He remembered how sick the chemo had made his mom. How all her hair had fallen out and how she’d been reduced to skin and bones. Near the end, she almost stopped eating entirely. Nonna’s pureed chicken noodle soup was the only thing she could keep down.
“My baby boy.” It was one of the last things she’d ever said to him. “I hope they don’t institute the draft again.” She had grabbed his hand. It was frail and thin and bony.
Leo would never forget the way her hand felt in his. That had been two weeks before she died. It had been like holding a pile of sticks.
My baby boy. I hope they don’t institute the draft again.
Despite the illness that devastated her body, her mind remained sharp until the end. She read those damn newspapers every day. She never stopped adding clippings to her envelope.
He missed his mom. Most days, he avoided thinking about her altogether. That was easier than remembering how much he missed her.
Today, for the first time since she'd died, he felt relief—relief that she hadn’t lived to see her worst fear become a reality. No nukes had been launched yet, but an invasion on American soil was just as bad.
The cabin came into view. Leo pulled the truck to a stop in front of the dark brown wood building. He felt a sense of finality as he set the break and switched off the car. He jumped out of the truck in time to see Anton prodding Lars.
“Lars?” Anton patted his friend’s shoulder. “How you doing, man?”
Lars turned his head to look at Anton. Shit. In the twenty minute drive, Lars had become worse. His pupils were dilated, the irises streaked with red. The front his shirt was dark with sweat.
“Nonna,” Anton called, “Lars is sick.”
Nonna hustled around the side of the pickup. She took one look at Lars and pursed her lips. Her hand touched his forehead and the back of his neck. “He’s burning with fever.”
“He was hit with Russian darts,” Anton explained. “Some of the Russians had machine guns, but lots of them had these dart guns—”
“Russian poison,” Nonna spat. “Get him inside. I’ll do what I can for him.”
Anton jumped off the truck to help Adam. With Bruce’s help, the two boys half dragged, half carried Adam up the stairs that led into the cabin.
“Both linebackers down,” Leo murmured. He helped Lars off the back of the truck, slinging an arm around his neck to keep him upright.
Lars doubled over coughing. His legs nearly collapsed when he slid off the back of the truck. He was looking worse by the second.
Leo tightened his grip on Lars. They were both over six-feet tall, but Lars had an extra seventy-five pounds on him. They made a slow trek across the hand-packed dirt and paused below the dozen steps leading up the cabin. Lars looked at the steps like they were a sick joke.
“Remember that workout Coach Brown made you guys do on Labor Day?” Leo asked. He’d heard all about it from Anton. He’d pretended not to listen even though he’d filed away every detail.
Lars tried to laugh. The sound turned into a wheeze. “The one where we all almost died of heatstroke?”
“Yeah. I know you feel bad right now. But you can’t feel any worse than you did after that Labor Day workout.” Anton had puked his guts out when he got home.
Lars wheezed again. A trace of a smile pulled at his mouth. Leo saw determination crease his brow. Good. There was still fight in him.
One step, then another. Leo grabbed the railing as Lars swayed. He kept them both from tumbling down the stairs. He hunched forward, dragging Lars up another few steps.
“Six more, man,” Leo murmured. “There’s the end zone. Time to clear the way.”
Lars turned his head, coughing. He surged forward, taking the last six steps in a rush. He nearly collapsed at the top. Leo locked his knees, keeping him upright.
“Sick kids in the south room.” Nonna had the first aid kid open on the long kitchen table.
Leo obeyed, dragging Lars into the south bunk room. Adam was already there, flopped on his back and sound asleep. Anton was in the tiny closet, pulling out extra blankets.
Leo eased Lars into the second bottom bunk. He ripped off the boy’s dirty shoes while Anton heaped blankets onto his shivering form.
“He needs a doctor,” Anton said.
“I know.” Leo shook his head. “But we can’t risk taking him into a war zone in this state.”
“Sit him up.” Nonna bustled into the room with two Aspirin and a glass of water. Anton helped her administer the medicine. Lars let out a soft growling sound as he swallowed the pills.
Leo, who stood behind Lars while he downed the Aspirin, felt his chest constrict as he got a good look at the back of Lars’s neck. “Nonna.”
Nonna took one look at his face and shifted to stand beside him. Leo pointed to the back of Lars’s neck. The black welts from the dart wound had grown to the size of a large coin. Several veins around the wound had also turned black, snaking up into his hairline and across the back of his neck.
Nonna shook her head, lips pursed. “We watch him. It’s all we can do now.”
She moved away and roused Adam. The other boy was drunk from the grappa and the pain, but Nonna managed to get two Aspirin down his throat.
She hustled Leo, Anton, and Bruce out into the main room, quietly closing the bedroom door behind them.
“Lars looks bad,” Leo said.
“Rest is the best medicine for the two of them,” Nonna replied. “We’ve done as much as we can.”
Anton and Bruce flopped into a worn leather sofa, looking like they’d been run over by a truck.
Leo didn’t feel any of his normal animosity toward this little brother. The poor kid had gone from a routine football practice to a Soviet
