Red Virus
Zommunist Invasion, Volume 1
Camille Picott
Published by Camille Picott, 2020.
This is a work of fiction. Similarities to real people, places, or events are entirely coincidental.
RED VIRUS
First edition. October 1, 2020.
Copyright © 2020 Camille Picott.
Written by Camille Picott.
Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright Page
RED VIRUS
Prologue | Best Friends
Chapter 1 | Breakfast
Chapter 2 | Apples
Chapter 3 | Ex-Ballerina
Chapter 4 | Charter Bus
Chapter 5 | Triage
Chapter 6 | Invasion
Chapter 7 | Pole Mountain
Chapter 8 | Two Trucks
Chapter 9 | Streets of Rossi
Chapter 10 | Radio Station
Chapter 11 | Inoculation
Chapter 12 | Broadcast
Chapter 13 | Detour
Chapter 14 | Domestic Violence
Chapter 15 | Visitor
Chapter 16 | Inhuman
Chapter 17 | Poker
Chapter 18 | Reanimated
Chapter 19 | Rage
Chapter 20 | Campus
Chapter 21 | Nezhit
Chapter 22 | Trapped
Chapter 23 | Neighbors
Chapter 24 | Ambush
Chapter 25 | Sniper
Chapter 26 | Rising Dead
Chapter 27 | Horses
Chapter 28 | Homeward
Chapter 29 | Dance
Chapter 30 | Homecoming
Chapter 31 | Plan
Chapter 32 | Cookbook
Chapter 33 | Apology
Chapter 34 | Fifth Grade
Chapter 35 | Bastopol High
Chapter 36 | Choices
Chapter 37 | Hammer to Fall
Chapter 38 | Statue of Liberty
Chapter 39 | Guy’s Electronic Superstore
Chapter 40 | Time’s Up
Chapter 41 | Deejay Sniper
Chapter 42 | Kill Box
Chapter 43 | Touchdown
Chapter 44 | Antenna
Chapter 45 | Not Special
Chapter 46 | Not Forgotten
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Author’s Note
Acknowledgements
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RED VIRUS
ZOMMUNIST INVASION
BOOK 1
by Camille Picott
Copyright 2020
PrologueBest Friends
DAL TAPPED ON THE DARK bedroom window with his finger. Rain sluiced down on his head in a cold barrage as he waited for his best friend to answer.
The bedroom window remained dark. Dal knocked again, shivering from the cold and wet. Water pooled around his bare feet on the muddy ground. He should have grabbed shoes.
The chilly water dulled the throbbing in his face. Unfortunately, it didn’t do shit for the pain in his ribcage.
“Dal?” A pale face with dark, disheveled hair appeared. His best friend Leo threw open his bedroom window. “Dal, you okay?”
“I couldn’t stay at home.” Dal had tried. He tried to go to bed with a throbbing body while the war between his parents waged in the living room. For over three hours, he’d tried. Their shouting was like scars in his ears.
Dal wiped water from his eyes. It was water, not tears.
Leo’s mouth tightened as his eyes took in Dal’s face. Dal had no idea what it looked like. Based on the amount of blood that had spurted from his nose, he probably looked like he took a header into a ditch. Except Leo would know it wasn’t a ditch that had connected with Dal’s face.
“Come inside.” Leo popped out the screen.
Dal pushed up on the window ledge, feet squelching in the mud as he jumped. Leo switched on the light as Dal climbed inside.
In the bottom bunk of the bed, Anton, Leo’s little brother, muttered in his sleep and turned away from the light. Dal was thankful the younger boy could sleep through anything.
He wanted to turn away from the light and hide his face. But Leo was his best friend. Leo knew the truth about Dal’s dad. He didn’t have to hide from him.
Dal stood just inside the window, letting the lamp light illuminate him. His bloody nose, bruises, and the cuts were completely exposed. His ripped jeans and his muddy bare feet topped everything off. He let Leo see it all.
Leo heaved a small, sad sigh, his shoulders sagging as he took in Dal’s busted form. “What was it this time?”
“Mom undercooked the rice.” Thinking about his mom made him feel useless. He tried to defend her. He really did. The sound of her shouting—Leave him alone, Dallas, you hear me?—still echoed in his head.
His father’s drunken fury came between Dal and his mom. Every. Single. Time.
Leo went to his hamper. Pulling out a still-damp towel, he tossed it to Dal. Even though it was used, Dal pressed it to his face and inhaled the clean scent of the detergent.
It smelled like the Cecchino house. Happy. Cheerful. Safe.
He didn’t know what it was like to live in a house that smelled like those things.
“Here.” Leo tossed him a pair of flannel pants and a T-shirt. “Your sleeping bag is under the bottom bunk. You want anything to eat?”
In truth, Dal was starving. He hadn’t eaten since lunch. He’d only gotten two bites of rice into his mouth before his old man went ape shit. But the memory of the bruise forming on his mother’s right cheekbone and the darkening circle around her left eye left him with an upset stomach.
“Nah, I’m fine.”
Leo switched off the light and climbed onto the top bunk. “Should I set the alarm clock for five?”
“Yeah.” That would give Dal enough time to get home and back into his bed before his old man woke up. It would also get him out of the house before Anton woke up, and before any of the other Cecchino family members barged into Leo’s room. He didn’t want them to see him like this. Not ever. Especially Lena. He didn’t want Mr. Cecchino, Mrs. Cecchino, or Nonna to see him either, but most especially Lena.
Dal changed into the dry clothes and returned the towel to the hamper. Then he draped his wet clothes on Leo’s desk chair. He’d have to put those back on in the morning when he went home. Then he pulled the sleeping blanket out from under the bunk bed and crawled inside. It smelled just as good as the towel.
“Night,” Leo said. “Sorry your old man is an asshole.”
“One day, I’m going to kill him,” Dal whispered back.
“You will. When you’re older and bigger, you’ll kick his ass.”
Dal’s throat tightened with emotion. Leo always had his back, no matter what. “Thanks, Leo.”
“Anytime. Night, man.”
“Night.”
Chapter 1Breakfast
TWELVE YEARS LATER.
It was still dark when the alarm clock blared in his ear. Dal groaned and smacked the top of the clock to shut it off.
He stared at the dark ceiling, blinking grit out of his eyes. It was four-thirty in the morning. He’d
