d set in motion with the Snipers. He hoped the Rossi headquarters was a pile of ash and those who knew the location of Pole Mountain had died in the sentient nezhit insurrection—or, as the Americans called them, zombies.

It was a vain hope. In his life, he had yet to see hope count for much. Normally, it just got people killed.

Like his wife and son.

When the sentients did come, Valentina planned to blow them to bits—and her lovely cabin with it.

A shout from outside drew his attention. “They’re coming!” Juli burst into the cabin.

Juli was by far the strangest member of the Snipers. She wore a tight pink tank top with dried blood splatters on it. Her hands were in fingerless black gloves. The jeans she wore hugged her lithe figure. Bright pink sneakers adorned her feet.

And she was actually a he. Koz had no idea what to think of that.

It was beyond baffling. Americans prided themselves on being independent, but this took things to an unexpected level of independence.

The rest of the group seemed to accept him. Her. And Juli handled a gun as well as everyone else in the group. Her choice of clothing didn’t impact her ability to work or kill zombies. Perhaps that’s why the Snipers didn’t care what she wore.

“I can see them!” Juli skidded to a halt in the middle of the room, chest heaving. Her shaggy hair was held back from her face with a pink headband. “Five jeeps are headed this way. There are six Soviets in each of the jeeps.”

“Are they sentients?” Anton limped to the window to look down the road. The broken ribs restricted his movement.

“Yes, I think they’re sentients,” Juli said. “I saw gray patches of skin through the binoculars.”

Sentients was the name they’d given to the Soviet soldiers who had turned from the nezhit vaccine. They were the super soldiers the Russian government had dreamed of creating—except they ate brains.

They were smart zombies.

Koz turned to Nonna. Thirty sentients was not good. Going up against thirty sentients was like going up against a force of sixty regular soldiers. “We should run.”

Her mouth tightened. “This is Cecchino land. If the Soviet bastards want a piece of it, they’re going to have to bleed for it.”

3

WALLS

Jennifer lay in bed, following the sound of her dad’s footsteps outside in the hallway. She listened intently to make sure they didn’t stop at Cassie’s door.

She didn’t know what she would do if he went into Cassie’s room, though she’d played out the scenario in her head countless times.

Sometimes, she imagined herself grabbing her desk lamp and rushing in to defend her little sister. Other times, she pictured herself tackling Dad to the ground and screaming for Cassie to run.

Occasionally, she even contemplated calling the police.

For some reason, the last thought scared her the most.

The tread of her dad’s steps moved past Cassie’s room without stopping. A breath of relief rattled out of Jennifer’s throat.

The reprieve lasted only a heartbeat as Dad’s silhouette filled her bedroom doorway. She clutched the blankets when he came inside and closed the door. It felt like the walls of the room were closing in on her, a cage she could never escape.

She pretended to be asleep, even though she knew that wouldn’t deter him. It never did.

If she didn’t fight him, he would leave Cassie alone. This was the thought that gave her strength. It would all be worth it if she could protect Cassie.

* * *

Jennifer often felt the walls closing in around her. Even after her dad stopped coming to her bedroom. Even after she moved out and went to college.

Hell, she didn’t even have to be inside a building to feel caged.

The invisible bars dropped in around her as Leo sped down the highway, getting closer to the Cecchino apple farm with each passing mile.

The topless jeep was drenched in sunshine. The wind whipped at her hair, buffeting her face.

It was the exact opposite of being caged. Despite this, Jennifer couldn’t escape the feeling. It was a pressure building inside her.

If she didn’t do something, she might explode. She scanned the road ahead, secretly hoping for more sentients or mutant zombies. Having something to kill would be just the thing to depressurize her.

Leo slowed as the road neared a T-junction. This was the last turn before they hit the road that led to Cecchino farm.

Jennifer forced an exhale as she pictured the faces of Amanda and Stephenson. How could she face Cassie’s two best friends? The news of her death would break them.

Pressure mounted in Jennifer’s chest. She made fists with her hands to restrain herself from trying to punch through the windshield.

A handful of barns and houses blocked the road beyond the T-junction from view. Leo stopped when they were two hundred yards away and switched off the jeep. They sat quietly, listening for any sign of trouble from the road ahead.

Jennifer couldn’t stand sitting still a moment longer. “I’ll scout ahead.” Without waiting for permission, she jumped out. “I’ll make sure there’s no one coming.”

“Jen, wait—”

She sprinted down the road, letting a few tears roll down her cheeks as she left the others behind. The running felt good. At least she was moving.

She switched her focus, pushing thoughts of Cassie, Amanda, and Stephenson aside. It felt a lot like shoving them behind a door and locking it.

A distant part of her knew she was compartmentalizing. She’d picked up the skill in high school. It was the only way she could go to school, cheer practice, and gymnastics like a normal kid. It was the only way she could keep herself together most of the time.

Her attention shifted to the big barn up ahead. She would steal around it and check the road to make sure the coast was clear.

Dry yellow grass brushed at her calves as she slowed down and moved off the road. She didn’t look behind her; the jeep was still switched off, which meant Leo was waiting for her to give the all clear.

This was the second time today he hadn’t made a fuss when she put herself at risk. The change made her uneasy, but she ignored it.

The world around her was silent. The sun started its westerly descent, but it still beat down on her back. Bugs hummed in the grass. A crow flew by overhead, dark wings swishing against the air.

The scent of rotting flesh prickled the inside of her nose. Zombies. It was easy to recognize the smell.

Jennifer peeked around the corner of the barn. A blast of death hit her nostrils. She gagged and breathed through her mouth, maintaining her position.

The road was clear to the left and right as far as she could see. There was nothing but black pavement, houses, and apple trees.

And bodies. Four lay in front of the barn. The bodies were swollen and rotted, baking under the sun. She didn’t study them closely; she was afraid that if she did, she’d recognize them.

She’d lost enough people. No more needed to be added to the list. At least, not today.

She retreated behind the barn and waved Leo forward. He’d waited the whole time.

Less than forty-eight hours ago, he would have sent someone with her. He would have trailed her in the car and been up her asshole the whole time.

Did he want her dead for getting Cassie killed? Is that why his protective nature had become non-existent?

She wanted to see hate in his eyes. He should blame her. She should have been there for Cassie. It should have been she who stayed behind to detonate those last bombs.

Leo slowed the car long enough for her to get inside, then continued up to the T-junction. Without saying a word, he hung a left at the corner and headed for the Cecchino farm.

The walls began closing in again as they passed familiar landmarks. The wooden mailbox with peeling paint that was shaped like a rooster. The old olive tree that dropped sticky fruit all over the road. The blue farmhouse with moss growing along the eaves.

Cattle pastureland opened up on their left. It was the Craig farm.

These were all sights she remembered from her many trips to the Cecchino farm in high school. Her chest constricted.

Amanda. Stephenson. She would have to face them and tell them about Cassie. The laughter from Cassie’s thirteenth birthday bash still echoed in her head.

A familiar black mailbox with hand-painted white numbers came into the view. It was the entrance to the Cecchino farm.

Her stomach flip-flopped as Leo turned into the gravel driveway. Was this how he’d felt when he carried the news of Jim’s death to Mr. and Mrs. Craig?

Not only would she have to break the news to Amanda and Stephenson, she’d have to tell everyone at the cabin. It had to be her. Cassie was her sister. It was her responsibility.

I got their best friend killed. She blinked away wetness that once again stung her eyes. The invisible walls around her made her feel like she was choking.

Leo drove the jeep through the orchard and entered the dirt road at the back of the property. It was concealed by an old bay tree that had fallen in a storm, making the road practically invisible unless you knew where to look.

Dread grew in her stomach as they rolled up Pole Mountain. She was so focused on her next mission—on delivering the news of her sister’s death—that she didn’t even notice the hum of engines in the distance.

“Guys!” Spill stood up in the backseat, grabbing the roll bar as he shaded his eyes to look up Pole Mountain. “Do you hear that?”

Leo threw the car into park and switched off the engine. As soon as he did, the rumble of cars reached her ears.

“Oh, fuck,” Bruce breathed.

Oh, fuck was right. In the sudden silence, it was easy to determine the direction of the cars. They weren’t behind them, and they weren’t on the road below.

They were somewhere ahead of them—on Pole Mountain. From the sound of things, there were four or five vehicles.

There were a lot of reasons why there might be a handful of cars driving up Pole Mountain.

Every single one of them started and ended with a Soviet attack on the cabin.

From the looks on the faces of her companions, they’d come to the same conclusion.

“Fuck!” Leo switched the engine back on and charged forward.

4

ATTACK

Koz sat in the belly of the tank he’d stolen from Rossi headquarters. The great metal beast was parked in a thick stand of trees on the northern slope of Pole Mountain.

He manned the cannon mounted on top of the tank, a shell already loaded. Nearby, crouched in front of a slot visor with a machine gun, was Valentina. Anton stood on the ladder inside the hatch, machine gun poised in his arms.

If Anton hadn’t been nursing broken ribs, he’d be at the forefront of the battlefield with Dal, Lena, Juli, and Amanda. If Valentina was ten years younger, Koz suspected she’d be out there, too.

From the position of the tank, they had a clear view of the road as it came around the last switchback, as well as a view of the clearing in front of the Cecchino cabin. Nonna wanted to pelt the enemy as they came into sight.

This was a bad plan. Koz was sure of it. They should be halfway down the mountain and running for their lives.

Valentina hadn’t been in Rossi. She hadn’t seen the way the sentients swarmed headquarters. It had been a bloodbath. And thirty sentients, on their way here? Koz didn’t give them very good odds.

“We can still run,” he said. “Our priority is Nellis."

Valentina grunted at him in response. “We get as many of the communist bastards as we can. Then we go to Nellis.”

If we survive. Koz dropped the subject. The Snipers had agreed to take him to Nellis Air Force Base in Nevada, where he could share intel on the sentients. If he wanted their help, he must help them survive the next few minutes.

He pictured the round face of General Petrov, his superior for forty years. Just imagining the details of his face—the wrinkles under his eyes, the mole next to the hairline along his right ear—was enough to set anger boiling in his gut.

General Petrov symbolized everything Koz hated. It was the reason he had defected.

Koz took hold of his anger. It was a good reminder of how much was at stake, and how important his mission was. If the Snipers fell today, he would have to find another way to get revenge.

“They’re close.” Valentina leaned forward to peer through the sights on her machine gun.

“Let’s kill these bastards,” Anton said. The young man’s voice was rock steady as he waited in ambush on the ladder. He didn’t look a day over eighteen, but he carried himself like a veteran who’d been fighting for twenty years.

It was difficult to look at him sometimes. Not because of what had been done to the young man, but because it was a reminder of what Koz had done to others. He had stolen souls from the eyes of so many people—too many to count.

Sacrifice for the betterment of all. That’s what he had been raised to believe. Those words had guided his work in the Experimental Science Division.

It had taken the deaths of Aleksander and Polina for him to see the sickness of his life.

The Snipers had to survive. For Polina. For Aleksander. For everyone who had died in the name of Mother Russia. He could not avenge them if he died like a dog on this hill in the middle of American farm country.

The rumble of engines grew louder. Koz pressed his eyes against the periscope.

The first jeep rounded the last switchback in front of them.

Sparking bombs flew out of the trees, hitting the vehicle from both directions. On one side of the road was Dal and Lena. On the other side were Juli and Amanda. They worked in teams, one person lighting, the other person throwing.

The bombs detonated as they landed inside the jeep. Body parts flew. The vehicle was torn asunder.

Above him, Anton opened fire with the machine gun. Nonna began firing from her slot visor.

Koz, eyes glued to the periscope, cranked the traverse wheels of the cannon and took aim at the second jeep that sped over the rise. As soon as he had the jeep in his sights, he fired.

The tank vibrated as the shell was expelled. The second jeep exploded.

Arms cranking on the traverse wheels, he shifted the cannon, waiting for the third jeep.

Up in the chute, Anton kept firing. “They’re leaving the road and trying to cut up through the trees,” he said. “We have to move!”

“The landmines will get the bastards,” Valentina growled.

“Get up the hillside,” Anton said. “Now!”

Koz dropped into the driver’s seat and threw the tank into gear, sending it up the hillside toward the cabin clearing. The narrow slit visor in front of the driver’s seat didn’t let him see much beyond the yellow grass that grew on the slope.

“Lena,” Anton bellowed, “lookout!” He let loose more machine gun fire.

“Soviets on the ground,” Valentina barked. Bullets leapt from her gun.

Koz gritted his teeth. The tank continued to crank uphill.

Another explosion rocked the ground, then two more.

“Landmines,” Anton reported. “We got another two jeeps. Sentients are everywhere. Explosions only kill them if the heads are destroyed.”

“Trees,” Valentina snapped. “Anton!”

“Got ‘em, Nonna.”

Koz stopped the tank at the edge of the clearing in front of the cabin. He pressed his face back to the periscope and frantically cranked at the traverse wheels, sighting on the fifth jeep. Just as he did, he saw a Soviet fling a grenade at them.

“Down,” Koz bellowed. “Anton, down!”

Anton grabbed the hatch and slammed it shut, dropping down through the chute as he did so. He hit the floor with a grunt. Valentina dropped and covered her head.

An explosion rocked the tank. The floor and walls reverberated from the impact. Koz was thrown sideways. Smoke and dust billowed in through the slot visors, choking him.

Anton scrambled back up the ladder and threw open the hatch. Smoke wafted upwards, but Koz still coughed.

Anton had barely gotten the hatch open when two more explosions shook the earth.

“Another landmine.” Anton gagged on the smoke. “I think we got all the jeeps."

“What about the commies?” Valentina asked.

“We got a lot of them. Bodies are every—” Anton broke off. Whatever he’d been about to say was lost in machine gun chatter as he opened fire. “Amanda, behind you!”

Amanda’s smile flashed through his mind. Koz felt something lurch in his gut. Without thinking, he grabbed a machine gun and took aim through a slot visor

He spotted Amanda immediately. She was on the ground, grappling with a Soviet sentient. They rolled across the edge of the clearing.

Amanda had the strength of a she-bear. She threw a handful of dirt into the Soviet’s face and raked her nails on his face. The sentient hissed as the grit hit his eyes.

Amanda kicked free of him. On her hands and knees, she began scrambling away as fast as she could.

It wasn’t fast enough. The sentient’s hand snaked out. He grabbed her by the ankle. Amanda screamed as she was dragged through the dirt.

Koz took aim with his machine gun and fired. But the sentient moved, and he missed.

“Amanda!”

5

BATTLE

Jennifer jumped out of the jeep while it was still moving. She rolled across the ground and came to her feet in the middle of a battlefield.

The Soviet jeeps were in pieces. Many Soviets were in pieces, too. Smoke was everywhere. Gunfire chatter rang in her ears.

She zeroed in on Amanda, Cassie’s best friend. A sentient asshole had her by the ankle and dragged her across the ground.

Jennifer sprinted forward. In her periphery, she saw Anton scrambling stiffly out from the hatch of a Soviet tank, yelling Amanda’s name.

The sentient’s blood-red irises were locked on Amanda. Her pants rode up as he dragged her forward. Drool dripped from his mouth as he prepared to take a bite of her bare ankle.

No way. No fucking way was she going to watch someone else die from a sentient bite.

Jennifer poured on another burst of speed, heedless of the bullets that rained around her. She swung her machine gun like a club, delivering a brutal hit to the side the asshole’s face. He grunted, but didn’t release Amanda.

“Let—her—go!” Jennifer delivered another blow with each word. The skull cracked beneath her assault. She hit him again for good measure, nostrils flaring in satisfaction at the sight of brain matter splattered on the ground.

“Jennifer?” Amanda gaped at her, quickly bounding to her feet.

“It’s me.” Jennifer hadn’t realized Amanda was so agile. “You okay?”

“Yeah, thanks to you.”

“How did these Soviet fuckers find the cabin?”

“Tate. KGB. Where’s Cassie?”

Jennifer felt an invisible spear go through her heart. It became hard for her to breathe. She stared at Amanda, struggling to find her voice.

Shouting went up near the cabin, followed by an explosion.

Amanda turned away, drawn by the sounds of conflict. “Come on, we have to kill them all.” She dashed into the fray, raising her machine gun to her shoulder.

The shy, timid girl Jennifer remembered had disappeared. In her place was a badass young woman who mercilessly gunned down two Soviets before disappearing into the smoky haze that filled the air.

Cassie. Her heart pounded. Jennifer channeled her ragged emotions into rage, pulling them around her like armor. Gritting her teeth, she charged into the smoke, intent on finding sentients to kill. Fuck these Soviet undead bastards. They all had to die.

Pieces of the decimated jeeps were everywhere. One engine had caught fire, igniting a small brush blaze. Soviet body parts were strewn across the ground and among the jeep pieces. It looked like over half of their attackers had been killed by landmines.

Jennifer zeroed in on a sentient. He crouched low and raced in the direction of the Cecchino cabin.

“Not on my watch, asshole.” She took aim and fired.

The back of his head exploded in red. The sentient dropped.

The smoke shifted. Something moved in her peripheral.

It was Dal and Lena, locked in a struggle with two sentients.

Lena, on her feet, was in a game of chase with her sentient. She danced around the trunk of a broad bay tree, trying to reload her machine gun as the sentient pursued her.

Dal had one on the ground, attempting to stab him, but the sentient was strong and fast. He caught Dal’s wrist in his hand, dragging it to his mouth. Dal fought like a lion, but his arm inched closer and closer to the sentient.

The Soviet grinned up at Dal. The expression fanned Jennifer’s rage. She fired as she ran, peppering his head with bullets. Then she pivoted on her heel, focusing on the Soviet who was after Lena.

The sentient had stopped pursuing her around the tree and now scaled up the trunk. Lena’s chest heaved as she slammed the magazine into her gun, but she didn’t realize the sentient was above her.

“Lena, up!” Jennifer sprayed bullets into the bay tree. The pungent scent of the leaves perfumed the air. She didn’t have a clear headshot, but enough bullets would slow him down. “He’s in the tree!”

Lena leaped reflexively back from the trunk just as the sentient tumbled out. Jennifer had a blurred impression of a dark green uniform stained with patches of blood.

The Soviet hit the ground, bleeding from multiple wounds in his body. He lunged forward, seemingly oblivious to the pain, but Lena was ready for him. She laid into her trigger and fired directly into his face.

“Jen!” Lena turned from the dead sentient and raced up to her. “You’re back! Is Leo with you?”

Before Jennifer could answer, Leo and Bruce came charging out of the smoke. They clambered around the back end of a wrecked jeep and fired over their shoulders.

Jennifer tensed, searching the smoke for whatever pursued them. Three sentients came into sight. They bounded through the scattered remains of the jeeps, firing as they came.

Jennifer ducked behind a pile of rubble that was half grit, half ruined jeep. Leaning out from behind the rubble, she fired. She caught one sentient in the neck. He staggered forward and dropped his gun, but didn’t go down. He was no more than ten steps behind Leo.

A shot cracked next to Jennifer’s ear as Lena skidded down beside her. “Got him,” Lena muttered. Never lowering her gun, she kept firing.

Jennifer joined her, the two of them firing. Dal fired from the other side of the rubble mound. They dropped the last of the sentients just as Leo and Bruce reached them.

The five of them fell into a tight knot. It felt like they’d been fighting like this for years, when in truth it had only been a few weeks. She, Lena, Dal, Leo, and Bruce edged through the smoke and debris. A few sentients tried to rush them, but they gunned them down before they got close.

“The cabin!” A voice called out a warning. “They’re going for the cabin!”

Jennifer spun in time to see a handful of Soviets rush up the steps of the cabin.

She saw red. The cabin symbolized everything she loved. No fucking way was she going to let those Soviet bastards take it.

She charged forward with a yell. Leo and Bruce were right beside her.

To her shock, Lena and Dal shouted in protest. They grabbed Leo and Bruce, hauling them back, but Jennifer broke free and kept running. She was too focused to consider why Dal and Lena tried to stop them.

The Soviets swarmed across the porch. Boots rang on the wooden deck as they raced for the cabin door. The fuckers would have the high ground if she didn’t stop them. They—

“It’s rigged!” A skinny shape sprinted out of the smoke and smacked into her. “Get back!” Jennifer grunted as she tripped and rolled across the ground. Her cheek skidded across the hard-packed dirt.

“It’s rigged!” The skinny figure threw himself on top of her, covering her with his body.

Jennifer finally registered the familiar voice of Stephenson.

Then the Cecchino cabin exploded.

The ground beneath them bucked from the force of the explosion. Jennifer and Stephenson were thrown several feet through the air. Debris sprayed into them. Jennifer hit the ground with a grunt. Something bounced off her back.

Stephenson smashed into her. His hands grasped at her as he cried, “Secondary explosion—look out!”

His meaning registered just as another explosion detonated in the cabin. Glass and wood and chunks of tile flew through the air.

Jennifer and Stephenson clung to one another, trying to shelter their heads as pieces of the Cecchino cabin rained all around them. A jeep tire landed beside them before rolling out of sight.

Silence fell. Her ears rang. Jennifer scrambled to her feet, casting around for her machine gun. Where was it? How many sentients were left—

Several shots rang out.

Jennifer looked up and saw three sentients fall dead to the ground.

Nonna, Anton, and a big man in a dirty lab coat stood atop a Russian tank, weapons raised as they scanned the area for more threats.

Nothing moved. The only sound was that of the crackling trees as the fire spread.

Jennifer shifted her stance, every nerve standing on a razor’s edge. There might still be a few sentients out there.

A form appeared out of the smoke. Amanda broke into a run at the sight of them.

She grabbed Stephenson and Jennifer in a crushing hug. The force of it squeezed the air out of Jennifer’s lungs. She’d never before realized how strong Amanda was.

“Thanks for saving my ass back there. Talk about in the nick of time.” Amanda grinned at Jennifer. Her face was smeared with blood and dirt, but she seemed unfazed by it. “You guys showed up at the perfect time.”

Amanda radiated confidence. Her dark brown hair had been cut short, the ends dyed blond. It was like meeting a completely new person.

“No prob.” Jennifer glanced at Stepheson. “Speaking of ass saving. Thanks for …”

She momentarily forgot how to speak. Her eyes raked up and down Stephenson.

It was most definitely Stephenson who stood before her. Tall and skinny with glasses. She’d know him anywhere.

But he was wearing sexy skinny jeans with a hot pink tank top. His shaggy hair had been pulled back from his face with a hair band. He wore hot pink Converse that any teenage girl would give her left hand for.

Her shock only lasted a few seconds. It faded as she realized he was finally dressed like himself. He looked more at home in the pink tank top than he ever had in boy clothes.

“You look great,” she said. “Pink is definitely your color.”

Amanda grinned.

Stephenson’s mouth dropped open, but he recovered and hugged her again. “I knew you’d understand.”

“Her name is Juli now,” Amanda said.

“Juli. Yeah, it suits you.”

“Thanks.” Juli ran a hand through her hair, smiling self-consciously as she looked around. “I think we got all those Soviet bastards.”

Jennifer turned to survey the battlefield. Nonna had come down from the tank. She held Leo in a tight hug, looking so tiny next to her giant grandson.

Dal, Lena, and Bruce stood off to one side. Spill crept out from the trees, wood splinters stuck in his dark hair. Anton and the big man in the lab coat came down from the tank.

Anton limped, walking slowly. His face was a mottled purple. It looked like he had cigarette burns all over his jaw. What the hell had happened to him?

“Jennifer?” Amanda turned, a dent furrowing her brow. “Where’s Cassie?”

Jennifer’s heart fell into her stomach. Reality crashed back in on her, and all she wanted to do was sink into the ground and disappear forever.

“Yeah, where’s Cas?” Juli asked.

Tears stung her eyes. Jennifer swallowed, struggling to find the right words. How did you tell two people you got their best friend killed?

Her eyes flicked to Leo. He stared at her over his grandmother’s head, his dark eyes full of a sadness so heavy it left her feeling crushed.

“What’s wrong?” Juli’s voice went up an octave, her gaze darting between Leo and Jennifer. “Where’s Cassie?”

“Yeah, where’s Cassie?” Amanda stared desperately at her. “Jen, where’s Cas? Where is she?”

Jennifer opened her mouth.

All that came out was a wordless, strangled sound.

Leo seemed to come out of nowhere. “We lost Cassie,” he said.

Jennifer cringed, slapping her hands over her ears. She wished lightning would strike and kill her on the spot. Anything to escape this terrible moment.

“What?” Amanda’s eyes filled with tears. “What do you mean, you lost Cassie?”

“She’s gone.” Leo swallowed thickly, wiping at his eyes with the back of his hand. “I’m sorry, guys. The sentients got her.”

6

BEES

The sun dipped toward the western horizon. Koz stared openly at Amanda, unable to look away from her grief-stricken face. She and Juli stood wrapped in one another’s arms. They cried together for one they had lost—someone named Cassie.

Why had he done it? Why had he abandoned his position within the tank when Amanda had been attacked? Sure, she was a nice girl. But that was irrelevant to his mission. What if he’d been busy at the slot visor defending her and another jeep full of sentients had shown up? He’d been in charge of the tank gun. He should never have lost sight of his mission and abandoned his post. Polina and Aleksander deserved better.

Even as these thoughts went through Koz’s mind, a fresh wave of tears broke from Amanda and Juli. He knew he should look away, but instead, Koz found himself fighting the urge to comfort them. He knew their pain. Watching them was like reliving his own grief when he’d lost his wife and son.

He swallowed and hardened himself. Where was all this sentiment coming from? He had not survived forty years in the Experimental Science Division by being soft. He could not afford to feel sentimentality with the Snipers.

They were a means to an end. Stepping stones to vengeance against Mother Russia and all who ruled in her name. Soft hearts did not lend themselves to hard missions.

Besides, what could he say or do to lesson their pain? Even if he wanted to comfort them—which he did not—nothing would take away their grief.

The Snipers stood in a tight group around Juli and Amanda, many of them also in tears. A young man—Bruce was his name—shared the story of the group’s harrowing mission to take out Luma Bridge. They’d lost two Snipers in the mission: another soldier named Griggs, and a girl named Cassie.

Koz closed his eyes when Bruce talked about the Soviet busses that had sunk to the bottom of the bay. Had Polina and Aleksander lived to emigrate to America, they could very well have been on those buses.

So much death. He could not judge the Snipers when his own hands were dirty from years of work as a researcher.

His hands were drenched in blood. There was no redemption for him. He was a man capable of terrible things.

He couldn’t change who he was. He knew that. There was no redemption for the things he’d done. He was a monster, plain and simple.

But a monster could also be an avenging demon. He would extract payment from she who had created him—from Mother Russia herself. He would see her unraveled and beaten into submission before he died. Mother Russia would come to regret the day she had forged him in her fires.

After Bruce finished his story, Dal gave an update on all that had happened at the Cecchino farm while the others had been gone.

“We have a new mission now.” Dal gestured to Koz. “We have to get him and his research to Nellis.”

“Nellis?” Leo frowned. “That’s all the way in Nevada.”

“We have no choice,” Anton said. Lena stood beside him, her cheek resting on his shoulder. “It’s the closest active military base.” He glanced at Spill. “Unless you know of somewhere closer?”

“No, brother.” Spill shook his head. “Nellis is the only one I’m aware of.”

“Unless we find a place closer where we can get help manufacturing the sedative gas, we have to go to Nellis,” Anton said. “Koz brought a tank. We already have it loaded with supplies.”

“You want to take a Soviet tank all the way to Nellis?” Leo said. He looked as saddened by the loss of Cassie as Juli and Amanda. Koz suspected he’d been close to the girl before she died.

“Yes,” Anton said. “It’s the best way. The tank will keep us disguised from the Soviet patrols.”

Jennifer stepped forward. She’d been hanging at the edge of the group, almost as if she felt like an outsider. She wore shame like a second skin. It had clung to her ever since Leo had delivered the news of Cassie’s death. Cassie had been Jennifer’s younger sister.

Seeing her was like looking in a mirror at his own reflection. Koz wasn’t sure what she’d done to despise herself so thoroughly, though he was pretty sure it couldn’t be half as bad as the things he’d done. He felt drawn to her the way water droplets on a petri dish were drawn together.

“We need disguises,” Jennifer said in a clipped voice. “If we’re going to ride in a Soviet tank, we need to look like Soviets. It’s the best way to disguise ourselves.” She glanced around at the rubble heap. “We’ll use the uniforms from the dead sentients.”

Without waiting to see if anyone agreed, she climbed onto the debris and unearthed the first body. It had been blown in two by one of Nonna’s bombs; when Jennifer tugged on the foot, only the legs and hips slid free of the wreckage.

Everyone stared at her in shock, as though unable to comprehend her plan. Koz climbed up on the rubble beside her.

“It’s a good plan,” he told her.

She glanced at him from the corner of her eye, but didn’t say anything. Likely she only tolerated his presence because Anton had vouched for him.

She pulled off the boots from the corpse and held them up. “Leo, I think these will fit you.” She tossed the shoes in Leo’s direction.

Slowly, the rest of the group joined them, digging through the wreckage to find bodies with intact uniforms.

The Cecchino cabin had been decimated. Even though Koz had only been a guest there for a few days, the sight of the rubble made some part of him ache. He’d always wanted a cozy home in America to share with Polina someday. The cabin was just the sort of place he’d dreamt about.

All that remained of it was burned wood, fragmented tile, shattered chunks of cement, and broken bricks. The debris made a huge mound in the clearing. The only good thing about the pile was that it contained bodies of sentients.

“Fuck guys, this one is still alive.” Bruce frowned down at a torso he’d unearthed from the rubble; it was probably the other half of the one Jennifer had.

The teeth gnashed. Red eyes bulged. Everyone jumped when the head spoke in a hissing voice. “Sniper scum.”

“Fuck you.” Bruce stabbed the Soviet through the eye.

“Language,” Valentina said.

“That was creepy,” Juli said.

Koz had seen a lot of things Juli would call creepy, but he had to admit, a talking head on a body that had been blown in half was one of the creepier things he’d seen, too. And he was not what most would consider squeamish.

“Everyone, be careful,” Leo said. “There might be others alive in the rubble. Split up in pairs. Kill anything that moves.”

Koz observed how the group carried out his orders without question. Leo was young, but he spoke with easy authority. A born leader, Nonna’s grandson, and Anton’s elder brother. Koz filed that fact away.

He trailed after Jennifer, even though it was clear from her posture that she wanted to be alone. They ranged through the pile and pulled out bodies. She grimaced as she extracted an arm, tossing it over her shoulder with a grunt of disgust.

Koz found another head that was still alive. The vocal cords had been destroyed. All that could be heard was the clicking of teeth as the zombie glared up at them with his red eyes.

“Fucker,” Jennifer snarled.

Koz held the head while Jennifer killed it. He observed the half-crazed expression on her face when she stabbed the sentient in the eye, wondering if anyone else saw how close she was to breaking.

She caught him watching and said, “What, never seen a woman kill before?”

“Not until today, no,” he answered honestly. He didn’t add that he’d spent most of his life in a remote research facility where there were no women, let alone women who fought like men.

“Well, get used to it. You’re in America now.” She stalked away.

A bee flew in front of Koz’s face. He waved it away without thinking, but paused as an image of Polina flashed in his memory.

He saw her clearly in their small village home. She stood in their backyard, meticulously bent over a table with a paint brush in her hand as she painted small jars of honey in preparation for the wedding.

* * *

Aleksander + Inessa

Eternal Love

Their son was due to be married tomorrow and Polina wanted all the guests to have honey to go with the fresh baked bread she planned to serve. Using blue paint—Inessa’s favorite color—she lovingly painted each jar with the couple’s name. His Polina had a flare for art.

Ten feet behind her were the bee hives she kept. Polina loved honey bees, especially the honey. She was the only person in the village who raised bees. As she painted, the bees buzzed in the background, forming a halo around her head.

“What are you singing?” Koz asked, stepping up to the table to admire her handiwork. Besides the couple’s name and the wish for eternal love, she also painted each jar with tiny birds and flowers. A few of them even had painted bees. Each one was a work of art.

“You do not remember?” She smacked Koz affectionally on the arm.

His brows drew together in a mock frown. “Should I remember every song my wife sings?”

She sniffed teasingly and returned her attention to the honey jar. “It is a lullaby. I sang it to Aleksander when he was little. I would think you would remember the songs I sang to our son.”

“That was over thirty years ago. I can’t even remember when I had my last haircut.”

“Men.” She put her hands on her hips, a drop of lustrous blue paint shining on the tip of the brush. “Your last haircut was yesterday, Viktor.”

“That’s right.” He ran a hand through his close-cropped hair with a sheepish grin. “I already forgot. See, how can you expect me to remember lullabies?”

“You are lucky to have me for your wife,” she replied. “Otherwise you would be a hairy ape.”

“I am very lucky to have you for my wife.”

Polina paused in her painting and permitted Koz to kiss her on the cheek. “I will be singing that song again when Aleksander and Inessa have their first baby. I was just getting my vocal cords ready.”

“Ah. Planning for a baby before they have even taken their vows? Do you know something I do not?”

“Do not be obscene, Viktor.” She smacked him on the arm again, but the severity was broken by a mischievous smile. “But you remember what it was like to be young.”

Koz smirked. “I do remember.” Polina’s blush made him chuckle. “I do hope your wish comes true and you get your baby.”

“Babies,” Polina corrected. “Inessa has already told me she wants at least one boy and one girl.”

“Ah. Has she placed her order with Aleksander?”

“Viktor.” Another slap to the arm. “Go inside and stop distracting me. Look how many jars I have to paint. Everyone is looking forward to a taste of my honey tomorrow.”

He almost pointed out that if she had not chosen to do such elaborate work, she would have been done with the project hours ago. But he knew better. Besides, he would not have disrupted the joy he saw on her face for anything.

He hadn’t seen Polina this happy in a long time. Not even the cold winters or the scarce food supply could dampen the happiness she felt at her son’s marriage to Inessa. The girl was a blessing to their family in so many ways.

They had even secured the couple their own cottage only two doors away. He could just imagine how happy it would make Polina to help when the babies came.

As he left her to her work, Koz glanced back once before going back inside. The bees continued to buzz in the air, creating that lovely golden halo around Polina’s head as she worked.

* * *

Koz stared at the honey bee as it buzzed away. Longing and regret and sadness bloomed heavy inside him. Grief he had carefully stashed away came tumbling back.

Gone. They were all gone. Polina. Aleksander. Both of them dead, and Inessa—the lovely Inessa who had made both Polina and Aleksander beam with pride—had disappeared without a trace.

Longing for them made his insides ache.

Standing among the rubble of the Cecchino cabin, he followed the bee with his eyes as he struggled to get his emotions under control.

The bee flew in a lazy circle before landing on a cracked board only a few feet away from Koz’s boots. It walked around on the edge of the board, translucent wings catching the light.

The memory once again surfaced. He saw Polina painting the jars the day before the wedding, the bees creating the buzzing halo around her head.

And then his attention snapped forward as he saw something move, just to the left of the bee.

In the darkness of the rubble, something emerged. Something bloody and metallic—and aimed straight at him.

Koz had just enough time to jump aside as the gun fired.

7

NOT FORGOTTEN

His foot slipped on a loose piece of cement and he went down, landing hard on his hip.

The honey bee flew into the air and disappeared as the enraged face of the sentient emerged from the pile of rubble. The skin from ear to jaw on the left side had been torn away. White bone showed beneath the mangled flesh.

Splintered wood and chunks of concrete slid away as the sentient unearthed himself. Koz rolled to the side as bullets flew from the sentient’s gun.

He grabbed his own gun, but Anton was quicker. The young man appeared in Koz’s periphery, machine gun raised to his shoulder.

He was a damn good shot. Three bullets ate into the Soviet’s face, effectively turning his countenance into a pulpy mass of flesh. The sentient died on his feet and collapsed to the ground.

Heart pounding, Koz climbed to his feet.

“You all right, man?” Anton asked.

“Thanks to you, yes.”

Anton shrugged, as if he had done nothing remarkable. “Couldn’t have made the shot if you hadn’t gotten out of the way.”

“A bee.” Koz waved his hand, trying to explain, but words failed him. Between the fear of almost being shot and memories of Polina crowding his thoughts, all he could say was, “A bee flew by.”

“Are you okay?” Amanda hurried over, looking him up and down. “Did you hurt anything when you fell?”

“I am well, thanks to Anton.” And the bee. That honey bee had saved his life.

“Be careful, everyone,” Leo said. “There could be more living sentients in the rubble. Keep your guns handy. Shoot anything that has an intact head.”

Koz’s hand reflexively tightened on his gun. He gave Amanda a smile and a pat on the shoulder to ease the worried look on her face. He didn’t deserve her concern.

“I am fine,” he said. “It just startled me.” Anxious to get everyone’s attention off him, he turned his back and went back to sorting through the rubble.

He couldn’t get the bee out of his head. How was it possible for something so small and insignificant to have saved his life? Then again, could he honestly call a bee insignificant when they had been so important to his wife? The only thing Polina liked more than her honey bees had been her husband and son.

Emotion began to rear its head again. Something inside of him wanted to scream. To rage. To break things. He’d been suppressing these desires for more than a year.

He was an expert at shutting himself off. Forty years in the Experimental Science Division had taught him how to disassociate from things.

He did that now, carefully folding up the thoughts that wanted to be examined. The emotions that wanted to tear holes in the earth. He tucked them all away and reminded himself of the mission: revenge.

Once again feeling in control, he returned his attention to the task at hand. He spotted a foot sticking out of a pile. The cracked remains of the toilet sat atop it. He knelt down, gripping the cracked porcelain in his arms.

“Dude.” Bruce paused in his excavation to watch Koz. “You’re one strong mother fucker.”

“Language.” Valentina delivered a sharp whack to the back of Bruce’s head.

“Sorry, Nonna,” Bruce said, though he didn’t appear phased. “Koz, you’re as strong as a bear. That thing must weigh over two hundred pounds.”

Koz grunted from the effort, muscles straining. It was true that he was big and strong. If his mind hadn’t been more valuable than his body, he would have been trained as a soldier instead of a scientist.

He dropped the toilet into the dirt and noticed everyone staring at him. Again.

“Nice, dude,” Anton said. “You’re officially in charge of moving everything heavy.”

“He can take up your slack,” Lena said. “You shouldn’t be lifting anything with those broken ribs.”

Anton grunted. “What do you say, Koz? Want to do my share of the lifting?”

“Okay,” Koz said. “I will pull out the bodies. You undress them.”

“I’m pretty sure our school teachers never had this in mind when they taught us about the importance of teamwork,” Juli said.

Koz levered up a large piece of wood. Everything atop the board slid sideways, revealing a large piece of the cabin wall. “Look,” he said. “Not all is lost. This wall is in one piece.”

Emotion flickered over Anton’s face. “No fucking way,” he breathed. “Can you get that out?”

“Yes.” Koz shoved aside some more debris, then grabbed the wall remnant and pulled. Chunks of tile slid aside, revealing carvings on the piece of wall.

“Guys,” Anton shouted. “Guys, look.”

Everyone hurried over as Koz propped up the jagged wall. The Snipers gathered close. The same emotion on Anton’s face played over the expressions of those who surrounded him.

“It made it,” Amanda breathed. “I can’t believe it.”

“What does it say?” Koz asked.

Lena cocked her head at him. “You can’t read it?”

“I cannot read English.”

“This is a tribute to our fallen,” Lena said. “We call it the Wall of Not Forgotten.” She traced a finger along a few letters. “This is my father. He died on the first day of the invasion.”

“We have to add their names.” Leo’s eyes had taken on a haunted edge. “Cassie and Griggs.”

“And the Craigs,” Nonna said.

Silence fell. Koz sensed sadness and loss welling around him. This wall was a shrine for lost Snipers.

“I’ll do it.” Jennifer stepped forward, knife in hand. No one tried to stop her when she stepped up to the Wall of Not Forgotten. Koz braced the wall while she carved.

“I’ll be back,” Valentina said. “Juli, come with me.”

She and the girl went to the tank. Valentina sent Juli inside. She reappeared a few minutes later with a bottle of clear liquid.

“We always drink to our fallen,” Lena explained.

Valentina pulled the stopper out of the bottle. She took a long swig before passing the bottle to Anton.

The bottle made its way around the group. No one spoke. Everyone seemed lost in their own thoughts.

When Lena passed him the bottle, Koz paused. “My wife and son,” he said. “I would like them to be remembered.”

“How did they die?” Spill asked.

“KGB.” That wasn’t the exact truth, but it was close enough. He wasn’t sure the group would accept him if they knew the whole truth—if they knew they had a monster in their midst who had gotten his family killed.

“That’s why Koz is here helping us,” Anton said. “Fucking KGB killed his family.”

“Language, Antony.”

“Sorry, Nonna. Go on, man,” Anton said to Koz. “Add their names. Better hurry before it gets too full and there’s no room left.”

No one laughed at that. Taking in Anton’s expression, Koz saw the young man wasn’t being glib.

He took a long swig and passed the bottle to Amanda. Drawing his knife, he approached the wall.

Jennifer still worked. Tears shone on her cheeks, but she kept her head averted so no one could see.

Koz chose a spot to the side of the Sniper list. His lungs felt tight as he thought of Polina and Aleksander.

“Cassie was the best chess player.” Juli spoke up from the far side of the semi-circle. “I mean, Amanda and I are decent players, but Cassie could run circles around us.”

At the mention of Cassie’s name, Jennifer tensed. She never looked up from her work, but a few more tears glided down her cheek.

“She was the smartest girl I ever met,” Leo said. “She could outthink any of us. She was beautiful inside and out.”

A ripple of sorrow went through the group.

“Jennifer, do you want to share a story about Cassie?” Juli wiped at her nose with the back of her hand. “You could tell the story about that time on her thirteenth birthday when we had a candy eating contest.”

Jennifer jerked as though she’d been slapped. Slamming her knife into her belt sheath, she stalked away from the group and disappeared into the trees. Juli started after her, but Leo rested a restraining hand on her shoulder.

“Let her go,” he said. Grief filled the young man’s eyes. Koz couldn’t tell if it was for the loss of Cassie or Jennifer’s obvious pain.

“Tate was a tough mother fucker.” Anton glanced at his grandmother, but she didn’t rebuke him for his language. “He held out as long as he could. I know he’d want us to kill as many of those fuckers as we can.”

“I bet Tate and Jim are blowing vodka fireballs in Heaven,” Bruce said. That got a few chuckles.

They went around the group, everyone sharing a story of someone they’d lost.

“What about you, Koz?” Amanda asked. “Tell us something about your family.”

Koz felt his gut tighten. “My Polina … we met when we were sixteen. She was buying cigarettes for her mother in the town where I went to school.” He still remembered the gray coat she wore on that chilly winter day and the way her light blond curls had framed her face. “I fell instantly in love with my Polina and knew I would marry her someday.”

Koz had done many regrettable things in his life—even if he hadn’t known they were terrible at the time. The one he regretted most was marrying Polina. If he’d known the heartache he would one day cause her, he would have stayed far, far away from her.

“My son, Aleksander. He was a hard worker. A smart boy. A good husband.”

Koz wondered, not for the first time, what had happened to Inessa, Aleksander’s wife. She’d disappeared not long after Aleksander had been killed. Koz hoped she’d run away, though his instincts told him something terrible had happened to her. When people disappeared in Russia, it almost always ended in tragedy.

I will make things right, Polina, he thought. I’ll make Mother Russia pay. I’ll avenge your death—yours, and Aleksander’s, and Inessa’s.

8

RESCUE

Jennifer sat alone in the dark, knees pulled up to her chest. She rested her forehead on her knees and cried. The sun had dropped behind the horizon, leaving behind a darkening gray sky speckled with stars.

A sob wanted to burst from her throat, but she hiccuped and held it back. She didn’t deserve to cry. She deserved to suffer, like Cassie had suffered. Like Amanda and Juli suffered.

She couldn’t get the sound of their grief out of her mind.

She kept seeing Juli fall to her knees, wailing Cassie’s name. And Amanda, shouting at the top of her lungs in shrill desperation as she demanded to know what had happened to Cassie.

Jennifer hadn’t been able to do it. She hadn’t been able to tell them what happened to Cassie.

Leo did it instead.

That perfect asshole. She’d never hated him as much as she had in that moment.

Leo Cecchino, ever the hero of the hour, had strode through the battlefield when she had failed to find the words needed to deliver the news about Cassie.

With sorrowful eyes, he said, “She’s gone. I’m sorry, guys. The sentients got her.”

How he’d managed to speak those words without dissolving was beyond her. She hated him for that, too.

Jennifer didn’t think she’d ever forget the look of sorrow in Amanda’s face as she held Juli, the two of them sobbing for their lost friend.

The memory made Jennifer want to claw off her own skin. She cried harder, biting her lip to keep from crying out.

In her mind’s eye, she saw Cassie in the dark on the Luma Bridge, bent around her bleeding hand. She saw the terrified recognition in her little sister’s eyes and she smelled the cool, salty sea air.

Cassie. Her perfect, beautiful little sister. Her laugh. Her smile. Her competitive streak that only came out when she sat down at the chess board.

Gone. All gone.

A shudder went through Jennifer. She wasn’t one of those god freaks or general idiots who believed in Heaven. Heaven was a bullshit tale created by humans to make everyone feel better about death.

The truth was that death was the end. It was oblivion. Nothingness. Cassie was gone, and nothing Jennifer said or did could change that.

She’d once believed her parents loved her. It had been a terrible lesson the day she’d learned that had been nothing more than a fucked-up fairy tale.

She didn’t let herself believe in fairy tales anymore. Her sister was gone. Forever. End of story.

The empty sensation of Cassie being gone rocked Jennifer. Nothingness pressed in all around her. Black spots danced in her vision as she tried to get her breathing under control.

The sound of a snapping twig brought her head up. She swallowed, attempting to be absolutely quiet so no one wold find her.

“Jennifer?”

God fucking dammit. Leo was the last person she wanted to see right now. She pursed her lips, breathing sharply through her nose as she scrubbed a hand across her eyes.

“Jen?”

She didn’t stir. She didn’t make a sound.

He found her anyway.

He stepped into the small clearing of trees where she was hiding. She ducked her head and hid behind her knees, refusing to respond to him.

He would get the hint. Did she look like she wanted to talk? She just needed to stay like this until he got the hint and left.

Oak leaves crunched as Leo sat down beside her.

It made her want to scream.

“Jen.”

She didn’t respond. Tears leaked out of her eyes and she waited desperately for him to go away.

“The others are worried. You should come back.”

She wasn’t sure she could ever look Amanda and Juli in the face again. The worst part was that she knew they would forgive her. They would never hate her for losing Cassie.

“Jen, what happened to Cassie isn’t your fault.”

Leo rested a hand on her shoulder.

It was his gentle touch that made her snap.

She jumped to her feet, temper flaring. How dare he act like she wasn’t to blame? How dare he forgive her?

“Get away from me, Leo.”

“Come back to the fire.”

“I want to be alone right now.”

The answering empathy in his eyes enraged her. Silently, he held out a hand.

She smacked it away. “Don’t touch me.”

He gazed at her. It was dark, but her eyes had adjusted. She saw just how heavy his grief was.

But he was Leo. His heart had always been bigger than his temper. He knew her better than anyone. He alone understood how much she was hurting.

That knowledge made her feel small and vulnerable and terrified.

The last time she’d felt this way had been back in high school; she’d dumped him like garbage. Leo had loved her, and she had punished him for it.

“We’re at war, Jen. You can’t punish yourself for what happened to Cassie. You—”

“Always the hero,” she snapped. “Not everyone wants to be rescued by you, Leo.”

“I’m not trying to rescue you. Look, I know you’re hurting. We all are. I—I loved Cassie. And I know you did, too. But you can’t—”

Her defensives flared higher than ever. “You want to help me?” She grabbed his belt and jerked the buckle open. “You want to be a real hero? You want to take care of me?” She fumbled at his button and zipper and yanked open his pants.

He smacked her hands away. “What the hell, Jen?”

“Always the hero.” She glared at him and unfastened her jeans. She pushed them down to her knees. Her panties followed. “You really want to help a girl in pain?” She grabbed his crotch and squeezed. “Come on, Leo. Be the big hero for me.”

She saw the moment he snapped. His shock morphed into rage. “Fuck you, Jennifer.”

“No, fuck you!” she shouted back. “You always have to be so god-damned golden.” She turned and bent over, bracing her hands against a tree and giving him a perfect view of her ass. “You really want to comfort me? Here’s your chance. Come be the hero, Leo.”

His boots broke twigs and crushed leaves as he dug his fingers into her shoulder. She heard the fury in his harsh breathing as he slammed himself into her.

They fucked for three perfect minutes. Jennifer gave herself over to it.

She came seconds before he did. The physical chemistry between them had always been good.

When he pulled out of her, she leaned her bare ass on the tree trunk and glared at him, not bothering to pull up her pants. He glared right back at her.

“Cassie was too good for you,” he snarled.

She breathed in his hatred. It was like a balm to her soul.

He stalked away and disappeared into the dark—but not before she glimpsed just how much her stunt had hurt him.

The cruel immensity of what she’d just done hit her like a freight train. What she’d just done was ten times worse that dumping him back when they were in high school.

Her hands started to shake. What the fuck was wrong with her? She’d just fucked her dead sister’s boyfriend. People didn’t do shit like that. Not normal people, anyway.

Her stomach seemed to buckle in on itself. She slumped back to the ground and pressed her forehead against her knees. She cried until her eyes were swollen and she couldn’t breathe through her nose.

Finally, exhausted and numb with grief, she curled into a ball on the forest floor and passed out.

9

SCIENCE

Koz tossed in his blanket beneath the stars, lost somewhere between sleep and waking. A small part of him distantly registered a rock grinding against his shoulder, but a larger part of his mind had traveled back in time to his childhood home Russia.

* * *

He walked into the kitchen, looking over his shoulder to make sure his mother wasn’t around. The counter was clear of food and cooking implements. Taking that as a good sign, Koz dashed for the bin where apples were stored.

Mother rationed the apples through the winter. If she caught him stealing, he’d get a switching. He was always careful only to take one at a time and never more than two in a week. It was a system he had distilled over the past few years.

Just as he reached the bin, a chair at the table crashed to the floor. He yelped in alarm and spun around, thinking he’d been caught.

But the kitchen was empty. The distant sound of laughter and screams from the neighbor kids trickled through the room.

The hair along Koz’s neck stood on end. Who had tipped over the chair?

“What mischief are you up to?” His mother appeared in the kitchen doorway, a severe frown on her face as she scrutinized Koz.

Luckily, he had leaped clear of the apple bin when the chair fell over. “I was just walking through the kitchen and the chair flipped over.”

She narrowed her eyes and studied the chair. After a moment, a small chuckle bubbled up. She righted the chair and said, “Your Uncle Nikolai is just saying hello.”

Koz stared at his mother, completely confused. “Mama, Uncle Nikolai is …” He struggled to find the correct word, not wanting to upset her. “Mama, Uncle Nikolai passed away two weeks ago.”

“This was his favorite chair,” Mother replied. “This is where he smoked a cigar every Friday with your father.” As if that somehow explained everything.

“I know, but—”

“Viktor.” Mother stood before him and rested her hands on his shoulders. “I’m going to tell you something my mother told me when I was a child. This is a secret, Viktor. You cannot tell anyone outside of this house. You know what they do to people if they are suspected of treason.”

Viktor felt every nerve in his body stand on end. “What is it, Mama?”

She leaned a little closer until they were almost nose to nose. “There is a soul in the body, Viktor, and it continues on after death. A soul has forty days left on the earth once its body dies. In those forty days, the soul can chose to visit those people and places they loved when still alive. It can also use the time to make amends.” She leaned back, smiling with a distant look in her eyes. “Uncle Nicolai was just saying hello. It is an honor to have a deceased loved one pay you a visit.”

Viktor gaped at his mother. He could not have been more shocked if she told him there was a god in Heaven, which everyone knew was false. His mind could hardly grasp what she was trying to tell him.

She was right. She could be killed for speaking this way.

“It was just your Uncle Nikolai having a little fun.” Mother patted his cheek. “I’ll tell your father when he gets home. He’ll be happy to know he stopped by to say hello.”

She left the kitchen with a spring in her step.

* * *

Koz’s eyes snapped open in the darkness. Sweat covered him beneath the blanket. Cold air instantly chilled him as the peeled the tangled blanket from around his body.

He lay there, breathing heavily in the darkness. Koz hadn’t thought about that strange conversation with his mother in years. In fact, he’d forgotten all about it until tonight.

Religion is the opium of the people.

Religion is a prison for the heart and mind.

Down with God!

Don’t be a god slave.

These were slogans drilled into his head since childhood. He didn’t believe in God. He didn’t believe in souls, as his mother had.

Do I really know what I believe? he wondered.

He thought he was serving the Motherland with faith and goodwill until his son had been murdered. Koz’s entire world had unraveled on that terrible day.

What if his mother had been right? What if there really was such a thing as a soul that continued after death?

What if Polina had sent the bee to save his life? The idea sent stillness to his core.

A solid thirty seconds passed. Then his mind rocketed into action.

His wife had been dead for more than a year. That was well outside the forty-day period his mother told him about.

Why forty? he thought. Why is that the magic number? If there is a soul, who decided it stayed around for only forty days? What is to prevent it from staying around even longer?

He examined the question from every angle. If things were reversed—if Polina was alive and he was a soul without a body—he would stay no mere forty days with his wife. He would stay with her for as long as he could. He would be there to greet her when she passed from life to death.

He strummed his fingers against his leg, annoyed with himself. Forty days was not the question. No, the real question was whether or not Polina still existed. If her soul was here, right now, looking out for him.

If she had sent that bee to warn him and save his life.

Or was this all a product of his grief? Was he turning the chance wandering of an insect into something more than it was because he missed his wife?

“Polina?” Her name came out as white vapor in the cold night. “Polina, my love, are you there?”

The crickets whirred. The frogs croaked. The dying fire crackled. On the edge of camp, Anton shifted where he sat on a pile of debris, keeping watch.

There was no sign of Polina anywhere.

But that didn’t mean she wasn’t out there. Somewhere.

How long had it taken his team to develop the nezhit virus? Years. It had been there all along, right at their fingertips. It just took them years to find it.

Science could prove or disprove anything. Koz believed this to his core. If Polina’s soul was out there—if she had not ceased to to exist upon her death—Koz could prove it.

And if she wasn’t out there, he could prove that, too.

That was the thing with science. It gave you hard truth. Not always what you wanted to hear. Not always what you expected to hear. Just plain, hard truth.

Koz settled back onto the ground, once again pulling the blanket around him. He took in the spray of stars in the sky. His mind whirled with possibilities.

He would observe. Study. These were the things he did best.

“If you are out there, my love, I will find you,” he whispered.

10

HAIRCUT

The morning dawned on desolation. Jennifer sat on a rock, watching the sun come up over the remains of the Cecchino cabin. Her eyes were puffy and swollen, but she ignored the discomfort. It was no less than what she deserved.

The camp bustled this morning, but Jennifer hardly registered the activity. She was too busy trying to pretend she wasn’t watching Leo. He was with Bruce and Spill, the three of them securing supply caches to the back of the ATVs. He hadn’t spoken or looked at her.

She could hardly comprehend what she’d done last night. A part of her had always been fucked up. She knew that. She just hadn’t realized how fucked up she really was.

Leo had been counted as her closest friend up until yesterday. Now she’d fucked things up for eternity. If she thought an apology would do the trick, she’d be on her knees and begging forgiveness in a second.

But there were no words to convey just how sorry she was. There was no way to explain why she was the way she was—at least, not without coming clean about her shitty ass dad. And hell would have to freeze over before she ever told anyone about that.

Besides, there was no good reason for Leo to forgive her. Should he welcome her back with a hug just because she had a stupid sob story about her secret train wreck of a childhood? No. What she had done last night did not deserve forgiveness.

There was nothing to do but live with the consequences of her actions.

Piece by piece, she did her best to fold up the grieving, aching pieces of herself. She pictured a napkin neatly creased. Each fold made it smaller and smaller, until it was so microscopic it could disappear in a doll house.

She tucked it away and hardened herself. It was time to focus on killing Soviet fuckheads and getting Koz to Nellis. Her sob story didn’t matter in the grand scheme of things. She would throw herself into the mission and never look back. If she got lucky, maybe someone or something would kill her along the way and put her out of her misery.

She grabbed her ponytail in one hand and her knife in the other. Watching the orange sun rays turn the clouds a soft pink, she sawed at her hair.

The blade sliced through her locks without protest. She tossed her hair to the ground without even looking at it.

“What are you doing?” Lena came up to her, staring at the lump of curly hair on the ground.

“I’m supposed to look like a Soviet soldier.” Jennifer gestured to the uniform she wore. It was slightly oversized and still had blood from the sentient who’d worn it before her.

“Is that why you asked to borrow one of my sports bras?” Lena asked.

“Yes.” Jennifer glanced at her breasts, which were squashed flat thanks to Lena’s small sports bra. “I pass for a guy now.”

Lena studied her with a critical eye. “Actually, yeah. A very pretty guy, but I think you might be able to fool anyone not looking too closely.” She chewed her lip in thought. “Cutting your hair is a good idea. Will you cut mine?”

Jennifer raised her eyebrows. “Are you sure?”

“I’m the only one who can speak Russian besides Koz. It will be better for everyone if I can pass for a boy.”

She wondered what Dal would think of his girlfriend without her long, dark brown hair, then decided she didn’t care. He’d be thankful if it saved her life.

“Fine. Turn around and let me see your braid.”

“Oh, my god. What are you guys doing?”

Juli stopped beside them, hands on her hips. With her posture and demeanor, it was easy to forget she hadn’t been born a girl.

Talking to Juli was like staring her guilt in the face. Jennifer swallowed her discomfort, forcing herself to meet Juli’s eyes.

“What does it look like we’re doing?” Jennifer dropped Lena’s severed braid onto the ground beside hers.

“We’re disguising ourselves as boys,” Lena said. “Since we’re going on the road as Soviets, it’s best to look the part.”

“You could just hide in the tank,” Juli suggested.

“I have no intention of hiding all the way to Nellis,” Lena said.

“Give me that. She’s going to look like a meth head if you keep going.” Juli took the knife from Jennifer. “I’ll fix you later.”

Jennifer left them to it, striding over to one of the weapon caches. There was one inside the tank, but additional weapons and ammo had been strapped to an ATV. She pulled out a machine gun, two ammo cartridges, and a small, Soviet-issued handgun. Once she was suitably armed, she slid onto the ATV.

“What are you doing?” Leo looked up from where he finished securing extra supplies to another ATV, his eyes flat and cold. She was certain he’d never hated her as much as he hated her now.

Shame mingled with relief, making her throat tight. In some ways, his hatred was more palatable that his kindness. It made it easier for her to focus on the mission.

“I’m riding in front of the caravan.” She stared at him, waiting for him to argue or to try and talk her into riding in the tank, like Juli had done.

“Fine.” Leo turned away and went back to his work.

She’d earned that coldness. Swallowing, she folded her napkin a few more times, crushing down the emotions until she felt calm again.

* * *

Thirty minutes later, the caravan was loaded and ready to go. They gathered around a map Leo had spread on the ground.

Using his finger, Leo traced their route. “We’re going to cut through Napa and take country roads all the way to the I-5,” he said. “It’s our best chance at moving through enemy soldiers undetected.”

That was true. The roads through Napa Valley were narrow and winding. The Soviets would have a hard time patrolling them, although it would likely be a different story once they arrived in the city of Napa. It was easily the size of Rossi and would probably have some type of headquarters there.

“If we do run into troops—” Leo began.

“When we run into troops,” Nonna corrected.

“When we run into troops,” Leo said, “Koz will do the talking. You all right with that?” He glanced at the big Russian.

“I will do the talking,” Koz agreed in his rumbling voice.

“I’m backup,” Lena said. Juli had turned Jennifer’s rudimentary hair sawing into a cute pixie cut. With her baggy uniform hiding her chest, it was easy for Lena to pass as a young soldier.

“Your accent might give you away,” Koz said. “But you can be backup. It is always good to have backup.”

“You’re riding with Jennifer,” Leo told him. “Lena, you’re with me. Spill and Bruce, you have rear guard. Anton, you’re in charge of the tank’s gun. Nonna, are you clear on how to drive the tank?”

“He gave me lessons.” Nonna didn’t look in Koz’s direction, but it was clear from the acid in her voice who he was. “I drove it a few times before you got home.”

“Good,” Leo said. “Everyone, keep your eyes open. We’re moving through occupied territory. Our goal is to get through any checkpoints without raising suspicions. Shoot only if necessary. Everyone understand?”

In response, Jennifer fired up the ATV and revved the engine. “You coming?” she said to Koz.

The group dispersed, everyone going to their assigned station. Koz gave her a tentative smile as he approached the ATV and slid on behind her.

“We haven’t officially met,” she said. “I’m Jennifer.”

“Nice to meet you, Jennifer,” Koz replied. “I am Viktor Kozlovovitch. Anton calls me Koz.”

She glanced over her shoulder at him, secretly relieved to have the big Russian riding with her. He was the only one guaranteed not to try and comfort her. She just might make it through the day without screaming.

Koz had defected from his country. She might not know the details, but she knew what it was to want vengeance.

“Ready to get to Nellis and kill every bastard between here and there who stands in our way?” she asked.

His answer was immediate. “Yes.” She felt his conviction in the way the word vibrated against her back. “Yes, I am.”

“Good. You and I just might become friends, Koz.”

She accelerated down the road, leading the caravan next to Leo and Lena. Jennifer never looked back as the remains of the Cecchino cabin disappeared from sight.

11

ORANGE CRUSH

A long, uneventful day of driving had them pulling off in a thick grove of oak trees somewhere in the Napa Valley that evening. Vineyards dotted the hillsides.

Koz shaded his eyes, taking in the red and orange hues of the grape leaves. Summer was transitioning into fall.

The cold tundra of northern Russia, where he’d spent most of his life, resembled a barren wasteland compared to this place. The generals who’d planned the invasion had known what they were doing when they targeted the rich farmland of California.

“I like autumn here,” Koz said as Jennifer slid off the ATV. It was an attempt at small talk, a strategy for endearing himself to the Snipers. “It’s very beautiful, especially compared to where I am from.”

“I’ve always liked autumn.” Jennifer gazed out at the turning vineyards, expression unreadable. “When I was a kid, it was a reminder that no matter how shitty things got, time moves on.”

She walked off without any further explanation.

Koz stared after her, intrigued despite himself. Whatever she carried around had made her hard. It could be the death of her sister, but it could also be more than that. Whatever the case, it was clear she suffered. He felt it as keenly as he felt his own suffering.

Focusing on pain accomplished nothing. Koz decided to turn his attention to Valentina.

She was already busy delivering orders in the center of the camp. She had Juli and Lena fetching supplies from the tank. Spill was off gathering firewood.

Trials one and two with Valentina hadn’t gone very well. He’d been mulling over new options and was ready to deploy a new test in an effort to win some favor with her.

Trial number three: make himself a willing servant.

“Valentina.” He kept his voice small, as he had done for his entire career in the Experimental Science Division. A small voice made him seem less of a threat to both his superior and his test subjects. “I would like to help. What would you like me to do?”

His voice and posture were the meekest they had ever been, but Valentina narrowed her eyes at him. She grunted in disgust and turned her back.

“Nonna.” Anton limped over. “Koz is trying to be helpful.”

“I don’t need his help.” Valentina raised her voice as Lena and Juli popped out of the tank. “Make that three jars of sauce,” she said. “And don’t forget my oregano.”

“Maybe Koz can get some water to boil the noodles?” Anton suggested.

“Fine,” Valentina snapped. “And he can wash all the dishes when everyone is done eating. You, Antony—get someone to help you get the forks and bowls.”

Anton gave Koz a shrug before limping away.

Trial number three: failure.

Koz made a mental note of it as he rummaged a large pot from the supplies lashed to an ATV. No matter. He was nothing if not patient. He would determine another angle to try soon.

Jugs of water had been loaded into the tank. Koz retrieved one and joined Spill at the campfire. Soon, noodles were boiling in the water. Everyone gathered around the flames. Amanda pulled out a stack of blankets.

She smiled at Koz as she handed him one. “Hope you don’t mind sleeping rough.” Leaning forward, she whispered, “I hate roughing it. When the war is over, I’m never going to sleep outside again.” Her smile was conspiratorial and light-hearted.

He returned her smile, wishing Valentina was half as easy to win over as Amanda. “I think that is a very fine plan. I hope to do the same.” He decided not to tell her that he’d spent most of his life sleeping on a cot in a closet with nothing but a thin wool blanket. Sleeping outside under the stars on a warm night was a thousand times better than that.

Dinner was served. Koz found himself with a generous bowl of freshly cooked noodles smothered in a savory tomato sauce. As he was about to take a seat on the ground, Amanda and Juli came up to him.

“Over here.” Juli gave him a conspiratorial wink. “We have something to show you.”

What were the girls up to? He followed them to the side of the tank, where they gestured for him to join them in a tight circle.

He was three times the size of Juli and twice the size of Amanda. Koz felt like a giant as he sat down with them.

“You know we lost our best friend, right?” Juli said.

“Cassie, yes. She is the one who sacrificed herself to blow up the bridge.”

Juli and Amanda exchanged shared looks of sadness. Koz realized he may have come across as callus to their pain.

“I am sorry for your loss,” he said. And then, in a calculated effort to appear empathetic, he added, “I know how it feels.”

Amanda exhaled. “Your wife and son?”

“Yes.”

“We promised one another we weren’t going to cry anymore.” Juli straightened her shoulders and reached into her backpack. “We’re going to remember our friend and”—she gave Koz a quick smile—“make a new one.”

She pulled three cans from her pack and handed one to him.

“What is this?” Koz inspected the can. It bore a picture of an orange slice on it.

“Orange Crush,” Juli replied. “It was Cassie’s favorite soda. I found them in the cabin. There were only three of them and they were buried in the back of a cabinet behind Rice-A-Roni. Anyway, I thought it was a sign that Cassie was coming back to us. I stashed them away so the three of us could celebrate when she got back.”

The soda can suddenly felt very heavy in Koz’s grasp. Of all the people in camp, the girls had decided to give Cassie’s soda to him. They’d picked him over Jennifer.

“Why me?” he asked.

“Because we know you’ve lost everyone you love,” Amanda said softly. “You’ve lost everyone, and you can’t ever go home. We just want you to know you have friends.”

He would have been less surprised if the girls stabbed him in the back while he slept. “You don’t want to give it to Jennifer?”

“Jennifer is …” Juli chewed at her bottom lip. “We think Jennifer needs space right now. Besides, we really want you to have it. Come on, try it.” A soft hiss escaped the can as she pulled the tab.

Unexpected warmth flooded his chest. He didn’t want to like these girls. They were a means to an end, nothing more. And yet …

He was alone in this country with nothing but his desire for vengeance to keep him company. Until this moment—with Juli and Amanda sitting expectantly on either side of him—he hadn’t admitted just how lonely he’d been.

And here they were, letting him know he wasn’t alone.

He didn’t deserve their friendship, but as he stared down at the can of Orange Crush, he realized he was desperate for it.

He popped open the can and took an experimental sip. Sweetness exploded across his tongue and made his mouth pucker.

Juli burst out laughing at his expression. “I can’t tell from your face if you love it or hate it.”

He wrinkled his nose and took another swig, this one bigger than the last. The sweetness wasn’t so shocking the second time around.

“Tastes like candy,” he said.

“Do you like it?”

“Yes.” Koz took another swig.

Juli grinned in delight. “I knew you would.”

“Do you have soda in Russia?” Amanda asked.

“Baikal,” Koz said. “Soda made from black tea and ginseng. Very good.”

“To Cassie.” Amanda raised her soda can.

“To Cassie. And to everyone else we’ve lost,” Juli said.

Koz raised his can and clinked with the girls. Even though his scientist’s brain demanded that he stop, that he pull away from them, he couldn’t bring himself to stir.

12

AFTER DEATH

They were up and moving before dawn. Nonna doled out slices of bread with jam for breakfast.

Jennifer did her best to enjoy it, knowing there wasn’t much more bread, but the slice tasted like dust in her mouth. She made herself swallow, if only to keep her body fueled for whatever the day brought. If she wanted to kill Soviets and avenge Cassie, she needed to stay fed.

“Good morning.” Koz greeted her from the back of the ATV they shared, ready and waiting for her.

“Ready to kill some scumbags today?” she asked.

“I prefer to cover ground and get one day closer to Nellis,” Koz said. “But if there are scumbags, as you say, along the way, that is okay.”

Jennifer felt a smile pull at the corners of her mouth. She compressed her lips, not in the mood to be pleasant.

As she jumped astride their ATV, she darted a quick look at Leo. Shadows hung below his eyes. The stubble on his neck and jaw made him look haggard.

“First order of business is to find a gas station,” Leo called. “Remember, the tank needs diesel. Keep your eyes peeled.”

They headed down the road, Jennifer and Leo’s ATVs at the front of the column. It felt good to be moving.

She kept up a constant scan as they rolled down the road, alert for any sign of danger. Her machine gun hung from around her shoulder, resting in her lap for easy access.

“What do you Americans believe happens when someone dies?”

Koz’s question came out of nowhere. Jennifer was so lost in her own thoughts, it took her a moment to register the question.

“What happens when someone dies?” she echoed. “You mean, like, do we bury our dead? Or cremate them?”

“No. I mean, what do you think happens?”

The question made her shift uncomfortably. She’d almost rather stab herself in the eye with a pointy stick than answer. She could smell the dirt and oak trees back at the Cecchino cabin when she’d goaded Leo into fucking her.

“Most Americans believe in Heaven,” she said evasively.

“Mmm. That is interesting. So you believe that souls continue to exist after the body dies? That there is a god and he lives in Heaven with departed souls?”

“That’s what most people think, yeah. Why are you asking me this?”

“We do not believe such things in Russia. We do not believe in a benevolent god in Heaven somewhere. Religion and gods are forms of enslavement.”

“Why are you asking me these questions if you already have your own beliefs?”

“That is the problem. I was taught to believe these things. I also used to think all Americans were fascist scum. It is what we were taught since childhood.”

He said it so matter-of-factly.

“What do you believe now?” she asked.

“About which one?”

She snorted. “Let’s start with Americans. Do you think we are all fascists?”

“No. Though you are very independent and … colorful.”

From what Jennifer knew about Russia and what went on behind the Iron Curtain, she could believe they—especially the Snipers—would be very colorful.

“What do you believe, Jennifer?”

She didn’t play dumb with the question, but she was getting annoyed. The invisible walls loomed up around her. “Why do you care what I think?” Her chest grew tight with pressure. She saw her sister standing in the darkness on the Luma Bridge, blood dripping from the sentient bite on her hand.

“I have done many questionable things in my life,” Koz said. “I never stopped to consider there might be a soul lodged in a body.”

“So why are you thinking about it now?” In the middle of Napa Valley while you’re riding on an ATV with me, she wanted to add, but managed to clamp her mouth shut before the words came out.

“I think my Polina saved my life after the battle at the Cecchino cabin.” Koz described the honey bee that got his attention and led him to seeing the sentient before it had a chance to shoot him. “Had the bee not landed near the sentient, I would have died.”

“You think your wife sent the bee to save your life?” Jennifer repeated, more dumbstruck than anything. It was the craziest thing she had ever heard—which was saying something, considering they were living through a zombie apocalypse and Soviet invasion.

“She loved bees. She was the only woman in the village who kept a hive. We always had jars of honey in the house.”

“So, what? Now you believe in souls and an afterlife since the bee saved your life?”

“It has led me to ponder life after death, yes,” he said. “I am not a religious man, but I am a scientist.”

“You think you can use science to prove life exists after death?”

“No, not without a lab. But evidence can be gathered in the absence of a lab.”

Jennifer couldn’t hold back her scorn any longer. “My sister died.”

“I know. I am sorry for your loss.”

“My point is, she’s dead.” The words made her feel like someone was digging her heart out of her chest with a spoon. “She’s gone. No amount of wishing and waiting for honey bees is going to bring her back.”

Another long pause—long enough to Jennifer to regret her harsh words.

“I see.” Koz’s voice was neutral, no trace of anger or rebuke. “You think that in my grief, I am seeing things to bring me comfort.”

“Pretty much.” She’d never been good at mincing words.

Koz shocked the hell out of her by saying, “It could be that you are correct.”

She wished she wasn’t driving so she could get a proper look at his face. “Are you just saying that so I’ll shut up?”

“No. I am a scientist. I must consider all possibilities. I will continue to observe. It could be as you say and that my mind is looking for comfort when there is none to be had. Or it could be that my Polina’s soul is still alive and with me.”

Jennifer clamped down on a sudden flood of emotion. Cassie is gone, she told herself firmly. Don’t waste energy pretending otherwise. It’s a waste.

“Why does it matter?” she asked.

“Does what matter?”

“Truth. Why does it matter? Pick the one that makes you happy and move on.”

“You do not do this. You pick a truth that makes you very unhappy.”

Perceptive asshole.

“It’s not truth I have a problem with. Fairy tales are what make me unhappy,” she replied. “They’re bullshit. I’ll take pain and unhappiness over bullshit any day.”

“I see. So you will not undertake this experiment with me? All you have to do is observe. See what comes with each day. Perhaps you will see evidence of your Cassie the way I saw evidence of Polina.”

“Sorry, Koz. You’re on your own.” Bandages and duct tape were all that kept her together. She might truly lose herself if she let herself believe in a lie.

“What is that term you Americans use? Bat-shit crazy. I think you think I am bat-shit crazy.”

“Not crazy, just delusional.”

“If someone had told you a month ago that zombies were real, would you have called them delusional?”

“Yes.” She grimaced to herself. “Okay, point proven. But I’m still not going to help you.”

“Because you think I am in a fairy tale?”

“Yes.”

“Okay. I will let you know what I discover anyway.”

“Knock yourself out, man.”

13

VULTURES

The oak trees and vineyards fell away as a town came into view. It was Calistoga, a tiny hamlet known for its hot springs.

Jennifer had been shopping in Calistoga a few times with her mom and sister. The main street had lots of cute boutique shops, but they’d never visited any of the hot springs. Once upon a time, before the world had gone to shit, Jennifer had planned to go to a hot spring eventually. It was weird to imagine a life where she had the energy to want such a thing.

As Calistoga drew closer, Jennifer noticed the outskirts of town looked unscathed. All the cars were intact and there were no bodies in the street.

“Maybe the Soviets didn’t bother with Calistoga,” she said.

“Maybe,” Koz replied. “Or maybe the survivors cleaned things up.”

Calistoga looked a lot like the farmland around Bastopol: an occasional house and barn interspersed between vineyards. As they reached the town proper, a tiny neighborhood sprang up on the north side of the highway. There couldn’t be more than a hundred homes in the small subdivision.

The stillness of the town unnerved her. If not for the cars and trucks parked in driveways and on the street, she would have thought the town was deserted. There wasn’t a person or a moving vehicle anywhere in sight. Unless a clean-up crew had been through the town, Calistoga looked miraculously untouched by the invasion.

A gas station loomed up ahead at an intersection in the road. A pair of vultures sat on the overhang above the pumps, watching them approach.

Leo decelerated, pulling up alongside Jennifer and Koz. He kept his gaze focused on the gas station when he spoke. “It looks deserted.”

Lena chewed her bottom lip. “I can’t decide if that’s a good thing or if I should be nervous.”

“We need gas,” Leo said. “And this place has a diesel pump. We’ll fill up here. Be ready to drive like hell at the first sign of danger.”

“I will refill the tank,” Koz said. “Your grandmother and Anton should stay inside in case we must leave in a hurry.”

“The ATVs should be refilled, too,” Jennifer said. “Put Juli and Amanda on refill duty with me. Everyone else can keep watch.”

“Fine.” Leo pulled away. He drove up alongside the slot visor on the tank, speaking to Anton through the opening. Circling around the back, he relayed the info to Bruce and Spill before coming back to the front of the caravan.

The vultures took flight as they approached the gas station, wheeling in lazy circles overhead before flying out of sight.

Jennifer tried not to read into their presence. Vultures were native to this area. Just because a few of them were hanging around didn’t necessarily mean there were dead bodies.

Jennifer took the farthest pump for her ATV, positioning herself so she had a clear view on either side of the intersection. The road to the right led to the tree-covered hills that flanked Calistoga. The road to the left led into the downtown with its boutique shops.

Maybe we can find Cassie something girly to wear in one of the shops. Her mother’s words floated back to her from a time that no longer existed.

Cassie looks just fine the way she is, Jennifer had retorted.

The irony was that Cassie had been the spitting image of their mother: tall and curvy. Their parent’s rotting marriage was part of the reason their mother fussed over Cassie’s appearance. She couldn’t remake herself, so she tried to remake Cassie.

Jennifer glared up and down the road, itching to shoot something.

A stray piece of paper blew past the gas station, carried along on the dry summer wind. She followed it with her eyes as it turned a few lazy curlicues over the asphalt.

It bumped up against something, halting just on the edge of her visibility. It created the illusion of the paper standing upright on the sidewalk. Something was off.

Jennifer took a few steps farther into the road. Awnings covered the sidewalks on both sides of the street. A large object sat in the shadow cast by the western awnings. It took Jennifer a second to realize what she was looking at.

A pile of bodies sat in a tall mound on the sidewalk.

But they weren’t just bodies. From where Jennifer stood, she saw the head of every last person had been smashed open. Small piles of blood and brains dotted the sidewalk and the road.

These were sentient victims. Who else would smash open heads and leave the bodies in a neat pile? Mutant zombies never did anything so neat.

The vultures she’d seen earlier swooped in on silent wings. They landed on the bodies, their red, leathery heads pecking into the dead bodies.

14

GAS STATION

Her gag reflex activated. Bread and jam from breakfast surged up her throat. She choked it back down.

“Leo.” Her voice was flat as she called out to him.

“What?” He didn’t look at her.

“You need to see this.”

His eyes flicked in her direction. The muscles along his neck and shoulders tensed when he saw her expression. “What is it?” He strode over to her.

“Sentients have been through here. Look.” She pointed down the street.

Leo stared at the pile for a few seconds. “Mother fuckers,” he snarled. Spinning on his heel, he marched back into the gas station. “Sentients have been through here,” he called. “Everyone, stay alert. Let’s finish filling up and get the hell out of here.”

Jennifer took one last look at the bodies before hurrying back to her ATV and filling it with gas.

She’d seen a lot of disturbing shit since the invasion. Zombies. Mutant zombies. Friends, family, and innocents murdered. It was fair to say her life had been a series of disturbing events ever since the invasion.

But there was something about the pile of bodies with broken heads that gripped her with a fear she couldn’t explain. It felt like a hint of darker things to come.

Not wanting to think about shit getting worse—could shit get worse?—she yanked the fuel nozzle out of the ATV and jammed it back into the pump.

Her elbow knocked the gas tank lid to the ground. She bent over to retrieve it—

—and a bullet whizzed over her, hitting the pump. Glass and plastic exploded. Jennifer let up a shout of alarm and threw herself to the ground.

Cries went up from her friends as they also dove for cover. More bullets whizzed into the gas station. They pinged off the pumps and thudded into the ground.

Jennifer remained in a crouch, sandwiched between the gas pump and the ATV. After a few seconds, she was able to discern the bullets came from the direction of the gas station shop.

She peeked out from behind the ATV. A few rifles rested along the edge rooftop, but she couldn’t see anyone. They were obviously doing their best to stay out of sight.

Raising her machine gun, she took aim. So what if she couldn’t see anyone? She’d give those assholes a good scare and maybe hit one or two of them if she got lucky.

She laid into the trigger and let loose a spray of bullets. Her friends joined in. The tank began to rotate, the cannon swinging around in the direction of their attackers.

The front windows of the shop shattered. More bullets peppered the eave of the tar-and-gravel rooftop.

“Soviet scumbags,” someone shrieked from the rooftop. Return fire followed.

The words shocked Jennifer. English. Whoever shot at them spoke English.

“We’re Americans!” Jennifer shouted, straining to be heard over the gunfire. She set her gun down and cupped her hands over her mouth. “Stop shooting! We’re Americans!”

“The hell you are,” someone called back. “You’re fucking Russian pigs!”

The situation rearranged itself in her mind. She and her friends were dressed like Soviets. They drove a Soviet tank.

They’d wanted to pass as Soviets.

Apparently, their disguise worked with flying colors.

“Stop shooting,” Jennifer cried, this time speaking to her companions. “They’re on our side!”

“Cease fire.” Leo’s order cracked across the gas station. The gunfire trickled to a stop. “We’re Americans,” he called. “We’re Americans, just like you.”

“You lying mother fuckers. Why are you driving a Soviet tank?”

“We commandeered it,” Leo replied in a calm voice.

“Bullshit. Who steals a Soviet tank?”

“The Snipers do.” This time, it was Dal who spoke.

“The Snipers?” A hint of doubt crept into the voice.

“We’re the Snipers. Have you heard of us? We’re from West County. I’m DJ Sniper. We stole a Soviet tank. We’re on a mission.”

Silence.

The Snipers didn’t move.

Finally, a different person spoke from the rooftop. It was woman.

“We know of the Snipers,” she said. “We listened to all of DJ Sniper’s broadcasts.”

“Do you recognize my voice?” Dal asked. “It’s me. Look, I’ll come out. Don’t shoot, okay?”

Jennifer glanced across the station to where Dal and Lena crouched behind Leo’s ATV. Dal handed Lena his gun.

“I’m coming out unarmed,” Dal said. “Don’t shoot my ass, okay?”

Fuck. Jennifer returned her attention to the rooftop, pulling a grenade from her belt. She didn’t want to kill her own countrymen, but if they attacked Dal, she’d have no choice.

Leo and Lena were the only others she could see from her vantage point. They both had their machine guns aimed, both ready to shoot if necessary.

“I’m coming out.” Dal slowly stood up from behind the ATV. “Don’t shoot me.” He walked to the center of the gas station, hands raised the entire time. “I’m a true-blue American, just like you.”

“What about the rest of your companions?” someone asked. “How do we know they aren’t Russians holding you at gunpoint?”

“Look,” Dal said, “we could kill all of you. We have a tank. But we don’t want to hurt you. We just need to get gas, then we’ll be on our way.”

The silence stretched. Jennifer held her fingers poised over the grenade, ready to pull the pin.

The tension in the air shifted. She sensed it like air being released from a balloon.

A second later, a woman stood up on the rooftop, revealing herself. She was thin with short, curly gray hair. In her jeans and flannel shirt, she could have passed for a farmer from West County. She held her rifle like a person who knew how to use it.

“My name is Anne,” she said. “And you’re stealing our gas. I’m glad to know you’re not Soviets, but we don’t take kindly to thieves.”

“We didn’t know it was spoken for,” Dal said. “We can trade for it. We have food and weapons.”

A few more people rose from the rooftops. They were all farmers in flannels and jeans, like Anne. They conferred as a group, speaking in a tight cluster.

Anne came back to the edge of the roof and called down. “We can use some of those fine Soviet machine guns we see on that ATV.”

“Deal,” Dal said.

* * *

Jennifer stood listening nearby while Dal, Lena, and Leo carried out the trade negotiations with Anne’s group. She wasn’t in the mood to talk to anyone, but she hung close to the tank so she could listen in.

“We weren’t attacked in the initial invasion,” Anne said. “We had time to prepare before radio and television went down. We hid in our homes and stayed vigilant. A few weeks went by. We never saw a single soldier.

“Then, two days ago, a caravan of Soviets drove into town. They broke into our homes and rounded us up like cattle. The people you saw on the main boulevard—” Her voice broke off, nostrils flaring as she struggled to maintain her composure.

“The Soviets ate their brains, didn’t they?” Lena asked in a soft voice.

Anne nodded, swallowing a few times as she gathered herself. Her group—only nine people—shuffled uneasily, most of them looking at the ground.

“If you heard Dal on the radio, you know about the zombies, right?” Lena asked.

“Yes. We heard DJ Sniper’s broadcast”—she threw a grateful look in Dal’s direction—“so we knew what was going on. But we never heard about Russians eating brains.”

“They’re not Russians. I mean, they are Russians,” Dal said, “but they were all vaccinated against the zombie virus before they invaded. The vaccine mutates and turned them into monsters. They’re like the zombies, but worse, because they’re smart.”

“We call them sentients,” Leo said. “They’re dangerous.”

“They—they took a bunch of our people,” said a middle-aged man. He was tanned with a belly and thick arms. “They took them prisoner and drove them out of town.”

“There’s only eleven of us left,” Anne said. “Everyone else is either dead or prisoner. We thought we were safe. When those bastards drove into town, we thought we would be safe if we stayed out of sight …”

“It’s not your fault,” Lena said. “They were ruthless before they became sentients.”

“What do you think they’re going to do with our people?” Anne asked.

Jennifer couldn’t listen anymore. She knew exactly what was going to happen to those poor people.

Cattle. That’s all they were to the sentients. They’d been rounded up like cattle, and they were going to be eaten like cattle. The thought made her sick.

She marched over to her ATV, desperate to be gone from this place. It was time to get back on the road.

It was time to find some fucking Soviets and kill them.

Leo broke the reality to Anne and her crew. Jennifer had to look away when she glimpsed the devastation on their faces.

“They must be going to Napa,” Anne said. “They headed east. Napa was hit hard in the First Offensive.” She glanced quickly at her companions before squaring her shoulders. “Can we come with you to Napa? If there’s a chance we can save our people from those monsters, we have to try.”

Leo shook his head. “I’m sorry, we can’t afford a detour. We have information that will turn the tide of the war. Thousands of lives depend on us.”

“You don’t have to help us rescue our people,” Anne said. “We’ll go our own way once we get to Napa. Safety in numbers, right? Who’s to say you won’t run into another group of sentients between here and the city? We can help each other.”

“She has a point,” Lena said. “They clearly know their way around a gun. We can help each other.”

Jennifer clenched her jaw. If these people wanted to live and protect what was left of their town, they needed to stay put. What they were talking about was a suicide mission.

But what if it was Cassie who’d been taken prisoner? Jennifer would have burned the whole city of Napa down to get her sister back. She’d trade her life ten times over just for a chance to save Cassie.

It was a chance Jennifer would never have. Pain nearly made her double over the handle bars of the ATV.

“Let them come.” The words fell from her lips, the angles hard and cracked. “If they want to try and save their friends and family, they deserve a chance.”

Leo didn’t look at her, but his shoulders slackened. “You can come with us,” he said curtly. “You take your own vehicles. We leave in ten, with or without you.”

15

NEGOTIATIONS

Koz stayed close to Jennifer. He hoped that by sticking by her side, he would escape the notice of the farmer militia. He suspected they might attempt to blow off his head if they guessed he was a Soviet. It would most certainly disrupt the trade negotiations that had just taken place.

“Why is he giving them so much?” Koz asked Jennifer. He frowned in consternation at the large weapon cache Leo gave to the locals in exchange for gas.

“Leo is a nice guy,” Jennifer said.

“But our mission. We need to be prepared for all obstacles.”

“I agree. But trust me when I say you don’t want to waste your breath arguing with Leo.”

“But our mission,” Koz said a second time. “If we trade guns every time we need gas, we will have nothing left when we get to Nellis.”

“I don’t disagree,” Jennifer said. “Come on, you ready to get out of here?”

Koz climbed onto the ATV behind her. Not for the first time, he was struck by the difference between himself and the Americans. He knew how to prioritize. Once a priority was set, everything else became secondary.

That meant Leo should give as little as possible to the locals in exchange for the gasoline they required. What if five of those extra ammo cartridges turned out to be necessary to reach Nellis? To say nothing of allowing them to accompany the caravan to Napa. Koz filed away American generosity as a problem to sort out later.

“Why are you going to Nellis?” Anne asked.

“That’s the closest operational military base,” Leo replied.

“I came from Nellis,” Spill said. “All bases in California fell to the Soviets.”

“That’s a long way,” Anne said. “A lot of Soviets between here and there.”

“All the more reason for us to get on the road,” Leo said.

“What sort of information are you carrying?” Anne asked. “Maybe there’s a way we can help?”

Koz tensed, unconsciously gripping his thighs. The uniform he’d commandeered was too tight. It pulled across his back and shoulders as his muscles bunched.

Leo shook his head. “It’s top secret. We can’t risk it falling into Soviet hands.”

“Damn straight,” Jennifer muttered. “Fucking KGB bastards would torture it right out of them. Just ask Anton.”

Koz nodded in agreement, relieved Leo hadn’t divulged the details of their mission. It was bad enough Anne and her people knew where they were going.

One of the farmers brought a truck around while Leo and Anne continued to talk, Anne sharing what little intel she had about the road ahead. Knowing Napa had been hit in the initial invasion meant they would likely meet resistance there.

Juli and Amanda finished filling the remaining ATVs and hurried back in the direction of the tank. As they passed a farmer in Anne’s group, the man reached out grabbed Juli by the arm.

“What the hell?” He stared at Juli, eyes bugging as he took in her face and clothing. “What the hell?” he shouted.

“Let go of me.” Juli tried to jerk her arm free, but the farmer held on tight. Two other farmers closed in, both of them middle-aged men with graying hair.

“It’s a fucking faggot,” said one of the other farmers.

“Let me go!” Juli’s voice went up an octave.

All of the Snipers reacted, Jennifer included. She was off the ATV in a flash.

“Let her go.” She aimed her weapon. “Take your fucking hands off her.”

The rest of the Snipers closed in around the farmers, forming a tight circle.

“Don’t even think about it,” Leo said, pointing his gun at Anne as she started to react. The hardness of his voice could have given a Russian general a run for his money. “All of you, keep your hands where I can see them.”

Koz was gripped by conflict. His brain told him to stay where he was, not to do anything that might upset their mission.

But the memory of Juli’s smile when she handed him the orange soda gripped his chest. Before he could think better of it, he grabbed his gun and joined the Snipers.

“Let her go,” Leo said. “We don’t want to kill you, but we will.”

“He’s a fucking faggot,” the farmer repeated. “We should feed him to the sentients.”

“She is a Sniper,” Leo growled. “She kills fucking Soviet bastards and is a valuable member of my team. I won’t ask you again. Take your fucking hands off her. Right fucking now, or me and my team will kill every last one of you mother fuckers.”

A ripple of fear stirred through Anne’s group at the ferocity in Leo’s voice. Koz felt the truth behind his words. The young man wasn’t bluffing. He hadn’t known Leo for long, but judging from the looks on the faces of his companions, this level of intensity wasn’t normal. He was on a knife’s edge, much as Jennifer was.

“Patrick, let the kid go,” Anne said.

“But—”

“I said, let him go.”

Patrick dropped his hand. Juli glared before stalking over to the tank and climbing up the side.

Leo waited until her pink tank top disappeared inside before lowering his weapon. “You can follow us to Napa, but we part ways there. Any of you so much as looks at Juli, you’ll answer to me.” He stalked off without another word.

Anne’s group rallied, huddling together near their truck.

“Fucking idiots.” Jennifer strode back to the ATV.

Koz followed her, staring down at the gun in his hands. He’d been ready to blow the mission to help the Snipers defend Juli. The realization hit him hard.

What was happening to him? Why was he going soft now, of all times? He was becoming like Leo and Dal. How could he hope to pull off his mission if his priorities weren’t straight?

These thoughts weighed heavily on him as Jennifer pulled out of the gas station and zipped down the two-lane country highway.

16

NAPA

Calistoga had been practically pristine. Not so with the town of Napa.

Jennifer stood on top of her ATV, binoculars raised to her face.

“Doesn’t look much better than Rossi,” she said. “Abandoned cars everywhere. Bodies, too.”

“Any zombies?” Bruce asked. He and Spill had joined them at the front of the caravan for the recon.

She continued scanning with her binoculars. “I don’t see any that are still alive. Lots of bodies, though.”

Lowering the binoculars, she handed them to Bruce, who stood next to her for his turn. Anne and her truckload of farmers had pulled to one side of the tank for their own recon, but they kept a fair distance away from the Snipers.

Apparently, they’d been rattled by Leo’s ferocious protectiveness of Juli. Jennifer had been rattled by the display, too. Not because defending her hadn’t been the right thing to do—she would have expected nothing less from him—but because of the violence she’d seen hovering just below the surface. Leo was barely holding it together. She suspected his protectiveness had to do with the fact that Juli was one of Cassie’s best friends.

Leo stood off to one side, staring at the distant town of Napa. He’d already taken his turn with the binoculars. “Koz,” he said, “what do you know about the Soviet base of operation in Napa?”

“Nothing,” he said. “Petrov didn’t share plans with me.”

“Who’s Petrov?” Spill asked.

Koz hunched his shoulders. “My superior.”

Jennifer saw something akin to hatred in his eyes. She was glad he was on their side. Koz’s outward mannerisms were soft spoken, but she sensed a bear living inside him.

“We have two shitty options,” Jennifer said. “We can go straight through Napa and risk a run-in with sentients, or we can divert to backroads and burn through fuel by going the long way around.”

No one said anything. Leo continued to study Napa. Everyone else waited in silence for him to decide their next move.

“We go in,” Leo said at last. “We can’t afford to waste the fuel needed to go around. I want our two Russian speakers on point. Koz and Lena, that’s you. If we’re stopped, you’ll be the ones answering. Bruce and Dal, I want you on top of the tank with Anton. You shoot anything that looks like a zombie—mutant or sentient or otherwise. Spill, you get Amanda. She’ll drive with you at the back of the caravan. Everyone, to their posts. Keep your eyes peeled.”

“What about them?” Spill jerked a thumb at Anne and her people.

“I’ll talk to them.” Leo strode away.

Jennifer followed, as did Spill and Bruce. Apparently, she wasn’t the only one on edge with the people from Calistoga. The farmers, most of whom rode in the truck bed, cast furtive glances in their direction as they approached.

“We’re going through Napa,” Leo said. “You can stay with us for as long as you like. There are likely sentient zombies in the city. If we get into a battle situation and you’re still with us, I expect you to follow my orders. Understood?”

Anne took in Leo and the rest of the Snipers arrayed just behind them. “Yes, I understand.”

“Good. You’re at the back of the caravan.”

They headed out, Jennifer and Koz leading the way alongside Leo and Lena. The caravan drove down the two-lane highway that ran into Napa.

Ten minutes later, they reached the edge of town. The outskirts were quiet suburbs, much like Bastopol and Rossi. The taller buildings of the downtown rose in the distance.

Dead bodies were everywhere, rotting, stinking, and covered with flies and maggots. Jennifer forced herself to look, to make sure the dead they passed were truly dead. The stench of the rotting dead made her nostrils flare. Vultures took to the air in large groups as they passed.

They reached a large intersection with shopping centers on all four sides. Bodies and vultures were everywhere. Jennifer’s shoulders itched as they scanned the abandoned cars for any sign of an ambush.

Lena consulted the map. “East,” she said in a soft voice, pointing.

They accelerated through the intersection. The road grew, spreading from two lanes to four. A short time later, the boulevard rose in a steep incline. It became a wide bridge spanning the Napa River.

And at the base of the bridge were a dozen Soviets soldiers—all of them dead with cracked skulls.

17

CHECKPOINT

Koz felt every cell in his body switch to high alert as the checkpoint came into view. The blood from the dead soldiers left circular red stains on the ground. Dried bits of brain made pinkish blobs among the gore. The bodies looked to be at least a week old.

“These bastards were killed by sentients,” Jennifer said grimly. “Koz, why would Soviets eat other Soviets?”

“It happened in Rossi,” Koz said. “Those who became sentient turned on those who did not. Perhaps there is great hunger when one first becomes sentient.” He shrugged. “I do not have research to explain this. It is only a theory.”

They slowed to a stop at the checkpoint. From the way Leo surveyed the bodies, Koz guessed the young man weighed the wisdom of going straight through Napa, instead of around.

Sacrifice for the betterment of all.

This belief had been hardwired into Koz when he was young—before life taught him it was a load of bullshit, as these Americans would say.

But he knew the meaning of sacrifice. It was carved into his bones, even if he no longer subscribed to Mother Russia’ propaganda.

If they detoured around Napa, they would lose time and gas.

Both were things they could not afford to lose.

Going through Napa was the only logical choice. It might require sacrifice, but it had to be done.

“We can’t afford the time or the fuel to go around,” Koz said softly, even though no one had asked him. “We got lucky in Calistoga with the gas.” Which was saying something, since they nearly had their heads shot off. “There is no telling when we will find another accessible gas station.”

“Koz is right,” Jennifer said. “We have to risk it.”

Leo stared at the bridge that rose high into the air, so tall that large ships could pass beneath it.

“We go through,” he said. “No stopping. We get through the city as fast as we can. If we see sentients, we fight our way through. What about you?” This last question was directed at Anne, who had joined them at the bridge. She’d left her team of farmers in the truck.

“We need to find our people.” Her eyes kept flicking to the dead bodies on the ground. “I’m not going to leave them to end up like these bastards. We’ll stay with you for a bit longer and split off when we’re close to downtown.”

“Fine. We’re taking the most direct route through town.” Leo took the map from Lena, spreading on the front of their ATV. “It follows the river. Once we cross the bridge, it runs east for a few miles before turning south. We follow it south straight out of Napa, but you should turn south before.” He pointed to the map, circling an area with his index finger. “I think this is the area where you’ll find your people. It’s the downtown. In Rossi, their headquarters were centered around the police station.”

Anne nodded grimly. “Thank you.”

“Tell your people to stay alert. Shoot anything that moves.”

They rolled out, moving as a unit over the bridge. The water below was silent. A few small vessels lay half-sunk near the shore. Other than a few birds, there was no movement on the water.

More abandoned and wrecked cars littered the road, but these had been pushed to the far margins of the bridge, leaving a clear path for them to drive.

Bodies rotted beneath the sun. Some were old, probably killed in the first days of the invasion. The rest were dead zombies.

Koz even saw a few of the anomalies. The Snipers called them mutants. The dead zombies with misshapen bodies and distended muscles expressed yet another unexpected side effect of the nezhit virus.

General Petrov and the other superiors in the government had moved too fast. They had accelerated nezhit vaccine production without adequate testing. They could not see beyond the singular objective of laying waste to America and claiming her soil for Mother Russia.

They’d accomplished the objective, but the price was too high. Murder. Mutants. Sentients. It was all too much.

They made it to the other side of the bridge unmolested. The road narrowed back down to two lanes. The river flowed by on the right; homes, interspersed with shopping centers, lined the left.

Hairs bristled along the back of Koz’s neck. It was a sensation he experienced back in the research lab whenever his superior, General Petrov, was nearby.

Something was wrong.

“Slow down,” he rumbled to Jennifer.

Her body went rigid. “What is it?”

“Something isn’t right.”

“Why are you slowing down?” Leo pulled his ATV alongside them.

“Koz says something isn’t right,” Jennifer said.

Koz opened his mouth to explain, but he never had a chance. A dozen Soviets marched into the street a mere two blocks ahead of them.

His heart sped up at the sight of them. To the casual observer, they looked like a patrol. In fact, that was probably the point, especially if they thought the caravan belonged to Soviets.

Even from two blocks away, it was the way they moved that caught Koz’s attention. Their limbs were a little too fluid, their movements a little too fast.

It was a subtle difference, but Koz was trained to spot subtle nuances in everything.

There were also the dead Soviets back at the checkpoints to consider.

“Sentients,” he rumbled to Jennifer. “It’s a trap to catch cattle.”

“Shit,” Juli snarled.

It still startled him when American women swore. His Polina never said a foul word in her life, not even when Aleksander had been taken from them.

“How can you tell from so far away?” Leo asked.

“I’m a scientist,” Koz said. “I am trained to observe.”

“What are we going to do?” Lena asked. “There’s a dozen of them.”

Koz understood her fear. A dozen sentients was like facing off against twice that number. And they didn’t have a clever trap on their side as they had back at the Cecchino cabin.

“We have surprise on our side,” Leo said. “We’re all in uniform. I don’t think they’ll attack until they know if we’re sentients. We can wait until we’re almost on top of them, then charge like bats out of hell and kill them before they have a chance to react. Or”—he glanced to their left, where a small side street opened up into a neighborhood—“or we can run.”

“Charge,” Koz said, even though he was pretty sure Leo wasn’t talking to him.

When Leo didn’t immediately respond or shoot the idea down, Koz pressed on. “Eliminate the threat now. They have already seen us. Reinforcements might already be on the way. Better to get rid of these sentients so they can’t cause trouble later.”

“I’m with Koz,” Jennifer said. “Running will just draw more of them after us. And we don’t know our way around. We risk getting lost if we try to lose them in the neighborhood. That will give them the advantage over us if they’ve taken any time to learn the streets.”

“All right.” Leo’s mouth was set. “We move in close and take them by surprise. Wait for my signal before you open fire.” He flashed three fingers at Anton and Bruce, who sat atop the tank.

The boys passed the silent message to the rest of the caravan. Bruce also stuck his head into the tank, letting Nonna and the others know what was happening.

Jennifer and Leo accelerated, picking up their pace as they approached the trap. Lena, in her position behind Leo, readied her rifle.

“You ready to cover me?” Jennifer asked.

“Yes,” Koz said. “Stay low and drive. I’ll take care of the sentients.” He adjusted his grip on the machine gun.

“Does it bother you?”

“Does what bother me?”

“Killing your own countrymen?”

“No.” Koz had been murdering his countrymen for decades. He wasn’t proud of it. It was half the reason he had defected.

But his past had prepared him for this mission in startling ways. Koz had no reservations about gunning down his own people.

When they were half a block away, Leo revved the engine. His ATV shot forward. Jennifer sped after him, leaning low over the handlebars to give Koz a clear view of the sentients.

He wasn’t a great shot. He’d had basic weapons training—General Petrov made sure everyone know how to handle a gun—but he was nothing like Leo and the others.

But he didn’t have to be. He had a Soviet machine gun.

Koz aimed at the nearest sentient and pulled the trigger. He twitched the machine gun left and right, covering the general area where the sentient stood.

More gunfire came from behind from Anton and Bruce. Amanda tore around the side of the tank on the third ATV. Spill’s weapon blazed. Anne came up alongside the tank, her farmers firing from the back of the truck.

Several sentients went down, their heads dissolving into a pulpy mass of blood and brains. With so many attacking, Koz had no idea if he was responsible for bringing any of them down.

It didn’t matter. They died. That was all that mattered.

Eight sentients were down, dead in the street. The remaining Soviets scattered. One was shot as he tried to charge at Leo.

The last three raced toward the houses on the left side of the intersection, bounding up the side of a corner two-story. Koz and the others fired after them. Bullets broke windows and sent powdery puffs of stucco into the air, but the sentients disappeared from sight.

“Fuck.” Jennifer sped up. “We can’t let them get away.” She leaned into the turn around the house. Leo and Lena were right beside them.

Their combined weight made the ATV tilt dangerously. For a few panicked seconds, Koz thought they would tip over.

The ATV settled as Jennifer zipped around the corner—but Koz’s panic didn’t recede. It went up another few notches.

There, no more than a few houses away, was another dozen sentients—lying in wait for them.

“Trap,” Jennifer shrieked. “It’s a trap!

18

PREY

A dozen sentients charged. Unlike the ones in the intersection, these made no pretense of looking human. Bloody leers painted their faces. Many had ripped and blood-stained uniforms.

And they had guns.

“Shit, shit!” There wasn’t enough time to make a U-turn. Jennifer threw the ATV into reverse. Koz fired over her head. Bullets whizzed in their direction, a few of them pinging off the front of the ATV. Leo and Lena were right beside them, their ATV also flying backwards.

Jennifer’s life narrowed to the span of a few seconds. They were outgunned and outnumbered. The sentients were going to gun them down and eat their brains.

If they were lucky, they would do it in that order.

A bullet grazed her above the elbow. Stinging pain shot up her arm. Jennifer screamed in rage.

Her cry was echoed by Koz—a sound that carried a timbre of pain. A glance over her shoulder showed blood gushing out of his side.

The sentients were twenty feet away and closing fast.

Just when Jennifer thought she and Koz would be swarmed, the tank came around the corner.

Anton and Bruce opened fire on the sentients, momentarily halting their onslaught.

“Get down!” Jennifer grabbed Koz by the shoulder and yanked him forward.

The tank fired. The ground erupted fifteen feet in front of them. Sentients flew into the air like matchsticks. A cloud of shrapnel detonated from the point of impact. Grit and debris sprayed across them.

Jennifer threw an arm across her face. Something cut through the arm of her uniform and stung her skin.

“Get out of the way,” Anton shouted.

Jennifer dropped her arm and veered the ATV to one side, making room for the tank.

“Are you okay?” she asked Koz.

“Fine,” he said, though he didn’t sound fine. He sounded pissed.

“Were you shot?”

“I’m fine.” He fired at a wounded sentient who tried to crawl for cover. Koz wasn’t a great aim, but he made up for it with persistence. Five bullets did the trick.

Another blast fired from the tank gun. More rubble and bodies spewed into the air. Jennifer and Koz hunched over again, protecting their faces from the shrapnel. A large piece of concrete hit the front of the ATV with a thud, leaving a huge dent.

The tank continued to roll forward. Bruce and Anton fired from their top position. Dal had jumped off and was firing from a position on the ground. Shots continued from the tank’s main gun, driving the sentients farther down the street.

She spotted the rest of their group. Leo, Lena, Amanda, and Spill, all on the ATVs. Anne’s group, her people firing their rifles over the truck’s cab.

Something flickered in her periphery. Jennifer looked up and saw a sentient leap from a rooftop. He flew through the air—heading straight for Bruce and Anton on the tank.

She reacted on instinct, dropping the handlebars of the ATV and yanking her gun upright. “Bruce, Anton!” The rest of her words were lost in the chatter of her machine gun.

The sentient landed on the tank with the agility of a spider. Several of Jennifer’s bullets tore through his chest and arm. They slowed the bastard, but didn’t stop him. He staggered several steps across the tank before leaping at Anton from behind.

Jennifer’s breath hitched in her throat. Anton was so fucked up from his tangle with the KGB, she didn’t think he’d survive a one-on-one with a sentient.

Right before the sentient collided with Anton, Bruce jumped in front of him. He and the sentient rolled off the side of the tank, narrowly avoiding the tread of the wheel links.

A second sentient leaped off the roof. Anton fired, backing up across the tank. He sidestepped as the sentient landed. Dark blood dripped from the Soviet, but he remained upright.

Amanda jerked her ATV to a stop and jumped onto the seat. She took aim with a steely expression. Jennifer hardly recognized the sweet, timid high school girl who’d been best friends with Cassie.

Amanda shot the sentient in the back of the head. The bastard, all his focus on Anton, never saw her coming. He dropped, brain matter dripping from his broken skull. Amanda dropped back onto the ATV and zipped away.

In the meantime, Bruce and his sentient rolled across the ground in a fist fight.

Jennifer jumped off her ATV and darted forward. The butt of her machine gun descended, delivering a hard blow to the sentient. It wasn’t enough to kill him—the bastard had been moving too fast for her to land a killing strike—but it was enough to stun him. It bought Bruce a precious second. He yanked out a .22 from his belt and fired twice into the head of the sentient.

Jennifer’s chest heaved with exertion. Bruce, wiping blood from the side of his face, gave her a nod of thanks.

Dust settled around them. More than half of the sentients were dead. The rest retreated, running full tilt down the street in the Napa subdivision

“Stop!” Leo banged on the side of the tank. “Reverse.”

“Dammit,” Jennifer growled. She wanted to chase down those bastards and kill them, but Leo was right. Following the sentients would lead them away from the river—and their fastest route out of Napa.

“Nonna, reverse!” Leo banged on the side of the tank again. “We gotta get the fuck out of this town.”

Jennifer hurried back to her ATV, where Koz was attempting to tend to his wound. He peeled up the side of his uniform, revealing a deep gash in his side.

“You okay? What happened?” She couldn’t tell if he’d been grazed by a bullet or a piece of shrapnel.

“It’s a scratch.” With a grunt, he tore off the sleeve of his uniform. The thread tore like tissue paper under his grip. “The uniform was too small for me anyway.”

Her eyes widened in surprise as she comprehended just how strong he was. Sure, Koz was a big guy, but she hadn’t realized he had the strength of a bear.

“Drive,” he said to her. “I will bind my wound.”

“Okay.” She threw the ATV into a quick three-point turn, driving past the tank as it rolled backwards. She kept one eye on the sentients as they disappeared.

Koz ripped the sleeve lengthwise and began wrapping it around his middle.

“How bad is it?” she asked.

“Looks worse than it is.” He glanced at her. “Like your arm.”

She’d forgotten all about the bullet that grazed her arm. It hurt like a son of a bitch, but it was easy to ignore in the adrenaline rush.

“It will be fine,” Koz said. “We will disinfect it later.”

“Works for me.” She sped back into the intersection, taking up position on the northern end to keep watch while the tank finished reversing.

Anne’s farmers in their truck exited first. They were wide-eyed, but unscathed. They’d done their part to fight the sentients.

“That’s not going to stanch the blood flow,” she said as Koz tied off his makeshift bandage. “You need some gauze in there.”

“It’s fine for now.” He pulled the hem of the shirt back down over his stomach. “Do you see anymore sentients?” He lifted his machine gun, ready for danger.

Jennifer studied the surrounding buildings. Most were one and two-story homes. On the far side of the intersection, beside the river, was a small strip mall.

Everything was quiet. It should have put Jennifer at ease, but it only made the skin itch between her shoulder blades. She liked being able to see the enemy.

“I don’t think we’ve seen the last of them,” Koz said.

“What makes you say that?”

“The man I worked for—General Petrov—was very secretive. I know very little of the mission details. But Napa is large like Rossi. There must be more sentients.”

His rationale made sense. The itchiness between her shoulder blades increased.

“We have to get the hell out of here,” she muttered, impatiently tapping her foot as the tank finished its reverse into the intersection.

Leo didn’t waste any time. As soon as the tank was clear, he and Lena pulled their ATV back in front of the caravan. Jennifer fell in beside them. They continued on their way, pushing hard through Napa.

19

HERDED

Blood quickly saturated the makeshift bandage around Koz’s middle and seeped down his side. He’d been cut with a piece of shrapnel from the tank round. The wound ached, but that wouldn’t matter if they didn’t get free of Napa soon.

The deeper they went into the city, the worse the destruction became. More decaying bodies. More wrecked buildings. Smears of dried gore and blood soiled the road. The destruction was so bad in some areas, they were forced to detour.

Every detour took them farther from the river and closer to downtown. Koz had the uncomfortable feeling of being a rat in a maze.

Something moved up ahead. Koz hissed a warning, but Jennifer had already seen it. She pulled to a halt, as did Leo and Lena.

Three blocks ahead of them, five Soviets strolled out into the road. Their skin was covered with gray patches.

“Sentients,” Koz growled.

“What are they doing?” Lena asked. “Why aren’t they attacking?”

The five Soviets stood without moving, many of them smiling like bloody demons. Their hands rested lightly on the machine guns hanging from around their necks.

“Assume they are in communication with the escaped sentients we ran into earlier,” Koz said. “They are playing a game with us.”

Leo’s brow puckered. “What sort of game?”

As if in response to Leo’s question, another dozen sentients strolled into sight, joining the original five. The new ones had been waiting in the wings, much like the ones they’d come up against earlier.

“They are sending a message.” Koz’s heart rate spiked even as anger took root in his gut.

“What kind of message?” Lena asked.

“We cannot trust what we see.” Koz tightened his grip on his gun. “They want us to know they are one step ahead of us.”

“Fucking smart zombies,” Leo growled. “Why couldn’t they all be like the shamblers in Romero’s film?”

“What are we going to do?” Lena asked.

They all looked to Leo.

His face was stone. “We go around.”

“That leaves our backs unprotected,” Koz said. “I would prefer to attack the sentients head-on.”

“So would I,” Leo said, “but there are too many and we lost the element of surprise. It’s too risky.”

“They could follow us and attack.”

“If they wanted to attack, they wouldn’t be standing in the road smiling at us,” Leo said. “Come on, we need to keep moving. Lena, keep the map out.”

Gooseflesh prickled along Koz’s arms as they retreated. Following Lena’s directions, they took an east-bound turn two streets back.

“Koz?” Jennifer said.

“Yes?”

“We need to be ready to fight our way out of this place.”

“Agreed.” He gripped the ATV with his legs, finger hovering over the trigger of his gun.

They were forced to enter downtown Napa. Brick buildings rose tall on either side of them, turning the late-afternoon sun into long shadows.

They made it seven more blocks before another contingent of sentients stepped out several streets ahead of them. There were only four of them this time—or at least, only four visible ones.

Apprehension prickled the back of his scalp. “Leo,” Koz said, “we should charge.”

“What if there are more hiding in wait?” Jennifer said.

Koz shook his head. “It is like that card game—I do not know the English word. Where you lie about what you have in your hand.”

“Poker,” Jennifer said. “We call it bluffing.”

“You think they’re bluffing?” Leo said.

“Yes. I think that’s why they made the display last time. To scare us.” It was just the sort of thing Petrov would do.

“Lena,” Leo said, “is there an alternate route?”

“We can turn right at the next street.”

“We do that,” Leo said. “Let’s roll.”

Koz pursed his lips, but said nothing. He didn’t blame Leo for wanting to avoid another battle with the sentients. It might be the right decision when all was said and done.

“I really want to kill those fuckers,” Jennifer growled as they took the next right-hand turn.

“Me, too.”

They made it another half mile before a third group of sentients appeared. This time, they weren’t in the street. They appeared on top of a building and opened fire on the street. They didn’t shoot directly at the caravan, but their bullets hit the street directly in front of the two lead ATVs.

Right as they opened fire, another handful of sentients rounded the corner, guns chattering as they, too, attacked. They aimed at the street in front of the caravan.

“Retreat,” Leo bellowed. “Retreat!”

He took aim at the sentients, laying down fire so the rest of the caravan could retreat. Koz, Jennifer, and Lena joined him.

The reality of their situation hit him. Koz felt his hackles go up.

“Leo,” he shouted over the gunfire, “we can’t retreat.”

“We have to,” Leo said. “We—”

Koz sucked in a breath, letting loose the big voice that lived inside him. “We’re being herded like cattle!” he bellowed, cutting off Leo. “Can’t you see it? They don’t want us going forward.”

“Shit,” Jennifer said, never letting up on her trigger. “Leo, he’s right!”

Koz was angry it had taken him this long to figure it out. The mind games. The random appearances of sentients with no acts of aggression. And now, finally, they decide to attack—without actually trying to kill them? This was a play straight out of General Petrov’s arsenal—out of any Russian general’s arsenal.

He saw the moment when the truth hit Leo. The muscles of his neck and arms coiled like a snake.

“We have to go through,” Koz said. “Now. Before it’s too late.”

“Attack,” Leo commanded, voice ringing down the street with authority. “Drive forward! Break through the line!”

A boom reverberated from the tank. The eave of the rooftop exploded. Sentient bodies flew into the air.

“Take cover,” Leo yelled.

Bodies and chunks from the roof rained down. Koz threw himself over Jennifer, sheltering her from the fragments of cement and bricks that showered forth.

A body hit the front of their ATV, leaving a smear of blood as it slid to the ground. Koz looked up and glimpsed a pair of red eyes glaring at him through the dust. The sentient was missing an arm and half his chest had been ripped open from the blast, but he was still alive.

Koz raised his gun, but Jennifer was faster. Peeking up from beneath the shelter he provided, she fired straight into the sentient’s face.

“We have to get them while they’re down!” Jennifer pushed against him, reaching for the handlebars.

Koz straightened and freed her. Jennifer charged forward, driving straight for the next closest body. It was a sentient half-buried under a pile of bricks. Koz shot him. The ATV bumped over stray bricks as Jennifer went for the next closest sentient.

Behind the tank, Anne’s group fanned out. Her men jumped out of the truck, surging around the tank to attack on foot. Anton and Bruce fired on the enemy from atop the tank.

The sentients still on their feet had taken cover in shop doorways. They fired on the Snipers, but Koz observed they made very little effort to aim and hit anyone. They just kept spraying bullets to drive them back.

Another shot came from tank’s cannon. The street erupted as another part of the building was hit.

Sentients fell, but not enough of them died.

And more kept coming, swarming into the street ahead of them. There were so many—at least two dozen.

Too many, Koz thought wildly, shooting at one that dragged a broken log across the ground. There are too many.

A commotion went up behind them.

“Rear attack!” Spill’s voice cut through the melee. “Leo, they’re closing in behind us! Another dozen—arg!” His voice disappeared under screams from Amanda.

In the same instant, Anne’s group pivoted to face the second group of sentients that swarmed them from behind.

Too many. They were about to be overrun.

They were pinned like rats. And there was only one way out.

A hard left just ahead of them. The sentient bastards were driving them to that turn. And if the sentients wanted them to go down that street, it was the last place the Snipers wanted to be.

He thought of the briefcase inside the tank, of the valuable information it contained.

Their mission was on the brink of collapse. Something had to be done. For Polina. For Aleksander. For all the poor bastards who had been sacrificed in Petrov’s lab.

“Jennifer,” he said, “get off.”

“Fuck you,” she snapped. “I’m not going anywhere.”

“Fine, but let me drive.”

They quickly switched spots.

“Leo,” Koz said, “whatever you do, don’t go down that street.” He jabbed a finger to the only apparent way out of their predicament. “It’s a trap. If I die, make sure you get my briefcase to Nellis. Prepare to retreat.”

“What the hell are you doing?” Lena cried. “Koz—”

Koz gunned the throttle. He turned the ATV in a sharp circle and sped past the tank, heading for the rear of the caravan.

A retreat was their only remaining chance of escape—if they could make an opening.

“Anton, Bruce,” Koz bellowed as they shot past the tank. “I’m going to draw them out. Cover me.”

As they passed the open street—the one Koz knew was a trap—he glanced down it. He had a brief impression of people—lots of people, all of them massed behind a fence.

He didn’t have time to think about it. The ATV shot past Anne’s truck. Two of her people lay dead on the ground.

The sentients attacking the rear of the caravan had tucked into the recessed doorways of the buildings. They shot blindly into the street, still not making any real effort to hit anything. That was their only advantage, and it wasn’t much.

“We have to make an opening for our people,” Koz rumbled to Jennifer. “Are you ready?”

“Fuck, yeah. Let’s get those fuckers.”

The woman must have a death wish.

“You take the ones on the left. I’ll take the ones on the right,” he said.

Jennifer let up a high-pitched scream that nearly broke his eardrums as they came to the first set of recessed doorways.

Two sentients were in his range. Since they’d been hiding in the doorway, they hadn’t seen him coming. Koz’s bullets cut through their legs and dropped them.

Jennifer was a better shot than he was. There was only one sentient on her side. She killed him with a single shot to the head. She spun on her seat, firing at the two Koz had disabled.

Three down. Koz kept driving.

20

NO WAY OUT

They were in an impossible situation. Jennifer was certain she was going to be dead in the next thirty seconds.

It was the best news she’d heard all day.

For you, Cassie, she thought, dropping a sentient as Koz zipped forward on their suicide mission.

They hit the next recessed doorway. They had another three sentients to contend with. They bunched up together on the right side.

She and Koz opened fire on them.

One sentient went down when Koz shot out his legs. The machine gun tore through muscle and bone. She aimed for the head of the second. It took two shots, but she got him.

The third one darted forward like a snake. He bore down on them, bloody teeth bared.

A shot to the head felled him—but it wasn’t from Jennifer or Koz.

Leo and Lena came zipping out of nowhere. It was Lena who took down the sentient.

“What the fuck?” Leo said. “What the fuck are you guys doing?”

“Clearing a path for a retreat,” Jennifer snapped. “Go, Koz!”

He drove forward before Leo could protest. She liked this ballsy Russian. He was as crazy as she was.

“Get everyone out of here,” she called back to Leo. “We’ll clear the way!”

They neared the next group of sentients. Jennifer and Koz prepared to fire.

Then something terrible happened.

A third group of sentients entered the street in front of them. This new group was bloody and haggard, like they’d tangled with a tractor—or perhaps a tank cannon.

It was the group that had escaped into the suburban neighborhood, Jennifer realized. The bastards had caught up to them.

The trap closing in around them suddenly got tighter.

“We have to take that side street.” Leo pulled up alongside them. “There’s too many.”

“If we allow them to herd us down that street, it will not go well for us,” Koz said.

“What choice do we have?” Leo replied. “If we keep pushing, we’ll be overrun.”

Jennifer’s mind raced. The sentients were herding them. That much was clear.

There had to be a way to flip the tables. She scanned the shops around them, searching for something—anything.

A Mexican restaurant. An oriental rug shop. A photography studio.

How was she supposed to work with any of that? Where was a firecracker stand when you needed one?

She forced herself to focus.

Up ahead, near the newest cluster of Soviets, was a long bank of glass windows. The sign above the windows read Napa Nissan.

A downtown car dealership.

And suddenly, she knew a way out. “Leo.” She quickly relayed her idea.

He nodded in wordless approval, then sped away. He delivered instructions to Anne, who still drove her truck, then to Juli and Nonna inside the tank. Koz backed the ATV into a doorway. It rolled on top of two sentients they’d killed and came to rest on top of them.

Anne threw her truck into reverse.

At the same time, the tank gun swiveled. The tank began to reverse, on a collision course with the car dealership.

The tank gun fired, shattering the bank of windows. Glass buckled, shimmering in the light shining down between the buildings. The tank rolled into the dealership, crunching over shattered glass and several sentient bodies.

And suddenly, they had a way out. Not through the sentients, but around them.

“Go!” Jennifer cried into Koz’s ear. “Gun it!”

The ATV zipped forward. It crunched over the glass, and rolled into the dealership. Anne’s pick-up and the other ATV were alongside them.

The tank gun swung around and fired again. The boom inside the dealership was deafening. It hit the building directly opposite the Napa Nissan, bringing down an avalanche of bricks and mortar.

The tank fire had broken all the windows of the corner building. Koz accelerated past the tank, emerging onto the street on the other side. Anne was already there, leaning out of the driver’s seat window with her rifle to shoot at any sentient in sight.

Koz brought the ATV to a stop beside Anne. He and Jennifer joined her, scanning the chaos for signs of escaping sentients.

Her ears rang from the constant gunfire. If she survived the next few minutes, she might need hearing aids when this was all over.

The tank fired again. More bricks and mortar rained down. Jennifer shot a sentient attempting to flee. Anne brought down a second one. The tank rolled forward, grinding out of the dealership and onto the street.

The farmers from Calistoga flooded into sight, all of them racing for Anne’s truck. They were down several people and several of them were wounded.

“Get your asses in the truck,” Anne shrieked, firing over the heads of her people.

“We’ll cover you,” Jennifer said. “Get the hell out of here!”

Anne didn’t argue. She dropped back into the driver’s seat. As soon as the last of her people were loaded into the back, she floored it.

“Is everyone out?” Koz asked.

“I think so,” Jennifer said, never taking her eyes from the grit that bellowed from the street. “Let’s get the fuck out of here.”

Koz grabbed the handle bars and raced after the caravan. Jennifer scanned the group ahead, trying to account for everyone. She spotted Leo and Lena on their ATV, rolling alongside the tank. Amanda was on top of the tank with Spill driving the ATV.

She glanced behind her, scanning for sentients. Two staggered from the rubble, but didn’t pursue them.

The truck in front of them came to an abrupt halt, the tires squealing on the asphalt and sending up a plume of burned rubber. The tank caravan continued on, never stopping.

“What the fuck?” Jennifer spun around as Koz drew to a halt. She followed Anne’s horrified gaze.

They were in another intersection. Jennifer had glimpsed a group of people at the far end of the street where the Russians had attempted to herd them. Now she realized what it was she had seen.

It was a row of three basketball courts. They were surrounded by a tall chain-link fence. Coils of barbed wire snaked across the top.

Inside the courts were people. Living humans, all of them caged like animals. There were kids. Grandparents. Men and women of all ages, all of them dirty and corralled like meat in a factory. Standing guard around the courts were armed sentients.

The kidnapped people from Calistoga, Jennifer realized. And probably people from Napa as well.

Anne jerked the steering wheel of her truck and charged down the street, driving for the basketball court like a bat out of hell. Her people popped up and began to fire on the sentients.

In front of her on the ATV, Koz tensed. He muttered something in Russian to himself.

The tank caravan was already two blocks ahead of them.

Jennifer knew she and Koz should catch up with the Snipers. They’d agreed beforehand that the Snipers would not take part in the rescue mission. They had a bigger mission on their plate, one that had the potential to save their entire country.

Koz’s hands were white on the handles of the ATV. “We need to leave,” he said, but the ATV remained idle beneath them. He did not take his eyes off the caged people.

Jennifer swallowed. “I have two grenades,” she said. “That’s enough to blow two holes in the fence. We can give those people a chance.”

“Vengeance,” Koz said. “I swore to avenge my wife and son. I swore it.”

Just like Jennifer had sworn to avenge Cassie. Her stomach buckled at the memory of her sister, bleeding and bitten on Luma Bridge.

“Maybe this is how we do it,” Jennifer whispered. “We couldn’t save our families, but maybe we can save these people.”

He glanced at her. Jennifer saw the torment in his eyes. She felt the same way on the inside.

“Let’s do this,” she murmured. “We blow the fence, then get the fuck out of here.”

In reply, Koz cranked the handlebars. Jennifer dug her nails into his shirt as they zoomed down the street—straight for the basketball courts.

21

CATTLE

Koz couldn’t look away from the hands. Dozens and dozens of them with dirty, chipped fingernails. The hands curled in chain-link fence, resting below desperate eyes.

The sight sucked Koz back to his life in Russia. He could still smell the piss, the blood, and fear of the cell block where he had spent most of his career. How many innocents had died by his hand? Too many to count. Too many to even remember.

Could Jennifer be right? Could freeing these prisoners be the best way to atone for his sins? Would Polina and Aleksander applaud him from the afterlife? Or would they be disappointed in him for jeopardizing their vengeance?

The only thing he was certain of was his own desperation. More than anything, he wanted to get those people out of that cage. No human deserved to be caged like an animal.

Anne’s people were in a shoot-out with the sentient guards. The Soviets climbed up the side of a building, attempting to get the high ground.

Koz barely registered them. He only had eyes for the prisoners. They had fallen back to cluster on the far side of the caged structure.

“Get ready,” he shouted to Jennifer. Leaning low over the handlebars of the ATV, he poured on an extra burst of speed.

They tore past Anne and her people. A few bullets pinged off the ATV, but neither of them were hit. The distance between them and the cage narrowed.

“Now!” he cried, sharply turning the handlebars to keep them from plowing straight into the cage.

The ATV took a hard left. Koz stuck out his foot to keep it from tipping over. Jennifer pulled the pin and threw the first grenade.

Koz zipped forward as the first explosion took out part of the fence. The blast sent a shockwave through the air. They were hit in the back with rocks and debris.

Koz grit his teeth as the next piece of fencing came into view. The people inside began running forward at the sight of them, screaming for help.

He never let up on the accelerator. Jennifer tossed her last grenade. The explosion tore through fencing and concrete, creating another opening for the people. A look over his shoulder showed prisoners streaming for freedom.

People began boiling into the street. Some of them joined Anne’s people and fought back against the sentients. Others ran blindly through the streets.

But not everyone ran out of the two openings they had made. A large group of people raced after the ATV, calling for help.

“God dammit!” Jennifer pounded angrily on his back. He didn’t think she realized she was hitting him. “I don’t have another grenade for those people, do you?”

“I have no grenades.” Koz’s throat tightened as the group of people surging hopefully in their direction. Cries for help clawed at him.

“Fuck! We have to do something.” She cupped her hands around her mouth and shouted, “Go the other way! The way out is behind you!”

“There are zombies that way,” cried a man, who carried a small child on his back. “We can’t go that way with our kids.”

That’s when Koz realized the group following them was mostly families. “We need to get back to Leo,” he said, but he didn’t feel the words. “The mission—”

“Fuck the mission. This is our mission. Think we can shoot through the chain-link? Can we …”

Koz didn’t hear the rest of what Jennifer said. His eyes landed on a door in the fence. It was was on the far side of the enclosure and chained with a padlock.

“Get your gun ready,” he said to Jennifer. “We’re going to shoot that door open.”

He turned the corner of the enclosure, all his focus narrowing on the door. If they could get through that padlock, the people would have a chance.

The families inside, following their movement, began running toward the door.

“Get out of the way!” Jennifer raised her gun, taking aim. “Stay back!”

The muzzle of her machine gun balanced right beside Koz’s ear. He ground his teeth as bullets leaped from the end. Sparks jumped as bullets hit the door.

Koz let up on the accelerator as they reached the door. Jennifer kept firing. The lock popped.

People slammed into the door. It flew open as the chain tumbled free. He had just enough time to zoom away before the tide of desperate prisoners hit them.

“Dammit. More sentients are coming,” Jennifer growled.

His ears rang from the gunfire, but her words still registered. Two jeeps full of sentients appeared on the far side of the cages, close to where Anne and her people had made a stand. Several groups of people had swarmed the sentients, fighting back with the advantage of sheer numbers.

He took the next corner and headed east, away from the cage. “Do you know the way back to the main road?”

“No.”

Damn. This is what happened when one acted impulsively. He summoned a mental image of the map they’d reviewed before entering Napa. The main road out of town would eventually turn south.

“We need to find the main road that goes south out of town,” Koz said. “You look for signs, yes? I cannot read. I—”

He broke off as a flood of freed prisoners appeared in front of them.

“Please help us,” someone called. “They’re after us!”

“Get the ATV!” someone shouted.

Jennifer dug fingers into his shoulders. “Get us out of here, Koz,” she breathed.

He didn’t have to be told twice. He took a hard right down an alleyway, putting distance between them and the people.

If they’d had a truck like Anne’s, they could have taken a few of the people with them. But the ATV was already top heavy with the two of them. It wasn’t built for more. It—

They broke free of the alleyway onto another street.

The first thing Koz saw was a little boy crouched against the front of an apartment building. He had his hands clapped over his ears, screaming at the top of his lungs.

The object of his terror crouched in the middle of the street. It was a sentient. He leaned over the body of a dead woman, greedily scooping brains out of her skull.

“Mother fucker.” Jennifer opened fire.

The sentient was too consumed with his fresh pile of brains to react. He glanced up just as Jennifer’s bullets tore through his face. He slumped over his victim, dead.

Koz jerked the ATV to a halt, chest heaving as he stared at the little boy.

The victim beneath the sentient was a woman. Her dirty blond hair—the parts of it not matted with blood—were the same color as the boy’s. It was easy to see she was his mother. The little boy was still screaming, rocking back and forth in terror with his eyes locked on the sentient and his dead mother.

“Mama,” he wailed, the lilt of his voice clearly marking him as a Russian. “Mama!”

There was something familiar about the boy. It took Koz a heartbeat to realize what it was.

His shirt. It was striped black and yellow.

Just like a honey bee.

Polina.

And suddenly, it was like his wife was standing right beside him. He could smell her hair, see every laugh line on her face, and hear her affectionate scolding in his head: “Viktor!”

Koz wasn’t sure why he did what he did next. Was he motivated by thoughts of his wife, or by the sight of a helpless little boy alone in the street? He’d never know.

“Get the boy,” he said.

Jennifer leaped off the ATV without a word of argument. She dashed to the boy. He couldn’t be more than seven or eight years old. His screaming went up an octave as Jennifer lifted him into her arms, but he didn’t fight her. Instead, he wrapped his arms around her neck.

“Mama,” he cried. “Mama!”

The plaintive cry was like a knife to the heart. The little boy was most certainly Russian.

Jennifer made shushing sounds. Her hands were white-knuckled around the boy as she hustled back the ATV and slid on behind Koz.

As she settled into the place, the boy sandwiched between them, a group of five escaped prisoners burst from the alleyway. They were from the group that had rushed the ATV one street over.

“Hold on,” Koz said.

Jennifer responded by gripping either side of his shirt. Her fists grazed the wound in his side. Koz didn’t even notice the pain. He gunned the engine and sped off down the street. The cries from the little boy were like arrows into his heart.

“I will protect the boy, Polina,” he whispered into the wind.

There was no science involved. Just a feeling in his chest, an unshakable belief. He knew. He knew Polina had sent this boy to him for a reason.

And then Koz did something he had never done before: he accepted this on blind faith.

22

BOY

“How could you, Jen?”

Once again, Jennifer felt the walls of the room closing in on her. It was like being back in her teenage bedroom with her dad. The anger and anguish in Brad’s face made her shrivel inside.

Jennifer fought against her own sorrow, straightening her spine as she looked her boyfriend in the eye. “I’m only twenty years old, Brad. I’m too young to be a mom.”

His eyes rounded with sorrow. “Jen, that was our baby.”

The anguish in his eyes made her shrivel. She wanted to tell him the truth.

But if Brad knew the truth, he would know how weak she was. She couldn’t stand the thought of him knowing there was a part of her that was pathetic.

How many times had he praised her for being strong and independent? “It’s one of the things I love about you most.” He’d said that to her only a few days ago after he’d proposed to her—right after she’d told him she was pregnant.

She was a fraud. She wasn’t strong and independent. She was just a scared girl running away from a shitty father. That was the truth.

She didn’t trust herself to keep a baby safe. How could she keep a baby safe when she hadn’t even been able to keep herself safe? How long had she let her dad terrorize her before she finally worked up the courage to fight back? If not for Leo, she wasn’t sure she’d have ever found the courage.

“Look, I still love you,” she said. “I’m just not ready to be a mom.”

Brad looked at her in silence. Jennifer wanted to lay down on the floor and become a doormat.

“Brad—” She reached out to lay a hand on his arm.

He pulled away. “We’re done, Jen.”

His words were a punch in the gut. “What?”

“We’re over.”

“Brad, no, we—”

“We’re over.” Brad got up stiffly from his seat on the the bed and crossed to her bedroom door. “Don’t ever call me again.”

Without another word, he walked out.

It was the last time they’d ever spoken.

* * *

“Mama.” The little boy hiccuped around the word. His face—what Jennifer could see of it—was smeared with snot and saliva. He cried into her shirt, smearing mucus into the dirt the blood already ground into her stolen Russian uniform. “Mama.”

The word tore at her heart. There was a lilting accent to his voice, making her think he wasn’t a native-English speaker. His hair smelled of dirt and sweaty little boy.

She leaned into him, squashing him between her and Koz’s broad back. It was the closest she could come to a hug on the back of a speeding ATV in the middle of a city overrun with sentients.

“You’re safe,” she whispered to the boy, wondering if he could understand her. “We’ll protect you.”

These last three words came from somewhere deep inside her. Something sprouted in her gut. It felt like determination, but more than that. It felt like a commitment of the deepest kind. She would protect this little boy. She would protect him with her life.

Koz rumbled something in Russian.

“What did you say?” she asked.

“I was speaking to the boy,” Koz replied. “He is Russian.”

“Russian?” Jennifer blinked in surprise. “Are you sure?” The only word he’d uttered was mama.

“His clothes. He is from my country.”

“Why isn’t he a sentient?”

“Children were not vaccinated. There was no time to create a vaccine for them.”

“But what about his mom?”

“There was a vaccine priority. Soldiers first. After that were the men who were part of the First Offensive. Leftovers, when there were leftovers, went to the women. I believe sentients view all non-sentients as a food source. We have seen much evidence of this.”

“I can understand them rounding up Americans,” Jennifer said. “It’s fucked up, but it’s war. But rounding up their own people, especially children …”

Her voice trailed off as she glanced down at the boy again. He was still crying, but the frenzied terror had subsided. She thought he might be falling asleep from sheer stress and exhaustion.

The kid will be fucked up for life. The thought chased its way through her mind. She should know. She would be fucked up from her dad for the rest of her life.

“I’ll protect you,” she murmured again, not caring if he could understand her. “No one will hurt you on my watch.”

She remembered keenly how she’d felt when she first discovered she was pregnant with Brad’s baby: powerless. Helpless. Scared. It was how she felt when her dad used to sneak into her room at night. It was why she’d had an abortion. The fear and helplessness had been too much for her to handle.

Jennifer didn’t feel scared anymore. All she felt was determination and protectiveness.

Koz continued to navigate through the downtown city streets, always moving either south or east. Luckily, the roads were laid out in an organized grid pattern.

He occasionally murmured in Russian; she assumed he spoke words of comfort to the boy. She added her own in English.

Somewhere behind them was an explosion. The boy jumped, eyes wide with fright.

Jennifer murmured assurances, hoping the tone of her voice would soothe him. “What do you think that was?” she asked Koz.

“There are more than a hundred people loose in Napa,” he replied. “I think they are fighting back.”

That sent a surge of satisfaction through her. “Hear that?” she said to the boy. “They’re getting revenge against the assholes that killed your mother.”

“Perhaps you should not use such language with the boy,” Koz said. “Women do not speak like that in Russia.”

She snorted. “You said he can’t understand what I’m saying.”

“Even so, it is not proper. It sets a bad example.”

She laughed out loud before she could stop herself. “He just watched his mother get eaten alive by a sentient zombie, and you’re worried about me using the word asshole?”

A pause. Then a chuckle shook Koz’s chest. It was a deep sound that matched his voice. “I suppose you are right. He can’t even understand you.”

“Exactly.”

The mirth faded as they kept driving.

She thought of Leo and how fucked up things were between them. I have to make them right, she thought.

Why had she waited so long? She could have died back there and he never would have known how sorry she was. She would fix things between them as soon as they caught up with the caravan. Life was too short—too precious—to dick around with someone she cared about.

“Polina sent this boy to me to look after,” Koz said.

Was he really talking about his dead wife again? “Why do you think—” Jennifer’s breath caught as she registered how the boy was dressed.

The shirt was torn and strained and looked like a grease rag from a car repair shop.

But it wasn’t the state of the shirt that was important. It was the pattern on the shirt. Broad yellow-and-black stripes covered the boy’s thin body.

It’s a fucking honey bee shirt, Jennifer thought to herself, too stunned to speak.

It took her thirty seconds to recover. “This is where you get to decide between the fairy tale and hard reality. Your wife is gone, Koz.”

He didn’t respond. She shouldn’t care if she hurt his feelings—she’d never been one to pull her punches anyway—but she liked Koz and empathized with him. She tried to think of something else to add, something to negate the barbs of the words she’d already fired.

“Up ahead.” It was all she could come up with. “I see a sign.”

Koz slowed as they rolled past a green sign with white lettering. “Highway 12,” Jennifer said. “That’s the road that leads out of Napa.” She slapped Koz on the shoulder. “We did it!”

“We’re not free of Napa yet,” he reminded her in a grim voice. “I will feel better when we rejoin the Snipers.”

“We’ll find them. Look, we made it out of downtown.” She’d been too absorbed with the boy to notice the tall brick buildings had fallen away. They were now on a two-lane road that snaked its way through open fields of yellow grass. Ahead in the distance were buildings that had sprung up on the edge of town near the junior college.

Jennifer looked down again at the boy. His crying had dulled, and she could tell from the way he rubbed his eyes that he grew tired.

“What’s your name, little man?” she asked, not expecting an answer, but Koz relayed her question in Russian.

“Mikhail,” the little boy said. He raised swollen red eyes to Jennifer, smearing snot across his face as she scrubbed at his nose.

Her heart swelled with protectiveness. She wanted to ask how he’d come all the way from Russia only to end up as sentient cattle, but that would have to wait. There was no telling when he’d be able to talk about his traumatic experience, if ever.

“Koz?”

“Yes?”

“Tell him I won’t let anything happen to him.” The words sounded insane coming out of her mouth. She was on a mission to save the country, and she wasn’t exactly guardian material, but she didn’t give a shit. She was going to take care of this boy come hell or high water. “Tell Mikhail I’m going to look after him.”

Koz said, “I’ll tell him we’ll both look after him.”

23

APOLOGY

“What. The. Fuck.”

Jennifer didn’t think she’d ever seen Leo so pissed. Which was saying something, given their history.

“What the fuck were you guys thinking?” His face was red with anger as he leaned close, glaring at her.

Was he was referring to the fact that she and Koz had taken off on a kamikaze mission, or the fact that they’d returned to camp with a Russian child in tow? He was probably mad about both.

They’d finally caught up with the caravan a few miles outside of Napa. They were camped a few hundred yards off the highway beside a forested ravine.

Koz stood his ground like a giant stone wall. He was practically glued to Jennifer’s elbow, presumably to lend solidarity in the wake of Leo’s wrath. He need not have bothered. All of Leo’s attention was fixated on Jennifer.

Her initial reaction was to give him a smart ass answer and further incite him. She had to swallow back the urge. Leo deserved better.

“It was a rash decision.” She met his anger with a steady gaze. “We deviated from the mission. I’m sorry, Leo.”

He blinked, clearly taken aback by her blunt, honest answer. Some of the anger drained from his face.

Some, but not all.

“You put our most valuable asset at risk.” Leo jammed a finger in Koz’s direction. “We need him, Jennifer.”

“The fault was mine,” Koz rumbled. “I was the one driving. Jennifer had no choice but to go along with me.”

Leo gave him a withering look. “Don’t bullshit me, man.” His scowl slid back into place as he returned his attention to Jennifer. “Not only did you both put your lives at risk, but you brought back a kid.”

“Shhh.” Jennifer’s mouth tightened as she glanced in Mikhail’s direction. The little boy sat near the campfire with Lena, a blanket around his thin shoulders. “He can hear you.”

“So what? He’s Russian!” Leo’s anger ratcheted back up.

Everyone glanced in their direction as Leo’s voice rose. They all sat near the fire, pretending not to hang on every word that passed between the two of them.

Letting out an impatient huff, she grabbed his hand and pulled him away, shaking her head at Koz when he tried to follow. She drew Leo to the far side of the tank, where they could talk in private.

“I fucked up, Leo,” she said before he could lay into her again. “I knew it was the wrong decision. But Koz and I saw those people in the basketball courts and couldn’t turn away.”

She didn’t bother trying to explain the odd camaraderie she had with the big Russian. It was the fact that he was driven by guilt, same as she was. It was an odd foundation for a friendship, but nothing about war was normal, right?

“I’m sorry I went rogue. I’m sorry I risked the mission. And …” She momentarily dropped her eyes. “I’m sorry for everything, Leo. Really sorry.”

A spasm of emotion flashed across his features. She knew he was thinking about their awful three-minute fuck after the attack on the Cecchino cabin.

“I’d take it back if I could,” she whispered, crossing her arms over her chest and rubbing them against the chilly night. “I can be really fucked up sometimes. I—” The truth about her dad hovered on the tip of her tongue. Leo could be trusted, but she’d never told a living soul about what had been done to her. “I’m really sorry,” she said instead. “I don’t blame you for hating me.”

His brows drew together. “I don’t hate you, Jennifer.”

She shrugged. “It would be okay if you did.”

“There have been moments.” He ran a hand through his hair and closed his eyes. “This is hard without Cassie. I know you miss her, too.” He fingered the black knight pendant that hung from around his neck. That had been Cassie’s favorite piece of jewelry, a gift from Jennifer. “You’re being … different.”

“I know. I realized something back in Napa.”

“What?”

“No matter how many Russians I kill, Cassie will still be dead.” She blinked as tears rushed to her eyes. “I can’t bring her back. I can’t turn back time and save her.” A few tears spilled over her cheeks. She wiped them away with the back of her hand, not caring that Leo saw. “But those people in the basketball cages were still alive. There was a chance for them. I couldn’t turn my back. And Mikhail …” She couldn’t bring herself to finish the rest of her sentence.

Leo shocked the hell out of her by pulling her into a hug. She stiffened reflexively, then relaxed into him as his arms tightened. It had been a long time since someone had just held her.

“I miss her so fucking much,” Leo murmured, chin resting on the top of her head. “I feel like a wasteland inside. I didn’t know her for very long, but I was already falling in love. I thought I’d marry her someday. I thought …”

She heard his breath catch on a sob. Jennifer squeezed him tight. They stood together for several minutes without speaking. The buzz of crickets and frogs filled the night. The tank blocked out the voices of their companions, making it seem like it was just the two of them in the wide, busted world.

“I feel broken,” Leo said at last. “Focusing on the mission is the only thing that’s keeping me sane right now.”

“Me, too.” She gave him a last squeeze and stepped back. There was only so much sentimentality she could handle. “Do you forgive me?”

His eyes were wet, but he smiled at her. “Of course. I’m sorry, too. I knew you were fragile. I shouldn’t have pushed you.”

“Yes, you should have known better.” She gave him a smile to show she was teasing.

“I couldn’t help myself, I guess.”

She snorted. “Neither could I.”

They both laughed. It was real laughter, not the fake kind. And it was the first time she’d laughed since Cassie died. It was probably Leo’s first time, too.

“What if the kid turns into a sentient?”

“He won’t. Koz told me the kids weren’t vaccinated.”

“But he’s still a liability. You realize that, right?”

She snorted. “Have you looked at our group, Leo? Spill is the only one technically qualified for any of this shit. We have two people old enough to be grandparents, a few teenagers, and farmers. What’s a kid thrown into the mix?”

A small smile quirked the sides of his mouth. “You got me there.”

“Besides, he might surprise us. Can’t hurt to have another Russian speaker in the group. I’ll look after him.”

“You?” Leo cocked his head at her.

“I’m the one who picked him up off the street. Koz said he’d pitch in, too.”

Leo scrubbed at his hair. “I’m sure we’ll all pitch in. Nonna will find ways to keep him busy. She always had a list of chores for us to take care of as kids.”

They wandered back in the direction of the fire. Everyone looked up at they emerged.

The journey through Napa had left its mark. Jennifer and Koz weren’t the only ones with bullet and shrapnel wounds. Nearly everyone sported new bruises and bandages.

Spill had taken a gunshot wound to his arm. Nonna had removed the bullet and bandaged him up, but he looked pale and tired from the ordeal.

Leo and Jennifer were nonchalant as they rejoined the Snipers, though inside, she felt better than she had in days.

Mikhail broke away from Lena and came up to her. “Jennifer.” Her name was stilted as it rolled off his tongue.

“Hey, little man.” She took his hand. Even though he couldn’t understand her, she spoke to him anyway. “Did you save any food for me?”

Mikhail just looked up at her, following her back the fire. They sat crosslegged on the ground together.

Koz handed Jennifer a bowl of pasta. Mikhail fell asleep with his head on her shoulder as she ate.

24

POTATOES

The next day of travel was long but uneventful. They stuck to country roads that snaked through miles of open grass fields. Leo planned to keep them on the back roads until they reached I-5, the main freeway that would take them south.

Her eyes strayed to the tank. Mikhail rode in there with Nonna, Amanda, and Juli. Jennifer felt an irrational desire to have him near, though she had no good argument to keep him on the ATV with her and Koz. It was safer for him in the tank in case they ran into Soviets.

She was keenly aware that Mikhail was not her child or her sibling. He could not fix her broken places. It wasn’t fair to ask that of him.

As the sun set, Leo had them pull off the road behind a storage pod facility. After Jennifer parked the ATV under an oak tree, she and Koz walked to the tank. Mikhail was the first one out. He crouched on top, looking around as the others climbed out after him.

“Kid had a rough day,” Anton said. “Cried on and off. Wouldn’t let anyone get close to him.”

“That is to be expected,” Koz said. “He has had a traumatic experience.”

Mikhail came to the edge of the tank, looking down at them. The blood and most of the grime had been scrubbed from his face and arms, but no amount of scrubbing could wash away the hollowness of his eyes. The rims of his eyes were red and puffy.

The sight of him made Jennifer ache. She knew from experience there was nothing she could do to make his world right. But if she could keep him alive, he just might find his way out of the darkness. Someday.

Mikhail let Koz reach up and pluck him off the side, but as soon as he was on the ground, he ran and hid behind a tree.

Koz started after him, but Jennifer put a hand on his arm to stop him.

“Give him a little space,” she said.

“But he is just a child,” Koz argued.

“He doesn’t feel safe.” Jennifer knew how that felt. How many nights had she spent terrified in her childhood bedroom? “Let him get his bearings. He’ll come out when he’s ready.”

“What if he runs off?”

“I’ll keep an eye on him.” Jennifer wasn’t worried about Mikhail running off. Even if he tried, he wouldn’t make it very far. He was skinny and frail and scared.

“We have five pounds of potatoes that need peeling,” Nonna said as Leo helped her to the ground. “And someone needs to start a fire so we can get the water boiling.”

“I’ll take care of the potatoes,” Jennifer said, an idea forming in her mind.

Amanda and Juli brought up the food stores from the tank. Jennifer found two peelers in the supplies and retrieved the burlap sack of potatoes. As she pulled the potatoes over the edge of the tank, her eyes briefly met Leo’s. He gave her a small nod.

Relief spread through her chest. It felt good not to be fighting with him anymore. She gave him a small smile before he turned back to his evening chore.

She lugged everything toward the tree where Mikhail hid. He sat with his back against the tree, knees pulled up to his chest. She knelt down about ten feet away from him. He twitched at the sight of her, like he wanted to run.

She glanced over her shoulder to make sure she and Mikhail were alone. Nonna had everyone on the far side of the tank. Bruce and Lena prepared the fire. Juli and Amanda spread out the supplies for cooking. Leo and Dal were busy pulling out blankets for the night. Koz checked the wounds on Spill and Anton.

Jennifer turned her attention to Mikhail. “I know how you feel,” she told him. He might not be able to understand her, but she hoped he would pick up on her sentiment. “My dad wrecked my childhood. I know what it’s like to feel scared. I just want you to know one person here understands what you’re going through. I know what it’s like to be betrayed by people you trusted.”

The old fear from her childhood surged up. Jennifer breathed through it, knowing she had to be strong for Mikhail. If she couldn’t face her own shit, how could she hope to help him through his?

He didn’t move, but he listened intently as she spoke. Jennifer grabbed the first potato. The soft swoosh of the peeler filled the space between her and Mikhail.

“I’m sorry about your mama. She didn’t deserve what happened to her. We’re going to get the bastards who killed her. You know the big guy, Koz? He’s going to help us. He has a plan to disable all the sentient bastards so we can kill them.”

Mikhail shifted, turning his body so that he could watch her. Jennifer kept talking as she worked her way through the mountain of potatoes.

She was halfway through the pile when Mikhail edged away from the tree and came to stand next to the pot where she put the peeled ones.

“Want to help?” She held out the second peeler she’d brought with her.

He took it from her and tentatively lifted a potato.

“Like this.” She demonstrated how to handle the potato peeler, making sure he understood the risk of peeling skin off his fingers.

He replied to her in Russian. She took it as a good sign.

“Just watch your fingers,” she said. “Nonna will give us both a lecture if I bring you back with half your skin peeled off.”

He nodded as though he understood. Maybe he did. No one wanted peeled fingers.

They crouched in silence as they worked. The metal peelers made soft swishing sounds against the potatoes.

She couldn’t decide if she was acting like a mom or a big sister. Then she decided she didn’t care. She’d promised to look out for him. At the moment, that meant making sure he didn’t hurt himself.

“How is he?” Koz stopped by to check on them, the concern plain in his eyes.

“He’s fine,” Jennifer said. “He’s helping me with dinner.”

“I’ll be at the campfire if you need anything.”

They were nearly done with the pile when she realized Mikhail was crying again. They were soft tears that hardly made a sound except for the occasional shaky inhalation of breath.

She remembered the first night her dad had come into her room. After he left, she’d hidden under her bed and cried. Watching Mikhail took her back to that moment.

The invisible walls of her old bedroom closed in around her. She wanted to break something. She wanted to scream.

Instead, she removed her knife from her belt and set it on the ground next to Mikhail.

He snatched it up with wide eyes, holding it against his chest and eyeing her as though he suspected she would try to take it back.

“Keep it.” She gestured to the knife, willing him to understand. “Protect yourself.” A second passed before Jennifer realized tears dribbled down her cheeks. Her heart beat too fast in her chest. Would she ever escape the suffocating walls of her old bedroom?

She was so lost in her own pain that she didn’t notice when Mikhail moved. When he pressed a finger against a warm tear on her cheek, she jumped in surprise.

He jumped back, still clutching the knife.

She smiled at him, wiping her eyes against her shoulder. “Yeah, I’m really fucked up, little man. I escaped my dad years ago, but that asshole is always around one way or another.”

He nodded, dark eyes grave, seeming to understand in all the ways that mattered. Jennifer felt her throat close. It was a struggle to hold back another surge of tears. Crying wouldn’t do any good. It certainly wouldn’t help Mikhail.

Get your shit together, she scolded herself.

“Mama.” Mikhail pointed to himself. “Mama.”

“Yes.” She nodded to show she understood. “Those bastards killed your mama. I get it, little man. I miss my sister. Her name was Cassie.””

“Mama.” He pointed to himself again, then pointed a finger at her and asked her something in Russian.

He wanted to know why she was crying. Specifically, he wanted to know who she had lost.

She pointed to her face and traced a finger down her cheek to mimic a tear. “Cassie.”

“Cassie.” A hiccup escaped Mikhail’s mouth. “Mama.”

“Yes. I lost Cassie and you lost your mama.”

Mikhail nodded and wiped at his tears, struggling to get his emotions under control. The sight nearly broke her heart.

He pointed to the knife and asked a question.

“You can keep it,” she said. “Protect yourself with it.”

The knife had been a gift from the Cecchinos. They had given all the Snipers hunting knives at the beginning of the invasion. It was large in Mikhail’s hands, but from the look on his face, the size made him feel safe. He secured it to the worn leather belt around his waist.

“I’ll see about getting someone to show you how to use that,” she said. “Maybe we can even teach you how to shoot.”

The idea of showing a seven-year-old how to shoot a gun would have been appalling a few weeks ago. Now, it just seemed like good sense.

“We’ll make sure you can defend yourself,” she told Mikhail. “No one is going to fuck with you, little man.”

25

WHAT WILL YOU CHOSE?

Koz dreamed about Mikhail.

They were both back in Russia. The scent of the cell block, where Koz had spent most of his adult life in the Experimental Science Division, hit his nostrils. The dried blood. The piss and shit. The fear.

Mikhail sat against the wall inside the cell, his knees pulled up to his chest. His sunken eyes regarded Koz with terror.

It was a universal expression for all those who had been brought against their will to this place. Koz had hardened himself to it long ago.

He felt the old habit snapping into place as he gazed at Mikhail through the bars. It was like armor. He could grab it at will and protect himself from the horror of what he did to people.

A light bulb flickered off to his right. It was the same one that always gave him trouble.

“What will you chose?”

He jumped at the familiar voice. Koz spun and found Polina standing beside him.

He swallowed his discomfort at her seeing him in this place—at her seeing the suffering that stretched down the cell block. He never talked about his work with Polina. She knew he served Mother Russia, and that his work was important, but no details beyond that. Koz suspected it would break her heart to know what kind of man her husband truly was.

“What—what are you doing here, my heart?”

Polina’s round face smiled at him. She was as he remembered her that last time he’d seen her. Gray wisps of hair framed her features. Beloved wrinkles along her cheeks fanned out from her eyes.

She wore her favorite apron—a brick-red ensemble with flowers embroidered along the bottom—with both her hands tucked into the front pockets. It was a stance she took often when she had been alive.

“What will you chose?” she asked again.

Her form flickered. Her hands disappeared from her pockets. They reappeared in front of him, palms up.

In her left hand was a syringe. In her right was the key to Mikhail’s cell door.

“What will you chose, my heart?” she asked.

“Kozlovovitch!” A new voice thundered down the cell block.

Koz’s reaction was as ingrained as any nervous habit. He jumped, spinning around to face General Petrov.

The general had once been lean and well-muscled; time had turned the muscles into fat and a protruding gut, just as it had turned his golden hair to gray. He was nearly ten centimeters shorter than Koz, but Koz hunched his shoulders to downplay his height.

He’d been hunching his shoulders for forty years. It was wonder he wasn’t hunchbacked.

“Why are you wasting time?” Petrov demanded. “Get on with it! The Motherland is depending on us to exterminate the fascists bastards.” He pointed to Mikhail. “Get on with it!”

The boy seemed to fold in on himself under the general’s imperious index finger.

“What will you choose, my heart?”

Koz spun back around to face Polina. Her smile was as serene as ever. The key and syringe glowed upon her upturned palms.

“Get on with it, Kozlovovitch!”

“What will you chose, my heart?”

“Get on with it!”

“What will you chose, my heart?”

* * *

Koz’s eyes snapped open, his body slick with sweat. He breathed hard as his heart galloped in his chest.

What will you chose, my heart?

A tear collected in the corner of his eye. Koz stared up at the open sky, seeing Polina clearly in his mind’s eye. The red apron with the flowers, her kind smile—and the choice.

The choice. Emotion bucked just under the surface. Koz sat up, shaking free of his blanket and trying to catch his breath.

What had Jennifer said back in Napa? We couldn’t save our families, but maybe we can save these people.

He pictured Polina as he had seen her in the cell block, the syringe in her left hand, the key to the cell door in her right.

She was sending him a message. He was sure of it. But what, exactly, was she trying to say?

He was a scientist, not a poet. He preferred evidence and direct questions, but dreams were never direct.

“What do you want of me, my heart?” he whispered.

A shiver went down his spine. A few tears rolled out of his eyes as he thought of his wife and son.

“Do you want me to avenge you, my heart?” His words, barely audible, turned to white vapor in the chilly evening.

There had been nothing of revenge in the dream. If analyzed on a purely symbolic level, the syringe represented death. The key represented life.

He suddenly understood the real question Polina asked him: Would he continue to pursue death and destruction as a solution to life’s challenges?

Or would he pursue life?

His chest heaved. He bit his lip to stay quiet. More tears rolled out of his eyes.

He was an evil man. A monster. A demon in the flesh. How could anything beautiful be made from his hands?

“Help me, Polina,” he breathed. “Help me, my heart.”

Mikhail. Mikhail had been at the crux of his dream. He was alive because of Koz and Jennifer. That counted for something. He was sure of it.

Is this what Polina meant when she held out the key? Was he, Viktor Kozlovovitch, supposed to figure out how to save people?

He had no idea.

After a few minutes, he dried his face and lay back down. Sleep was a long time in coming. Nothing had changed for him—and yet, nothing was the same.

* * *

They were up and moving out early the next morning.

Koz and Jennifer escorted Mikhail to the tank. It seemed impossible, but the boy looked even more exhausted this morning than he had last night. His cheeks were sunken, the dark crescents beneath them looking more pronounced.

Key. Syringe. Koz could almost see Polina walking beside him with those items in her open palms. He wished she would tell him what to do.

“You are among friends,” Koz said to Mikhail.

“To the tank, little man.” Jennifer touched Mikhail’s shoulder, pointing to the tank where Nonna waited for him. “We’ll see you later.”

His dark eyes flicked briefly between Koz and Jennifer before he walked off. He edged away from Amanda when she offered to help and climbed up himself.

Koz and Jennifer remained where they were until Mikhail was out of sight. He felt a strange kinship with the young woman. They both cared about the fate of the child they had rescued.

“We’re going to need gas today,” Leo called, firing up his ATV. “We’ll be passing through the outskirts of Fairfield. Everyone keep their eyes peeled for a safe place to refuel.”

26

DUMPSTER

Another gas station. The long shadows of dusk made it look lonely and foreboding. Koz wished the sight of it didn’t make his shoulder blades itch.

He was going to have to get over his trepidation. This was just the second of many gas station stops between here and Nellis.

“It looks deserted,” Jennifer said from behind him. Today, she’d let him drive the ATV.

He suspected that was because she was itching to shoot something. She had her left hand hooked into his belt; her right hand gripped her machine gun, ready to fire at the first sign of trouble.

“The last gas station looked deserted,” Koz reminded her. “Looks can be deceiving, as you Americans like to say.”

“You’re right. Leo,” Jennifer called, pitching her voice just loud enough to carry over the engines, “let me and Koz do a sweep before the group pulls in.”

Leo nodded, slowing down the caravan while Koz and Jennifer pulled ahead. He and Lena had their weapons raised, ready to cover them if needed. Dal and Bruce, crouched on top of the tank, did the same.

Koz scanned the roofline as they approached. From the angle of the road, he could see there was no one on top. It was already looking better than Calistoga.

This was a much larger gas station than the first. For starters, it had a small grocery shop attached to it. The windows of the shop had been destroyed. Food wrappers and dust had accumulated outside of a telephone booth outside.

There wasn’t a body in sight, but half a dozen bloody smears covered the cracked cement. It looked like bodies had been dragged away.

“That doesn’t give me warm fuzzies,” Jennifer said. “We need to look inside the shop.”

They parked their ATV. Koz led the way inside, his boots crunching on the broken glass.

The shop had been looted. The shelves were empty. More trash wrappers were on the floor.

“Look over there.” Jennifer pointed toward the cash register with her gun.

Three large boxes sat on the register, all of them stuffed with food. A sign on a bent piece of cardboard sat in front of the boxes:

Free food. Take what you need. Leave the rest for others.

The hair tingled along Koz’s neck. “Trap.” He once again scanned the small shop. “We should leave.”

“Hold on.” Jennifer crept closer to the box.

“Don’t touch it! It could be a trap.”

“I know. That’s why I’m checking.” She stood on her tiptoes and peered down into the box, then slipped behind the counter.

Koz angled his body so that he could see the interior of the shop and also keep an eye on her.

“No explosives or wiring behind the counter,” Jennifer said.

“Not all traps are bombs,” Koz said, looking out the window to the blood smears on the ground. “We should leave.”

Jennifer nodded in agreement. They backed slowly out of the shop and returned to the ATV.

“Let’s check the alley behind the shop,” Jennifer said. “Make sure some scumbag isn’t waiting to ambush us.”

They drove the ATV on the sidewalk around the side of the shop. A large dumpster sat in the entrance. A rat scurried out of sight as the ATV pulled in to view.

The first thing he noticed was the buzz of flies. It was so loud, they could be heard over the engine. A handful of them flew in and out of the garbage bin.

Jennifer pointed to the dumpster as she slid off the ATV. Koz nodded to show he understood.

She went first into the alleyway, moving in a low crouch. Koz followed at her back.

A large black plastic lid covered the top of the dumpster, but it had been warped by exposure to the elements and didn’t close properly. Koz heard the squeak of more rats inside. The buzz of flies grew louder. A putrid scent wafted through the gap between the lid and the side of the dumpster.

The smell made his insides tense. He knew that scent.

The alleyway was empty. Trash and other debris from the street stretched along one side of the back fence. A discarded sweatshirt lay in a dirty, faded heap amidst the rest of the garbage. Koz suspected it had been there before the invasion.

Jennifer sprang forward, leaping past the far side of the dumpster with lightning speed. She aimed her gun at the blind spot where someone might be hiding.

When her shoulders relaxed, Koz knew the alleyway was truly deserted.

Well, mostly deserted.

He threw open the dumpster lid. The stench of rotting flesh nearly made him pass out. A black swarm of flies rose into the air. Two rats fled for cover, disappearing down the back side of the bin.

“What the hell?” Jennifer clapped a hand over her mouth and nose and fell back, gagging.

“Bodies.” Koz had long ago made it a priority not to be affected by disturbing sights and smells. He flipped up the collar of his uniform to cover his nose, then peered into the dumpster.

Bodies were inside. It was hard to say how many, but he estimated at least six. The heads had all been smashed in, but that wasn’t the most disturbing thing.

All of them had been scalped.

“Russians,” he said. He spotted the star, sickle, and hammer on the uniform of the topmost body.

“I think we know where the blood smears in the gas station came from.” Jennifer covered her nose with her sleeve, rising up on her toes beside him. The young woman had a strong constitution, stronger than that of most men he had met. “Someone killed these guys and tossed their bodies back here.”

“Yes. There might still be other Americans nearby.”

“That’s good news for us,” Jennifer said. “That means whoever left the food in there is on our side.”

“Perhaps they would be on our side if we were dressed like Americans,” Koz said.

Had the dead Russians been sentients? Much of their skin was too bloated and discolored for him to see the telltale gray splotches. Koz flipped up the eyelid of the dead on the top of the pile.

“What the fuck?” Jennifer slapped his hand away. “Don’t touch it!”

“I am a scientist,” he replied, unfazed. “I’m checking to see if he was a sentient.”

“Don’t you need rubber gloves or something?”

“Supplies were short in Russia,” Koz replied. “Gloves were a luxury we did not have in most circumstances.”

Her face twisted into a horrified grimace. “You mean you touched bodies and stuff with your hands?”

“Yes.” He studied the eye, which was mostly eaten away by the rats. The same was true for the second eye.

“We should go,” Jennifer said. “Let’s get back to the caravan.”

“Let me check one more.” Koz shoved aside the top body, breathing though his mouth to keep from gagging.

“Oh, my God. That is so disgusting.” Jennifer fell back from the dumpster, still plugging her nose.

The second body was more intact than the one on top. The skin was not as far gone. He didn’t detect any of the grayish sentient patches, but he wanted to be sure. He thumbed open an eye lid.

“Regular Soviet,” he reported, peering down at the eye of the red man. There was none of the red he had seen in the sentients. “They may have been killed before the vaccine started mutating. They look to have been dead for at least a week.”

“That’s just wonderful,” Jennifer said sarcastically. “Can we leave the science experiment and get back to the others?” She hustled away without waiting for an answer.

27

SCALPS

“It’s your call, but I think we should fill up here,” Jennifer said. “Who knows when our next chance will come along? There’s no sign of whoever killed those Russians.”

And smashed in their skulls and scalped them. That was a sight she would not get out of her head anytime soon.

“Agreed,” Leo said. “We’re low on fuel and it’s worth the risk. I want lookouts on both sides of the station. Bruce, you take the south side. Dal, you take the north. It’s getting late and we need to move fast. We need to find a safe place to sleep for the night before it gets dark.”

Bruce and Dal hopped off the top of the tank as the caravan pulled into the gas station, taking up position on either side of the area. Amanda and Juli climbed onto the tank and kept watch from up there.

“You fill the tank,” Jennifer said to Koz. “I’ll take care of our ATV.”

Koz disappeared around the side of the tank. As Jennifer grabbed the pump handle, she spied a pair of dark eyes watching her through the tank’s slot visor.

“Hi, Mikhail. Do you need anything?”

The boy stared at her without speaking. He watched her movements as she filled the ATV. After a few seconds, he disappeared from sight.

“He’s better today.” Nonna’s eyes replaced Mikhail’s in the slot visor. “He hasn’t cried yet.”

“Good,” Jennifer said, though she knew from experience that lack of tears didn’t necessarily mean Mikhail was better.

“He holds onto that knife like it’s a lifeline,” Nonna replied. “Someone needs to show him how to use it so he doesn’t cut off one of his fingers.”

“Maybe Spill can show him a few things when we stop for the night,” Jennifer suggested.

“Good idea.” Nonna disappeared from sight, presumably returning to the driver’s seat.

The idea of little old Nonna driving the Soviet tank would have amused Jennifer if she wasn’t on edge. The sight of those bodies in the dumpster would not be easy to forget.

Something moved in her periphery. Her head jerked, turning just in time to see a person disappear around a Chinese restaurant across the street.

“Leo, person.” Jennifer dropped the pump handle to the ground and snatched her machine gun. “Across the street.”

She sprinted across the road, heading for the restaurant. Some of the windows had been shot out.

“Jennifer, get back here!” Leo said.

She ignored him, intent on finding whoever had been spying on them. No way was she going to risk them being followed.

She’d just reached the other side of the street when someone fired at her.

“Shit!” She sprinted for the nearest car, an old mini van half parked on the sidewalk with the driver’s side door missing.

She heard Leo curse and looked up to see him following her. “What the fuck, Jen?” He dropped into a crouch beside the minivan, breathing hard.

“I saw someone.”

“No shit. He shot at you.”

“Whoever it is could follow us. We need to make sure it isn’t a Soviet. Or the sick fucker who scalped those bodies in the dumpster after bashing their heads in.”

Leo pursed his lips, irritation clear, but he didn’t argue.

“You hate it when I’m right, don’t you?”

His jaw clenched, but he didn’t rise to the bait. “Follow me.” Leo crept around the car and sprinted for the restaurant.

She stayed right behind him, ducking down into the recessed alcove of the doorway. The inside of the restaurant was a mess. Tables had been overturned. Rotting food and smashed teapots littered the floor.

“Blood. Look, I think it’s fresh.” Jennifer pointed inside. A thick trail of blood disappeared through the swinging door that led to the kitchen. It was still red, which meant it hadn’t been around long enough to darken.

“Let’s check the back,” Leo said. “If no one’s there, we get back to the others. Agreed?”

“Fine.”

The Chinese restaurant sat in the center of a wide parking lot. Half a mile behind the restaurant was the back of a housing subdivision. If the person they had seen hadn’t fled to the houses, he would be at the back of the restaurant.

Leo went first. Jennifer stayed glued to his back with her weapon raised. They crept down the side of the restaurant.

“Stop right there.”

Jennifer’s heart jumped into her throat as a man stepped out from behind the building. He held a handgun pointed at them.

Leo’s shoulder muscles bunched beneath his uniform, but his finger remained poised on the trigger.

There was something eerie about the man. Jennifer couldn’t put her finger on it.

He was dressed in American military fatigues. His head had been shaved bald. Something odd-shaped hung from his belt, but the light was too dim for her to make out what it was.

Something stirred behind the man. A figure stepped out behind him.

Eyes stared out at Jennifer from a misshapen face. A distended arm hung down past a knee.

Jennifer’s heart crawled up her throat, her finger tightening on the trigger. It was a mutant. She’d been a little girl once upon a time, no more than ten.

“Don’t fucking move,” the soldier said. “She won’t hurt you unless I say so.”

More movement behind the man. Another two mutants stepped into sight. It was a man and another teenager, this one a boy.

“What the fuck?” she breathed. Adrenaline pounded in her temples. It took all her willpower not to shoot. Why weren’t the mutants attacking?

“What the fuck is going on here?” Leo demanded.

“I’m the one asking questions,” the soldier snapped. “You sound American, but you look like Russians. Why?”

“Who’s asking?” Leo said.

“Airman First Class Nathan Milo. You can call me Milo.”

“What about the mutants, Milo?” Leo asked. “Who are they? Why aren’t they attacking?”

“The girl is my daughter. The others are my best friend and his son. They won’t attack unless I allow it.”

The silence that followed was deafening. Jennifer reeled. Her mind scrambled to absorb the information Milo had just shared.

“It’s time for you to answer my questions,” Milo said. “Why do you look like Russians?”

“We’re—we’re in disguise,” Jennifer said. She couldn’t stop staring at the mutants.

“I knew it.” Milo slapped his thigh, making her jump. “I knew it!”

“We’re the Snipers from West County,” Leo said. “Have you heard of us?”

“What the fuck did you just say?” Milo demanded.

Leo kept his voice calm. “We are the Snipers from West County.”

“Are you fucking with me, man? Because if you are, I might have to kill you.”

“We aren’t fucking with you,” Leo said. “We are the Snipers from West County. We’re on a mission. Are you alone? Is anyone else with you besides the … your friends?”

“They aren’t my friends," Milo shot back. “They’re family.”

Uneasy silence followed this.

“We’re with a small unit from Travis Air Force Base,” Milo said. “My master sergeant has been shot. Can anyone in the Snipers help him?”

The light momentarily brightened as the sun dipped lower on the horizon, the wan beams cutting over the rooftops of the town. The lump on Milo’s belt was abruptly illuminated.

“Milo.” It was a struggle for Jennifer to tamp down a surge of panic. “What’s that on your belt?”

“These?” He fingered them. “Soviet scalps. I got more back at camp if you want one.”

Fuck me, Jennifer thought. This guy had completely lost it. He had pet zombies and collected scalps.

The bodies in the dumpster took on a new, sinister light. Had those been … food for Milo’s mutants?

She wanted to get out of here, but for some reason, Leo wasn’t budging.

“Can anyone in your group help my master sergeant?” Milo asked.

“Where are your people?” Leo asked.

“We’re camped inside the movie theatre. We have popcorn.”

“How many of there are you?”

“Just a dozen left, counting my master sergeant. Do you guys like popcorn?”

“We like popcorn,” Leo said. “Are there other mutants with you?”

Milo shook his head. “Just my family.”

“You saw our tank?”

“Yeah, I saw it.”

“Is there a place to park it for the night where it will be out of sight?”

“Yeah. There’s a parking lot. Behind the theater. We have our trucks there.”

“You want to go with this guy?” Jennifer hissed. “I thought I was the one in charge of coming up with crazy ideas.”

“We need a place to sleep for the night,” Leo said. “And this guy is a soldier—

“An insane soldier with scalps, Leo. And pet mutants.”

“He’s smart enough to be out here getting help for his master sergeant. And if he’s telling the truth—”

“If he’s telling the truth.”

“If he’s telling the truth, he’s with more soldiers. Maybe we don’t have to go all the way to Nellis, Jen. What if the help we need is right here? Even if that doesn’t turn out to be the case, we need more guns and more people for this mission. This might be a chance to double the size of our caravan. And if the zombies are trainable, it could be a game changer. This guy Milo clearly knows things about mutants that we don’t.”

Jennifer’s opened her mouth to tell Leo they didn’t need help. They were the Snipers. They stuck together and got shit done.

Then she thought about it from his perspective. What if they didn’t have to travel all the way to Nevada? What if they could get the help they needed right here?

“Dammit, you’re right,” she said. “But this guy doesn’t look stable.”

“I can hear you,” Milo said.

“We have someone with us who can take a look at your master sergeant,” Leo said. “She’s good at stitching up wounds. Depending on how bad off your master sergeant is, she might be able to help. Will you give us a place to sleep for the night in exchange?”

“Yeah.” Milo straightened expectantly. Jennifer realized how tall he was. Not to mention shoulders like a wrestler’s. “If you hurry up, I’ll get you some popcorn.”

28

MOVIE THEATER

“Do you think he will let me examine his mutant zombies?” Koz asked.

Jennifer snorted from the driver’s seat of the ATV. “Probably not. He says they’re his family.”

Koz watched the three mutants lope along beside the caravan as they approached the movie theater. Their misshapen limbs—the bulging leg muscles, over-sized necks, and lopsided arms—had been common defects in the early development days of the nezhit virus. Koz had seen many people end up like these, yet none of them maintained any sort of awareness.

But these three mutants were different. Had Milo trained them in some way, or did they possess intelligence? Had the virus mutated in a new and unexpected way, as it had with the sentient zombies? Or had mutants always been intelligent and Milo was only the first to discover it?

He studied Milo. He stood on top of the tank with Dal and Bruce, waving his arms back and forth as they approached the movie theater.

Even in the darkness, the scalps seemed to glare at Koz. He wasn’t in a position to judge another man, but he found the thought of carrying trophies of the dead to be grotesque.

“Don’t shoot, mother fuckers!” Milo shouted. “It’s me. I brought friends.”

The cinema looked deserted. The windows were black, no sign of life inside. A few cars sat in the parking lot. Bodies lay scattered on the asphalt, shrunken from exposure to the elements.

“These crazy fuckers look like Russians and drive a Russian tank, but they’re on our side,” Milo continued. “Don’t shoot us, you assholes.”

The theater remained a silent wall of blackness in the rapidly descending night. Jennifer braked, letting the ATV idle in the parking lot with the caravan.

“This fucker better not be leading us into a trap,” she muttered.

“Chop Shop, I know you’re in there.” Milo hopped off the tank and marched up to the doors. His fist reverberated against the glass. “I brought help for Master Sergeant Conaway. Open up! These fuckers with me are Americans. They’re the Snipers from West County.”

“Milo, where the fuck have you been?” The voice came from the side of the building.

“I got help for Master Sergeant Conaway,” Milo said.

“The master sergeant ordered you not to leave. You know he doesn’t like you wandering around with your … family.”

“He’s going to die if we don’t help him,” Milo said.

“So you thought it was a good idea to bring strangers back?”

Leo switch off his ATV and came forward, holding both hands in the air. “I’m Leo Cecchino of the Snipers,” he said. “We have someone who might be able to help your master sergeant. We agreed to come with Milo in exchange for a safe place to sleep for the night.”

“Why are you dressed like Russians?” the voice asked.

“Disguises.” Leo’s voice was even and calm, like he spoke to a skittish animal. “We thought it would be the easiest way to move through enemy territory. We stole the tank from the Russian command center in Rossi.”

“We’re all Americans,” Bruce added from the top of the tank. “Are you going to let us in or are we going to stand out here with our thumbs up our asses all night?”

Silence stretched. Then three soldiers came out from the side of the building.

“Milo, Conaway is going to have your ass for this,” one of them said.

“He can have my ass if he lives,” Milo replied. “Unlock the doors.”

“You guys will want to park that thing behind the building,” the soldier told them. “I’ll unlock the emergency exit and let you guys in.”

The mutants followed the caravan out behind the theater. Koz studied them as they scurried to a mound of garbage at the back of the lot. They crouched down behind the pile, watching the humans park.

The smell of rotting flesh stabbed him in the nostrils. Koz coughed at the unexpected stench, putting his elbow up to cover his nose.

“Koz.” He felt Jennifer tighten in front of him. “What is that pile of stuff over by the mutants? Is that what I think it is?”

The darkening dusk made it difficult for him to see. Koz blinked a few times and squinted, trying to get a clear look at the pile of debris.

It leapt abruptly into focus. He swallowed as uneasiness shivered across his shoulders.

“Bodies.” The sight should not disturb him as much as it did.

“Not just bodies,” Jennifer replied. “Russian bodies. And they’ve all been scalped.” Lowering her voice even further, she said, “He told me he had more back at camp.”

There had to be at least twenty or thirty bodies. One of the mutants stuck his hand into a crushed skull and pulled out a handful of brains. It was the teenage boy mutant. He shoved the brains into his mouth, chewing loudly as he watched the people.

“I have seen many disturbing things in my life,” Koz said,

“Let me guess,” Jennifer said. “This one takes the cake?”

“Yes.” Koz didn’t exactly know what she meant by take the cake, but the sound of her voice told him she shared his sentiments.

The other two mutants began to rummage through the bodies. The girl pulled one off the top and began to eat. The older one, the man, crouched beside the boy and ate from the same body.

Milo walked over to the mutants. There was no fear or uneasiness in his posture. He patted the boy on the head, like he really was a pet. “I’ll be back later,” he told the mutants. “Keep watch. If any Soviet fuckers show their god damn faces around here, you know what to do.”

The mutants grunted in response. It was as if they really did understand Milo.

The adult mutant let out a belch, paused to lick blood off his fingers, then resumed eating.

“Still want to examine them?” Jennifer asked.

“Yes. And perhaps the man, Milo, as well,” Koz said. “Perhaps there is something special about him that allows him to communicate and control the zombies.”

“Maybe,” Jennifer replied, skeptical. “Maybe bat shit crazy is a recipe for zombie empathy. Maybe it’s just because he knows them. The girl is his daughter. The other two are friends.”

“Perhaps the affinity makes them pliant to his will.”

“Maybe. Come on, everyone else is going inside. I don’t want to be out here alone with those things.”

They filed into the theater. Koz had heard of such places, but they didn’t have cinemas in the part of Russia where he had lived.

Thick quilts had been hung over the front windows. Two propane camping lanterns sat on the concession stand. The high ceilings of the lobby were obscured by darkness.

The floor was stained with blood, though the colorful carpet made it easier to ignore. The smell of stale food permeated the air. Jennifer said it smelled like popcorn, whatever that was.

Mikhail found his way to their side, planting himself between Koz and Jennifer. His eyes were pensive and suspicious as he watched the American soldiers.

Four of them stood near the concession stand, all of them glaring at Milo. Koz had the impression they arrived at the tail end of an argument.

“You can’t go wandering around with those things,” one man said. “What if you lose control and they accidentally eat an American?”

“You can all go fuck yourself,” Milo replied. “I’m saving the master sergeant. I found the Snipers. Come on, guys.” He gestured to the Snipers.

The soldiers shifted, their attention sliding to the Snipers. Their glares turned into incredulity as they got their first good look at them in the light. The incredulity turned to skepticism when they caught sight of Koz and Valentina.

“Milo, you idiot,” a man said. “These are a bunch of kids and old people. These aren’t the Snipers.”

Leo gave them a flat stare. “Do you want to stand around and argue, or do you want us to look at your master sergeant?”

“Fuck you guys,” Milo said to the soldiers. “I’m saving Master Sergeant Conaway.” A feverish light entered his eyes.

The soldiers remained skeptical, but no one tried to stop Milo when he took them to a door that led into a cinema room. A colorful poster with posing teenagers hung on the wall. Koz wondered if that was for a film that played before the war.

Inside the cinema room were more lanterns and more soldiers—and more commotion from Milo’s return. Milo showed his middle finger to everyone and strode to the front of the room.

“What is that gesture?” Koz murmured to Jennifer. “I have seen it many times from Americans.”

“It means to fuck off,” Jennifer said.

“Oh.” Koz filed that one away. Perhaps he would have an instance to use it in the future.

On the raised platform beneath the big screen was a man covered in blankets. Milo knelt beside the figure. “Master Sergeant, I brought help.”

“Let me see him.” Valentina marched up the steps, ignoring the soldiers who eyed her with distrust.

Koz hung back in the shadows with Jennifer and Mikhail, not wanting to draw attention. There was no telling what these soldiers would do if they figured out he and Mikhail were Russian. Everyone here was on edge.

He instinctively rested a protective hand on Mikhail’s shoulder. The boy’s right hand was white-knuckled around the knife Jennifer had given him.

Mikhail inched closer to Jennifer. Koz couldn’t tell if he felt safe next to her, or if he thought he could protect her.

“What happened to your master sergeant?” Valentina asked.

“We set up a trap at the gas station,” Milo said. “We hung out and shot any Soviets who showed up.”

“Yeah, so you could feed your pets,” said a soldier from the shadows.

“They aren’t pets,” Milo spat. “That’s my family, you fucking asshole. How many times do I have to tell you that?”

The man who spoke stiffened, but didn’t back down. He and Milo glared at one another until Milo lost interest.

“We also left food out for any local survivors,” Milo said, voice once again calm as he addressed the Snipers. “But mostly we were after Soviet fuckheads. Don’t let these assholes fool you. My family helped bring down all those fucks you saw outside in the parking lot. They have the strength of three men. Even my little girl can fight like a tiger. Anyway, there was a group of Soviets that came through yesterday, but they were different. There was something weird about them.”

“They were strong.” Another soldier, a dark-haired Latino, spoke up. “They moved really fast. And they—they ate—”

“They ate brains?” Leo supplied.

“Yeah. Sick fuckers,” Milo said.

“And what do you think your family is doing outside in the parking lot right now?” the soldier shot back.

“That’s different,” Milo snarled. “It’s not their fault they’re different.”

“Yeah. They’re definitely different.” The soldier looked like he wanted to say more, but he dropped the subject and turned his attention to the Snipers. “We’re survivors from Travis Air Force Base. We lost half our group to the Soviets who came through town yesterday. Some were killed right in front of us, their heads cracked open like eggs. Others were kidnapped. If Master Sergeant Conaway hadn’t caused a distraction—if he hadn’t put himself in the line of fire to save the rest of us—” He broke off, chest expanding as he took in a deep breath to keep his emotions in check.

“You ran into sentient zombies,” Leo said. “They’re a new mutation, more dangerous than regular zombies and mutant zombies.” He explained while Valentina peeled the blankets off of Master Sergeant Conaway.

The man looked to be in his early forties. He had dark brown hair laced with gray at the temples. His skin was pale and sweaty. One sleeve of his uniform had been cut away, his arm wrapped in bandages up to his armpit.

“Are you a nurse?” a soldier asked.

Valentina gave the young man a steely glare. “Young man, I have been stitching up wounds since Hitler and Mussolini took over Italy.”

Koz braced himself as Valentina unwrapped one arm. Milo said the master sergeant had been shot, but seeing his pale, sweaty skin, Koz had his doubts.

Sure enough, as the bandage fell away from the arm, three bite wounds were revealed.

The tension in the room went up several notches. Koz saw horror in the eye of every soldier as the fate of their master sergeant registered. There was grief, anger, and helplessness. Conaway was clearly loved by his people. They’d been in denial over his condition.

Milo crouched over the master sergeant, wringing his hands. “Can you help him?” he asked Valentina. “You said you could help him.”

“Young man.” Valentina’s voice was surprisingly gentle. “I have removed my share of bullets and sewn up more holes and scrapes than I can remember. But there is no cure for a zombie bite.”

Silence. Koz didn’t think it was possible, but the tension went up another few notches. He realized everyone was watching Milo.

The man’s chest heaved. He bent forward and put his head between his knees, hands knotting in his hair. The scalps dangling from his belt brushed against the floor. A low-pitched keening rose from his throat as he began rocking back and forth.

29

BUT FOR THE GRACE OF GOD

The sound rising from Milo was worse than fingernails against a chalkboard. Sweat broke out along Jennifer’s spine as the noise sawed over her. For some reason, her heart began to pound in her chest, and all she could think was, I have to get out of here.

Something tightened around her thigh. Mikhail had edged right up next to her. His left hand gripped the seam of her pants while his right held the hunting knife.

It was the sight of Mikhail that helped her reign in the discomfort that gripped her body. The way he stood next to her—partially to protect her, partially for protection—snapped her out of her fear state.

She couldn’t keep Mikhail safe if she didn’t get herself under control.

That’s when she realized one of her hands had latched around Koz’s arm. She held onto him like he was all that stood between her and sanity.

What was going on with her? Why was she letting one freaky soldier get under her skin?

She shot a silent apology to Koz and peeled her fingers off his arm. He gave her a comforting smile and patted her shoulder.

Milo was still wailing, still bent over with his head between his knees as he white knuckled his hair. The soldiers all exchanged looks; clearly, none of them knew what to do any more than the Snipers.

And then, almost as if by magic, Master Sergeant Conaway’s eyes fluttered open. They were a shocking blue in his pale face, so vibrant Jennifer saw the color from where she stood.

“Who’s making that racket?” Conaway’s breath rasped as he spoke.

Milo’s head snapped up. “Master Sergeant?”

“I’m still here, Milo. Is that you making that awful racket?

“Yes, sir. Sorry, sir.”

“I heard you disobeyed a direct order.”

“I’m sorry, sir. I had no choice. I had to find help. I couldn’t let you just—just—”

“My time is up.” Conaway’s voice was surprisingly gentle. “I appreciate you trying to save me, but I’m a lost cause.” His gaze flicked around at the gathered crowd, seeking out his soldiers. “You all know it. There’s only one thing you can do for me.” A coughing fit seized him as he studied Nonna. “Where did Milo find you?”

“I am Valentina Cecchino,” she told him. “We are the Snipers from West County. This is my grandson, Leo Cecchino.” She waved him forward.

“Nice to meet you, sir.” Leo knelt on the floor beside the master sergeant. “My people came to help, but …” He trailed off with an apologetic shrug.

“There’s no help for me,” Conaway said. “I tried to tell Milo that. What are the Snipers doing here? And why are you dressed like the enemy? You’re lucky Milo’s family didn’t kill you by mistake.”

“We have information that can turn the tide of this war.” Leo shared an abbreviated version of their mission with Conaway.

Jennifer’s eyes drifted over the group as Leo spoke. Her hope sank lower with each passing second. There were only twelve soldiers here. That number would drop to eleven when Conaway died.

Leo had high hopes when they came here, but it didn’t take a genius to see this mission was a bust. The most they might gain were a few soldiers and a crazy guy with pet mutants.

“So you see, we have to get Kozlovovitch to Nellis,” Leo said. “I had hoped your people could help us.”

“A Russian defector?” Conaway coughed. “I’d like to meet him.”

Leo motioned for Koz to step forward. As usual, Koz hunched his shoulders and bowed his head to make himself look smaller than he was. Jennifer was starting to think that was a survival mechanism he’d developed in Russia to make himself appear docile and harmless.

“I am Viktor Kozlovovitch,” he rumbled.

“And you helped develop a sleeping gas that can sedate zombies?” Conaway sized him up with bleary eyes.

“Yes.”

“Can I ask why you are all so focused on going to Nellis?”

“It’s the closest operational military base we know of,” Leo replied. “Spill came from there.”

“Every base fell along the west coast, sir,” Spill said.

“You’re a soldier?” Conaway wheezed, sweat sliding off his brow.

“I’m a Sniper, sir,” Spill replied. “But I came from Nellis at the start of the war.”

“Soldiers in Nellis aren’t going to help you manufacture a sleeping gas,” Conaway said. “It sounds to me like you need to go to the Livermore Lab.”

Koz’s brows drew down. “What is the Livermore Lab?”

“It’s the primary research hub for all things related to national security.”

Research hub? For national security? Jennifer found herself gaping.

“Where is this place?” Leo asked.

“In Northern California. Livermore. It’s less than a hundred miles from where we stand,” Conaway said. “Whatever you need to create the sleeping gas can probably be done with supplies found at that lab. Everything from weapons to viruses can be cooked up in Livermore.”

Koz smacked a hand against his thigh and let out a string of Russian words that sounded like curses.

“What?” Leo asked.

“I have heard of this Livermore,” Koz said. “The man who ran my division spoke of it once or twice. But he was very secretive. I did not know what it was or where it was.”

“Why haven’t any of us heard of the lab?” Jennifer asked.

“Why would you?” Conaway asked. “Can you list all the military bases in Northern California? If it’s not in your purview, the lab wouldn’t ever come up in everyday conversation.”

“Koz,” Leo said, “does the Livermore Lab sound like the place you need?”

“If it is a true research facility and laboratory, yes,” Koz said. “The materials I need are probably there. That is where we should go.”

“My soldiers can help you. They—” Conaway broke off as a fit of coughing took him. Sweat poured off his temples. How much longer did he have before he turned?

The sight of him sent Jennifer’s mind skittering back to Luma Bridge, to the memory of Cassie right before she died. It was a physical pain in her heart.

She forcefully buried thoughts of her sister. Grieving for her served no purpose right now.

“My soldiers can help you,” Conaway said. “You’re going to need all the help you can get. The lab fell in the initial invasion. It will be crawling with Soviets. Hell, Livermore could be a major base of operation.”

Jennifer waited to see what Leo would say. They needed help, that was for sure, but at what cost? Her eyes flicked to Milo, who paced back and forth near Conaway’s head.

“We need people. I won’t pretend we don’t.” Leo glanced at the surrounding soldiers as he spoke. “But the Snipers aren’t a military unit. Will your men follow an apple farmer? Taking the Livermore Lab isn’t going to be easy. I need a unified force if we’re going to have any hope of pulling it off.”

“Milo,” Conaway barked.

The man halted in his pacing.

“Come here, Milo.”

“Yes, sir.” Milo knelt beside the master sergeant.

“When I’m gone, you’re the ranking officer.”

“You’re not gone, sir—”

“I will be. Very soon. You can’t keep living in denial, Milo. I’ve helped you as much as I can. Now you need to get your shit together. I’m telling you this as your commanding officer. You need to get your head in the game. You need to follow Leo Cecchino, same as you’d follow me. You have to lead our people and take down those fuckers at the Livermore Lab. Can you do that for me?”

Milo jerked as though he’d been slapped. His eyes squeezed shut as he began muttering to himself.

“Milo!” Conaway coughed with the effort of using his master sergeant’s voice.

Milo’s eyes snapped open. “Yes, sir?”

“Go make yourself some popcorn. When you walk back through those doors, you’re going to be in charge. The men and women of Travis Air Force base are counting on you. And you need to follow Leo Cecchino and help him take the lab. Can you do that?”

“Yes, sir.” Milo twitched again, one hand knotting in a scalp dangling from his belt.

“And your family. Can you make sure they aid the mission?”

“Yes, sir. You know how much they enjoy killing Soviets.”

“I do. Now go make yourself some popcorn.”

Milo strode off the stage, up the aisle between the seats, and out the door. He moved like a robot, his face devoid of expression.

Conaway exhaled heavily. “That’s the best I can do, Leo. Milo lost his wife and two kids in the invasion. You saw what’s left of his eldest daughter. The other two mutants with him are his best friend and his best friend’s son.”

“Is it safe to have them around?” Leo asked. “How does Milo control them?”

“Control them?” Conaway shook his head. “He doesn’t control them. Part of who they were before the war remains. They stay with Milo because they want to.”

“Have you encountered other mutants like this?” Koz asked, clearly intrigued by the information. “Is this a common phenomenon?”

“Hell if I know,” Conaway said. “We kill mutants on sight. We would have killed these if Milo hadn’t proved to me they can be useful. They’re handy in a fight so long as you keep them fed. Milo takes care of them. He’s a good man, if a bit lost right now. I pray to God he’ll find himself before it’s too late.”

A bit lost. Those words burrowed into Jennifer’s brain, making her temples ache. A bit lost.

“Sir.” A dark haired man stepped forward. Jennifer hadn’t noticed him until now, but the angry clench of his jaw made her tense. “You can’t really mean to turn our command over to a civilian—”

“Lewis, the world as we knew it is gone. Extraordinary times require extraordinary measures. The only priority is saving our country from the Soviets. If a civilian team has the key to that, we need to back them. It’s the only move to make.”

“I could lead the mission,” Lewis said. “I’m in line after Milo and more qualified than—”

“No.” Conaway blinked bleary eyes at Lewis. “This is a Sniper mission. You’re joining the Snipers. The Snipers aren’t joining us.” He coughed again, yet still he managed to assume an air of command.

Lewis didn’t argue, but she didn’t miss the angry narrowing of his eyes. Great. Just what they needed. A soldier with attitude. Jennifer made a mental note to keep an eye on him.

“Cecchino.” Conaway’s body shook from the exertion. “You need to help me before Milo gets back. I know what needs to happen. I need you to do it for me. Help me outside.”

“Sir, no—” began one of the soldiers.

“This is the way it has to be,” Conaway said. “If we don’t end this soon, I’m going to turn into one of those monsters. I won’t have it. You all have your orders. Make your lives count for something.”

A heavy pause filled the room. Emotions roiled off the soldiers; it was obvious they all cared deeply for their master sergeant.

“Help me.” Conaway held up an arm.

It was a shitty thing to ask of Leo. Yet it had to be done, and soon. Conaway was on his way out. Leo helped Conaway to his feet.

The soldier named Lewis stepped forward, sharply saluting Conaway. “Pleasure to serve, sir.”

His words stirred the rest of the soldiers. They all stepped forward, surrounding Conaway and Leo in a tight circle.

“Pleasure to serve, sir.”

“Pleasure to serve, sir.”

The soft hum of the air popper drifted through the closed doors of the theater room.

Conaway leaned heavily against Leo. Now that he wasn’t half buried in blankets, gray patches stood out on his neck and the side of his face.

Conaway sharply saluted his people. “The pleasure was all mine. Happy hunting.”

The emergency exit door closed behind him and Leo with a soft, decisive snick.

* * *

No one could stay in the room after Conaway died. They moved to an adjoining theater. The poster outside the door said The Goonies was the last movie to play here.

Jennifer lay in the dark with Mikhail beside her. Koz slept on Mikhail’s other side, snoring loudly. Normally, the snoring would have annoyed her and kept her awake, but tonight, she couldn’t have slept even if she wanted to.

She watched Milo, who sat on the raised platform beneath the movie screen. He rocked back and forth, periodically shoving popcorn into his mouth. Half of it ended up on the floor.

A bit lost. That’s what Conaway had said. Milo had lost his family in the invasion—and part of his sanity, too. His daughter was a mutant zombie. He kept her and his friends sated by feeding them Russians. She had the impression Conaway had been the last piece of stability in Milo’s life.

And Conaway had tied the man to Leo. Why? With the vain hope of keeping him alive? Or did he truly think Milo would return to himself if given enough time?

A memory surfaced from her cheerleading days. One of the girls—Jennifer couldn’t remember her name, but she was one of those girls who went to church and helped at the soup kitchen on the weekends—had a favorite saying: There, but by the grace of God, go I. She said it anytime she saw something sad, like a cat run over on the side of the road or a homeless person.

There, but by the grace of God, go I.

Looking at Milo, Jennifer understood what those words meant on the deepest level.

If Cassie had somehow survived her zombie bite—if any part of her had remained, the way Milo’s daughter remained—she would have gone to any length to protect her. She would have hunted Russians and brought them back to Cassie for dinner.

She’d be just like Milo. She would have no problem keeping a stash of dead Soviets around if Cassie had to eat brains.

It was a chilling realization.

Jennifer knew she balanced on a knife’s edge. The shit her dad had done had messed her up forever. She knew first hand what it was like to be fucked up.

I could end up just like him, she thought. So could Mikhail. She knew that as surely as she knew her own name.

She felt more alone and more scared than ever before.

Mikhail’s chest rose and fell in steady breaths. She inched a little closer to him. Curling up on her side, she let the tip of her forehead barely touch his shoulder.

“We’re not going to turn out like him,” she whispered into the dark. “I promise you, Mikhail. I’m not going to let us turn out like him.”

She fell asleep to the sounds of snoring and crunching popcorn.

30

DISSENSION

They left the theater at dawn the next day. Jennifer looked around the parking lot for Master Sergeant Conaway’s body, but Leo had done a proper job of making him disappear. It hadn’t been among the gory pile of dead Russians or anywhere near the mutants. What would Milo have done if he’d found his beloved master sergeant served as breakfast to his mutant family?

The soldiers were divided between two old pick-up trucks. The backs were piled high with food and medical supplies.

She knelt down in front of Mikhail, pointing to the tank. “Go with Nonna,” she said. “I’ll see you tonight, okay?”

Koz translated for her. Mikhail stared at her with his dark, somber eyes before walking to the tank.

“I fear he is too traumatized to ever fully recover,” Koz said.

Jennifer feared the same thing, though she refused to say it. She had to believe there was a way back for Mikhail.

She and Koz climbed onto their ATV. Jennifer asked Koz to drive. She wanted her gun in her hands at all times, something that was easier to do if she wasn’t driving.

“See that one?” She nodded discretely to Lewis as he climbed into the driver’s seat of the first pick-up.

“He could be trouble.”

“Exactly my thought. We need to keep an eye on him.”

She spotted Milo across the parking lot. He stood talking to the three mutants. Their misshapen forms swayed slightly as he spoke.

The little girl in particular was hard for Jennifer to look at. In the light of the day, it was easy to see pieces of Cassie in the blond-haired girl.

She eyed the two trucks of soldiers, wondering what would happen if Milo insisted his mutants ride in the back of one. It made her glad the ATV didn’t have room for additional passengers.

“This is unwise,” Koz said. “The mutants are an unknown factor. There are no studies on them. They could be very dangerous.”

“I don’t think there’s any question about their being dangerous,” Jennifer said. “The real question is whether or not Milo can keep them under control, or whether we’re going to have to put them down.”

“I do not like this,” Koz said.

“They could be a damn good fighting force,” Jennifer said, thinking out loud. “You saw that pile of bodies out back. They killed all those Soviets.”

Koz muttered something in Russian, clearly disturbed by the addition of the mutants to the caravan. Jennifer watched them around Milo, taking in their deformed bodies and idly wondering what it would be like to have them on their side in a fight.

Milo was even more disturbing to behold in full daylight. Dark circles sat under eyes that had a distinct unstable gleam. A few more scalps had been added to his belt; apparently, there had been an entire box of scalps behind the concession stand, but Leo had ordered him to leave it behind.

“What are you looking at, faggot?”

Jennifer’s head swiveled. A light-haired soldier in the back of a truck glared at Juli as she passed on the way to the tank.

Jennifer bristled. “Fuck off, asshole,” she called, hating the way Juli hunched her shoulders and hurried to the tank.

“You tell that little faggot to keep his head down,” the soldier shot back.

“You don’t get to talk to her like that.” Anton, perched on the tank, raised his gun with a glower as Juli climbed up beside him.

“I’ll talk however the fuck I want,” the soldier said. “Unless you want to come over here and try to stop me.”

A boil started in Jennifer’s gut. She opened her mouth to retort, but Leo intervened.

“Enough.” Leo positioned himself between the soldiers and the tank. He gave the asshole in the back of the truck a flat look. “No one is making you follow us. I don’t care about Conaway’s orders. If you don’t want to be part of Snipers, get your stuff and get the fuck out of here.”

“Maybe I will.” He rose, as if he thought Leo was bluffing.

“Go.” Leo jerked a thumb over his shoulder. His eyes scanned the rest of the soldiers. “That goes for all of you. If any of you have a problem with following me and treating my people with respect, get the fuck out. Now.”

Jennifer had been on the receiving end of Leo’s anger plenty of times, but she’d never seen him like this. His back was straight, his voice even, but the glare he gave the soldiers could have set them on fire. He was scary.

“Randy, stand down.” Lewis stepped forward. He spoke to the asshole in the truck, but he moved toward Leo. He held out a hand as though he was trying to pacify a skittish puppy. “Hey man, I get it,” he said. “You didn’t sign up for this. You’re just a farmer. Conaway left you with a yoke around your neck. I can take the burden from you.”

His voice was smooth, the way Jennifer imagined a politician’s might be. His smile could have polished silver.

“Nice try,” Leo said. “This is a Sniper mission. Either you follow me, or you stay behind. Your choice, Lewis.”

Lewis’s good-boy expression vanished. “You’re in over your head, Cecchino. You should leave this mission to the professionals.”

“I’ll take my chances.” Leo shifted his attention to the rest of the soldiers. “If you have any problem following me, please leave now. No one is making you stay.”

Silence. No one else spoke up. Lewis looked like he was choking on a mouthful of rocks.

“All right. Since no one is moving, I take it you all want to be here,” Leo said. “That means you’re a Sniper. And if you’re a Sniper, you show respect to your fellow Snipers. End of discussion.”

He marched to his ATV, where Lena waited for him. She fired up the engine and drove out of the parking lot.

Milo jogged to one of the trucks and hopped into the back.

“Finally leaving your pets to fend for themselves?” a soldier asked.

“Fuck off,” Milo replied. “They’re coming with us. They want to kill Soviet bastards as much as the rest of us.”

The argument continued, but whatever else was said was lost in the roar of the truck engine as it rolled out of the parking lot. The mutants broke into a lope, running alongside the caravan.

Mutant zombies. Bigots. Disgruntled soldiers. None of this gave Jennifer the warm fuzzies.

“I hope Leo knows what he’s doing,” she said.

“This is a mistake,” Koz said. “Perhaps some of those soldiers are good men, but they do not make up for the bad eggs.”

“I know what you mean. But Leo is right. We’re going to need as much help as we can get to take the lab.” Even if it means working with mutants and assholes.

Her mind strayed to Mikhail. Uneasiness ran through her. What would happen when the soldiers figured out Mikhail was Russian? They avoided Koz, but his stature was enough to give anyone pause. If they’d stoop to harassing a teenage girl, what might they do to Mikhail?

“One of us has to be with Mikhail at all times,” Jennifer said.

“Agreed. We must keep an eye on our new … friends.”

Koz gunned the engine and followed the caravan out of the parking lot.

31

TRAINING

They spent the day on country roads, winding their way through more empty grassland dotted with windmills.

Jennifer had always liked windmills. There was something peaceful about the way the white blades turning hypnotically against the blue sky. If she pretended she wasn’t in a caravan on a crazy mission to save the country—if she didn’t periodically look over her shoulder and see three mutants running along the road behind the caravan—she might have actually enjoyed the ride on the back of the ATV.

“I was visited by my wife in a dream the other night,” Koz said, voice carrying to her over the wind.

“Oh? Did she say anything to you?”

“Yes. She held out a key and a syringe. The key, I think, represented life. The syringe represented death. She held out these two things and asked me which I would chose. Mikhail was in the dream, too.”

“Maybe she wants you to help Mikhail.”

“Yes, I think so. But I think there is more to it. I think—I think the man responsible for the death of my family might be in Livermore.”

This made Jennifer sit up a little straighter. “Why do you think that?”

“He ran the Experimental Science Division in Russia. If this lab in Livermore is as important as Conaway believes, I cannot think Petrov would be anywhere else.”

A note crept into his voice, something Jennifer hadn’t heard before. Was it anger? Hatred?

“You want to kill him, don’t you?” she asked.

“It is my greatest wish. But I do not know if this is what my Polina wants. I keep thinking about what you said in Napa.”

Jennifer knew what he was talking about. She’d told him that perhaps Polina and Cassie wanted them to save the people held captive.

In truth, she’d pulled that out of her ass in the heat of the moment.

She felt bad about it now. It had been manipulative. Just because she had a death wish didn’t give her the right to put others at risk.

“Do you remember what you said?” Koz asked.

“Yes, but I should’t have said it.” Jennifer hunched her shoulders. “I said it because I wanted to help and I don’t care if I lived. I manipulated you—”

“I am the same as you,” Koz said, dismissing her apology. “But I think you were right in the words. I have done terrible things in my life, Jennifer. When I left Russia, all I wanted was revenge for my Polina and Aleksander. It kept me alive. But now I think perhaps Polina wants different for me. Perhaps she does not care if I kill Petrov.” His brows knotted together with obvious frustration. “I do not know. What do you think Cassie wants for you?”

Jennifer stiffened without meaning to. Koz was working through his own shit, same as she was, but that didn’t mean they shared the same opinion. She didn’t think Cassie hung around the way Koz thought Polina hung around.

Cassie was dead. Gone. End of story.

“I offended you?” Koz tiled his head in concern.

She sighed, trying to break free of the emotions that assaulted her every time she thought of Cassie. “I’m fine. I just miss my sister. Can we change the subject?”

* * *

That night, they made camp on a farm that looked liked it had been abandoned before the invasion. The windows of the house were boarded up, the paint faded and peeling.

A large barn sat behind the house. It was sagging and old, the southern corner of the roof having caved in at some point. But it was still intact—and large enough to accommodate the tank, which made it the perfect place to camp.

Dal and Milo pulled open the battered wooden doors. They sagged on their hinges, leaving deep grooves in the hard-packed dirt as the guys finally managed to pull them open.

The scent of rot and bat guano hit Jennifer in the face as she and Koz drove inside. She wrinkled her nose and coughed, fanning the air in front of her face.

Her eyes went automatically to the tank, tracking Mikhail as he came out and climbed down into the barn.

“Mikhail.” She gave him a wave to get his attention. As he threaded his way over to her, she noticed Lewis, Randy, and several other soldiers setting up camp well away from the Snipers. “Koz, tell Mikhail to stay close to us.”

Koz translated for the boy. Wariness stiffened Mikhail’s shoulders when he looked in the direction of the soldiers. His small fingers curled over the hilt of his knife.

“That’s right.” She nodded in approval. “You got it, little man.”

“Cecchino.” Lewis’s voice carried across the barn.

Leo gave him a cool look. “What?”

“We have rations.” Lewis held up a silver package. “Plenty to share if you and your people want to be real soldiers.”

Leo didn’t dignify him with a response. He turned his back on Lewis, returning to the process of setting up the Snipers’ camp.

Jennifer rolled her eyes. Did that dickwad really think he could buy control of Snipers with some shitty bags of MREs?

The mutants caught up to the caravan. Miraculously, they had kept pace on foot for the entire day. They now hovered outside the barn doors. Milo went outside with them and disappeared around the back.

“They’re actually good guard dogs.” A well-muscled African American soldier came to stand beside Jennifer. “If you can get past the creep factor.” He gave her a warm smile. “I’m Airman First Class Robertson. The guys call me Chop Shop.”

“Nice to meet you.” Jennifer shook his hand. Lowering her voice, she added sourly, “Nice to know some of Conaway’s men aren’t assholes.”

He chuckled. “Aren’t you a straight shooter? Yeah, the ones over there”—he gestured to the other side of the barn—“can be real assholes. The rest of us aren’t so bad.” He pointed to the two other soldiers who had drifted over to the Sniper camp. “The short guy is Collins. The Latino is Garcia.”

“Why do you go by Chop Shop?” Jennifer asked.

“I grew up working in my father’s car repair shop in LA.” He paused as Leo approached, sticking out a hand in greeting. “I was just telling Jennifer here that I know cars. I can look after the caravan’s vehicles."

“Nice to meet you, Chop Shop,” Leo said, shaking his head. “We’re glad to have you with us.”

“Why don’t you give him a blow job while you’re at it?” Randy sneered from across the barn.

Chop Shop stuck his middle finger in the air. “Don’t mind them,” he said sourly. “They’re a bunch of racist pricks. No offense, Cecchino, but I’m not sure you’re going to be able to keep them under control. Conaway was able to keep a leash on them, but he was Conaway. I mean, he kept Milo on a leash, and you’ve seen that mother fucker.” He shrugged. “No offense.”

“None taken. Thanks for the heads up,” Leo said.

“I could use your help, young man,” Nonna said to Chop Shop. “The girls are getting a box of food out of the tank for tonight’s dinner.”

“Homemade pasta sauce,” Lena said. “Nonna makes the best.”

Chop Shop’s eyebrows climbed. “Real food? No MREs?” His surprise faded into a chuckle when Nonna gave him a curt nod. “I’ve never been a man to turn down food. Especially not homemade anything.”

Lewis, overhearing the conversation, scowled nastily before looking away.

That’s right, Jennifer thought. You and your ego can keep your shitty MREs. The Snipers are eating Nonna Cecchino food.

* * *

The two camps ate separately. Lewis’s camp occasionally scowled in their direction, eating out of silver bags while the Snipers ate pasta covered in Nonna’s homemade venison spaghetti sauce.

“This beats the tits off MREs,” Chop Shop said, a noodle hanging out of his mouth.

Nonna frowned severely at him from across the campfire. “We do not tolerate that kind of language among the Snipers, young man.”

“Sorry, ma’am.” Chop Shop dipped his head in apology. “I meant it as a compliment. This is the best spaghetti sauce I’ve ever had.”

“I grow my own tomatoes every year,” Nonna replied with pride.

“Almost as good as popcorn,” Milo said. He had joined the Snipers after tending to his mutants. He ate with his bowl of spaghetti balanced on his lap, his free hand running over his scalps.

A silent, uncomfortable undercurrent rippled through the group as everyone watched Milo and what he was doing.

“How is your … family?” Lena asked him.

“Fine,” Milo replied. “They ate this morning before we left. They’ll be fine for now, but we’ll have to find them fresh Soviets before tomorrow night.”

The guy really has a knack for killing conversations, Jennifer thought. She had resolved to get over the sight of the scalps. Short of trying to rip them from Milo’s belt, there was nothing she could do about them.

“Milo.” Jennifer cleared her throat. She’d been wanting to ask him something all day. And if it helped break the uncomfortable lull in the conversation, even better. “I have a question, since you’re the soldier in charge here.”

“What?” Milo spoke around a mouthful of food.

“There are some of us who would like to learn hand-to-hand combat techniques.” Her gaze flicked briefly to Mikhail, who sat beside her, hunched over his bowl as he shoveled food into his mouth. “I’d love to learn how to fight with a knife or with my hands. Is there someone who can give us lessons? We might not always be in a situation where we have guns.”

“That’s the truth,” Anton muttered. Some of the scabs on his face from the cigarette burns had started to peel, making him look even more ghastly.

“You want to learn how to fight?” Milo paused in his chewing, hand still running absently over his pelts.

“Yeah. Me and Mikhail here.” She jerked her thumb at the boy, who glanced up at the sound of his name. “And anyone else who wants to learn.”

“I do.” Juli’s hand shot into the air.

“Me, too.” Amanda raised her hand.

“This is a wise plan,” Koz said. “I, too, would like to learn.”

“Sure.” Milo went back to eating, still talking with his mouth full. “I can teach you.”

Chop Shop let out a long whistle. “You couldn’t have asked a better guy. Milo had a colorful childhood.”

“I got in a lot of fights. Expelled from school a few times.” Milo shrugged.

Not only could Milo communicate with mutant zombies, but apparently he was a good fighter, too. Well, Jennifer didn’t care who gave the lessons, so long as they learned how to defend themselves.

“We can start tonight after I eat,” Milo said.

“Yes,” Jennifer said. “The sooner, the better.”

“I’ll wash up,” Nonna said. “Anton, you will help me. Everyone else, you’re excused as soon as you’re finished eating.”

“This is a good idea,” Koz said.

“I’m glad you think so. I was worried you’d be mad.”

“Why would I be mad?”

“Because I want to teach a seven-year-old hand-to-hand combat.”

Koz shrugged. “Children throughout time have been taught how to fight. It is a good idea. It could save his life.”

32

STILL STANDING

Twenty minutes later, Jennifer and the Snipers stood in a wide circle around Milo. The other soldiers—Collins, Garcia, and Chop Shop—stayed nearby to help out.

“Let’s work on a few basic self-defense moves,” Milo said. He’d taken his belt off, which meant they weren’t face-to-face with his disgusting scalps. “You.” Milo pointed a finger at Mikhail. “Come here, kid.”

His gesture didn’t need a translation. With his customary guarded expression, Mikhail stepped into the ring.

“Look at this boy.” Milo pointed to Mikhail while Koz translated from the sideline. “He might look defenseless—no offense, kid—but he is in possession of no less than eight—eight—weapons.”

Mikhail stiffened as Milo took him by the arm, but didn’t resist. “First weapon: knife edge of hand.” He traced the outside edge of Mikhail’s hand. “Second weapon: fingers folded at the second knuckle.” He folded Mikhail’s hand into a fist and tapped the knuckle. “Other weapons include: Boot. Elbow. Knees.” Milo pointed to various body parts as he went. “Teeth. Fist. Fingers. Everyone got that?”

Jennifer and the others nodded.

“Let’s demonstrate,” Milo said. “The nose is an inherent weakness on the human body. If you strike it hard enough, you can cause the bone to puncture the brain and kill a man. But even if you don’t manage to kill, you’ll cause severe pain and disorientation. A person can even temporarily go blind from a good strike to the nose. You always want to aim for the bridge, like this.” Milo knelt on the ground in front of Mikhail and picked up his hand, once again pointing to the outside edge. “Strike with the knife edge of the hand, like this.” He made a slow movement of Mikhail’s hand to demonstrate a strike. “You can also use the heel of your hand, like this.” He rotated Mikhail’s hand and mimed the hand connecting with his face. “Do either of these things fast and hard. Remember, you want to break the enemy’s nose. That will give you an opening to kill him or getaway. You—ow!”

Mikhail’s free hand snaked out. The palm connected with Milo’s nose. Milo reeled back, gripping his nose. “Son of a bitch!”

Mikhail dashed away, crawling on top of the tank while Milo continued to curse.

Every hair on Jennifer’s body stood on end. Had this been a mistake? She wanted to help Mikhail, not put him in the crosshairs of a maniac—

A laughing wheeze broke from Milo. He grinned, hand falling away to reveal a face smeared with blood.

“Well god damn.” Milo probed gingerly at his nose. “No Soviet fucker is going to take down that kid without a fight.” He grinned at Mikhail and gave him a thumbs up.

“Come on everyone,” Milo called, still blotting at the blood that ran out of his nose. “Let’s pair off and practice. Try not to break your partner’s nose.”

* * *

Jennifer sat crosslegged on her bed. Her chest heaved with silent sobs as tears ran down her face. Her stomach spasmed as she bent double, forehead resting on her ankles.

She was ready to die. She couldn’t take one more midnight visit from her dad.

He was never going to hurt her again. The letter she’d written would explain everything to the police. Cassie would be taken away from him and kept safe.

Clutched in Jennifer’s hand were half a dozen sleeping pills she’d swiped from her mom’s medicine cabinet. Two bottles of beer—pilfered from the garage—sat just under the bed’s dust ruffle.

Why couldn’t she stop crying? This was her choice. She wasn’t afraid to die. Oblivion had to be better than hell, right?

Right?

Thinking about death made her cry harder.

What waited on the other side? She’d seen the tel-evangelists wax on about Heaven, but Jennifer didn’t believe in Heaven. How could there be a Heaven somewhere out there when hell existed right here on earth? She’d tried to believe, but every time she thought about dying, all she saw was blackness.

The pain was too much. She couldn’t sit around here all night feeling sorry for herself. It was time to get this over with.

Just as she reached under the bed to grab the first beer bottle, Cassie burst into the room.

“Surprise!” her little sister said. “Mom just bought me a new bottle of nail polish. Want to do manicures with me …” Her voice trailed off as she took in Jennifer’s tear-streaked face. “Jen, what’s wrong?” She closed the door and plopped on the edge of the bed. “What’s going on?”

Jennifer, mortified, hid behind her elbow as she tried to dry her tears and get her emotions under control.

“I thought”—she paused, swallowing back another sob that wanted to break free—“I thought Mom was taking you shopping.”

“Yeah. Well, you know how that goes.”

Jennifer did know. Their mom wanted Cassie to be slender and petite. No matter how much Mom spent on clothes, she could not change Cassie’s full figure or make her six inches shorter. And Cassie didn’t even care about clothes.

“I got nail polish instead. It was just easier.” Cassie shrugged. “Mom dropped me off so she could go to the tanning salon. Jen, what’s going on? Did you get in a fight with Leo?”

Jennifer shrugged because she didn’t know what to say. She’d planned to have the house to herself. Mom and Cassie were supposed to be out for the afternoon. Dad was at work.

But here was Cassie, perched on the edge of her bed with the new bottle of nail polish. Her sister crawled up beside her and gave her a hug.

Jennifer shoved the pills under her right ass cheek and hugged Cassie back. She squeezed her harder than necessary, feeling like her sister was the only person in the world who truly loved her.

“I’m sure you guys will work it out.” Cassie gave Jennifer a last squeeze before releasing her.

It took Jennifer a second to realize she referred to the imaginary fight with Leo.

“He’s a good guy,” Cassie continued. “I like him better than all the other guys.”

Leo was a good guy. Jennifer knew it. It’s part of what had her in this tailspin. It was hard to be around Leo’s niceness with her dad always lurking in the background.

“Manicures make everything better.” Cassie opened the bag she’d brought from the mall. “Look, here’s the new one. What do you think?”

Jennifer rolled the bottle numbly on her palm. It was a deep red with a hint of orange. The name was Rescue Me.

“Funny name,” Jennifer said. She and Cassie always liked to read the names of the colors.

“I thought so, too,” Cassie said, “but isn’t the color rad? Come on, let me give you a manicure.”

Jennifer handed her the nail polish and held out her hand, fingernails up. Cassie opened the bottle of Rescue Me, humming to herself. It took Jennifer a few seconds to place the song.

“I’m still standing,” she sang, her words following the Elton John tune as Cassie hummed.

“We could join a traveling circus. I’ll hum, you sing,” Cassie said. The first stroke of red hit Jennifer’s pointer finger. “Imagine the adventure. We could travel the world.”

“And you could paint fingernails on the side.” Jennifer felt a smile creep onto her face. It was the first time she’d smiled in days.

“I’m still standing,” Cassie sang, then laughed. “Yeah, I’d better stick with manicures. You have a better voice than me. If you could go to any state, which one would you choose?”

“New York.”

“Really? Not Hawaii? That’s where I’d go.” Cassie moved from the pointer finger to the middle finger.

“New York,” Jennifer replied firmly. The only place farther from her dad was Alaska, but there was no way in hell she wanted to be buried in snow for half the year. “I hear they have shoe stores on every city block.”

Cassie rolled her eyes. “But they have the beach in Hawaii. And surfing. I think I’d like to learn how to surf someday.”

“You can have the ocean. I want New York stilettos.”

Cassie giggled. She fell back into humming as she worked her way with the nail polish down Jennifer’s hand. When she was finished, she leaned back and studied her work with a critical eye.

“Amanda showed me how to make flowers. All I need is a toothpick. Want me to add flowers when the red dries?” Cassie asked.

“Sure. Flowers sound good.”

“When Leo sees your nails, he’ll fall even harder for you.” Cassie practically swooned on the bed at the mention of Leo.

Her crush was obvious, though Jennifer never teased her about it. She loved Cassie too much to give her shit.

“He’s a guy, Cas. I’m pretty sure my nails will be the last thing he’ll notice.” Though Leo wasn’t one of those jerks who stared openly at her chest and ass.

“He’ll notice,” Cassie said. “Just you wait. Here, give me your other hand.”

She fell back to humming Elton John. Jennifer briefly closed her eyes, inhaling the pungent smell of the nail polish.

She was so god damn tired. All she wanted to do was take a nap. But she didn’t want Cassie to go. Having her here, singing her silly song and painting her nails, felt like a lifeline. Note by note, Jennifer felt herself pulled back from the abyss.

Cassie was her personal angel. No matter how shitty things got for Jennifer, Cassie had a way of turning the lights back on. And here she was when Jennifer was at her lowest, turning on the damn lights.

Even when Jennifer had been sure a few minutes ago that she was ready for the dark.

* * *

Mikhail remained crouched on top of the tank, tracking Milo’s movements as he began another demo. Mikhail looked ready to bolt at the first sign of danger, but there was something different about him from a few minutes ago. It was his eyes.

The flat, lifeless eyes had a spark in them.

Triumph swelled in Jennifer’s chest. She knew a self defense lesson was just what Mikhail needed. She just knew. They would be a lifeline for him, the way Cassie had been a lifeline for her.

She knew from experience how awful it was to feel helpless as a child. No one else could understand what he was going through the way she did.

Mikhail scrambled over the edge and landed beside her in a crouch. When he rose, he shocked her by reaching out and taking her hand.

She squeezed his fingers gently, unable to shake the feeling of being in her bedroom that night with Cassie. When her sister had saved her without even knowing it. The scent of nail polish was strong in her memory. She could even hear Cassie humming that stupid Elton John song.

I’m still standing … yeah, yeah, yeah.

“I’m still standing, Cassie,” she whispered.

Mikhail spoke, gesturing to Milo. The soldier was enthusiastically demonstrating how to slam the knife-edge of the hand into someone’s Adam’s apple.

“That shit will stop any fucker in his tracks,” Milo said.

“Fucker,” Mikhail repeated.

Jennifer smothered a laugh and gave him an encouraging grin.

“Fucker,” he said again.

“That’s right, little man.” She knelt in front of him and straightened his shirt. “You’re ready to stop any fucker who tries to hurt you.”

Maybe Koz’s concern about her use of foul language in front of Mikhail hadn’t been unfounded. She supposed she shouldn’t encourage it—she did not even want to imagine Nonna’s reaction—but shit, the kid was barely old enough to tie his own shoes, yet here he was learning how to break a man’s nose and smash an Adam’s Apple.

He can say fucker as much as he wants, she thought. So long as he learns to fight and survive.

33

STAND OFF

“How did you know?” Koz asked.

They had finished training. Everyone moved about the camp, getting ready for bed.

“How did I know what?” Jennifer asked

“How did you know that’s what the boy needed?” Koz said. “He looks like he came back from the dead.”

They both paused, watching Mikhail as he brushed his teeth next to Anton at the edge of camp. The glint that had ignited when he almost broke Milo’s nose had not been extinguished. Paired up with Koz, he had thrown himself into practice with steely determination. If Koz hadn’t been four times larger, Jennifer suspected he might have ended up with a smashed nose just like Milo.

“I know what it’s like to be a kid with no control over your shitty circumstances,” Jennifer said.

Koz nodded thoughtfully. “You are good for the boy.”

Not sure how to respond to the compliment, Jennifer shrugged.

She crouched down as Mikhail wound his way back to her and Koz. Holding up the palm of her hand, she said, “Nice work out there, little man. I don’t envy the fucker who decides to take you on.”

“No fuckers,” Mikhail said.

“Do American women always speak to children in this way?” Koz’s brows drew down.

Jennifer snorted. “No. I’m just special.”

“I do not think you should teach him such language.”

She ignored Koz. Instead, she pointed to her open palm, trying to communicate with Mikhail. “Do you guys slap high fives in Russia?”

“High what?” Koz asked.

“High fives.” Jennifer took Mikhail’s hand and guided it toward hers, showing him how to tap her palm with his. “High five, Mikhail.”

“Hiiiigh fivvve,” the boy repeated, attempting to mimic her words. “Hiiiigh fivvve.” He bumped his palm against hers.

“Nice!” She grinned to show he’d done it right. “Now do it a little harder. High five.” She tapped his palm hard enough to get a slapping sound. “High five.”

His hand connected with hers again, this time harder. Jennifer laughed when he raised a questioning eye brow at her.

“That’s right. High five. Nice job, little man.”

Mikhail regarded her with his serious, dirt-smeared face, and spoke a string of Russian. Koz started coughing.

“What?” Jennifer narrowed her eyes. “What did he just say?”

Koz’s bearded face broke into a smile. By the way he kept coughing, she guessed he was making an effort not to laugh in her face.

“He wants to know if you’re married.”

Jennifer raised an eyebrow at Mikhail and shook her head. “I’m not married.”

Mikhail spoke again and Koz translated. “He says you are very pretty but he doesn’t like your boy haircut. He does not think you can get a husband with hair that makes you look like a boy.”

Jennifer felt a thrill go through her. Not because Mikhail had just insulted her, but because this was the first real conversation he’d initiated.

“You tell him I am perfectly capable of getting myself a husband, with or without my hair.” She tried to give Mikhail an imperious stare, but couldn’t suppress the snort of laughter that bubbled up. “Shit Koz, are guys the same all over the world?” She raked a hand through her short curls.

“I have lived my whole life in Russia.” Koz spread his hands in innocence. “I cannot say what men are like in other countries.”

Still chuckling, Jennifer snagged three blankets. She scanned the ground, trying to find a place that wasn’t too lumpy or wasn’t covered with bat shit.

As she kicked aside a few rocks, Lewis and the rest of his shithead gang sauntered up.

“So, Milo, since when does the US Air Force teach faggots and kids how to fight?” Randy drawled. He and his gang clustered together, smirking with their arms crossed.

The reaction was instantaneous. Every Sniper drew a weapon.

The soldiers responded by drawing their own weapons. Tension ballooned as the two sides squared off.

Jennifer leveled her gun at Randy. She was more than ready to blow his fucking head off.

“Ignore my friend,” Lewis said, that shiny politician’s smile gracing his face. “He has the best intentions, if not the best bedside table manners. What he means to say is that the Snipers aren’t trained military professionals—”

Jennifer could not hold herself back any longer. “That’s bullshit, and you know it.”

“The fate of the country rests on the outcome of this mission,” Lewis said. “You said it yourselves. What Milo taught you tonight was beyond basic. You’re just kids. Do you really want to carry the fate of the nation on your shoulders? We have the means and experience to—”

“Enough.” Leo’s voice was soft but deadly as stalked to the forefront of the Snipers. “This conversation ends now.”

Lewis’s expression grew nasty. “You have no business—”

“Stand down,” Leo said, “or I’ll shoot you for insubordination.” He leveled his gun in Lewis’s face. “Is that really what you want?”

A long stretch of silence passed as Lewis measured Leo. “Some of you will go down with us,” he said.

“But all of you will go down,” Leo said flatly.

Nonna added, “We’ll see to it.”

“We’re more than twice your number,” Leo said. “Believe me when I say we’re all a lot more experienced with guns than we are with fists.”

Lewis’s group showed no sign of backing down. Jennifer’s mouth went dry as she prepared to fight. She was ready to kill these fuckers, and she was ready to die if necessary.

But Mikhail. She couldn’t let anything happen to him. Her eyes flicked to the tank, but the boy had disappeared. Where was he? She took a few steps backward, scanning the area for any sign of him.

“Are you ready to die tonight?” Leo asked. He wasn’t bluffing. Only an idiot would miss his resolution.

Jennifer saw the first crack. It came from Randy. His nostrils flared, eyes darting between Lewis and Leo.

“Are you ready to die?” Leo repeated.

“Fuck this.” Randy let his arms fall to his side, firearm pointed loosely at the ground. “I’m not ready to die for these bastards. Come on, Lewis. These idiots kids aren’t worth dying over.”

His words shattered the spell hanging in the dilapidated barn. Lewis and his team lowered their weapons.

“This will be the last time my leadership is questioned or one of my people insulted,” Leo said. “Next time, I will not hesitate to shoot.”

One by one, the rest of the soldiers turned away. They returned to their campfire, throwing dirty looks in the direction of the Snipers. One of them cracked a smart-ass joke—purposely too soft to be overheard—which sent up a round of obnoxious laughter.

“We live to fight another day.” Milo popped it back into the holster. He looked completely unaffected by all that had just occurred.

Jennifer finally spotted Mikhail. He crawled out from under the tank. He slunk back to Jennifer and Koz, knife in hand as he watched the soldiers.

“That’s right, little man,” Jennifer said. “Keep an eye on those fuckers.”

“No fuckers,” Mikhail said. The look he gave her told he knew exactly what she meant.

34

FORWARD SCOUTS

Koz found it worrisome the Snipers all focused solely on the American soldiers and the danger they posed. He shared their concern—the hostile Americans were far from trustworthy—but he’d not forgotten what slept just outside the barn. Perhaps it was because of all he had seen in the development of the nezhit virus, and of all the violence that came with it. The virus had shown itself to be adept at mutating.

He made it a point to get up early the next day and peer through a gap in the barn wall. The mutants walked in lopsided circles in the yellow grass that grew outside. Soft grunts rose from their throats as Milo spoke to them.

“I know you’re all hungry,” he said. “Don’t worry, I have a plan. Just hold out a little bit longer.”

The little girl made a sound that was half growl, half whine. Milo reached out to pat her on the head, but she swiped at him. He jumped back, waving his hands defensively and retreating another few steps when the older mutant bared his teeth.

“Just hold on,” Milo said. “You know I always takes care of you guys.” He hurried back into the barn, threading through the camp that bustled with morning activity.

Koz remained at the back wall, watching the mutants. How much did they really understand when Milo spoke? How much control did he really have over them?

“Sir.” He heard Milo’s voice somewhere behind him. “Permission to strike out ahead of the group, sir.”

“You want to leave ahead of us?” Leo asked.

“My family and I will act as forward scouts. We’ll clear the road of any potential obstacles.”

“How do you plan to do that?”

“With my family, sir.”

“Have you done this sort of thing before?” Leo said.

“We set our fair share of ambushes,” Milo said. “You saw the feed pile back at the movie theater.”

Koz didn’t even realize he’d followed Milo until Leo glanced his way and addressed him. “You’re a scientist. What do you think about letting them go ahead?”

The scientist in Koz thought the mutants should either be put down or put in an enclosed space for observation. Since neither of those were viable options—especially with Milo looking at him expectantly—he said, “I think it is wise to let Milo feed his family. It is better to let them go than keep them around camp.”

He hoped that was diplomatic enough. When Leo continued to frown, he added, “I would be happy to accompany them and observe the mutants. I will report everything back to you.”

It was Milo’s turn to frown. “What do you mean, observe the mutants?”

Koz did his best to be nonchalant. “I am a scientist. I observe everything. The behavior of your—family—is very unusual.”

“Good idea,” Leo said, shooting Koz a grateful look. “Milo, please take your family to scout the road ahead. Check with my sister to get directions. She has the map. You and Koz can take one of the ATVs. Koz, tell Jennifer she’s riding on the tank today.”

* * *

“Where are we going?” Koz asked. The wind pulled the words from his mouth.

“Anywhere there are Russians.”

Milo sounded distracted. He kept shifting behind Koz on the ATV, turning to look back at the three mutants who loped along just behind them.

“You are worried for them,” Koz said.

“It would have been better if we’d taken the freeway instead of all these goddamn country roads,” Milo replied. “You can always find a few Soviet fuckers around a freeway.”

“What happens if they don’t eat soon?” It was the question Koz had been wanting to ask since this morning.

“I don’t know, man. We’ve never had a shortage of Soviets before.” A long pause. “They might eat us, man.”

That’s what Koz had been afraid of. Jennifer had made him take an extra ammo cartridge, “just in case.” Koz tried to imagine what would happen if he tried to kill the three mutants. Milo might kill him if he tried.

“You think they would hurt you?” Koz asked.

“I’d let them,” Milo said.

Which wasn’t an answer to Koz’s question. He suspected he and Milo might be in more danger than Milo had let on back at camp. It was good the mutants had been separated from the rest of the caravan.

The sun climbed higher into the sky. The farther they drove, the more twitchy Milo became. He kept saying things like, “Hold on, baby girl, daddy’s gonna find you some food,” and “Daryl, you just gotta hang on, dude. It won’t be much longer.”

Koz became hyper aware of the gun he wore at his belt and the extra cartridge of ammo. “What is the longest they have gone between meals?” he asked.

Milo didn’t answer. He was too busy watching his mutants. “They’re hungry, man. Fucking hell, they are really hungry.”

“Do you think they will attack us if we do not find food soon?”

“You might want to speed up, man.”

That was answer enough for Koz. As he accelerated, he had a flash of clarity. He could not allow the mutants to return to camp. It was too dangerous. Whatever bond existed between them was tenuous at best.

Back at the movie theater, Milo had access to food sources. His bond with the mutants hadn’t truly been tested.

The Snipers had another two days of travel ahead of them. Lena had picked isolated farm roads for them. Which meant the only reliable food source was the Snipers.

The mutants either had to be killed, or left behind.

Milo could not kill them. He would have done it already if he’d had the strength for it. Instead, he wore Soviet scalps from his belt and spent his days finding food for his “family.”

Which meant Koz would also have to kill Milo, unless he could convince the man to leave his mutants behind.

He took his eyes off the road just long enough to observe the mutants. The little girl had drool coming out of her mouth. It smeared the blood that had dried around her lips and chin.

The male mutant had fixed his sights on the ATV. If not for his uneven legs—one had grown longer, with muscles the size of small watermelons—he could have easily overtaken Koz and Milo.

Koz let the reality of the situation sink in. Traveling with the mutants was the equivalent to sitting on an open keg of gunpowder and smoking a cigarette.

Resolve hardened him. They had to be put down. Milo, too, if he tried to stop him—which Koz felt certain he would.

This was not so different from putting down a sick test subject back in his Russian lab. He knew he had what it took to execute Milo and all the mutants if it came to that. What would Jennifer and the rest of the Snipers think of him, if they knew how cold he could be?

He would come up with a story, he decided. Something the Americans could stomach. A story of an ambush gone wrong. There was a high probability he wouldn’t be questioned too much when he came back without the mutants; everyone would be too relieved to ask hard questions.

He would do it when Milo’s back was turned. Koz’s attention zeroed in on Milo, counting the seconds each time he turned around to watch his mutants.

He looked back every ten to twelve seconds. The observation period of the mutants grew progressively longer, expanding from ten seconds to a full fifteen seconds.

His attack would need to be decisive. Koz had size on his side, but he wasn’t a trained fighter like Milo. Milo needed to be disabled—preferably dead—before he figured out what Koz was up to.

A gunshot to the stomach. He could aim and fire without ever having to take his eyes off the road. He would pull out his handgun, aim while Milo’s head was turned, and fire. Milo wouldn’t even be aware of the attack until it had been executed.

“Look!”

Koz jumped as Milo abruptly flung out his hand. He’d been so busy working out the details of his attack, he hadn’t even noticed the vehicle driving along a hillside in the distance. A small farmhouse smudged the horizon between a string of windmills. Whoever drove the vehicle appeared to be heading to the farmhouse.

“That’s gotta be a Soviet scout. Keep driving, man. Don’t slow down.” Milo pulled out a pair of binoculars.

“What makes you think it’s a Soviet scout?” Koz asked.

“The windmills,” Milo replied. “Everyone knows they targeted areas rich in resources. They sent a scout to recon the wind farm. Yep, it’s a lone man in a jeep. Hopefully, there are more in the farmhouse.”

Before Koz could formulate a response, Milo stuck his fingers in his mouth and let out a whistle. He waved his arms in air, making wide gestures in the direction of the farmhouse.

“What are you doing?” Koz asked in alarm.

Milo didn’t answer and kept waving his arms. The mutants peeled away from the road, loping through the grassland in the direction of the house.

“Milo, are you certain that’s a Soviet up there?”

“The guy has a jeep.”

“Many Americans have jeeps.”

“Yeah, but the Soviets have stolen every one they can find. You’ve seen them, man.”

The mutants were already halfway to the farmhouse. A leaden feeling entered Koz’s stomach. He turned off the road, following the mutants.

“What if you’re wrong?” he asked.

“I’m not wrong.”

But what if you are? Koz thought.

It could very well be Soviets at the farmhouse. They could be here to recon the wind farm, as Milo suggested. It seemed as plausible as finding a lone American out here.

The mutants raced through the grassland, their sights narrowed on the jeep as it neared the house. It was like watching an avalanche on the move.

A jolt went through Koz as a red star, sickle, and hammer came into view on the side of the jeep. It hadn’t been visible before due to the angle.

“Mother-fucking Soviets.” Milo slapped Koz’s shoulder. “I told you!”

And they were out here in the open. Koz jerked the ATV to a stop, almost unseating them as they lurched into a pothole.

“What are you doing?” Milo asked. All his attention was on his mutants as they closed in around the house and jeep.

“You want to charge up to a Soviet outpost without any cover?” Koz dropped down behind the ATV, cursing himself for not thinking this through. The ATV was the only decent hiding place between here and the house. “They will shoot us like—what is it you Americans say? Like ducks?”

“You mean we’ll be siting ducks.” Milo dropped down beside him, propping his machine gun on the hood of the ATV. One hand reflexively gripped his scalps. “My family should take care of any fuckers up there. We’ll take down any strays that happen to slip through. Try not to shoot any of them through the head. We need the brains. Take out their legs so they can’t get away.”

Koz gaped. Don’t shoot them through the head? What if it was sentient zombies up there? As Jennifer would say, to hell with that.

How did I get myself into this? Koz wondered. He should never have volunteered to come along. No, that wasn’t true. He should have killed Milo and the mutants when he had the chance, instead of letting them split up. He—

The male mutant surged out of the grass and tackled the Soviet as he stepped out of the vehicle. The man let up a shout of alarm before he was silenced with a dull thud. The mutant had just smashed his head with a rock.

Glass shattered. The two child mutants broke through the front windows of the farmhouse. A high-pitched scream rent the air.

It wasn’t the sound a full-grown soldier would make.

“A child,” Koz breathed. “There’s a child up there.”

35

PLEA

The ATV sped up the hill. As they reached the house, Koz hit the brakes and leaped off.

The adult mutant crouched on the ground, scooping out a handful of brains from the dead jeep driver. Koz registered clothing like Leo and the other Snipers wore, plain blue jeans and a flannel shirt.

Another scream sounded from the house, followed by a crash. Koz raced up the front steps, Milo on his heels.

He kicked open the front door and charged inside. A woman sprawled dead in the living room in front of a fireplace. She was clearly an American, dressed in loose jeans and a faded flannel shirt like the man outside.

Blood was everywhere. The boy mutant knelt over her with a large frying pan in one hand. With a hungry howl, he brought the pan down on her skull.

They aren’t Soviets. Dread bloomed in Koz. They had a Soviet jeep, but these were regular people.

Koz ran past the boy, following the sound of the scream that came from the back of the house. Milo was on his heels.

The girl mutant was inside the bathroom shower, leaping into the air. Her fingernails swiped at something above her.

A small window sat right above the shower. It wasn’t large enough for an adult to fit through, but it was big enough for a child. Koz glimpsed a leg dangling from the sill as a figure tried to crawl out.

Everything happened so fast. Koz fired at the mutant girl, but Milo knocked him aside. The bullet hit the ceiling as Koz fell against the sink.

“Stay away from my girl!” Milo dashed into the shower, where his daughter was in the process of dragging the child back inside.

It was a boy no more than five or six. He kicked and screamed as he was pulled back into the bathroom.

“Sabrina, no!” Milo barked. “Soviets only! You know the rules—”

The bathroom was too small. There was barely room to move. Milo tried to grab the struggling child, but Sabrina growled at her father. She released her prey long enough to shove both hands into Milo’s chest.

Milo toppled backwards out of the shower and crashed into Koz, who had just regained his footing. They tumbled back to the ground. Koz smacked his head against the wall on his way back down. The cries from the little boy were deafening, slicing into Koz’s eardrums like knife.

“Sabrina, no!” Milo tried to scramble back up, but his feet tangled around Koz’s ankles. “Sabrina, baby—nooo!”

Koz couldn’t see past Milo’s head, but he heard a distinct thud. There was one last whine from the child. Then a long growl of contentment rolled through the bathroom, followed by a slurping sound.

“Sabrina.” Milo’s voice was hoarse. He crawled to the edge of the shower. Blood splatter covered the tiles and went all the way up to the ceiling.

Koz stood up slowly, stomach buckling as he watched Sabrina shove a handful of brains into her mouth. He turned away from the scene, unable to look at the slaughtered little boy.

“Sabrina.” A sob broke out from Milo’s chest. “Sabrina, Sabrina …”

Koz drew his gun. Milo’s head whipped around as he snapped off the safety.

“No.” Milo flung out his arms.

“I will kill you if I have to,” Koz said. “Get out of the way, Milo.”

“This isn’t her fault,” Milo said. “You saw the jeep. You saw it. It had the Soviet symbol—”

“They aren’t Russians,” Koz roared. “This is a family!”

“Don’t kill her,” Milo begged. “This is my fault. The travel yesterday depleted them. I should have brought extra brains with me. They’ll be better now with fresh food—they’re always calmer when they have fresh brains—“

A large part of Koz—the scientist in him—wanted to record every detail that poured from Milo’s quivering lips. But a new part of him—the part who had friends back at the Sniper camp—didn’t care what he had to say. The mutants could not be permitted to return to the caravan.

“They are too dangerous,” Koz said.

“I know, I know,” Milo said, talking very fast. “This is all my fault. You go back. Take the ATV and go back.”

“What about you?”

“You’ll never see me again,” Milo said. “No one will miss me. Tell the guys I went AWOL. Everyone will believe you.”

Silence stretched as Koz considered his options. Happy grunts rose from Sabrina as she gorged herself. Out in the front part of the house, the boy mutant snarled in contentment as he ate.

Milo’s eyes were wide and pleading as he said, “Please, man. Just go. Please don’t hurt her.”

It was the way he said Please don’t hurt her. Koz had made a similar plea at one time. Aleksander had died anyway.

Slowly, he holstered his gun. “Don’t come back to the caravan.”

“I won’t, I won’t.” Milo shook his head back and forth, keeping his arms spread wide in front of the shower—as if he expected Koz to go back on his word at any moment. “Please, man, just go.”

Koz backed out of the bathroom. He retreated past the mutant boy, who never looked up as he gorged himself. Once outside, he hurried down the front steps to the ATV, reaching it unmolested.

A short distance from the ATV was a dark mound. He’d noticed it peripherally when they pulled up, but he’d been too focused on the house to pay it any real attention.

Now his eyes saw the details. It was a shallow pit with bodies. The bodies had been burned, and someone had tried to bury them, but the earth had settled. A piece of uniform stuck out of the earth, the remains of a red star visible.

Soviet soldiers had been buried here. Milo had been right. Troops had come through the wind farm. That’s how this family got their hands on the jeep.

Koz turned his back on the farmhouse. There was nothing more he could do here.

As he drove away, he saw the male mutant holding a piece of skull between his hands. He growled a warning for Koz to stay back, nostrils flaring as he took a long lick of blood and brain matter.

* * *

Koz caught up the caravan at sunset. The caravan set up camp beside the curve of a river that cut through the grassland.

“There you are!” Juli rushed up, throwing her arms around him as he climbed off the ATV.

“What took you so long?” Amanda said. “We were so worried.”

Koz scratched at his beard, unsure how to answer. He was tired and not in the mood to replay the day’s events.

“Shit went sideways, didn’t it?” Jennifer appeared around the side of the tank, Mikhail at her side. “With Milo and mutants, I mean.”

“Yes,” Koz said. “As you say, shit went sideways.”

“I knew it.” Jennifer slugged him in the arm. “That’s for worrying us, you asshole. You’d better go find Leo. He’s ready to send out a search party for you.”

“Thank you.”

As Koz walked away, she added, “Glad you didn’t get caught in the shit storm, Koz.”

“Shit,” Mikhail said.

Jennifer shushed him. Koz was too drained from the events of the day to care about Mikhail’s language. He went in search of Leo. He found him standing over the hood of his ATV with Lena, a flashlight in hand.

“At this speed, we’ll reach Livermore the day after tomorrow,” Lena said. “The topography on this map indicates some pretty tall hills just outside of town. We can use those to our advantage—Koz!” Lena paused, giving him a wide smile. Her expression faded as she took in his demeanor.

Leo straightened, scanning Koz up and down. “Where’s Milo?”

“He went AWOL.” Koz swallowed. “The mutants were … unstable. He stayed behind with them.”

Leo exhaled and nodded. “Will they cause us any trouble?”

“I don’t think so.”

“They were all still alive when you left them?”

“Yes.”

Leo’s eyes sharpened. “Is there anything else I need to know about what happened today?”

“No.” Koz couldn’t bring himself to tell Leo about the murdered family. The young man had enough on his shoulders.

“All right.” Leo slapped him on the shoulder. “I’m glad you’re safe. Thanks for taking care of things. Why don’t you go get some food? Chop Shop will take over the sparring lessons for Milo after dinner.”

Koz nodded numbly and went off in search of food.

36

TRUCE

Another day of travel followed. There was a general relief at the disappearance of the mutants, but tensions between the Snipers and the soldiers weren’t improved. At least the asshole soldiers kept to themselves. That was fine by Jennifer.

Chop Shop, Collins, and Garcia seemed to have permanently disowned their companions from Travis Air Force Base. They hadn’t once ventured from the Sniper camp.

Koz was quieter than usual, making Jennifer wonder what had happened with Milo and his mutants. She wasn’t sad to see them gone, but she did lament the loss of extra manpower.

She waited until they were alone on their ATV. “What really happened with Milo?”

“Mutant zombies are not meant to be kept as pets,” he said.

“Did you have to put them down?” she asked.

His chest expanded as he drew in a breath. “I should have. I have grown soft since arriving in America.”

“Is that what’s bothering you? You feel soft?”

“The mutants are dangerous.”

“That’s no secret. Are you upset with yourself for letting them live?” she asked.

His shoulders hunched, a habit Jennifer had come to associate with him wanting to be unseen. “I was weak. Milo pleaded with me. I left him with his mutants and told him not to come back to the caravan.”

“What would you have done back in Russia?”

“Executed the mutants. Possibly Milo as well. Or used him as a test subject.”

Jennifer tried to picture Koz—the man she had grown fond of over the past week—doing the things he described. She was certain she would not want to meet that version of him.

“You know what?” she said.

“What?”

“I’m glad you didn’t execute Milo and the mutants. I like the person you are. If that means you’re soft, then fuck it, you’re soft. That’s better than the alternative.”

He was quiet for so long that she began to think he hadn’t heard her. She opened her mouth to repeat herself, but he finally spoke.

“Thank you, Jennifer. I like the person you are, too.”

* * *

Fuel supplies were low. They stopped at several farmhouses during the day, siphoning gas from cars and generators. An hour before dusk, they hit the jackpot at a small fruit stand. Not only were there a few small bags of almonds in the small wooden hut, but there were six abandoned cars in the lot—and they all had gas. It was enough for the Sniper caravan to top off their fuel reserves.

“We’ll camp here tonight,” Leo said. “This place is on a well. There’s running water and a bathroom out back.”

The former captain of the football team obviously still knew a thing or two about boosting morale. Not that Jennifer was complaining. It would be nice to wash her face and pee in a toilet.

Speaking of dirty faces. “Mikhail,” she called. “Come here.”

The sink turned out to be nothing more than a wooden platform. A pipe ran up from the ground and deposited water into a stainless steel bin with a hole in the bottom. It was probably used for washing produce. Next to the sink was a narrow structure that housed the toilet.

Mikhail’s scowl told her that he wasn’t fond of having his face and arms scrubbed, but at least he didn’t fight her. She rinsed his head under the running water for good measure, grimacing at the dark streams of muck that flowed from his dark strands.

While Nonna supervised the evening meal, Leo called the Snipers into the fruit stand. He and Lena rolled out the map so everyone could see it.

“We’ll hit Livermore tomorrow.” Leo traced a red line on the map, holding up a flashlight so everyone could see it in the dying evening light. “If we stick to Highway 4, there’s a good chance we’ll make it to the city limits without hitting any Soviet patrols. The land is rolling hills with lots of grazing land. Getting to the lab will be another story.” He tapped a large red star on the map. “The lab is on the far side of Livermore. The only way to reach it is by going through the city.”

Jennifer noticed Lewis, Randy, and the other soldiers standing just outside the fruit stand. They made no attempt to conceal the fact they were eavesdropping.

“What are you guys looking at?” she asked coldly, making her voice loud enough to get Leo’s attention.

He paused, looking up from his map. All the Snipers turned, looking expectantly at the soldiers.

Lewis shocked the hell out of everyone by saying, “I would like to apologize for the behavior of me and my men. We’ve been disrespectful from the start without ever giving you a proper chance.” He took a few steps forward. “Will you accept our apology?”

“Are you serious?” Leo asked.

“Look, I’m not going to pretend I’m completely comfortable with you being in charge,” Lewis said. “But we have Soviets to kill. When we get to Livermore, we don’t want to be looking over our shoulders. We want to know you guys have our backs.”

Well, at least he’s honest, Jennifer thought. The dickheads were just looking out for themselves, but if that strengthened their group, it was a worthy concession.

“You are ready to truly join us?” Nonna asked.

“For the sake of the country, yes,” Lewis said.

“What about the rest of you?” Leo directed his question at the other soldiers.

“Yeah. Whatever.” Randy spit on the ground in disdain. “Can we just get on with the planning so we can kill some communist bastards?” The remaining soldiers nodded and added their agreement.

Nonna and Leo glanced at Juli. She tugged self-consciously at her pink tank top, which was considerably dirtier than it had been when they set out from the Cecchino farm.

“No one calls me a faggot or a fag.” Her spine straightened as she spoke, voice carrying across the clearing. “No one calls me any dirty name.”

Amanda, always by Juli’s side, nodded emphatically. “And you have to be polite, even if you don’t like her.”

“We will be civil,” Lewis said smoothly. “Truce?” He stuck out his hand, that shiny politician’s smile on his face again.

Leo took the outstretched hand and shook. “Truce.”

Some of the tension that had been hanging over the caravan dissolved. It wasn’t all gone, but enough dissipated that Jennifer felt her chest relax.

“I’m making venison stew tonight,” Nonna said. “You are welcome to join us at the campfire.”

“Beats the sh—crap—out of MREs,” Chop Shop said.

Eagerness replaced some of the stony resentment on the faces of Lewis and his soldiers.

“Thank you, ma’am,” Lewis said. “The men and I would greatly appreciate your hospitality.”

“Come on.” Leo gestured to the soldiers. “We were just going over the map. Come take a look with us.”

Jennifer fell to the back of the crowd, watching the soldiers with a critical eye. She didn’t like them. She didn’t trust them, either, but that might be a byproduct of her dislike.

We just need them for them mission, she reminded herself. Better to play nice with them until we have the lab.

After that, if any of them survived, they could go their separate ways.

37

FADED POSTER

Jennifer woke from a dreamless sleep. She blinked in confusion, staring into the darkness as she tried to remember where she was.

A cold breeze flowed over her, making her shiver inside the blanket. Then she remembered they had entered the delta region. Tomorrow, they would reach the outskirts of Livermore.

Her eyes went to Mikhail, who was sandwiched between her and Koz. He gripped his knife in one hand as he slept. Neither Jennifer nor Koz had tried to talk him into putting it away when it was time for bed. It was a poor substitute for a teddy bear, but what could they do?

Still on her back, Jennifer glanced around. The campfire had been doused after dinner. The Snipers were all lumps in their blankets, curled on their sides against the cold. Amanda and Juli kept watch on the far side of the camp, sitting back-to-back beneath a tree.

Something caught her eye. It took her a second to figure out what she was seeing.

It was a faded poster on an electrical pole. A large illustration of a bee filled the center of the paper. Underneath the bee was a large pink flower. In the petals of the flower were the words. She couldn’t make out the words in the darkness, but guessed it was a flyer for a farmer’s market or some other local event.

The poster had been battered before the invasion, but something about it was a sad reminder of all that had been lost. Koz would probably think it was a sign from his dead wife. Maybe she’d show it to him in the morning when he woke up so he could add it to his “scientific” research.

As she absorbed the ripped edges of the poster, she became aware of a dark shape moving through the night. No, not just one shape. Four of them. No, six.

Her body went on high alert. The moon was a bare sliver in the sky, hidden behind a tall hillside. It was difficult to discern details, but she could tell people slunk in the direction of the tank and ATVs.

Was it Russians? How had they found them here in the middle of nowhere? Where—

That’s when she saw empty blankets near the edge of the camp. That’s where Lewis and his assholes had bedded down for the night.

What the fuck? Hardly daring to move, she drew her gun.

What were those assholes doing? Two of them were by the ATV with drawn weapons. Three others moved toward the tank.

And one of them—was it Randy?—was slinking toward Amanda and Juli.

That’s when she noticed the way the girls were sitting. They faced away from the camp, keeping their eyes on the road and surrounding countryside. They weren’t watching for threats from inside the camp.

Fuck! Her heart began to race as the full impact of what was happening hit her.

They were being betrayed. Lewis and his band of fuckers were turning on them. They were stealing supplies and making a move on the tank.

Everything inside Jennifer hardened. Fear melted away, replaced by rage.

Carefully, not wanting to alert the soldiers, she rolled onto her side.

As soon as she moved, Mikhail’s eyes snapped open.

She put a finger to her lips and shook her head. The boy’s eyes widened in panic. His little hand tightened on the knife.

“Fuckers.” She breathed the word. Mikhail’s eyes narrowed and he nodded in understanding.

“Koz.” She pressed a hand over his mouth to muffle any sound he might make. “Koz.”

His eyes flew open, meeting hers in the dark.

“Lewis,” she whispered, trusting Koz would understand what that meant. “I’ll shoot the ones by the tank. You get to Juli and Amanda.” Before that fucker Randy could hurt them.

Koz nodded in understanding. Slowly, mimicking the movements of one asleep, he rolled onto his side. His hands closed around his machine gun.

Jennifer raised her gun, sighting on the asshole who scurried across the top of the tank. He had a bag of supplies on his back.

She took aim and fired.

38

FOUND

As soon as Jennifer fired, Koz exploded into action. He bounded to his feet and threw off his blanket in one swift motion. His machine gun came up to nestle against his shoulder.

As a child, Koz had always been one of the first picked for a team on the school yard. His strength and size had always been a boon. Even though he was now an old man, he was still fast and strong.

His long legs ate up the distance. Shouts and gunfire erupted all around.

Koz hardly noticed. All he could see was the soldier, Randy, as he exploded from the ground and went for Juli. One hand tangled in her hair. His other hand mashed over her mouth as he dragged her away. He was nearly twice Juli’s size, tall and muscular, and easily overpowered her.

Shots pinged off the side of the tank as the Snipers fired. The man on top of the tank fell off the side and hit the ground with a dull thud. The soldiers ducked behind the vehicles and fired back.

Lewis took his hand from Juli’s mouth and snatched his gun.

“Help me!” Juli screamed. Her glasses hung askew on her nose. One lens was cracked. “Help!”

Her shout broke off in a scream as Lewis smacked the side of her face with the butt of his gun.

“Stop shooting or I kill the faggot,” Randy cried. He positioned himself behind Juli and pressed the tip of his gun to her neck. “Stop shooting, you fuckers!”

Not everyone had yet seen Juli’s plight. Gunfire continued on the other end of camp while Lewis tried to get their attention. Another thirty seconds and the bastard would have them all by the throat.

Something overcame Koz. He poured on another burst of speed. He sprinted for Lewis and Juli with the speed of a grizzly bear. All he saw was Juli and the can of orange soda she’d given him.

“Everyone, stop shooting,” Randy roared. “Stop now, or—”

Koz sprang forward, wielding his machine gun like a spear. His only thought was to separate Juli from Randy and not injure Juli in the process. He crashed into the two of them, shoving the end of his gun straight at Randy.

Randy’s gun went off. Searing pain tore through Koz’s left shoulder. Juli screamed. Koz felt the tip of his machine gun tear into something. Randy let up a sharp cry.

Koz landed heavily on top of the soldier. Juli thumped to the ground beside them. Koz could hardly breathe through the agony of his gunshot wound.

Amanda and Chop Shop surged into view.

“Drop it,” Chop Shop barked, aiming at nearby soldiers. “Drop it or I swear to God, I’ll blow your fucking heads off.”

More Snipers crowded in behind him. The soldiers lowered their weapons to the ground.

“Juli!” Amanda rushed toward them. “Juli, are you—”

“Koz!” Juli rolled him over. “Koz!” She threw her arms around him and started crying into his chest.

Koz’s arms reflexively came around the girl. He squeezed her even as he panted against the pain in his shoulder.

Randy was on the ground beside them, a pool of blood spreading around him. The end of Koz’s gun had torn straight into his throat. The butt of the gun swayed back and forth, threatening to tip over.

“Are you all right?” Koz murmured.

“Am I all right?” Juli sat up, wiping tears from beneath her cracked glasses. “You got shot!”

“Is everyone else okay?”

“Alive.” Jennifer appeared by his side, lips pursing as she saw his wound. “Everyone is alive.”

“Let me see him.” Valentina bustled forward. “Juli, move, sweetheart.”

Still sniffling, Juli sat back on her heels. “You saved me.”

“He could have gotten you killed,” Valentina said tersely. She narrowed her eyes at Koz. “You got yourself shot instead.”

Was it his imagination, or was that approval he saw in Valentina Cecchino’s eyes?

“Tie them up.” Leo strode forward.

He and Bruce had two soldiers between them. The rest were in a tight cluster beneath Chop Shop and Spill’s hard stares. Another lay dead on the ground near the tank, probably shot by Jennifer.

Garcia and Anton came forward with rope. They swiftly bound the wrists of the traitors while the rest of the Snipers held them at gunpoint.

“What was your plan?” Leo asked. His voice was flat, his eyes hard. “Pretend to be our friends so we’d lower our guard and you could steal our supplies?”

“You’re a fucking kid playing at being a soldier.” Lewis spat on the ground. Blood flowed freely from a gunshot wound in his arm. “All of you. You’re fucking kids and a grandma—”

“You will watch your language around my grandmother.” Leo raised his rifle and pointed it between Lewis’s eyes. “What was your plan, Lewis?”

Valentina cut open the top on Koz’s uniform. He hissed through his teeth when she poured clear spirit over the wound. The pain was excruciating.

“Drink,” she said, putting the bottle to Koz’s mouth.

He opened his mouth and greedily swallowed the spirit she poured down his throat. It burned all the way down into his stomach, dulling the edge of the pain as she put a wad of gauze on the wound.

“You really think a bunch of kids can take the Livermore Lab?” Lewis said. “You guys are fucking lunatics. And so are the soldiers who follow you like sheep.” A sneer was directed at Spill, Chop Shop, Collins, and Garcia. “No way were we going on a suicide mission.”

“So you were just going to kill us and take our gear and our vehicles?” Leo asked

Lewis shrugged. “Nah. We were just going to take all your stuff. We didn’t plan to kill you.”

“I see.” Leo pressed the tip of the gun to Lewis’s forehead. “It’s very lucky for you my friends are all still alive. That’s the only reason I’m going to let your people live. Jennifer. Chop Shop. Tie these assholes up to the tree.”

“Are you really turning against us?” Lewis asked Chop Shop in a high-pitched voice. “We fought side by side, man.”

“You should have followed Conaway’s orders,” Chop Shop replied.

The soldiers were ushered away at gunpoint. Koz lost sight of them as Valentina turned him on his side to inspect the back side of his shoulder.

“The bullet didn’t go through,” she said matter-of-factly. “I’ll have to dig it out.” She rolled him back over, face serious when she said, “Thank you for saving my Juli. I don’t know what would happen to me if I lost her.” Her eyes went watery for a second before she blinked to clear them. “I will get you stitched up good as new. Stay here. I need more grappa for this. You need more grappa for this.”

Koz stared after her as she went to a supply box. He could hardly believe what had just happened.

He’d cracked the code to Valentina Cecchino. As she bustled back with a full bottle of grappa, there was not a trace of scorn or disdain in her eyes. All he saw was concern—for him.

A wild bark of laughter broke from his throat. All he had to do to win over Valentina Cecchino was almost die. He wasn’t sure why he found that so funny, but he did.

“You need to get drunker before I dig that bullet out,” Valentina said, mistaking his laughter for drunkenness. “Drink as much as you need. Just leave enough for me to disinfect the wound.”

Koz didn’t tell her it would take more than a bottle of grappa to get him drunk. He could hold his liquor better than most. He took two generous swigs before passing the bottle back.

Juli settled crosslegged on the ground next to him. “I won’t leave your side until this is over, even though I don’t like the sight of blood.”

“How are you doing, big guy?” Jennifer reappeared by his side with Mikhail. He still gripped his knife as though he was ready to charge into battle.

“The fuckers almost killed you,” Mikhail said, inserting the American word Jennifer had taught him.

Valentina jerked upright. “What did he just say?”

“He is very upset,” Koz said quickly. “He wants to make sure I’ll be okay.” To Mikahil he said, “Don’t use that American term in front of Nonna. It makes her very upset.”

He shot Jennifer an I-told-you-so look, but she’d taken a sudden interest in the dirt. She looked like she was trying to suppress laughter.

Mikhail’s face was somber as he gazed down at Koz. “Are you going to die?”

“It’s just a scratch,” Koz replied. “I’ll be fine.”

“You risked your life to save the strange boy.”

“I did. She is my friend. She gave me a soda.”

“Why does he dress like a girl?”

“I think she is a girl on the inside.”

A thoughtful frown creased Mikhail’s face. He stared openly at Juli as she cradled Koz’s hand.

Valentina removed a pair of surgical pliers from her first aid kit.

“You might want to look away,” Koz said to Mikhail. “There will be a lot of blood.”

Mikhail’s jaw tightened. He shifted, widening his stance and planting his feet. It was clear he planned to stay right where he was.

“No one is going anywhere, Koz,” Jennifer said firmly. “We’re in this with you.”

“Snipers stick together,” Valentina said.

“That’s right. Snipers stick together.” Juli’s pressure on his hand increased.

“You got me out of that KGB dungeon.” Anton came into view. Blood smeared one side of Anton’s face, mixing with the flaking scabs of the cigarette burns. “Think the sight of a little blood can scare me away? Nonna, I brought a flashlight. I’ll hold it while you work.”

“Thank you, Antony.”

Koz felt something stir within him. His heart felt suddenly bigger in his chest. It took him a moment to identify the strange feeling.

It was love. Pure, strong, undeniable love.

When had it snuck up on him? How was it that he could feel love for this band of crazy Americans? There wasn’t a single one he wouldn’t gladly give his life for.

Uneasiness stole through him. He should have known something was wrong when he let Milo and his mutants live. The scientist in him had known better.

What would Polina say? What if his sentiments threatened the mission? Where was the cold, rational man he had been? Where was the hard demon who had left Russia with vengeance in his heart?

Somewhere between today and rescuing Anton, he’d lost part of himself. He’d become sentimental. He’d let himself care for people.

Something caught his attention. He turned his head, eyes widening as he caught sight of a faded, partially torn poster of a bee on a nearby utility wire pole.

“You see it?” Jennifer asked.

“Yes.” He could not take his eyes from the poster.

“It saved us,” Jennifer said. “I was lying in my blanket looking at it. That’s when I noticed Lewis’s guys making their move.”

Koz stopped breathing. He and Jennifer looked at one another. A small dent appeared between her brows. She shrugged, as if to say she didn’t know what to think about any of this.

Well, she might still be skeptical, but Koz wasn’t. His Polina had saved the Snipers tonight. He knew it without a shred of scientific evidence, yet the truth was as clear as day.

“What?” Juli asked, glancing at the tattered poster. “What’s the big deal about the bee poster?”

“Enough talk,” Valentina said. “Viktor, are you ready?”

She called me Viktor. “Yes, Valentina. I am ready.”

Pain lanced through him as the narrow surgical pliers plunged into his shoulder. He hissed through his teeth.

Juli gripped his hand tightly in hers. Jennifer sat near his head, smoothing his hair back from his forehead as Mikahil looked on. Anton watched stoically, holding the flashlight aimed at his shoulder. Valentina had her eyes slit in concentration, her lips pressed into a firm line as she worked.

And just past the small group of Snipers who gathered by his side was the bee poster. Koz’s eyes watered as he focused on it through the haze of pain.

As he lay there surrounded by his friends, struggling not to thrash, it occurred to him that he’d been wrong. He hadn’t lost part of himself when he fell in with the Snipers. Quite the opposite.

He’d found a part of himself.

39

MUTANTS

They left Lewis and his soldiers tied to a tree. No weapons. No food.

Jennifer would have been satisfied to leave the assholes in their underwear, but Leo had turned down the suggestion.

Six down, Jennifer thought, even though part of her was glad to be rid of the soldiers. But damn, they really could have used another six people to help take the lab.

Now the Snipers were staked out on top of a tall hill covered with golden grass. Spreading out on either side of them, for as far as the eye could see, were more windmills. The vehicles were parked below them on a small, single-lane service road.

The Snipers were spread out in a long line in the grass. The wind scoured the hilltop, making it hard to hear anyone more than three feet away. Even then, they had to raise their voices to be heard. No wonder this place had been chosen for a wind farm.

“We have a big problem.” Jennifer peered through the pair of binoculars Leo had passed down the line to her. The tall hill with the windmills gave them an unobstructed view of the town. “Livermore is crawling with Sentients.”

“What do you see?”

“A checkpoint on the edge of the city, patrolled by six Soviets.” She shifted the binoculars slightly. “One human cattle farm.” It looked like a football field at the local high school, and it was crammed full of people. “The biggest concentration of Soviets seems to be in the downtown area, just like it was in Rossi. I see a lot of bodies in the streets. Lots with their heads cracked open—American and Soviet.”

“So the city has fallen to sentients,” Koz said.

“Yeah.”

“We must assume the lab will also be overrun.”

“Fuck.” Jennifer passed him the binoculars. “How the hell are we even going to get to the lab?” Their group was too large to move inconspicuously through the city, especially with their vehicles.

Koz took the binoculars from her and scrutinized the scene below. “I see a second human cattle farm. It is closer to the downtown in a smaller, fenced-in field.”

And they were a force of fifteen. They had two trucks, two ATVs, and one tank. Jennifer stared at the town, fighting against the helplessness that seeped in.

Just when she thought things couldn’t get worse, a jeep came into sight. It headed straight for the Sniper caravan parked below.

“Someone is coming. Give me those for a second.” Jennifer pulled the binoculars out of Koz’s hand and studied the jeep. She couldn’t make out the details of the driver, but she did see three struggling forms in the back. “Fuck.”

Mikhail echoed her. “Fuck.”

“What? Who is it?” Koz asked. It was a measure of the situation that he made no comment on Mikhail’s language.

“It’s Milo.” She shoved the binoculars back into his hands. “See for yourself. He’s back. And he’s brought his mutants.”

* * *

“Let me explain.” Milo stood just outside the jeep—the same jeep that had kickstarted the catastrophe at the farmhouse. The star, sickle, and hammer painted on the side seemed to glare at Koz.

He glared right back, holding his machine gun steady and pointing it right at Milo. “I told you not to come back.”

The Snipers stood in a loose ring around the jeep, all of them pointing their weapons. Half were trained on Milo; the other half were trained on the wriggling forms in the back of the jeep.

The mutants were bound around the wrists, ankles, and mouth. The rope that secured their wrists was tied to the jeep’s roll bar. Even though they struggled against their bonds, they didn’t seem agitated. If anything, they seemed calmer than when Milo had left the camp with them.

Could that be because they had fed recently? They were even bloodier and dirtier than when Jennifer had last seen them. Had they fed before or after Koz had left them? Had they eaten Americans, or Soviets?

“I know, I know. You told me not to come back, but we can help.” There was a wild glaze to Milo’s eyes. He seemed even closer to the edge than before. “I have a plan, man. You guys need a plan, right?”

An uneasy silence followed, punctuated by the moans and snarls from the mutants.

“How did you subdue them?” Koz asked. “It is impossible for you to have done that on your own.”

“I—” Milo’s eyes flicked back and forth. “They were more … reasonable after they fed.”

“Are you saying you convinced them to let you tie them up?” Leo asked.

Milo shrugged. “They’re my family. They didn’t fight me after they’d fed.”

Jennifer was standing close enough to Koz to hear him when he began to talk to himself. “Nothing like this has ever been recorded. Does the family bond make the mutants pliant? How much of the rational mind remains? How—”

Jennifer elbowed him in the ribs. “You’re not in the lab anymore. We have bigger issues.”

Koz grimaced at her. “I do not think this is safe. The mutants are volatile.”

“Only when they aren’t fed,” Milo shot back, overhearing them. “Conaway knew that. He knew if they were fed they were an asset.”

“This is unwise—”

Leo held up his hand to silence Koz. “I understand your concerns, but we need every advantage we can get. Milo, you said you had a plan?”

“Yeah.” Milo ran a hand over his close-cropped hair. “Can you stop pointing your guns at me?”

Leo lowered his weapon. As soon as he did, everyone else followed suit.

Milo began to talk. He gestured wildly with his hands, raising his voice to be heard above the wind. He began describing a complex, wildly risky plan.

Jennifer was skeptical at first, but she found her doubt slowly melting away. Milo might be on the edge, but perhaps it took a mind on the edge to cook up such an outrageous plan.

When Milo finished, Leo said, “It could work. But the plan relies on a lot of assumptions.”

Koz pointedly looked at the mutants. “A lot of assumptions.”

“It’s not enough to break into the lab,” Lena said. “We need a force large enough to take the lab. We need it under control so we can set up a manufacturing system.”

“I think it’s doable,” Dal said. “And it’s our best way of finding someone who knows the layout of the lab. That place looks like a small town.”

“There’s just one thing,” Anton said. “Who’s volunteering for the suicide mission?”

Jennifer twitched, about to raise her hand. It wasn’t like she had anything to live for.

But then she saw Mikhail. The boy knelt on the ground beside her, one hand resting on her tennis shoe. His fingers absently traced the pattern of her laces.

She wasn’t sure he was aware that he was touching her. He’d been doing that on and off for the last few days. Holding her hand. Leaning against her leg. Sitting very close to her.

She didn’t care about her life, but she did care about Mikhail. The boy had lost everything, just like she had.

He didn’t have to turn into a fucked up mess like she was. There were already signs that she’d made a positive impact in his life. She understood him in ways no one else could. Not even Koz could truly understand what it was like to have a train wreck of a childhood.

I want to live. It was a shock to realize she felt that way. When had she stopped wanting to die?

The answer was simple: when she found Mikhail. She wanted to live for him. So she could look after him. So she could teach him how to be strong.

She rested her hand lightly on his head, running her hand through his hair. I’ll fight like hell to stay alive for you, she thought.

“I’m the suicide runner.” Milo’s gaze briefly sharpened. For a moment—just a few flickering seconds—he looked stone-cold rational. “Me, and my family. We’ll be your distraction.”

All the pieces clicked into place. She suddenly understood why he had returned. Why he had gone to the trouble of securing his mutants.

He wanted to use them in the fight to take the Livermore Lab to get his revenge. He wanted them all to die together. Jennifer couldn’t decide if he was a genius, or a crazy mother fucker.

“But—” Lena began, but Milo cut her off.

The crazed look returned to his eyes, all signs of the steady, rational man once again gone. “I can’t live like this, and I can’t live without them.” His expression turned to anguish. “We’re going down together. And we’ll take down as many communist bastards as we can in the process. Won’t we, guys?” This last question was directed at the mutants. “Sabrina? Daryl? Jeff? You guys ready to eat some Soviet assholes?”

All three mutants turned in his direction. Their agitation briefly stilled.

“Yeah, they’re ready,” Milo said. “Ladies and gentlemen, consider us your diversion. Now are you ready to hit Livermore in the balls, or do you want to stand here all night with your thumbs up your assholes?”

40

NOT FIGHTING

Jennifer sat beside Leo in the front cab of a truck at dusk. Wedged between her feet was the briefcase Koz had brought from Rossi. It contained the formula to create the sentient gas.

“If anything happens to me, you must keep fighting,” Koz had said. “Find someone to translate my work. Find someone to help you make the sleeping agent. I’m entrusting this to you.”

In the pick-up bed were Spill and Chop Shop. The four of them made up one team. The second team, in Milo’s stolen jeep, consisted of Dal, Anton, Collins, Garcia, and Bruce.

All of them had cut off the Soviet star, sickle, and hammer from their stolen Russian uniforms. For their part of the plan to work, they could not risk being mistaken for the enemy.

“You ready?” Leo’s voice was soft in the interior of the cab.

“Ready as I’ll ever be.” From the top of the hillside beneath a windmill, Jennifer watched the checkpoint through the binoculars. The tank appeared on the road below, Koz standing in the open hatch.

“They’re pulling into the checkpoint now,” she reported. She didn’t like thinking of Mikhail in the belly of the tank, so close to sentients, but short of leaving him to fend for himself in the wind farm, it was the safest place for him.

“What do you think Cassie would say about our plan?”

The question took her off-guard. She lowered the binoculars. “I think my sister would have come up with something better.”

Leo’s chest heaved with a sigh. “I was thinking the same thing.” He closed his eyes briefly. Pain criss-crossed his features.

Another woman would have hugged him, put an arm around his shoulders, or strung together a lot of pointless words in a lame attempt to make him feel better.

Jennifer didn’t do any of those things. There was nothing she could do to ease Leo’s pain. She was just beginning to get a handle on her own.

Instead, she said nothing. She raised the binoculars to her eyes, giving him space to be alone with his emotions. It’s what she would have wanted in that moment.

Koz was talking to the soldiers at the checkpoint. The soldiers didn’t do anything overt to reveal themselves as sentients, but Jennifer did spot a hammer stuck through the back belt on one of the men.

“Definitely sentients,” she said. “One of the bastards has a hammer hidden behind his back. That’s got to be for smashing heads. Shit, that’s awful.” She thought of the two human cattle farms they’d seen earlier. Was that really how the sentients were killing their prey? Did they all carry hammers and other implements to smash open skulls?

“Jen?”

“Yeah?”

“I’m glad we’re not fighting anymore.”

She lowered the binos, feeling uncomfortable when she turned to face him. “We’ve done a lot of fighting since the war started, haven’t we?”

“Before the war, too.”

“Yeah.” Leo had been pissed at her for several years after she’d dumped him in high school. Not that she blamed him, but the guy could hold a grudge like a champ.

“I like it better this way,” he said.

“Me, too.” She paused before adding, “I’ll do my best not be an asshole, but we both know I can’t make any promises.”

His face relaxed as he chuckled. “I’ll do my best not to be an asshole back if you’re an asshole first.”

She found herself grinning. “Nah, if I’m the asshole first, you have my permission to be an asshole back. Now if you’re an asshole first, get ready for holy hell to rain down on you.”

This time, he laughed. The brief smile that lightened his eyes took her back to their time together in high school. For just a second, she let herself remember being alone with him, hidden away in an apple orchard in Leo’s beat-up blue truck.

She could only hold the memory for a few seconds. That forgotten piece of herself felt too heavy to hold. Looking back was pointless. The innocence of high school had been lost long before the invasion.

She returned her attention to the binoculars. “Koz is talking to the sentients.”

“Let me see.” Leo took the binoculars. “Let’s hope this works.”

She chewed her lip impatiently beside him, waiting.

She hated waiting.

41

DIVERSION

Koz stood in the open hatch of the tank. He wore Bruce’s Soviet shirt, since his had been destroyed when he’d gotten shot. It was too tight on him, but he didn’t plan to get close enough for any sentient to notice.

Nonna drove the Soviet tank into sight of the first Livermore checkpoint. Four Soviet jeeps blocked the main road into the town.

“Six sentients,” Koz called down into the tank, confirming what they had seen from the hilltop earlier that day.

Inside with Valentina were Lena, Mikhail, Juli, and Amanda. Jennifer had not been pleased to be separated from Mikhail, but it hadn’t taken much arguing to convince her that he was safest with Koz’s group.

He straightened his shoulders, looking straight at the sentients stationed at the checkpoint. Nonna pulled the tank to a stop.

“Glory to the Motherland,” Koz called out a greeting in Russian, his deep voice booming over the rumble of the tank engine as it drew to a halt near the checkpoint. “Long live the Motherland.” He sharply saluted the sentients, mimicking the action he’d seen so many times during his years in the Experimental Science Division.

“Glory to the Motherland.” A sentient on the ground returned the salute. What looked like shadows on his face were really the gray skin patches found on all sentients. Koz was thankful for the lack of light in the early hours of the evening; they would not be able to discern if he was a sentient or not. “Where are you coming from, soldier?”

“Headquarters in Rossi,” Koz said. He needed to draw the rest of the soldiers forward into the trap. They all lurked near the vehicles and were too spread out. “Some … interesting things have occurred there. Have you heard?”

“What sort of interesting things?” the soldier asked.

Koz didn’t miss the smirk that passed between the soldiers by the jeeps. A few of them sauntered a little closer to the tank. Perfect.

“Well, you know,” Koz said. “Evolution, my friends.” He gave them a broad grin. “Surely you know what I mean?”

“Why don’t you explain it to us?” The soldier was fishing, trying to find out if Koz was sentient or human.

The others sauntered forward into the open. All of them wore the same smirk, and all had shadowy patches on their skin. If Koz’s eyes were sharper, he was certain he would have been able to make out the redness of their eyes.

“Evolution. Surely you know what I mean.” Koz spread his arms wide. “I carry an urgent message for General Petrov. You must let me pass.” He said the name of the general without a single wobble of emotion.

“General Petrov?” The soldier narrowed his eyes. “General Petrov is not in Livermore.”

The very fact that he knew the general’s name hinted that he was indeed here. The general’s name was not known to many who did not work under him.

The soldier was testing him. General Petrov had been head of the Experimental Science Division for over forty years. If the Livermore Lab was truly the center for American national security, General Petrov would be here.

He just wouldn’t want anyone to know he was here. He’d always been a sneaky, clever bastard.

Koz shook his head and gave the man his own smirk. “I believe you are correct, sir. General Petrov could not possibly be here.” He winked. “But I have a message for him just the same. Details about … evolution.”

“Come down where we can see you,” the soldier said. “You and everyone in the tank.”

The men on the ground wanted to be sure Koz and his companions were sentients. He was certain of their motivation. They probably ate anyone who showed up who was not a sentient.

“Fine, fine.” Koz called down into the tank using Russian. “Everybody out. They won’t let us pass until they inspect us. They need to assure themselves we are … evolved.”

Koz stepped up to the next ladder rung in the chute. He used the movement to camouflage what he did next.

His hand darted to the gun resting in his waistband. He snatched it out and fired at the lead soldier. The bullet missed the man’s head, but it did punch through his chest. Blood sprayed into the evening air as the soldier staggered back in shock.

His shot was a signal. The Snipers surged to the slot visors and began firing on the sentients.

At the same time, three mutants surged out of the darkness. Milo ran behind them, screaming, “Die, mother fuckers!” Bullets leapt from his gun as he followed his mutants into battle.

Surprise was on their side. The sentient on the ground didn’t recover fast enough. Daryl—the adult male mutant—pounced. His hands locked around the sentient’s head and smashed it against the pavement. Blood and brains spilled out.

More gunfire arched from the slot visors on the side of the tank. Two more soldiers fell.

Three down, three to go. Koz scrambled the rest of the way onto the tank, grabbing the machine gun hanging from the chute’s latch.

The other two mutants attacked, but the element of surprise had been lost. The remaining sentients were ready.

Sabrina flung herself at a Soviet, teeth bared. The sentient growled at her in response. He caught her around the neck and flung her to the ground. Sabrina hit so hard, she bounced.

Something glinted in the sentient’s hand—a hammer. It arched through the night, going for Sabrina’s head.

Koz fired.

At the same time, Milo sprinted headlong at the Soviet. “Mother fucker, don’t you touch her. Don’t you fucking dare!”

Bullets hit the sentients from two sides. His head exploded in a spray of red.

Two sentients to go.

The boy mutant was locked in a battle with one of them. His sentient also wielded a hammer, swinging it so fast that it blurred. The boy growled and snarled. He tried to dart for the sentient’s legs, but every time he got close, the hammer came for him.

The boy leaped, going for the sentient’s wrist. His teeth sank in. The sentient dropped his hammer as he tried to pry the boy free.

Sabrina leaped into the fray. She landed on top of the sentient’s shoulder and wrapped both arms over his face.

Destabilized by the combined weight of the mutants, the sentient went down. Sabrina began knocking his head against the pavement. The boy joined her, the two of them combining their strength. The sentient thrashed, trying to tear them off. He was strong, but he was still out-numbered.

One second, his torso and arms thrashed. The next, the body shuddered and went still as his head exploded across the pavement.

One sentient to go. He battled with the father mutant. The two of them were locked arm in arm, each trying to overpower the other. A metal wrench lay on the ground between them. Both of them moved fast. There was no way to get a clear shot.

“Don’t kill him,” Koz shouted, sliding down the side of the tank. “We need him. Don’t—!”

“Daryl.” Milo dashed in, gun aimed low. “Daryl, man, don’t kill him, just stop moving so I can get a shot—”

Daryl howled as the sentient swept his legs out from under him. They rolled across the ground.

“Daryl,” Milo bellowed. “God dammit, man, just hold still!”

Without warning, the other two mutants leaped into the fray. They joined Daryl, the three of them attacking the sentient.

“Stop them,” Koz roared. “Milo, stop them—”

The dull crack of the sentient’s skull sounded.

“No, dammit,” Milo said. “Guys, this wasn’t the plan! I told you we needed one alive.”

If the mutants heard or understood Milo, they gave no outward sign. The three of them fell on the fresh pile of brains and began feeding. Their grunts and growls of satisfaction made Koz’s stomach turn.

“Now we have nothing,” Koz snarled. “No intel on the layout of the lab. No intel on the location of the downtown headquarters. No directions to the shop we need. We have nothing!”

“That’s not true, man.” Milo positioned himself between Koz and his feasting mutants. “We have a way into Livermore, which is more than we had five minutes ago. And we can always find some other bastard to torture for information.”

Koz’s chest heaved with frustration. He had known it was a risk to go into battle with the mutants. He’d seen first-hand how uncontrollable they were when the bloodlust had them.

We should have tried to kill them on our own, he thought.

“What’s done is done.” Valentina spoke tersely from her position in the slot visor. “We can’t turn back now. Move the jeeps out of the way.”

Koz ground his teeth as Lena, Juli, and Amanda climbed out the tank. The three of them moved the jeeps to the side so the tank could pass through the checkpoint—and so the other groups would have extra vehicles for the next phase of their plan.

They kept one body for the mutants. Milo dragged it into the back of the jeep. After shoving it inside, he pulled out his knife and began to peel the scalp from the undamaged part of the head.

Koz couldn’t watch anymore. He joined the girls, helping them drag bodies into a drainage ditch that paralleled the road. In a few minutes, all were out of sight. They took the extra weapons and ammo.

No one said anything as Milo herded his mutants into the back of the jeep, where they fell upon the fresh body waiting for them.

42

COINS

Koz resumed his position in the turret as Valentina drove the tank. Milo led the way in the jeep, his three mutants in the back.

This part of the plan required them to find what Amanda called a hardware store, but no one knew anything about the town. Which meant they had to drive around until they found what they needed—and hope they didn’t get stopped by any patrols between now and then.

This could have been avoided if the mutants hadn’t killed the last sentient.

They drove around the city streets for thirty minutes. Just when the knot of anxiety in Koz’s stomach grew to uncomfortable proportions, Milo led the way into a parking lot. He stopped in front of a shop.

“See?” he called up to the tank. “You wanted a mother-fucking hardware store? Here you go. We didn’t need a Soviet fucker to find this place.” He got out of the jeep, standing protectively in front of it.

The mutants were all sitting up. The girl licked blood off her fingers. The boy slurped a few chunks of brain from his palm and burped. Daryl leaned his head against the side of the roll bar, eyes slit in contentment.

Koz pursed his lips. It would do no good to argue with Milo. They would just have to find and capture another Soviet.

The rest of the crew climbed out of the tank.

“Do you have the list?” Koz asked them.

“Yep.” Amanda held up a sheet of paper. “Propane tanks and glass jars.”

“As many as you can find,” Koz said.

“We’re on it. Come on, guys.”

Amanda, Juli, Valentina, Lena, and Mikhail headed for the shop. The glass doors leading inside had been smashed. Broken flower pots littered the pavement outside.

The plants had withered and died. Desiccated pink and purple blooms shifted in the wake of the Snipers’ footsteps as they slipped into the shop.

Koz remained where he was to keep watch. He did not trust Milo to keep watch alone; he was too preoccupied with his mutants. And his new pelt. He kept looking down at it and running his fingers through it.

Koz grunted in malcontent and scanned the parking lot. There was a pile of burned bodies on the far side. Half a dozen cars were in the lot, covered in a thin layer of dirt.

Where was General Petrov tonight? Would he be in the downtown headquarters, or in the lab? Was he a sentient? What did he think of the side effects of the nezhit vaccine?

Knowing Petrov, he probably embraced it. He’d been the driving force behind the super soldier program. He probably even used the word evolution as Koz had done with the checkpoint patrol; that sounded like something Petrov would say.

Koz had spent countless hours imagining what it would feel like to kill Petrov with his bare hands. It was the only way to could get to sleep on some nights.

When he left Russia on a ship bound for America, he had consciously given up that fantasy. America was a big land. Petrov could be anywhere. He could lose focus on his main objective—revenge for his family and all the people murdered in the Experimental Science Division—if he focused solely on Petrov. Petrov was but a single head on a very large, multi-headed monster. The sleeping gas was the best way to disable that beast. He wasn’t here to get revenge on Petrov.

But what if? What if the bastard was here and he had a chance? Just thinking about it spiked his heart rate.

“I would like nothing more than to crush the life from his throat with my bare hands,” Koz said to himself in Russian.

“You say something?” Milo asked.

“Just talking to myself.”

“Yeah? I do that too, sometimes.” Milo pulled a pack of cigarettes out of his pocket.“Want one?”

“I have not seen you smoke before.”

“I quit a few years ago for my wife. I snagged this pack off a body. You want one, or what?” He held a cigarette out to Koz.

“Thank you.” Koz took the cigarette. It eased some of the ire he felt toward the other man. He loved cigarettes when he could get his hands on them. Unfortunately, it had been difficult to get them in northern Russia.

Milo struck a lighter and held it out. Koz leaned forward and lit his cigarette.

He savored the first inhalation, loving the feel of the smoke as it filled his throat and lungs. How long had it been since his last cigarette? He couldn’t remember.

“What were you talking to yourself about?” Milo blew a plume of white smoke into the air.

“I was thinking how much I would like to kill the man responsible for the death of my wife and son.”

“You know who killed them?”

“Yes.”

“Mmm.” Milo took a long draught off the cigarette. “Lucky man.”

“How so?”

Milo fingered the scalps on his belt. “I don’t know who killed my wife and son. They were gunned down like animals right outside our house. Sabrina was stuck inside and turned.” Another exhalation of white smoke. It hung in front of Milo’s face, making him ghost-like in the darkness. “I wasn’t there for any of it. Took me three days to fight my way free of the base and get home.”

Koz’s gaze slid to the mutants. It was like they had been drugged. The two kids leaned against one another, contented rumbles coming from their throat. Daryl looked like he was sleeping.

“I know I’m fucked up,” Milo said. “I know it would be kinder to put them down.” He flicked cigarette ashes in the direction of the resting mutants. “There’s a monster living inside me. Conaway tried to save me, but he could only do so much.”

Koz held the smoke in his lungs for long seconds before exhaling. “Tell me, what sort of monster lives within you?”

“A man who’s willing to maim and torture. Not for a greater good, but because it calms me down. That’s why I volunteered. I’m no good. Men like me shouldn’t be allowed to live.”

What would Milo think if he knew of all the terrible things Koz had done in his lifetime? He took another puff of his cigarette.

“Do you believe in souls?” Koz asked.

“Yes.”

“You believe your soul will go to Heaven when you die?”

Milo’s shrugged his shoulders, as though trying to dislodge something invisible. “Maybe. If I get off this mortal coil before I can do more bad things. Maybe God will forgive me if I make this last sacrifice really count for something. Maybe it will erase all the other things I’ve done. My family …” He eyes flicked to the mutants. “We’ll all go down together doing something good. Their deaths will mean something. It’s better than shooting them in the fucking head just because they had the bad luck of getting poisoned by the communist bastards. What about you? Do you believe in Heaven?”

“Heaven?” Koz exhaled a long stream of smoke. “I don’t know. We were taught as children that it was dangerous to believe in God. But I think my wife has been looking over me since she died. I suspect there is such a thing as a soul.”

“I know my Claudia looks after me,” Milo said. “That’s my wife. She leaves coins for me. Look.” Milo dug into his pocket, pulling out six coins of different sizes and colors. “Each one of these was minted in 1978. It’s the year we were married.” He spread the coins out on top of the tank, pointing to the tiny date at the bottom of each one. “See? 1978. It’s not a coincidence. This is how I know she’s looking out for me.”

Koz felt his lungs constrict as he studied the coins. Sure enough, each one was stamped with the date of 1978.

It was hardly scientific proof. Just as the bees were not scientific. But despite this—despite his years as a scientist—Koz found himself grasping on to it.

“Where did you find all these?” he asked.

“Just around, man. Like, I’d be squatting in the bushes to take a shit, and it would just be there.” Milo rolled one of the coins across the backs of his knuckles. “That’s how I know, man. That’s how I know she’s out there with my son. They’re all waiting for me and Sabrina. After tonight, I’ll be able to meet them with my head held high. If I died right now before doing something great, I don’t know what I’d say to them. I’m telling you, I’ve done bad things.” He touched the scalps again. “You can probably tell by looking at me. I can’t help it. But I want to stop doing bad things and go out on a high note, you know?”

Koz’s ire with Milo had completely melted away. He found himself wanting to offer comfort to this man who had lost a wife and son, the same as Koz.

“I once worked on a team to develop two-headed dogs,” he said.

Milo gaped at him through the haze of cigarette smoke. “Say that again, man?”

“I once worked on a team to create two-headed dogs.”

“Why the fuck would you do something like that?”

“Orders. It was my job. The general I worked for thought they would be great warriors on the battlefield. A hellhound to scare American fascists into submission.”

“That is seriously fucked up.” Milo took another long puff. “Just imagine if we had to deal with zombies and hellhounds. I’m not sure any of us would be left.”

“Perhaps,” Koz replied. “Though you Americans are very resilient.”

“How did you do it? How did you make the two-headed dogs?”

Koz flashed back to the lab. He could still smell the piss from one of the poor animals who died in his arms. “We grafted the head of one animal onto the back of another.” Even though the memory was grotesque, it hardly compared to the things Koz and his fellow scientists had done to other human beings.

“Did any of them live?” Milo’s eyes were wide within the cloud of smoke.

“Never more than a few hours.” Koz reluctantly snubbed out the last of his cigarette. “The program was cancelled after thirteen months.”

What had happened to the soul of the dogs who’d had their heads removed from one body and grafted onto another? Did two souls inhabit the same body? Or did the second soul move onto the afterlife once the original body was destroyed? Was that why none of the experiments had succeeded?

Why was he even thinking about this? It was in the past. He could not change what he had done.

“Why did you let them live?” Milo asked. “Back at the farmhouse, why did you let my family live?”

Koz sighed. “Because I have grown soft since coming to America.”

“But you wanted to kill them. I saw it in your eyes.”

“I did not want to kill them. But they are dangerous. Too dangerous.”

“You lost people,” Milo said. “That’s why you let them live.”

Koz shrugged. “Apparently neither you nor I have the strength to pull the trigger when it’s necessary.”

“We’re two fucked-up dudes, aren’t we?”

Koz wasn’t sure what a dude was, though he recalled hearing the younger men use that term. He decided he could probably pass for a dude. “Yes. We are quite fucked up.”

Milo’s shoulders started to shake. It took Koz a second to realize he was laughing. Milo coughed and wheezed, trying to suppress his laughter.

“What is so funny?” Koz asked.

“Us.” Milo gestured back and forth between them. “This.” He threw his arms wide to take in the parking lot. “I’m having last rights with a fucking Soviet and a pack of cigarettes.” He lit a second smoke and inhaled deeply. “Life is so fucked up. No offense. Want another one?”

Koz took the second cigarette and leaned forward to light it off Milo’s. “None taken.”

They sat in silence, enjoying their second cigarettes.

“Wonder what’s taking them so long.” Milo glanced at the hardware store.

“Propane tanks can be bulky,” Koz replied. “Maybe they are looking for something to help them move the materials.”

The sound of an engine had Milo and Koz grabbing their guns. A jeep drove into the intersection nearest the parking lot. Koz held his breath, hoping it would see the tank, assume nothing was wrong, and keep moving.

No such luck. Just when he thought the jeep would roll past them, it slowed and turned into the parking lot. The mutants stirred, red eyes flashing in the headlights beams.

“Mother fuckers.” Milo clenched the cigarette between his teeth and began to rise. “This is your lucky day, assholes. I’m itching for a fight.”

“Get down.” Koz put a hand between Milo’s shoulder blades and pushed him back down. “Put out your cigarette.” He ground his own smoke against the side of the jeep before flicking it over the edge.

“Why?” Milo put out his own cigarette.

“We’re going to catch a sentient,” Koz replied.

43

ONE ALIVE

Milo grinned like a feral dog. “I’m going to add another scalp to my collection.”

“Yes, I think so. Follow me. Get your mutants. Try to keep them under control this time.”

He hurried toward a smashed glass door adjacent to the hardware store. Milo herded the mutants after him. Glass crunched underfoot as they crept into the shop. The smell of something sickly sweet overpowered Koz’s nostrils as he stepped inside. There was apparel on the floor that looked like bathing suits.

“Tanning salon,” Milo said. “My wife visited one every week. What’s the plan?”

“Behind the counter,” Koz said.

Milo ushered his mutants into the dark recesses of the shop. They grunted softly, following his instructions. They appeared more controllable after being recently fed. Too bad keeping them in a state of pliability required a constant supply of brains.

Koz took up position by the front door, concealing himself in the shadow of a large bookshelf that stood next to a shattered window.

“Remember, we need one alive,” Koz said. “When I give the signal, turn your mutants loose. They may have any sentient except the one I shoot. Can you explain this to them?”

“I’ll try, man.”

Koz pursed his lips. “We cannot risk—”

“I know, man, I know.”

While Milo spoke to his mutants in a low voice, Koz shifted his attention to the approaching Soviets. The men pulled up behind the tank, momentarily disappearing from sight. They called out in Russian, banging on the side of the tank.

“Why have you stopped here?” A sentient strolled around the tank. “You know looting isn’t allowed. All materials belong to the Motherland. Come out and I won’t report you. Maybe we can share what you found, hmmm?”

Koz held his breath, training the crosshairs of his scope on the soldier. Farther back in the shop, Milo had his gun also propped on the counter.

“You must have found something good, hmm?” called the soldier. “Danil, check inside.” He once again pounded on the side of the tank. “We saw you from the road. You have cigarettes. You should share them with us.”

A second sentient—presumably Danil—bounded to the top of the tank. He crouched like a spider before drawing his weapon and scuttling to the open hatch. Only a sentient zombie could move with such fluidity.

“Come out, comrades,” Danil called into the hatch. “Don’t be greedy. Share your cigarettes with us.”

Koz decided to target the lead solider. They needed information, and it was always best to get it from the person in charge.

A third sentient came around the tank. This one eyed the hardware store, taking in the broken flower pots littering the ground.

“Maybe they went inside,” he said.

“Perhaps,” said the lead soldier. “Go inside and—”

Koz fired. He didn’t aim for the head, but at the legs. His bullets tore through the knees of the sentient. As the man buckled, Koz aimed again, this time at his thighs.

The mutants leapt out from behind the counter in a chorus of howls. Sabrina vaulted right over the top, her bloody blond hair flying around her head like a halo. They burst through the front of the shop—and made right for the downed man.

“No!” Koz cried.

“Not him!” Milo raced out after them. “Not that one!”

To Koz’s shock, the mutants scattered. They veered around the tank, racing after the other two sentients who fled. Gunfire, screaming, and growling could be heard. Milo sprinted after his family, leaving Koz alone to deal with the wounded sentient.

“Milo, get back here!” Koz was forced to duck as bullets whizzed around his head.

The man he’d incapacitated was on his stomach, machine gun aimed at the tanning salon. Koz returned fire, not aiming to kill, only to quell the attack long enough to figure out a way to subdue and capture the sentient.

He picked up a nearby chair and flung it out through the shattered front window. It arched into the night and smacked into the soldier. His gun skittered across the pavement.

A figure dashed into the fray. Koz barely had time to register the slight form of Mikhail as the little boy tore across the parking lot. He held a propane tank between his hands.

“Mikhail!” Koz bolted out of the shop, terrified the boy would get himself killed.

The soldier was busy tossing aside the chair. There was a bloody gash across his forehead. As he pushed the chair away, Mikhail pounced. He swung the propane tank with all his might and cracked the soldier in the side of the head. It wasn’t hard enough to kill him, but it was hard enough to stun him.

It was the opening Koz needed. “Somebody, help me!” He pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and wrapped over the man’s mouth, working the material into a knot at the back of his head. “I need rope!”

The rest of the Snipers rushed out of the hardware store. The other two Russians were nowhere in sight, and the gunfire had ceased.

“Will these work?” Juli grabbed something from the front of the tanning salon and ran his way. “They’re swim suit cover-ups, but—”

Koz yanked a shirt out of her hand and tore it in half. The sentient began to stir. Koz slammed the heel of his boot into the man’s back and seized his hands.

Luckily, he had experience subduing people. In less than sixty seconds, Koz had the sentient thoroughly bound and gagged. Torn-up shirts secured his wrists and ankles. Blood poured out of his ruined legs, but blood loss wouldn’t kill him.

“How—how did you do that?” Amanda asked, gaping.

“It’s like being at the rodeo, only with a sentient instead of a bull,” Juli said.

“We are sticking with our original plan,” Koz replied. “Capture a sentient for information.”

He was glad Anton wasn’t here. There would be only one way to get this sentient to talk, and it would involve pain. And since he was a sentient, it would likely involve lots of pain.

The sentient made sounds of protest on the ground. He thrashed against his bonds, the muscles of his neck bulging. His teeth worked at the handkerchief. Red eyes glared up at Koz like a demon.

Koz returned the man’s look with a cold stare.

“Make sure you do a thorough job,” Valentina said, voice clipped as she took Mikhail by the hand. “I don’t want to waste time catching another one.”

“I agree. Please load the supplies into the jeep. We will be back soon.” Koz grabbed the struggling sentient by the collar of his uniform and dragged him into the tanning salon. In the sudden silence, he heard the slurping of the mutants as they devoured their next meal on the other side of the tank.

Milo,” he called, “get a lantern.” They would need to be able to see for what came next.

44

BETTERMENT

Koz felt an old, familiar calm steal over him.

It was the calm detachment that had served him in the Experimental Science Division. It returned to him now like a well-worn coat. He mentally shrugged into it, prepared to do what must be done.

He and Milo had the sentient in a back room of the tanning salon. There was a long tubular device Milo called a tanning bed. It was perfect for what they needed to do.

Koz picked up the struggling sentient, ignoring the pain in his shoulder from the gunshot wound. He tossed the man roughly onto the tanning bed.

More shirts hung from the wall in a neat row, a display of some kind.

“Make me more ropes,” Koz said, using his chin to gesture at the shirts as Milo dashed into the room with a lantern.

Milo shredded a few shirts with his knife. Koz put all his weight on the struggling sentient.

The zombie was strong. Pinning him to the tanning bed took all of Koz’s effort. He wrestled the man onto his stomach to keep his gnashing teeth out of range. Never in his life had he been so grateful for his height and strength.

“Secure him,” Koz ordered. “Hurry!”

Milo ran over with the torn shirts, tying them together to make a rope. Minutes later, their prisoner was tied face-down inside the cylindrical device. He screamed into his gag, teeth sawing at the fabric. He just might manage to chew through it if given enough time.

Koz didn’t plan to give him enough time.

“Boy Scout.” Milo straightened as he finished the last knot. “I could tie knots better than anyone in my troop.”

Koz had no idea what he was talking about and didn’t care. He drew his knife. “We have to work fast, before another patrol comes along. Are you ready?”

Milo licked his lips, eyes bright. It was anticipation that lit the American’s eyes, and it was uncomfortable to witness.

“Ready,” Milo breathed. “Can I start with his scalp?”

“Yes.” Koz met the sentient’s red eyes as they bulged in their socket. “Start with his scalp.” He rested the tip of his knife against the sentient’s cheek. “Tell me when you are ready to talk,” he said in Russian. “I will cut your gag when you are ready to tell me what I want to know. First of all, I need the exact location of the Livermore headquarters.”

He nodded at Milo. Grinning, eyes still lit with a demonic light, Milo began tracing the edge of his knife across the top of the sentient’s forehead.

* * *

They were done in less than thirty minutes.

When Milo and Koz returned to the parking lot, a fresh scalp hung from Milo’s belt. It probably dripped with blood, but it was lost in the rest of the blood that spattered his uniform.

Mikhail broke free of Valentina and raced across the pavement. Koz was stunned when the boy grabbed onto the leg of his pants.

“Is he dead?” Somber eyes looked up at him through greasy blond hair.

“Yes, he’s dead.” Koz wasn’t sure how he felt about admitting to brutal, cold-blooded murder, but there was no other way to explain the screaming. Or the blood that made dark spots all over his shirt.

“He’s the kind that killed Mama?” Mikhail asked.

“Yes. He is the kind who killed your mother.”

“Fucker.” Mikhail spat on the ground. “I hope he died in pain.” His words were full of vehemence and hatred.

Koz had remained untouched by the violence he and Milo committed in the tanning salon. Not once had he wavered in the gruesome task—not even when Milo had cut off several of the screaming man’s fingers for “souvenirs.”

Seeing Mikhail desensitized to the violence sent a jolt through Koz. He crouched down in front of the child. Even in this position, he still towered over him.

“What I did was a bad thing,” Koz said.

“But you killed him. That’s what he deserved.”

“It was a necessary action,” Koz replied. “I am sorry for this war, Mikhail. I wish you did not have to live through it. This is not what life is supposed to be like. You should be playing with your friends, not—”

“I am strong.” Mikhail stood up a little straighter. His hand went unconsciously to his belt knife. “Jennifer says so.”

Koz stared at the boy. His mind drifted back to a time long ago, when he and Polina had attended his father’s funeral. Aleksander had only been a few months old.

“My father had a hard life,” Koz had said, full of sorrow by the sight of his father’s cloth-wrapped body.

“Do not grieve for him, my love,” Polina had replied. “His life had purpose. I believe he died happy knowing he did his part for the betterment of all.”

For the betterment of all.

Koz had grown up with that slogan, as had Polina. They had passed it onto Aleksander even before he was old enough to understand what they said.

Koz used to believe that meant working long, hard hours to create things to help destroy America and advance the interests of Mother Russia.

He believed it meant killing innocent people to accelerate testing.

He believed it meant doing whatever had to be done for the long term goal.

As he watched Mikhail gripping his knife, he thought: I need to make the world better for him.

So Mihail wouldn’t have to grow up thinking it was normal and justified to do what Koz and Milo had just done. So children like Mikhail all over the world would not have to grow up sleeping with a knife instead of a stuffed toy.

I will do this, Polina, he said silently. Whatever time I have left on this earth will be spent trying to make things better.

“What—what is he doing?” Juli’s high pitched squeal pulled Koz out of his head and back into the dark paring lot.

He turned and found Milo crouched beside the two young mutants, who had dragged their carcass into sight. They slurped brains from bloody hands while Milo, humming to himself, worked his knife blade around what remained of the man’s scalp.

“Get into the jeep,” Koz said to the women. He gave Mikhail a push, gesturing for him to follow. “Lena, the Soviet entrance to the headquarters is located on Fourth Street and South Livermore Avenue. Can you please find the route on the map for Milo? I’ll join all of you in a minute.”

He waited until they were all in the jeep. “Milo.” Koz approached the man as he continued to hum. The mutants snarled at him, warning him to stop before he got too close. “Milo.”

“Yeah?” The knife slid under the scalp, beginning the process of separating it from the head.

“You have a mission to complete.”

“I know, man.” Milo let out a soft grunt of satisfaction as the scalp came free in his hands. He held it up under the sparse moonlight, turning it to admire it. Blood dripped off the end of his knife. “I just gotta take care of these guys first.” The fingers of his knife hand flicked in the direction of the last body, which was in the possession of Daryl.

“There is no time,” Koz said. “You must go now.”

Milo ignored him, fastening the new scalp to his belt. “There’s always enough time for this. Don’t worry, I’ll send the Soviet compound to hell in a hand basket.”

“Milo. We need to leave. Now.” Koz let the full power of his voice vibrate through the night.

Milo jerked as though Koz had slapped him. “Master sergeant, just one more. Please. You know I need it.”

Master Sergeant?

Koz remembered Master Sergeant Conaway sending Milo out for popcorn the night he’d died. He also realized that asking Milo to help him torture information out of the sentient might have snapped a mind already made fragile.

There was no time to put the poor bastard back together. Koz could not spend half the night arguing with him. Nor could they waste any more time.

So he did the next best thing.

“I’ll get the scalp from the fat one,” Koz said. “You look at the map with Lena. Then you go into the tank with the mutants. Agreed?”

“Agreed.” Milo drifted away, once again humming to himself.

Koz strode over to the body of the fat sentient. His round cheeks were marred by dark gray patches. Daryl growled a warning at him, reaching his hand into the skull to pull out another handful of brains.

“Stand down, Bern,” Milo snapped. “He doesn’t want your fucking brains.”

Daryl growled again, but took a few steps back.

Koz drew his knife and placed it against the temple of the dead body and slid it beneath the skin of his hairline. It didn’t bother him to do it, but it did bother him that the others saw him.

He really was a monster. The broken, bloody body in the tanning salon was undeniable. The blood on his hands would never truly be washed away.

The only difference between himself and Milo was that Milo’s mind had broken. Koz had done things far worse for far longer than the things he had done tonight.

And he’d done it all without feeling a thing.

He was still standing. Still coherent. Still living.

He should go with Milo and sacrifice himself. That would be a fitting end for a monster such as himself.

But then there would have been no one to make the gas needed to destroy the sentients.

Polina, he thought, I don’t want to be a monster anymore. Help me. Help me to do something good in the world. Help me make this a world where Mikhail will not grow up to be like me.

45

INFILTRATE

They made it out of town without any further incident. The road to the lab twisted through dark hills dotted with mature oak trees.

When sharp angles of the lab broke the rolling landscape, they pulled the jeep over to the side of the road, tucking into a cluster of trees. If anyone happened by, they would appear to be just another shadow.

Time for the next part of their plan.

Valentina pulled out a coil of rope they’d brought from the hardware store. Koz set about binding the wrists of the four women.

“Is it too tight?” Koz asked as he finished securing the knots around Valentina’s wrists.

She sniffed. “I’m fine. This has to look convincing.”

“If I didn’t trust you,” Amanda said, “I’d worry you might be setting us up.” Her voice was higher than usual, telling him just how nervous she was about this part of the plan.

He met her eye so she would see his sincerity. “I would sooner turn myself over to the KGB than let them get their hands on any of you.”

Amanda relaxed a little, giving him an apologetic smile. “I know you would. I just don’t like being tied up.”

“Mikhail, you must hide in the back.” Koz pulled out a large tarp from the hardware store, tucking it around the boxes and tanks of propane. Mikhail crawled inside and wedged himself between the supplies and the side of the jeep.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” Koz asked. “One of the others can take your place—”

“I will do it,” Mikhail said. “I will avenge my mama and papa. I want to hurt the fuckers.”

“What did he say?” Valentina asked sharply.

“Just a Russian phrase.” He was going to have to talk to Jennifer again about her language. To Mikhail he said, “Remember not to use that word around Nonna. It makes her very angry.”

“Oh.” Mikhail hunched his shoulders, suddenly looking like a little boy again. “I didn’t know.”

“It’s all right.” Koz tousled his hair. “You must be stealthy when we reach the lab. Whatever you do, do not let yourself be seen. You strike, and then you run. Understand? If anything goes wrong, run as fast as you can and hide. Don’t let the zombies catch you.”

Mikhail nodded and tugged the tarp down over his head. Koz returned to the driver’s seat.

There was nothing to do now but wait. Crickets and frogs filled the night around them with song. A creek flowed somewhere nearby.

“Think he can pull it off?” Lena’s voice was quiet in the darkness.

“He’ll do it,” Valentina said. “That man is singleminded.”

Koz didn’t say anything. Nervous energy coursed through him. He’d never been one for sitting around. He got out of the car and circled around it one last time, making sure everything was in place. He peeked under the tarp to check on Mikhail.

Doubt hounded him. It was risky to take the boy. It was risky for everyone involved. Should he leave Mikhail? He could hide under the trees and wait for someone to come and get him.

“He’s safer with us,” Valentina said. She’d seen the concern on his face and read it clearly. “We can’t protect him if he’s not with us.”

“If our plan fails, he could become sentient food,” Koz said.

“He could be sentient food if we leave him out here unprotected,” Valentina replied. She sighed, and for a brief second, Koz saw a tired old woman. “Nowhere is safe, Viktor.”

She was right. Koz scrubbed a hand through his hair. There was no good choice for Mikhail—not so long as the war continued.

A distant boom caught his ears. Koz turned toward the sound. It came from somewhere in Livermore. Could it be Milo? Had he and the mutants—

A flare shot into the sky, the flaming red tip hovering in the dark like a single demon’s eye before flaming out.

Koz hustled back to the driver’s seat. More explosions rocked the city. Through the leaves of the trees, smoke and fire could be seen.

A minute went by. Two minutes.

More mayhem from the city as the fire spread and more explosions shook the ground.

Where are they? Koz tightened his grip on the steering wheel. Where were the reinforcements from the lab? There had to be reinforcements. If Petrov was in Livermore as he suspected, there would be more troops. The man was nothing if not thorough.

The crickets and frogs seemed to get louder, their sounds overlaid by the battle breaking out in the town below them.

Where are they?

Just when he began to think he’d been mistaken, a pair of headlights appeared on the road. Then another, and then another.

No less than eleven jeeps, all of them laden with sentients, roared past them.

None of them even glanced in the direction of the oak trees where they hid.

“Think that was all of them?” Amanda asked after the last one sped by.

Koz didn’t reply. He waited another minute in the darkness, listening.

“I hate the idea of sending all those sentients into the city where our friends are,” Juli whispered. The sound of distant gunfire grew louder as the battle spread.

“It’s the best way to clear out the lab for us,” Koz replied. “Otherwise, we would stand no chance.” The odds were stacked against them anyway. “I think it’s clear.” He turned to look at his companions. “Are you ready for this?”

“Ready to break into a Soviet lab occupied by sentients?” Juli said. “Not really.”

“There is no being ready,” Valentina said. “The time is now. We must act.”

As Koz turned the key in the engine, he heard Lena murmur, “Leo, you better hurry. Get your ass to the lab with our reinforcements.”

46

BE AGGRESSIVE

Jennifer and her team waited in a pre-school parking lot five blocks away from the first of the human cattle pens. They had two of the jeeps Koz’s team had secured for them at the checkpoint, plus Leo’s truck. Jennifer sat behind the wheel of a blue Volvo station wagon they’d found on their way here.

Now, everyone sat in their respective vehicles, waiting for the signal from Milo. The guy was supposed to take the tank straight into the downtown headquarters and hit the Soviets with everything he had—which included his mutant family. It was a twisted way to put them all to rest, but Jennifer didn’t think it was a bad way to go out.

A twinge of uneasiness went through her. The plan had been for them to secure a sentient at the initial checkpoint and torture him for information on the lab and the downtown headquarters, but the mutants had ruined that plan by killing all the sentients.

After that, they were supposed to load up on supplies from a hardware store before splitting up. Milo and the mutants would go one way to attack the sentient headquarters. Koz and the rest of the group would continue on to the lab.

How was Milo supposed to find the headquarters? He wasn’t exactly in his right mind to begin with.

Don’t think like that, she scolded herself, attempting to make herself feel more optimistic. Koz will figure something out.

She never had been good at pep talks. Even when she’d been a cheerleader, the rhymes and chants had seemed so stupid at times.

Be aggressive! B-E-aggressive! B-E-A-G-R-E-S-S-I-V-E! Beeee agressive!

Or: Our team is red hot! Our team is red hot! Our team is r-e-d-h-o-t! Once we start, we can’t be stopped! Let’s go, let’s go!

She leaned her head back against the seat rest and briefly closed her eyes. It was a wonder she had ever faked her enthusiasm enough to make the cheer squad.

She’d only tried out as an excuse to be away from home. Her schedule had already been busy with homework and gymnastics. The last thing she needed was another extracurricular activity, but the team practiced on evenings and weekends. It was an easy way to get away from her dad.

Where was her asshole father these days? He was probably dead. She hadn’t cared enough to go home when the invasion happened. It was why she had gone to Leo’s instead.

Sure, she’d made up some story about the roads not being safe, but the truth was that she’d gone out of her way to get to the Cecchino farm when she failed to get to Cassie at the Neilson’s. The idea of being trapped in a house with her father in the middle of a Soviet invasion had almost been enough to put her over the edge.

She would never admit it out loud, but Leo made her feel safe back in high school. He’d been a place of safety and security when she’d been unraveling from the inside. He would never know just how much he’d helped her back them.

The night they’d first slept together—in the back of his pick-up truck on a blanket beneath the limbs of Gravenstein apple trees—had changed everything for her.

When he’d touched her, he hadn’t looked at her the way her dad looked at her. The love and tenderness and devotion she saw in his eyes both terrified and thrilled her.

When she looked into her dad’s eyes, she only saw darkness. The memory of it filled her mouth with a metallic taste she had come to associate with fear.

The juxtaposition of Leo’s tenderness against the fear she felt every time Dad’s shape filled her doorway is what finally gave her the strength to fight back.

She glanced out the open window of her Volvo to where Leo sat in the truck, his thumbs tapping out nervous energy on the steering wheel. He used to tap like that on her leg when they’d ridden the bus to football games. It was a sure sign he was nervous.

She smiled to herself. He might be nervous now, but Leo always came through in a crisis. The higher the stakes—the more important the game—the better he did. It was his superpower. One of many.

A loud boom echoed through the night, followed the long wail of a siren. Jennifer jerked upright, heart pounding.

Had that been Milo’s signal? Or something else? Had one of the other Sniper teams—

A red flare soared into the night, leaving a long trail of smoke in its wake.

That was it. Milo’s signal. He was attacking the downtown headquarters with the tank and his mutants.

Jennifer turned the key in the ignition, pumping her foot on the gas pedal. The blue Volvo revved to life. Around her in the parking lot, the guys turned on their vehicles. They sped onto the road, heading for the human cattle pen.

47

FREEDOM FIGHT

Jennifer slammed on the brakes, her Volvo burning rubber as she ground to a halt beside the chain-link fence surrounding the high school football field.

Sticking her head out of the open window, she shouted, “Get out of the way!” She waved a grenade back and forth through the air before pulling the pin. “Get out of the fucking way. I’m blowing the fence!"

The mass of people behind the fence heaved and scattered. Jennifer flung the grenade, dropped back into the driver’s seat, and threw the station wagon into reverse.

She was twenty feet away and still moving when the grenade detonated. Dirt and metal fencing flew in every direction. A piece of shrapnel hit the windshield and cracked the glass. Smaller pieces pinged off the grill and front hood of the car.

A wad of people flooded into the street. More explosions rocked the area as Leo, Chop Shop, and Spill blew holes in other parts of the fence.

She jumped out of the car and threw open the trunk. A mound of weapons filled the back. It was everything the Snipers had scavenged from the Soviets who’d attacked the Cecchino cabin, plus what Koz had brought with the stolen tank from Rossi.

“Fight back!” Jennifer grabbed a machine gun and shoved it into the hands of the first person who passed her, a girl about her own age. “Fight for your freedom!”

The girl stared at the machine gun in her hands, eyes wide. Jennifer gave her a nod of encouragement before turning her attention to a man who ran by with two kids in tow. She pushed a machine gun at him.

“Fight for your kids,” she said. “Take back your freedom.” Looking at the kids, she added another two grenades to the man’s arsenal. “Keep them safe.”

“Thank you.” His expression was grim as he dropped the grenades into his bulky cargo pants and led the kids away.

“Fight for your freedom!” Jennifer held up two machine guns, waving them in the air to get people’s attention. “Kill the Soviet bastards!”

People rushed toward her car. Jennifer handed out weapons to anyone who wanted them.

As she gave a gun to a tall African American woman in jeans, screams went up behind her. Something loud thumped onto the car. She spun around and found a sentient charging across the roof.

Fresh blood smeared his mouth and jaw. More blood stained the front of his uniform. Red eyes fixed on Jennifer as he charged.

She planted her feet and fired. The woman in blue jeans took up a position beside her and fired the machine gun Jennifer had just given her.

They blew the Soviet’s head open. He skidded across the top of the Volvo and slid off the back, landing in a heap on the ground beside Jennifer’s sneakers.

Twenty feet from the Volvo, a group of people scattered as bullets rained down into their midst. A few fell from the assault.

Jennifer followed the trail of bullets and spotted two Soviets crouched on the rooftop of a school building. They fired down on the terrified, stampeding people.

Jennifer raced in the direction of the building. She wasn’t a true marksman like Leo, Dal, or Anton; she couldn’t hit a target from a hundred yards away. If she wanted to take out the sentients on top of the classroom, she had to get close enough to make a head shot. Which meant putting herself in their line of sight, but she didn’t give a fuck.

“Fight back!” She made one last gesture at the pile of weapons in the back of the Volvo. “Take weapons and fight back!”

Grabbing two grenades, she raced toward the sentients on the classroom roof. She was halfway in her sprint across the road when she realized the African American woman was by her side.

“Officer Bernice Jackson,” the woman huffed. “Who are you?”

A police officer. How about that for good luck? “My name is Jennifer.”

They dropped behind a dumpster on the edge of the parking lot. Bullets pinged off the metal bin as the Soviets fired at them.

“You have any training?” Bernice asked, crouched with her back against the dumpster.

“Not much,” Jennifer replied. “I had my first lesson after the invasion.”

“You don’t look old enough to use that.” Bernice gestured to the machine gun.

“Neither do you.”

Bernice surprised her by flashing a grin. “Let’s show those bastards what we’re made of.”

They popped out on either side of the dumpster and fired at the rooftop Soviets. The assholes threw themselves flat as soon as the women opened fire.

Jennifer and Bernice regrouped behind the dumpster. More bullets pinged off it.

“How’s your throwing arm?” Bernice pointed to the grenades bulging in the pockets of Jennifer’s uniform pants. “Think you can land one of those on the rooftop?”

“Yeah, I can.” She’d never played softball, but she had a decent throwing arm.

“You throw the grenade,” Bernice said. “Blow the roof out from under them. I’ll shoot them as soon as they’re down.”

“Okay.” Jennifer fished the grenades out of her pants. “On the count of three. One, two, three—”

She popped out from behind the dumpster and sprinted straight for the classroom. Fleeing people surrounded her on all sides as they blindly fled the football field.

Bullets hit the ground near her feet. A man dropped just to her left, taken out by the sentients.

Adrenaline spiked through her as she pulled the pin from the grenade. She flung it as hard as she could. It arched over the heads of the fleeing people and landed on the roof.

Jennifer kept running, getting even closer to the building as she pulled out the second grenade. She flung it just as the first grenade detonated.

She dropped to the ground as the building rocked with the explosion, covering her head with her hands. Something large hit the side of her ribcage. Flying debris burned across her exposed skin. People screamed in terror.

Jennifer shifted into a crouch. People cut a wide berth around the ruined side of the classroom.

A tall figure raced past her: Bernice. She charged into the rubble with her gun.

Through the cloud of settling debris, Jennifer spotted the sentients. They were still alive, moving amid the rubble.

Bernice killed the first one while he was still on the ground.

The second sentient tackled her from the side. Her gun fired wildly as they hit the ground.

Jennifer raced for them, letting her machine gun bounce against her hips as she drew her knife.

Bernice was on her back. She gripped both ends of her gun, straining against the collarbone of the sentient who had her pinned to the ground. His hands tightened around either side of her skull as he tried to smash open her head.

Jennifer leaped over a mound of sheetrock and the remains of a desk, landing beside Bernice and the sentient. Wrapping both hands around the hilt of the knife, she struck.

The hunting knife hit the back of the Soviet’s skull. She felt the resistance of the bone and threw all her strength into the blow.

Leverage was on her side. The knife resisted for a split second before sliding through the skull.

The sentient collapsed on top of Bernice, blood streaming from his head. Jennifer shoved the body aside.

Bernice blinked up at her, wiping blood from her face with the back of her hand. “Damn,” she said. “You might be small, but I’d hate to go up against you in a fight.”

Despite the situation, Jennifer felt herself grinning. She offered Bernice a hand up. The other woman took it, allowing herself to be pulled to her feet.

A cheer went up behind them, followed by gunfire.

The women turned. Several dead sentients had been hoisted into the air by the crowd of people. They were carried toward the flagpole at the edge of the football field. A burly man—the father she’d given the gun and grenades to—wrapped the rope around the neck of a sentient and began hoisting the body up the flagpole.

Jennifer stopped, watching the scene unfold. Her eyes traveled over the sea of people.

There were no more sentients. There had been only half a dozen on patrol around the pen, but now they were all dead.

It had been Milo’s idea to free the people and give them weapons. His plan had worked. She hoped Dal’s team fared as well at the second cattle pen.

There had been casualties among the Americans. Two people in blue hospital scrubs gathered the dead and wounded on the sidewalk.

How many of them had been bitten? Jennifer’s mouth tightened at the thought. Any who had been bitten would have to be put down.

Her mind flashed back to Cassie, when her sister had held up the hand that had been bitten by the sentient.

A shiver went through her. Jennifer turned away from the wounded. It was almost more than she could take.

She focused instead on the string of bodies that dangled from the tall flagpole. More cheers went up from the people as the burly man shoved a gun into the air and fired triumphantly. Other people joined him, firing into the air.

A truck moved through the crowd. Leo’s truck, Jennifer realized. People parted for him with more cheers. Leo thrust one arm out of the truck, fist punching the sky in a gesture of victory.

She’d seen him do the same thing on the football field. It had the same effect on the people here as it had on teenage students back in high school. A wave of cheers and stomping feet rippled out from around him.

He reached the flagpole and stopped the truck. The crowd surged forward as he climbed on top of the truck. He thrust his fist into the air again, calling, “Long live America!” He repeated the chant, fist rising and falling with the cadence.

“Who is that guy?” Bernice asked. “He’s fucking hot.”

An amused smile tugged at Jennifer’s lips; Leo had that effect on women. “He’s the leader of the Snipers. His name is Leo. Have you heard of us?”

“Hell yes, I’ve heard of the Snipers.” Bernice gave her an appraising look. “You’re a Sniper?”

“Yeah.”

“No wonder you’re such a badass.” Bernice nodded in approval. “Is DJ Sniper here?” She scanned the crowd around Leo.

“There’s a second prison ground. Dal—DJ Sniper—is leading a team to free the people there. Another group of our people is attacking the downtown headquarters with a tank we stole.”

As if to emphasize her words, an explosion rocked the ground beneath their feet. A huge fireball went up in to the air from the direction of downtown. If Jennifer didn’t know better, she would have said Milo had blown up a gas station or a propane tank.

A second fireball followed the first, filling the dark sky with orange light. Screams and distant chatter followed.

“You guys are fucking badass,” Bernice said. “Can I join you? I’m ready to kill some Soviet fuckers.”

“Hell yeah, you can join us,” Jennifer said. “We’re gathering a team to—” She broke off as Leo, still on top of the truck, held up his arms and gestured for silence. A hush fell over the field.

A sensation went through her. Seeing Leo on the top of the truck cab, king of the football field, was like déjà vu.

Except this was no high school football game. The stakes had never been higher.

“My name is Leo Cecchino.” His voice carried easily over the crowd. “I am the leader of the Snipers, a resistance group from West County.”

A ripple went through the people. Jennifer saw awe in many of the faces, just like she had in Bernice’s eyes when she realized she’d been rescued by the Snipers.

“We’re here on an important mission,” Leo said, “and we need your help. Right now, a small team of Snipers has infiltrated the Livermore Lab. With them is a Russian defector who has the secret to defeating the Soviets and turning the tide of this war. As you all know, the Soviets have mutated. The zombie vaccine has turned many of them into super soldiers. You’ve all see them. They are stronger and faster than any human should be—and they feed on human brains.” A dramatic pause as he let that sink in.

“They’re turning people—people like you and me—into cattle,” Leo continued. “We’re being rounded up and turned into food for the invaders.” He paused and let an angry ripple move through the crowd. “That’s right. Not only have Russians invaded American soil and murdered us, they’re now rounding us up and using us like livestock. If they aren’t stopped, people across our country will become cattle for sentient zombies. Are we going to let them do that? Or are we going to take back our country?”

Angry shouts tore across the field. People thrust guns in the air, many of them shouting, “Take back our country!”

Leo nodded, his gaze sweeping across the gathered mass. “We need your help. Our Russian ally needs materials in the lab to create a weapon that can help us against the sentient zombies.”

Across town, Dal should be giving this same speech right about now.

“Our team in the lab is outnumbered,” Leo said. “If we’re going to take back our country, we need your help. We need people willing to go with us to the lab and fight. We need to take the lab and kill every last Soviet. Once the lab is ours, we’ll set up a production line. We’ll make this weapon and get it out there. But we can’t do it without you. We need you to join us in the fight. We need you to take the weapons we’ve given you tonight. Find cars and come with us. Help us take the lab. Help us take a lab so we can save this country. Who’s with us?” Leo thrust his gun into the air, his other arm thrown wide as he invited the crowd to answer.

A deafening roar swept through the field. It was louder than anything Jennifer had ever heard before.

It was all somehow so fitting. Leo had always been a leader on the field. Apparently it didn’t matter if he was leading teenage jocks or desperate people in the middle of war; he was still a natural.

Jennifer hustled back to the Volvo and leaped nimbly atop. “Fight for freedom,” she shouted, raising her gun into the air just as Leo had done. “Fight for freedom and kill the invaders!” Her gun was also thrust into the air.

“Fight for freedom!” The cry echoed across the field. Guns and fists went into the air.

Over the distance, she felt Leo’s gaze settle on her. It reminded her oddly of the night they’d been crowned homecoming king and queen. The applause from the gathered people, all eyes on the two of them.

We’ve come a long way, Leo Cecchino, she thought.

48

INFILTRATION

Koz drove up to the security gate of the Lawrence Livermore Lab, heart pounding in his chest. A soldier came out of the guard shack, casually holding his machine gun.

In the lights of the jeep, it was easy to see he was a sentient. Large gray patches covered his face and neck. The red eyes glinted.

Koz prepared himself, mentally taking himself back to the lab in Russia. He snatched pieces of the Koz he had been: the focused, blind patriot; the unfeeling, unquestioning man who did whatever he was ordered in the name of the Motherland. He felt himself hardening from the inside out, becoming an older version of himself.

“Glory to the Motherland,” he said sharply, expression flat as he met that of the sentient’s.

“Glory to the Motherland.” The sentient’s nostrils flared. He was scenting the air, perhaps trying to detect if Koz was also a sentient.

“Tell General Petrov that Viktor Kozlovovitch has brought him a gift.” Koz jerked his chin in the direction of his “prisoners.”

They played their parts well. Valentina and the others hunched in their seats, appearing too frightened to look up. They were dirty and blood smeared from the long journey here, making them look like Koz had dragged them through the gutter.

“What sort of gift?” The sentient came closer, eyes narrowing as he studied Koz. The man looked directly at his head—at his brains. He’d obviously figured out Koz wasn’t a sentient. His free hand slid casually toward the hammer he wore at his belt.

“Don’t even think of it, you piece of filth,” Koz snarled. “You stand here with your superior strength because of me. I dedicated my life to the nezhit virus. You call General Petrov right now and tell him Viktor Kozlovovitch is here with a gift. I didn’t make it through the hell down there”—he jabbed a finger toward the blaze spreading through downtown—“just to deal with your shit. Call the General. Now.”

This took the man aback. He blinked, staring uneasily at Koz.

“Call him,” Koz ordered, silently praying he hadn’t made a massive miscalculation. If Petrov wasn’t here, and this guard sounded the alarm, they’d all be sentient food. “Trust me when I say he wants these prisoners. Have you heard of the Snipers?”

Hesitation crept into the sentry’s posture. “The Snipers are in the north.”

“They were in the north,” Koz shot back. “Some of them still are.” He leaned forward, glaring at the man. “And some of them are right here.”

Fear got the better of the sentry. Mouth tightening, he hurried into the security shack and picked up the phone.

Air whooshed out of Koz’s throat. General Petrov really was here. The knowledge made his adrenaline hammer even harder than before. His hands tightened on the steering wheel of the jeep, his grip so firm the plastic and rubber creaked.

The sentry’s lips moved as he spoke into the phone. His eyes flicked a few times in Koz’s direction. Finally, he nodded and hung up.

The security gate began to swing open.

Koz’s heart beat even faster as the next part of the plan came into play. Dread made sweat break out across his temples.

The sentry came back out of the shack. “The general said you were not expected.” His suspicion had been replaced with perfect courtesy. Petrov probably threatened the man within an inch of his life. “Lucky for you, you fit the description of Viktor Kozlovovitch. I need to verify the contents of your vehicle first—arg!”

The sentient reeled backward, shock plain on his face.

Koz acted fast. Taking advantage of the distraction, he delivered a hard blow with the knife edge of his hand to the sentient’s nose—just as Milo had instructed them in practice.

The sentient reeled backwards, both hands going to his nose as blood gushed out.

Koz shoved open the driver’s side door, hitting the sentient. He stumbled backwards and tripped over his feet.

Koz pounced, jumping out of the car and bearing down on the sentient. He slammed his boot heel into the man’s already-wounded nose. A soft crunch sounded.

Never hesitating, Koz grabbed the knife that stuck out of the boot—a gift from Mikhail. With one decisive strike, he drove the blade through the sentient’s eye. The zombie shuddered once before going still.

Koz’s breath rasped between his lips. Mikhail wriggled out from under the jeep where he’d been hiding. He grabbed the sentient’s feet and looked up, waiting.

Koz swallowed his adrenaline and grabbed the sentient’s wrists. He and Mikhail dragged the body toward a low hedge that grew in front of the chain-link fence that surrounded the lab.

“I’ve got him.” Koz lifted up the body and dumped it behind the hedge. “You did well, Mikhail.”

“I killed a fucker.” Mikhail’s mouth was pressed into a firm line.

“Yes, you did. You were very brave.” No matter that Koz had almost given himself a heart attack worrying about the position he’d put the boy in.

In the jeep, Valentina and the others had cut themselves loose. Juli had pulled the vehicle just inside the gate. Amanda was in the security shack, smashing the security camera with the butt of her gun.

They left the gate open for Leo when he arrived with the troops. Koz drove up the long driveway that led into the massive facility. Thanks to the distraction from Milo and his mutants, the main boulevard stood empty. There wasn’t a soul in sight.

Thank you, Milo, Koz thought.

“Do you know where you’re going?” Valentina asked.

Koz nodded. “I got directions.” Or rather, Milo had gotten the necessary directions when he cut off the sentient’s fingers in the tanning salon—after he had scalped him.

As Koz turned onto a narrow street between two tan-colored buildings, he was seized with an overwhelming urge to throw the mission aside and find Petrov.

The desire was so strong, he slowed the jeep without realizing he did so. His breath came hard and fast. All he could see was Petrov’s face with his hands wrapped around the general’s throat.

“Viktor.” Valentina spoke sharply, urgently. “Why are you slowing down?”

Koz shook himself, trying to focus on his surroundings. They had less than ten minutes before Petrov guessed something was amiss. Perhaps less.

Do the right thing, Kozlovovitch, he told himself. For Polina. For Aleksander. For everyone you’ve ever murdered.

He sped up, driving deeper into the lab compound, leaving the temptation of Petrov behind.

49

CARAVAN

Jennifer leaned hard on the accelerator. The Volvo charged up a dark road that snaked through the hills. The lights of the Livermore Lab filled the windshield.

Bernice sat in the passenger’s seat. In the back were two guys and another woman, all volunteers from the football field. They were armed and ready to fight.

Behind the Volvo was a string of vehicles filled with volunteers like the ones who rode with Jennifer. Leo’s speech had rallied over a hundred fighters.

Not everyone had joined them, of course. There were some who were too frightened or stayed behind with their children.

But they had more fighters than Jennifer had dreamed possible. Dal met them on the road to the lab, leading another group of nearly a hundred fighters.

Fucking Milo, Jennifer thought in admiration. His plan had been a good one. Despite being a tragic whack job, the guy had hatched a good strategy. And his diversion had been nothing short of brilliant.

Sounds of conflict from downtown Livermore had faded, though a handful of buildings had caught fire. Flames licked at the black sky while smoke covered the streets. Any sentients left in Livermore would be busy trying to put it out while the Snipers moved in on the lab.

This was the weakest part of their plan. They would storm the campus and raise holy hell to buy Koz the time he needed to manufacture the gas. With any luck, he would release the gas before the sentients gained the upper hand.

“Cindy.” Jennifer spoke to the middle-aged woman in the backseat of the car. There had been a number of lab employees among the prisoners they had rescued, Cindy included. She’d been a receptionist.

“Yeah?”

“What kind of fencing is around the lab?”

“Chain-link with barbed wire on top. It goes around the entire facility.”

“Do you have any idea how many sentients are housed in the facility?” Jennifer asked.

“I wasn’t on shift when the invasion happened,” Cindy replied. “My daughter caught the flu and I took the day off to take care of her.” She fell silent for a moment. Jennifer guessed her daughter had died; otherwise, Cindy would be with her, not here preparing to storm a Soviet stronghold. “I don’t know how many are in the lab, but before I was captured, I saw a lot of cars coming and going from the area.”

“Where do you think we should go to find the sentients inside?”

Cindy considered the question. “Assuming they don’t come to us, I say we should go to the fire station. There are bedrooms there for the fire fighters who worked there. If I was going to house soldiers somewhere, that’s where it would be. It’s on the southeast corner of the facility. I’ll guide you there.”

Jennifer glanced in the rearview mirror at the two men who rode in the back. Neither seemed disturbed by the idea of going to look for a fight with the sentients. Good. That meant she had the right people with her.

“How old are you?” Bernice asked.

“Twenty.”

Bernice raised an appreciative eye brow. “You might want to consider law enforcement as a career. I know a lot of police officers with smaller balls than you.”

Jennifer chuckled, as did everyone else in the car. “Bernice, that is the first time someone has complimented a body part I don’t actually own.”

Bernice gave her a grin. “I just call it as I see it.”

The road curved. As Jennifer leaned into the turn, the lab entrance came into view. It was a chain-link gate on wheels—and it was wide open for them.

Jennifer grinned to herself. Koz’s team had been charged with disarming the guards in the kiosk and leaving the gate open. That meant they’d made it and were somewhere inside, hopefully making a shit ton of gas bombs to loose on the sentients.

Ahead of her, Leo led the caravan. His truck picked up speed, accelerating straight for the open gate. Chop Shop stood up in the passenger-side window, training his gun on the lab.

“Is that an alarm?” Cindy rolled down her window. The sound of a wailing siren floated into the car. “Someone sounded the alarm inside.”

“Shit.” Jennifer’s tightened her grip on the steering wheel.

The alarm could signal a lot of things. Someone could have spotted the caravan. It could have been triggered when Milo attacked the downtown headquarters. Or someone could have figured out Koz’s group had infiltrated the grounds. Whatever the reason for the alarm, it wasn’t good.

She sped up, keeping pace with Leo’s truck. As they passed the security shack, she saw it was empty.

They entered the lab compound. Low, tan buildings lined the road on either side of them. The windows, set high into the walls, were all dark.

There wasn’t a sentient in sight. The absence of the enemy seemed to be punctuated by the wailing alarm in the background.

Koz. The big Russian had better be alright. She would kick his ass if he let himself get hurt.

“Tell me how to get to the fire station,” Jennifer said.

As Cindy gave directions, Jennifer veered away from Leo’s truck. She met his eye as she turned right and he kept going forward.

It was a brief second, over almost as soon as it started. As she sped away deeper into the lab, it occurred to her that it might be the last time they ever saw each other. There was no telling who would survive the battle this night, and who would become sentient food.

Jennifer clenched her jaw. This is for you, Cassie, she thought. I’m going to kill every last zombie fucker I can get in my crosshairs.

50

ONE OF US

“Is this it?” Koz asked. “The Einstein Building?”

It looked remarkably like all the other buildings: tan on the outside with low shrubs lining the side. It sat near the northwest corner of the lab compound. The only thing that distinguished it from the other buildings was the roll-up door at the far end.

Amanda pointed to the large white letters hanging next to the door. “It says Einstein Building right there.”

“What’s the plan?” Juli asked.

“Everyone grab a box from the back of the jeep,” Koz said. “We go in through the back and find their storage rooms. Valentina, please get the flashlight.”

She nodded as everyone piled out of the jeep. Mikhail, Lena, Amanda, Juli, and Koz all grabbed boxes from the back. Glass jars clinked inside.

“What about the propane tanks?” Juli asked.

“Those are for later,” Koz said. They would be needed when the battle for the compound began.

Lucky for them, the Einstein Building lay near the periphery of the compound, away from the bright lights in the center where Petrov was stationed. It also meant there were no guards about. Everyone’s attention was focused on the unfolding melee in the town, where Leo, Dal, and Milo waged their three separate attacks.

With any luck, if a patrol came this way, they wouldn’t look twice at the Soviet jeep parked outside the building.

The back door was locked, but a small rectangle of glass sat just above the doorknob. Koz used the butt of his machine gun to smash it. He cleared the remnants away with his elbow, then reached inside and opened it.

The interior of the building was musty and cold, as though the doors hadn’t been opened in weeks. Perhaps it had been shut up since the invasion.

There was another underlying smell. It was a subtle aroma, but having spent his life in a lab, Koz recognized it right way. It was the astringent, acrid scent that could only belong to a chemical storage area.

He led the way into the building. Metal placards hung next to each of the doors along the corridor.

“These are lab workrooms.” Lena pointed to the nearest placard. “That says Lab A.” Her gaze traveled to the next door. “That’s Lab B.”

“We are looking for a room where supplies are stored,” Koz said. “Can you find this for me?”

The girls split up and hurried down the hall, scanning each door as they went. Koz brought up the rear with Mikhail and Valentina. Valentina held the large flashlight, moving it across the walls to illuminate the various placards.

Small rectangular windows sat above the doorknobs of the laboratories. He paused in front of Lab B and peered through the window.

A small light was on in a far corner, a green bulb that glowed on the bottom corner of some machine. It cast muddy light, just enough for Koz to make out the shapes of beakers, vials, and microscopes.

“Is that what you’re hoping to find?” Valentina asked.

“Yes.” The lab looked similar to his back in Russia. “We can use the equipment to make the gas.”

“Here it is.” Lena stopped in front of a nondescript metal door and pointed. “This says Chemical Storage. Authorized Personnel Only.”

“That’s us,” Juli muttered. “Authorized personnel.” She wiggled the handle. It was locked. “Time for the big guns. Literally. Everyone, get back.”

They all took several steps back as Juli pointed her machine gun at the door handle.

Koz instinctively reached for Mikhail, putting one arm around his shoulder and a hand up to shield his eyes. Mikhail wedged himself against Koz’s leg, letting Koz shield him as Juli fired at the door. The knob clunked loudly to the linoleum floor.

The smell of burned metal permeated the air. Juli kicked the door with her foot. It swung open on silent hinges.

The smell of chemicals hit Koz in the face as soon as he passed through the doorway. “This is the place.”

He flicked the light switches. Double rows of fluorescents came on, revealing a long room lined with metal racks. It looked almost exactly like the storage room back in the Experimental Science Division.

Containers with liquids of various colors filled several of the racks. The rest held large bags of powders. The materials he needed to make the gas had to be here.

The problem was that everything was labeled in English.

What made matters worse was that he had no idea how to translate ammonium nitrate and sevoflurane into English. When he’d taken English lessons from American prisoners, he hadn’t thought to learn the names of chemicals. Even if he had, it was doubtful American soldiers would have known the words for such things.

“Koz?” Juli’s eyes widened as she took in his expression. “Oh, crap. You don’t know the English names for the things we need, do you?”

He gave a grim shake of his head. “I do not.”

There was only one way through this problem. He would have to open bags and bottles and smell the contents.

“I will find what we need,” he said. “You must find burners and large containers to boil water. Search the laboratories we passed. Gather everything you find in one room.”

As the girls left, Koz drew his knife. Under normal circumstances, what he was about to do would be considered suicidal. There was no telling what he might encounter or accidentally expose himself to. But what option did they have? Hopefully, a lifetime of working with chemicals would be enough to keep him and everyone else safe.

“You might want to stand a few feet back,” he said to Valentina. “Just in case.”

“Don’t get yourself killed, Viktor,” she replied. “The Snipers need you in one piece. You’re one of us now.”

One of us.

He’d once felt like he belonged to the Experimental Science Division. When Petrov praised his work, he felt like he’d been contributing to something greater than himself—to Mother Russia herself.

It was very different when Valentina said it. Koz didn’t feel like he was adding anything to the greatness of the Motherland. He didn’t feel like he was a part of any land or country.

He felt like he was part of a family.

He turned away to hide the emotion that made his throat tight. He had a job to perform. The longer he stood around, the longer it would take to accomplish. And they had very little time to waste.

As though to confirm this thought, an alarm began to wail.

Petrov was coming for him.

“Better work fast, Viktor,” Valentina said grimly.

Koz inserted his knife into the first bag, making a long slit in the side. When white powder spilled out, he raised his knife blade and took a careful sniff.

51

LAB A

“I’ve got it.” Koz pulled two bottles of clear liquid off the shelf, adding it to the three brown bags of ammonium nitrate by the door. “This is the last ingredient.”

“You have everything we need?” Valentina asked.

“This is it.” Koz slung one of the bags over his shoulder. To Mikhail, he said, “Help Nonna lift a bag.”

The boy got one end end of the twenty-five pound bag and hefted. Valentina got on the other end. Together, they carried the bag out the door. Koz hefted the two other bags in his free arm and hurried after them.

The girls had assembled in Lab A. They had burners turned on with large metal pans of water boiling.

As Koz stooped to get through the doorway, machine gun chatter filled the night. Seconds later came explosions.

“Our people are here,” Valentina said.

“I need things for measuring.” Koz’s mind went in several directions as he tried to calculate measurements in his head. Americans did not measure things in metric as they did in Russia.

He leaned his sacks up against the wall and cut the tops open. Valentina and Mikhail added theirs to the line-up.

“Valentina, can you please get the bottles of liquid I left by the door in the chemical room?” Koz asked. “Mikhail, cut open the boxes of jars. Bring me one with a lid. Amanda, get something to measure the ingredients.”

Mikhail dashed to the boxes they’d carried in from the jeep. Amanda hurried over to a row of drawers and began to rifle through them.

Koz turned his attention to the ammonium nitrate they’d brought in from the storage room. He still didn’t know what to call the materials, so he grabbed a pen off a table and labeled them 1 and 2. Then he scrawled several calculations on the bags. First he tripled the standard measurement, then he converted everything into ounces. He wrote the corresponding measurement on each bag.

All the while, gunfire continued. From the sound of things, the conflict was moving through the compound. It wasn’t close to their building yet, but that could change at any time. They needed to work fast.

“This is the formula.” He grabbed a jar and lid they’d gotten from the hardware store. The side of the jar was printed with ounce measurements. “Three ounces of substance 1. One-and-three-quarters ounces of substance 2.” He filled the jar as he spoke, using the scoops Amanda had put into each of the bags. “Put the lid on. Gently swirl the materials.” He rotated the jar a few times, letting the chemicals mix together. “Make sure the lid is on tight. Put the jar into the boiling water until the compounds inside begin to smoke. Remove from the heat and set aside to cool.”

Another loud explosion shook the ground. Koz wasn’t sure what Leo and the rest of the Snipers were doing, but he was grateful for every second they bought his team.

“Once the materials cool, it’s ready. The jar will act as a bomb. Throw it. When the glass breaks, the mixture will come in contact to oxygen. It will transform into gas and render sentients unconscious.”

“How fast does it work?” Juli asked.

“Very fast,” Koz said. “When directly inhaled, it will knock out a zombie in less than thirty seconds.”

“Come on, guys.” Amanda moved down the long stainless steel table that sat in the center of the room. “Let's start an assembly line.”

Koz left them to it. Valentina took charge of measuring. Lena put the lids on jars and passed them to Amanda and Juli, who placed them into the boiling pans with tongs.

“Mikhail,” Koz said. “Help me find large jars.” He pointed to the cupboards that lined the room.

Mikhail beelined to them and began to rummage through them. Koz went to the opposite side of the room and began to search.

The gunfire gained intensity. It had moved closer to the lab where they worked.

“Like this?” Mikhail held up a large jar filled with rubber bands.

“Yes,” Koz said. “See if you can find more like it. I need as many as you can find.” He found two on a top shelf and pulled them out.

He grabbed the pen he’d used to calculate his first round of measurements. There was no time to look for paper so he used the wall. This time, he took the base formula and made it ten times bigger. Then he began to fill the jars.

Mikhail found him two more jars. “Do you need more?”

“This is sufficient,” Koz said. “Help Lena put the lids on the jars as Nonna fills them.”

“What are you doing?” Lena asked.

“I’m helping our friends.” Koz took the first measurement and deposited the ingredient into the jar. If he executed the next part of the plan correctly, the lab would fall to the Snipers this night.

52

FIRE STATION

Jennifer led her group into the fire station. The men on her team, Jared and Mike, fell in behind her. Cindy and Bernice brought up the rear.

“Is this a good time to tell you that you’re the same age as my daughter?” Mike asked.

Jennifer frowned at him. “How is that relevant to what we’re about to do?”

He paused, staring at her. Jennifer understood what he wasn’t saying. Mike’s daughter had died in the invasion.

“Sentient fuckers don’t care about age or gender,” she said. “They’re ruthless. We have to be the same. We’re all risking our lives for our country tonight. We’re fighting for a common cause.”

Mike’s mouth tightened as he nodded. The others made soft murmurs of agreement.

They entered the fire station through a back door Cindy knew about. It was unlocked. They slipped inside. Jennifer was on high alert, her finger poised over the trigger of her gun.

They found themselves in a narrow hallway. The right side of the wall was lined with small cubbies filled with slips of paper. It looked like office mailboxes.

Somewhere in the compound, gunfire broke out. Seconds later, grenades went off.

The battle had begun.

Past the mailboxes was a large room filled with office cubicles. Jennifer gestured for Bernice and Mike to go left. She led Cindy and Jared to the right. They swept quietly between the office cubes, pausing beside the open office doors that flanked either side of the room.

They reached the far side and came to another door. This one had a large glass window set into it.

“This leads into the living quarters of the firemen,” Cindy whispered.

As soon as she said the word, pounding footsteps came from the other side of the door. Jennifer and the others immediately dropped into a crouch, staying below the window. She peeked up and glimpsed several red-eyed sentients barreling past them.

“They’re going out the front entrance,” Cindy whispered.

Jennifer waited until the last set of footsteps faded. How many had there been? She estimated at least a dozen.

“We’re going to come up behind them,” Jennifer said. A distant part of her brain marveled that four full-grown adults, one of them a police officer, followed her without question. “Shoot as many of them as you can. Remember, only a head shot will kill them. And whatever you do, don’t let yourself get bitten.”

Her plan met no argument. She grabbed the handle of the door and pushed.

They rushed into the adjoining hall just as the last sentient disappeared from sight around a corner. Jennifer took the lead and rushed after him.

Her heart beat hard in her chest. She could be dead in the next few minutes. She thought of Mikhail.

I’ll try not to die, she said silently, wishing there was a way to get a message to him.

I’ll do my best to stay alive for you.

She paused at the corner and peeked around. Many of the sentients had already exited the fire station, but a handful remained in what looked like a giant living room. There was a foosball table, pinball machine, a big screen television, and no less than three sofas filled the room.

The back of a sentient came into view. He crouched beside the double doors that led outside. She took aim and fired.

Her bullet took him in the back of the head. She stepped fully into the open and fired at the next sentient. She dropped him just as he started to turn in her direction. Then she fired past the first two at a third sentient. Her bullet clipped him in the ear as he swung around and returned fire.

Mike knocked her out of the way and fired at the sentient. He managed to shoot the Soviet in the face, but yelped in pain as he took a bullet in the leg—a bullet meant for Jennifer.

Dammit. She leaped over him and charged farther into the room, hoping to buy him enough time to get himself to safety.

Cindy joined her. Two sentients turned to face them while the rest raced out the front door of the station.

Jennifer and Cindy threw themselves behind the nearest sofa as bullets peppered the air. Bernice appeared in the doorway, firing back at the sentients before dropping out of sight.

“They’re behind the sofa closest to the door,” Bernice called from the doorway.

“Keep them distracted,” Jennifer replied, fishing a grenade out of her cargo pants. “Get ready to duck.”

Cindy’s eyes widened at the sight of the grenade. She shielded her head with her arms as Bernice began firing.

Jennifer peeked around the edge of a long, green leather La-Z-Boy sofa and located the one closest to the door.

Pulling the pin and tossing the grenade, she shouted, “Now!” Then she dropped next to Cindy and covered her head.

Jennifer had very little experience with grenades. This was the first time she had ever used one inside a building. As soon as it went off, she realized it had not been her best idea.

The green La-Z-Boy went to pieces. The sofa she and Cindy hid behind was knocked over by the blast. It landed on top of the two women, pinning them underneath. Pieces of wall, ceiling, and sofa rained down around them.

Jennifer strained against the sofa. Her head was practically in her own crotch, thanks to the heavy piece of furniture on her back. “Cindy? You okay?”

“Yeah, I’m okay.”

“On the count of three, let’s get this thing off us. One, two, three!”

Jennifer strained, shoving upward with her hands. Cindy did the same.

The sofa flopped forward, the feet landing on the linoleum with a loud bang.

Jared and Bernice rushed into the room, both of them beelining for the remains of the green La-Z-Boy. Mike limped in after them, dragging his wounded leg.

His eyes sought out Jennifer. “You okay?”

She bristled at his concern. She didn’t come here for a father figure. “Better than you.” She regretted her harshness, but it was too late to take the words back.

“He’s still alive.” Jared aimed at the mangled torso of a Soviet. His legs were on the other side of the room, but his arms still worked. Teeth gnashing, he attempted to drag himself toward Jared.

“Take him down,” Jennifer ordered.

Jared clenched his jaw and fired. His first shot missed and hit the zombie in the shoulder. His second shot hit him in the head.

“Nice work.” She slapped him on the shoulder.

All that remained of the second sentient was a bloody mess. Jennifer couldn’t even see where the head was. Cindy gagged at the sight, turning away to hide her face.

“Come on,” Jennifer said. “We’re going after the rest of them. Mike.” She glanced at the man who stared at her like she was his lost child. “You’ll be zombie bait with that leg wound if you’re out in the open.”

His expression clearly said he didn’t want to be left behind. She kept her face hard and impassive so he wouldn’t get lost in ideas of misplaced fatherly protectiveness. “You should stay behind.”

“I’ll cover you from the doorway,” Mike said at last. “I can be helpful without getting in the way.”

Cindy shook. “I—I don’t know if I can do this.” A few tears leaked out of her eyes.

Jennifer didn’t know what to say. She wracked her brain, wishing she had Leo’s flare for pep talks.

Sudden inspiration seized her. She snapped her ankles together into a cheerleading pose.

“Be aggressive!” she chanted, clapping her hands together in time with her words. “B-E-aggressive!” She spun in a tight circle. “B-E-A-G-R-E-S-S-I-V-E!” More handclaps in time with the letters. "Beeee agressive!” She ended with a cheerleading jump, executing perfect mid-air splits.

Her team gaped at her, looking at her as though she were an alien.

“You—you’re a cheerleader,” Jared said dumbly.

“A cheerleader who’s going to help you kill fucking Soviet zombie assholes,” Jennifer corrected him. “You guys gonna just stand there, or are you with me?”

She turned without another word and charged out the door.

53

BATTLE

Jennifer exited the front door of the fire station and entered a battlefield.

Humans and sentients were everywhere. Just up the street in the middle of the road, a knot of them battled.

Cars were everywhere. Some were stopped in the middle of the street and empty. Others rolled through the chaos, people shooting at sentients from inside. One car had crashed into a building and caught fire.

Another car was in the midst of being swarmed by Soviets. The sentients dragged people out through the open windows.

No more than twenty feet away was a sentient feasting on a human. The Soviet crouched over the body, his hand buried up to the knuckles in the smashed-open head of his victim.

Jennifer tightened her grip on her gun and raced into the melee. Her first target was the sentient in the middle of his feast. He was shoving a handful of brains into his mouth when she shot him in the head.

She spun, looking for her next target, and found Bernice, Cindy, and Jared with her. A car rolled past them, four sentients spread across the roof, trunk, and hood. One of them fired through the roof of the car, trying to kill the driver. Another had a woman by the ponytail and was dragging her out the passenger-side window.

“Come on, we have to help them!” Jennifer sprinted after the car. She fired at the closest sentient, a bastard crouched on the trunk who was smashing his fists against the back window.

The car swerved off the road and plowed through a row of hedges. Her bullet clipped the side of the roof, completely missing the sentient. A loud bang reverberated through the battlefield as the car crashed into a lamppost. The front hood crumpled on impact.

One sentient was thrown through the air. He disappeared from sight as he hit the ground behind a knot of battling humans and Soviets.

Jennifer charged for the sentient who was still trying to drag a woman out of the car by her ponytail. That he’d managed to maintain his position on top of the car was nothing short of amazing.

“Help me,” the woman screamed as she caught sight of Jennifer. “Help, please!”

The sentient’s head snapped up.

Jennifer froze.

Red eyes glared at her from a face that looked almost exactly like her father’s. It wasn’t her father—she knew that—but it could have been his Russian twin. The slope of his nose, the angle of his cheekbones, the shape of his jaw, and even the light brown color of his hair.

She was sucked back through time, back to her childhood bedroom. Her father’s figure filled the doorway—except it wasn’t her father she saw, but the glaring red eyes of the sentient. Blood-smeared teeth grinned at her, promising pain of the worse kind.

Old terror rose inside her—the terror of feeling trapped in her own room. Helplessness made it difficult to breathe. Even when the sentient released the woman’s ponytail and shifted his stance, clearly intending to spring for her, she couldn’t move.

A distant part of her mind screamed at her, desperate to be heard: Shoot him! Shoot him before he tackles you!

But that part of her brain was tiny and compressed, barely a blip in the wake of the hot blaze of childhood terror. She wanted to scream, but no sound came out. She wanted to flee, to run down the stairs and away from the monster, but she couldn’t move.

The sentient sprang. Jennifer could only stand there, staring at the monster who came for her.

Right before the sentient collided with her, something smacked hard into her side. She was thrown through the air. Asphalt came up to meet her. Pain ripped up her left shoulder as her uniform sleeve was torn on impact. She rolled gracelessly across the ground, panting as she came to a stop.

A bellow of pain brought her surging to her knees. Mike lay on the ground, right where she had been. Crouched on top of him was the sentient who had come for her.

Mike had knocked her out of the way. He had saved her. You’re the same age as my daughter.

Everything happened so fast. Jennifer swiped at her gun with sweaty hands. The sentient swung a heavy wrench. Mike screamed as it connected with the front of his skull. Blood splattered into the night.

The sentient smiled as he yanked the wrench out of Mike’s battered head.

She needed to do something. Run. Shoot. Hell, even screaming would be better than nothing.

But seeing the smile on the face that looked so much like her father’s made her heart beat fast and welded her feet to the ground. It was like seeing a nightmare in the flesh—only bigger and more terrifying than she had ever realized.

“Jennifer!” Bernice and Cindy ran up to her, pulling her back from Mike and the zombie.

“You can’t do anything for him,” Bernice said. “Come on, we have to—”

Four sentients materialized out of the chaos. They sprinted toward the women, moving with eerie speed. The fifth sentient—the one who looked like her dad and feasted on Mike—was lost from sight.

A switch flipped in her brain. She abruptly remembered who she was: she was Jennifer Miola, a grown woman, and she didn’t take shit from anyone. Not her father, and certainly not an asshole who looked like her father.

The old terror of her childhood receded. She returned to herself. Her focus snapped into place as the four sentients closed in around them.

She brought up her gun and fired at the closest of them. The sentient jumped, body soaring higher than a regular human body ever could. Her bullets took him in the hip instead of the head.

He landed in a crouch, blood streaming from the wound. More blood coated his mouth and jaw. It glistened on his hand as it curled into a fist around a hammer.

He smiled at her, and Jennifer saw her own death in his eyes.

54

LIFE

The smell of burning rubber filled Koz’s nostrils as he drove the jeep through the lab compound. He cursed his lack of a map as he rounded a corner and found himself faced with a dead end.

Snarling in frustration, he threw the jeep into reverse and tore back down the narrow street. Tires squealed as he zoomed back into the intersection and hit the brakes.

His gaze pinned on the plume of smoke rising into the sky. It was somewhere near the center of the compound. That’s where the main battle raged. That’s where he had to go.

He took the next right and sped down the road. At the next intersection, he followed the plume of smoke and turned left. One of the propane tanks in the back clanked as it rolled with the turn.

The sound of gunfire grew louder. He was close to the battle. He could feel it.

This was it. The moment of reckoning. His first of many strikes against those who had killed his family and many other innocents.

He took the next right turn—and abruptly found himself in the middle of the battlefield. People and sentients were everywhere. Cars crammed the road, some of them moving, some of them crashed and abandoned. Dead humans, dead sentients, and knots of battles were everywhere.

Half a block down, fire raged. The back end of a car stuck out from the crumpled side of a building. The engine had caught fire in the crash.

It was perfect.

Koz set his sights on the burning building and drove straight through the melee. He hunched down behind the steering wheel, doing his best to make himself a small target. Bullets zinged through the air. One cracked his front windshield.

He sped up, worried one of the propane tanks would be hit while he was still in the car. Beside him on the passenger seat were the four large jars of sleeping gas he’d mixed.

A knot of battling humans and sentients boiled in front of the jeep. Koz jerked the steering wheel and drove up onto the sidewalk. The bottom of the jeep scraped against a small hedge that grew between the sidewalk and the grass in front of the building.

The door to the building opened. Three figures hurried down the steps.

The headlight beams illuminated three Soviet uniforms. Pins of rank flashed on the breast of the man in the middle.

Koz felt his heart skip. He hit the brakes without meaning to.

His eyes stuck on the glinting military pins. He traced the profile of the man who wore them. The large gut, sagging jowls, and thinning hair were unmistakeable.

The man hadn’t always looked like that. There had been a time when he’d been fit and trim with gleaming hair. Time and age had weathered him into the man who now rushed past Koz without seeing him.

Petrov. It was General Petrov—the man Koz hated more than anyone else in the world.

He slipped out of the headlight beams and into a car that sat in front of the building. It was a nondescript burgundy vehicle with four doors.

By the time Koz’s brain started working, the red tail lights of the car flared to life. It rolled forward.

To his horror, Koz realized General Petrov was evacuating. He was trying to escape.

“No,” he growled. His feet went down on the accelerator. The jeep leaped forward. “You’re not getting away, you fucking bastard.”

No way was he going to allow Petrov to slip out of the lab under the cover of battle. The man was not going to escape, not if Koz had anything to say about it. He would chase Petrov to the end of the earth if he had to. He would—

“Koz! Jennifer is in trouble.”

Koz did a double take as Mikhail climbed out from beneath the tarps covering the propane tanks. The boy slid into the front seat, gesturing wildly with his hands. “Jennifer! Koz, look, she’s in trouble!”

He tore his eyes from the red tail lights of Petrov’s car and followed Mikhail’s pointing finger.

Sure enough, there was Jennifer. She stood in the road near a car that had crashed into a lamppost. She stood back-to-back with two women, one of them a tall black woman, the other a light-haired woman in clothes that had once been tailored.

Four sentients closed in on the women. Koz hit the brakes a second time. Conflict made his knuckles white around the steering wheel. His eyes flicked back and forth between Jennifer and the receding taillights of Petrov’s getaway car.

Jennifer. Petrov. Jennifer. Petrov.

Indecision froze Koz in place as the seconds ticked by.

“Jennifer!”

Mikhail leaped out of the car and charged into the fray. His yellow and black shirt was a bright streak amidst the chaos. He dashed to where Jennifer stood, calling her name. “Jennifer! Jennifer!” He scooped up a discarded gun off the ground and continued to race toward her.

Time elongated. Everything around Koz moved in slow motion as his eyes locked on Mikhail’s tattered bee shirt.

Polina.

When she had first sent him the honey bee, it had been to save his life.

When she sent it a second time, it had been to save Mikhail’s life.

And when she had sent it the third time, it had been to save Juli and the Snipers.

And here she was again. Koz knew it in his heart. His wife was right beside him. The smell of her soap was more pungent than the smoke that filled the air.

“Polina,” he whispered. “Help me.”

And like a clap of thunder, he understood what his wife was trying to tell him.

The world sped back into motion. Sound crashed in around him. The smell of battle hit his nostrils. Smoke and fire mixed with the sharp tang of gunfire and blood.

Polina didn’t care about vengeance. She didn’t care about Petrov. All his Polina wanted was for him to save lives. The best way for him to earn redemption—the only way—was to save lives, not end them.

And the best way to save Jennifer and many others was to set off his smoke bombs.

“I understand, my heart. I understand.”

Koz dismissed Petrov from his mind and set his sights on the burning building. He hit the accelerator, driving straight for it. The liquid smoke bombs sloshed in the seat next to him.

The jeep plowed through another row of hedges, leaped off the curb, and hit the street. Koz rammed one of the sentients closing in on Jennifer, sending the man flying. He connected with the side of the building in a bloody smear and slid to the ground.

There wasn’t time to see if he was still alive. Koz kept driving.

Jennifer’s wide eyes met his for a brief second. Then Koz was speeding away, all his attention on the burning building. The jeep leaped up the second curb as he drove up onto the grass. He sped up and threw open the driver’s side door.

Time to save lives.

Right before the the jeep collided with the fire, Koz leapt free. He rolled roughly across the ground and smacked into the side of the building.

Scrambling to his feet, he broke into a run right as the jeep plowed into the flames. He picked up speed, putting as much distance as possible between himself and the jeep filled with no less than ten propane tanks.

The explosion hit him from behind.

55

NIGHTMARE

Jennifer met Koz’s eyes for a brief second before the melee swallowed him whole. He had eliminated one of the four sentients, but that still left three of them.

Behind her, Bernice and Cindy were both screaming. She felt them moving against her back, heard the chatter of their machine guns, but she only had eyes for the sentient who came for her. He raised his hammer, preparing to throw it at her.

He released the hammer. Jennifer had two choices; she could fire at the sentient and risk being struck, or she could use the gun to deflect the hammer.

Survival instinct kicked in. She brought the gun up defensively in front of her, barely managing to knock the hammer aside. It scraped painfully against her knuckles.

The sentient leaped for her.

A small form in a tattered, yellow-and-black shirt raced in between her and the oncoming sentient. Little Mikhail screamed in defiance. He gripped a machine gun in his hands and fired.

The force of the recoil threw him back on his butt. Bullets ripped up the front of the sentient’s chest, but missed his head.

It was enough to slow him down. The sentient reeled from the attack, fingers clawing at the blood that welled from his wounds.

It was the opening Jennifer needed. She leaped over Mikhail and fired right into the sentient’s face.

“Jennifer!” She turned as Mikhail ran to her. He barreled into her arms, flinging his arms around her waist.

Tears rushed to her eyes. “Are you okay?” She crushed him in a hug. “You aren’t hurt, are you? Is this your first time firing a gun?” He could have hurt himself.

He replied to her in rapid Russian. She caught the word Kozlovovitch as he gestured wildly with his hands.

“Kozlovovitch,” he said again, another long string of Russian following the name. “Kozlovovitch!”

“What are you trying to tell me? Is Koz in trouble?” she asked. “Is he—”

A huge explosion rent the air. Jennifer had only an instant to see that it came from the direction of the car that had crashed into the building and started the fire. Then she threw herself over Mikhail as chunks of metal and sheetrock shot outward in the blast.

She squeezed him tightly in her arms, pinning him to the ground. A heavy piece of shrapnel bounced against her back. She gasped in pain, arms cinching even more tightly around Mikhail.

She held onto him as tears leaked out of her eyes. Why was she crying? She had no idea.

Her mind’s eye kept seeing the way Mikhail had leaped between her and the sentient. The way he had fired that gun and risked his own life to save her. He’d been so fierce, so determined, so powerful despite his smallness.

“You’re beautiful,” she murmured into him. Her tears soaked the back of his striped shirt. “You’re so god damn beautiful, you little shit. So god damn beautiful.” She tried to say more, but her words were lost in a sob. She held onto Mikhail like her life depended on it.

56

ASLEEP

Koz picked himself off the ground, wrapping his elbow around his nose to protect himself from the smoke.

A piece of metal stuck out from his leg. It looked like a piece of the jeep. He limped away from the fire that quickly spread, eating up the building where he had sent the propane tanks to explode.

Mixed with the smoke of the fire was another scent. It was subtle, but Koz had worked with it enough over the years to recognize the sleeping gas that would neutralize zombies. It had a slightly rotten, acrid smell, almost like overripe fruit. It rolled across the battlefield as smoke billowed up and out.

He limped onto the road and paused long enough to wrench the shrapnel from his leg. Valentina would need to give him stitches.

Suddenly exhausted, he sat on a curb across from the flames.

I did it, Polina.

He had chosen to save lives, as she had wanted. Warm satisfaction mixed with deep fatigue.

The first thick wave of smoke hit a battling knot of humans and sentients. As soon as the gas rolled over the sentients, they swayed on their feet. They waved hands in front of their faces, as though the gesture could dispel the smoke.

Within seconds, they were unconscious on the ground.

One by one, all across the battlefield, sentients passed out. They dropped wherever they stood. Weapons clattered to the ground.

Only the Snipers understood what was happening. From somewhere across the battlefield, Anton gave a great whoop. Koz couldn’t see him through the smoke and darkness, but his voice was unmistakable.

“The sentients are going down,” Anton crowed. “Fucking communist zombie bastards are going down. This is the secret fucking weapon, people. We are taking back our country!”

Anton materialized out of the smoke. Somewhere between here and West County, he’d lost his limp. His scarred face made him look like the seasoned warrior he was.

He raised his gun into the air. “Long live the red, white, and blue, mother fuckers!” Anton fired his gun a few times into the air. “Let’s go kill us some zombie bastards.” He emphasized this point by firing into the head of a prone sentient on the ground.

Stirred by Anton’s words, the crowd began to move. Guns went off as people shot unconscious sentients.

Koz scanned the area, looking for Jennifer and Mikhail. Were they safe? Had he detonated the gas in time to save them?

Mikhail’s vibrant shirt caught his eye. The boy was alive and in one piece. As was Jennifer. She stood with Mikhail. They shifted in and out of sight as people and smoke drifted in front of Koz.

They were safe. Koz let out a long exhalation. He’d detonated the bomb in time.

He searched inside himself as he watched Americans kill his former countrymen. He looked for remorse or regret—anything to indicate he’d done the wrong thing.

All he felt was peace. Yes, his actions were causing the death of sentients, but sentient zombies were an aberration. They could not be allowed to spread, or all of humanity would be lost. He had done the right thing.

He saw Polina’s smile clearly in his mind. It was her big one, the one that went from the corners of her mouth all the way up to her eyes.

And he heard her say, “Well done, my heart.” It may have been his imagination, but he felt it so strongly in his heart that he started to cry.

57

WRENCH

Cindy was dead. Bernice was still alive, though nursing an arm that had been badly injured from a wrench when a sentient tried to club her. Jared was unaccounted for.

All around Jennifer were unconscious sentients. People ran through the streets, shooting them in the head. It didn’t matter if a sentient had already been shot. People shot the same body multiple times.

Anton stood in the middle of everything. He’d climbed onto the hood of the car with an American flag. Where he’d found it, Jennifer had no idea.

Anton held the flag in both hands, shouting to the people. “Kill those fuckers! That’s right, just shoot them in the head. No fucking mercy, you hear me? The Snipers sacrificed everything to be here tonight. Our Russian ally made all this possible. We are going to take our country back. We’re going to make more of these fucking gas bombs and take out the sentients. It’s going to be like this in every state. I fucking survived a KGB torture chamber to be here with all of you tonight.”

Anton’s words moved the people. Hope painted their faces. Whoops of triumph went up. Guns continued to go off as more unconscious sentients were killed.

Jennifer hadn’t heard him talk this much since before the war. It was good to see a little of the old Anton. Although, if Nonna was anywhere, she’d probably throw a shoe at him for all his foul language.

“Jen?” Footsteps pounded behind her. Someone grabbed her by the shoulder and spun her around. “Jen?”

Leo stood in front of her, hands resting on her shoulders as he looked her up and down. His face was streaked with soot and spattered with blood.

“I’m okay. You?” She scanned his body, searching for wounds.

“I’m okay.” His shoulders dropped with relief as his hands fell away. “I was almost overrun, but Koz came through just in time.”

“For me, too.” She glanced at Anton. “I think your brother has a new calling.”

“We need to get him on the radio waves with Dal. We found a tower a few streets over. We’re getting the word out as soon as we can.”

It almost felt like being back at the Cecchino cabin. Almost.

“Leo, can you watch Mikhail for a second, please? I need to do something.” Her lips compressed into a hard line as she glanced at the unconscious sentient who had killed Mike. The man barely knew her, and yet he’d sacrificed himself to save her because she reminded him of his daughter.

It was more than her own father would have ever done.

“I can watch him,” Leo said. “Where are you going?”

Jennifer didn’t answer. “Make sure he doesn’t watch, okay?”

She approached the bodies, forcing herself to look at Mike’s smashed head. She tried to picture his face superimposed on the bloody mess, but found it impossible. Her mind held no firm memory of Mike.

She’d known him for less than an hour. He’d ridden in the back seat of her Volvo. He’d followed her into battle, yet she’d never had the chance to properly absorb his features. All she carried was a hazy impression of shaggy, dark hair laced with gray.

It would have to be enough.

Holding onto the memory of his hair and indistinct features, she picked up the gore-coated wrench. Pieces of Mike were stuck all over the rusted metal.

Drawing in a long breath, she forced herself to face the unconscious sentient. He was flat on his stomach, a lumpy mass of brains still gripped in one hand. He’d been in the middle of eating Mike when Koz’s sleeping gas knocked him out.

She pressed a bloody tennis shoe to his ribcage and flipped him over.

The blood-smeared face didn’t just resemble her father. It looked like his doppelgänger.

The old fear stole up her spine. Jennifer ground her teeth and clenched the wrench between both hands, fighting emotions that threatened to overwhelm her.

Mikhail had faced death to save her. He had more courage than she’d ever had. She’d almost died today because she’d been too frightened to defend herself.

It ends today, she told herself. She would be brave and fierce like Mikhail.

With a scream, she brought the wrench down on the sentient’s face. The cheek bone shattered beneath the blow.

The wrench came down again, this time smashing his nose and part of the eye socket.

A scream burst from her throat. It went on, and on, and on. Jennifer couldn’t have stopped if she tried.

She beat the sentient’s face until it was a pulpy mess. It was more than enough, but adrenaline hammered in her temples. She was still screaming.

Her body moved of its own accord. The wrench came down on the sentient’s chest.

Time stretched. It was just her, her father, the wrench, years of pent-up rage and terror finally gushing out of her.

* * *

When it was over, Jennifer stared at what she had done. She was too exhausted to feel anything more than relief. She could sleep for a week.

The wrench fell from her fingers. She turned to where she had left Mikhail with Leo. True to his word, Leo had the little boy sheltered from her. He held him firmly against his chest, not letting him look even when Mikhail struggled.

As Jennifer crossed to them, Leo finally released the boy.

“Jennifer!” Mikhail ran to her.

She caught him in a fierce a hug. Her eyes met Leo’s as she squeezed Mikhail tight.

Leo stared back at her as though seeing a stranger. She was too exhausted to deflect him with a snarky or rude comment. All she could do was hold Mikhail and feel grateful that he was alive—alive, and strong.

58

SURVIVORS

Jennifer stood in the window of the fire station. The tall, two-story building was smudged with soot from the fire that had burned down two buildings before they’d managed to put it out. If there hadn’t been a fire station in the compound, they would have lost a lot more, possibly the entire Livermore Lab.

A ladder leaned up against the outside wall of the fire station. Stretched out from the ladder was a long line of people. More people gathered beneath the ladder, all of them standing against the wall with black Sharpies in hand. Someone had found a supply closet and passed out several boxes of pens.

On the wall were names. Dozens and dozens of names. There would be hundreds before the day was through.

It had been Leo’s idea to recreate a Wall of Not Forgotten in the lab compound. The survivors needed a place to remember the lost.

Yet another reason why Leo was such a good leader. He had a heart. He knew what people needed.

She would write Cindy’s name on that wall. And Mike’s. Their names needed to be remembered. But she would do it later, when there weren’t so many people. She didn’t feel like dealing with a crowd this morning.

“Jen?”

She turned to find Leo regarding her from beside the foosball table. The Snipers had taken up residence in the fire station. His wet hair curled around his ears, telling her he’d just showered.

They hadn’t spoken since the incident with the wrench. She suspected he’d been avoiding her, but it was hard to be certain. Leo was literally the most popular man on campus—again.

In high school, he’d been popular for his good looks and his prowess on the football field. In war, he was popular because he gave people hope.

“Hey, Leo.” She gave him a tired smile. She’d been promising herself a shower for the past twenty-four hours, yet somehow still hadn’t made it happen.

At least she’d gotten Mikhail to wash. That was more important anyway.

“How are you doing?” Leo crossed the room to stand beside her at the window.

“I’m okay. How about you?” She searched his face. Fatigue pinched the skin around his eyes and mouth. “You look like you could use a nap.”

He barked a laugh. “I feel like I could sleep for a week straight.”

“Me, too.” She smiled. “Let me guess. There’s no chance of a proper night’s sleep until the war is over?”

“Yeah.” He ran a hand through his shaggy hair, a familiar, unconscious gesture that warmed her. “Jen …”

“What?” She braced herself for what she knew was coming.

His eyes darted to her face before he looked back out the window to the line of people standing before the Wall of Not Forgotten.

“That sentient you killed—when you had me watch Mikhail. He looked like …” He trailed off, once again looking at her.

Jennifer’s heart fluttered with dread. She swallowed but forced herself not to look away. She wasn’t going to say it for him, but she wasn’t going to run from him, either.

“Did something happen with your dad?” Leo blurted. He shifted, clearly uncomfortable with the question. “Did he do something to you?” He swallowed, but his eyes never left her face.

Jennifer closed her eyes. Did something happen with your dad? Dread melted away. Replacing it was exhaustion—bone-deep exhaustion she realized she’d been carrying around for years.

When she opened her eyes again, she didn’t feel afraid. She felt like she was Mikhail taking on a bigger and stronger enemy.

When she looked at Leo, she felt brave for the first time since she’d known him. “Yeah, Leo. Lots of things happened with my dad.”

She didn’t elaborate. She didn’t need to. Leo understand. She saw in the way his eyes rounded with shock, in the way his bottom lip sagged open with sorrow.

“I—I didn’t know—”

“No one knew, Leo.” She reached out and took his hand. Was it odd that she wanted to comfort him? “I never told you, but you saved me from him.”

“I did?” His brow furrowed in confusion.

* * *

She waited for a night when Cassie went to Amanda’s for a sleepover. When Dad came into her room, she switched on the nightstand lamp and pulled the portable phone out from under her covers.

She made eye contact as she hit the “on” button. The soft hum of the receiver filled the space between them.

“Come any closer and I’ll call 9-1-1-,” she said flatly. Terror hammered in her veins, but she clung to the memory of Leo and his love. She only wanted to be touched by someone who looked at her the way Leo looked at her.

“You don’t want to do that, honey,” Dad said.

“No, I don’t,” she replied. “But it’s what I’ll do if you come any closer. You’re not allowed in my room ever again.”

“Sweetie—” He took a step forward.

Jennifer jammed her finger down on the number nine. The blare of the button made her heart pound.

She was terrified of what would happen if people found out what her dad was doing to her. She didn’t want anyone to know. She didn’t want to imagine the looks on Cassie and her mom’s face if they found out. But the idea of people knowing was less scary than the idea of letting him come one inch closer.

“I’ll do it.” Jennifer shifted onto her knees, ready to make a run for it if he tried to come for her. She glared at him, fighting back the tears of fear that built up behind her eyes. “Don’t make me do it, Dad.”

“Honey—”

She slammed her finger down on the number one. Her heart beat so hard her head swam. She worried she might faint. What would happen if she fainted? What would he do to her?

Her breaths came short and fast. Blood pounded in her temples. She couldn’t let him get the upper hand. Never again.

Her finger tensed, ready to slam down on the number one a second time.

Her dad must have seen the resolution in her eyes. He held up his hands and took a step back.

“Fine,” he snapped.

“Get out,” she snarled. “Don’t ever come in here again. Ever.”

He glared at her, but his feet moved backwards.

When they crossed the threshold of her door, she said, “If you ever lay a finger on Cassie, I’ll know. I’ll make sure you rot in a jail cell for the rest of your life. I mean it, Dad.”

He left without another word.

Jennifer closed her door. With tears streaming down her face, she shoved the dresser in front of it. Then she curled up on the bed and cried herself to sleep.

* * *

A tremor went through Jennifer’s fingers as she gripped Leo’s hands. “Do you remember the first time we slept together in the apple orchard?”

“In the back of my truck.” He nodded, eyes going distant at the memory. “I had bruises on my knees from the truck bed.”

A strange sound bubbled up from Jennifer’s throat. It took her a second to realize it was laughter. “You never told me that.”

“Please. Like the great Leo Cecchino would have admitted to having bruises on his knees from losing his virginity in the back of his truck. I felt like an amateur.”

“Technically, you were an amateur.”

This time, he laughed. Then they laughed together, sharing a smile that warmed Jennifer all the way to her toes. Her courage flared.

“It was being with you that made me realize just how fucked up things were with my dad. It gave me the courage—” Her breath caught as emotion tightened her chest and threatened to make her cry. When a tear leaked out of one eye, she decided to let it go. “You showed me what it was supposed to be like, Leo. My dad—my dad never touched me after that night with you.”

More tears slid out of her eyes. She blinked, but forced herself to let Leo see her. She owed him that much.

“You fought him?” Leo asked.

“Yeah. With a telephone.”

“What about Cassie?” Leo’s hand came up to brush the black knight pendant he wore from a string around his neck. That had been Cassie’s favorite chess piece. “Did he—?”

“Never.” Jennifer’s voice was fierce. “He never touched her. I would have killed him. I think he knew it. After we were together, I threatened to call the cops if he ever touched me again. I told him I’d do the same if he ever so much as looked wrong at Cassie. I protected her, Leo. It’s why—” She paused to swallow and gather herself. “It’s why it took me so long to fight back. I was afraid he’d hurt Cassie instead.”

The lie felt heavy in her chest. Leo deserved better. She licked her lips and said, “No, that’s not true. I mean, it is. I did want to protect Cassie. But I was—” Her voice dropped to a whisper. “I was scared, Leo. I was so scared of him.”

A shudder went through her. More tears gushed from her eyes. “But I did fight him. I did. Finally, after you and I were together. You showed me how it was supposed to be between two people.”

She wanted to hide, but she didn’t. She forced herself to look into his eyes, to see what he thought of her now that he knew the truth.

“You’re so strong, Jennifer.” He raised a hand to her cheek, a gentle thumb wiping at her tears. “I’m sorry that happened to you.” His eyes were warm and sad when he smiled at her.

Another shudder went through her. She felt like a rag doll popping apart at the seams, all the careful stitching finally wearing away under years of pressure.

She began to cry. Big, crushing sobs that broke from her chest. Leo pulled her into a hug, arms cradling her while she cried into his shirt. He didn’t speak, didn’t try to soothe her with meaningless words. He just held her and let her cry.

It was like being seen for the first time in her life.

EPILOGUE

BLACK KNIGHT

After securing the lab, Leo led the people back into the town of Livermore. Armed with several hundred gas bombs made in glass jars, they attacked what remained of the downtown headquarters.

Within the day, they cleared Livermore of the Soviets.

They had found Milo’s tank. It was a burned-out husk. A small part of Jennifer hoped the crazy man would still be alive, but they’d found the remains of his body inside. There were no signs of his mutants. Jennifer guessed they were either dead or had fled. Anton had taken it upon himself to spread the story of Milo’s sacrifice.

Many people had returned to the Livermore Lab with the Snipers—more than they had left with. Big groups came with kids and grandparents. More people showed up asking to join the Snipers and be a part of the fight.

Everyone wanted to be in the compound. The firehouse was large enough for the West County Snipers, but the lab was not set up to house several hundred people.

Nonna had taken charge of organizing everyone. She sent out scavenging teams to bring back blankets, sleeping bags, and mattresses. She assigned sleeping quarters and kept a roster.

Dal’s focus became the radio tower in the lab compound. He and Anton shared the mic. Anton relayed the story of the Snipers, telling the world how they had the secret to killing sentient zombies. He left out the small fact they had a Russian ally, something Koz had insisted on.

“My superior is still out there,” he said. “If he finds out I am with the Snipers, he will guess what our weapon is.”

It was enough for people to know there was a way to fight back—that there was hope they could win their country back.

Dal invited people to travel to Livermore. He asked for everyone who wanted to join the fight to come to Livermore.

Koz, Amanda, and Juli took charge of bomb production. Many of the people who came to the lab had been former employees. Several scientists stepped forward to help the production team. They knew their way around the equipment, and soon the group was making real bombs in metal canisters. It wasn’t long before they had a hefty stockpile.

Lena set up a recruitment center, where people could sign up to be a Sniper and join the resistance.

Once someone signed up to be a Sniper, Leo took charge of organizing them. His first order of business was fortifying the lab’s perimeter defenses. The chain-link fence wasn’t enough.

A new recruit had worked at a nearby storage facility. With his help, Leo had portable storage units brought in and set up around the lab. The great metal boxes served as the wall. He created a guard rotation. Soon, patrols could be seen on top of the containers at all hours of the day.

Spill and Bruce created scavenging teams. They led groups out into Livermore to look for survivors and gather supplies. They came back every day with more and more of the things needed by a small community. Everything from toiletries, to clothing, to food.

Jennifer had set up a training camp for all new Snipers. Chop Shop picked up where Milo had left off, teaching hand-to-hand combat.

She made sure everyone knew they could bring their children to combat practice. She attended every day with Mikhail. Once people saw him training, others began to bring their kids. Soon, they had groups of kids and teenagers training every day.

Day by day, the community grew and strengthened. What started as a small resistance group in the Cecchino cabin morphed into something else.

When Jennifer paused to look back on what they were building, she saw hope. There was no telling what tomorrow would bring, but for today, hope was enough.

* * *

Jennifer walked hand-in-hand with Mikhail back to the fire station after combat practice. He was wound up from today’s lesson, where he’d managed to get the upper hand on an older boy who had at least twenty pounds on him. He talked non-stop, his Russian mixed with a few English words.

When they reached the firehouse, Jennifer planted a kiss on his head. Then she put one hand on her hip and raised a brow at him, speaking one word: “Shower.”

Mikhail scowled and made a sound of disgust that was neither Russian nor English, though perfectly understandable to everyone.

Koz chuckled from where he sat on the sofa, eating a sandwich.

“Lunch break?” Jennifer asked, heading to the kitchen that was attached to the big family room.

“I have decided that I very much like tuna,” Koz replied. “Lena makes a very good tuna sandwich.”

“Lucky for you, Bruce’s team brought back several dozen cases of canned tuna,” Jennifer said. “You’re probably going to get sick of it.”

“Doubtful,” Koz said. “What is this white binding agent?” He peeled back two pieces of bread, peering at the mashed mixture inside.

“Mayonnaise. Don’t you guys have mayo in Russia?”

“My Polina made something like it, but the flavor is not the same.” Koz pressed the slices of bread back together and tossed the rest of the sandwich into his mouth.

“Mikhail likes it, too.”

“I think he would eat a metal fork if you tried to feed it to him.”

Jennifer snickered. It was true. Mikhail ate everything. He ate so fast, she was pretty sure he didn’t taste anything before it went down his throat.

She made two tuna sandwiches. The bread was stale, but who cared? Once she toasted it, she didn’t even notice.

“We must speak about your language,” Koz said. “Mikhail picks up bad words from you.”

Jennifer snorted. “All kids pick up bad words.”

“It is not proper.”

“We can clean up his language when the war is over. How’s that?”

“Then you must answer to Valentina Cecchino the next time he says fucker in front of her.”

Jennifer couldn’t help it. She burst out laughing. “He said that in front of her?”

“Yes.” He gave her a severe frown. “I had to pretend it was a Russian word.”

Jennifer laughed harder. After a moment, Koz joined her. He had a big chuckle that made his whole body shake with mirth. They grinned at each other. It felt good to laugh.

“How is Polina?” she asked as their mirth faded, glancing at the doorway that led to the sleeping quarters as she waited for Mikhail to return from his shower. “Has she brought anymore bees to you?”

“Bees, no. But she is with me every day.”

“Have you proven that scientifically?” When Koz scowled at her, she said, “Well, you are a scientist.”

“Yes, I am a scientist. But this war has taught me that there is truth beyond science.”

“Is that a fancy way of saying you believe Polina is here, but you can’t actually prove it?”

Koz put a hand over his chest, face solemn. “I feel her here.” His large hand patted his heart. “My wife is with me. I know it for certain.”

Jennifer felt a little deflated, like someone had given Koz a gift she could never hope to have. She would give anything to have his certainty.

“And how about you?” Koz asked. “What of your sister?”

“What about her?” Jennifer poked at her sandwich. It didn’t look as appetizing as it had a few minutes ago. What was taking Mikhail so long, anyway?

“Do you not feel her in your heart?”

Jennifer opened her mouth to answer. No, I don’t feel her. Cassie is gone, end of story.

But the words never came out, because at the moment, Mikhail came back from showering.

Beadlets of water dripped from the end of his hair, making small rivulets across his nose and cheeks. He’d put on a clean pair of clothes.

That was a nice change of pace. Half the time, she had to wheedle him into clean clothes. Why he liked to wear his dirty ones was beyond her. Maybe Leo could shed some insight into the strange minds of little boys for her.

“Jennifer?” Mikhail crossed the room to where she sat on the sofa with Koz. In his left arm was a small rectangular box that rattled when he moved.

It was a game box, Jennifer realized.

“I made you lunch.” She held up the plate and smiled.

For once, Mikhail didn’t seem the least bit interested in food. “Play?” He set the box down on the coffee table.

That’s when Jennifer realized it was a chess set. It was the pieces that rattled inside the box.

“Play?” Mikhail said again, then spoke several rapid sentences in Russian.

“His parents used to play with him.” Koz smiled. “He’d like to play with you, Jennifer.”

“Play?” Mikhail extended his hand to Jennifer and opened his palm. “Please, play?”

“Sure, I’ll play, but I should warn you that I’m no expert. That was my sister’s area of expertise …” Jennifer’s words died on her tongue.

Nestled in Mikhail’s palm, angled so that Jennifer could see it perfectly, was a chess piece.

It was a black knight.

Cassie’s favorite piece.

THE END

* * *

Discover the origin of Koz, the man who helped make the nezhit virus. Join my newsletter and receive your FREE Zommunist Invasion origin story!

Get your story at subscribepage.com/nezhit

Don’t miss thrilling conclusion coming in late 2022! Pre-order Black Knight, Zommunist Invasion 5: getbook.at/blackknight