“Do you know how much debt Dad is in?” he roared. “He leveraged everything to pay for Mom’s chemo. Everything! We could have lost the house and farm if I didn’t stay and do something.” Leo stormed out of the room. He was so angry he could hardly read the crumpled list in his fist.
He stomped into the bathroom and rifled through drawers until he found the Penicillin. Shoving it into his shirt pocket, he stalked toward the utility room to grab some empty boxes and garbage bags.
Anton had left the television on in the living room. It let out that awful blare and displayed the emergency broadcast system’s color bars. Leo switched it off. Apparently, there was still no news. Dal’s single broadcast from the radio station was the only hint of the Russian invasion taking place ten miles down the road.
The closet outside the bathroom held all the extra blankets and towels. Sticking to Nonna’s list, he shoved them into garbage bags. As he did, he caught sight of his father’s small desk inside the master bedroom. On the desk was a small bill organizer stuffed full of paperwork.
All the fight went out of him.
How he wished he’d never snooped in his father’s private things. How he wished he could turn back the clock to a time when he was as oblivious as Anton. To a time when grappling with the enormity of mom’s illness had been the only worry on his list.
He shouldn’t be such a dick to Anton. No one made him fake the shoulder injury. No one made him walk away from his dream of playing football.
A scream punched through his eardrums.
Leo reacted on instinct. He dropped the bag of blankets and raced onto the front porch. Anton was already there, rifle gripped in his hands.
Someone screamed a second time. It came from the east, from the Granger family farm.
Anton and Leo exchanged looks. In wordless agreement, they hurried to the fence line that separated their two properties.
If there were Soviets on the Granger farm, they were fucked. They’d have to ditch the truck and make their way back to the cabin on foot or risk drawing attention to themselves.
Leo and Anton crouched low and crept through the tall grass that grew near the fencing. When they reached the chain-link fence that separated their properties, they dropped to their knees and raised their rifles.
The screaming gained intensity. And it was coming closer.
The muscles of Leo’s back tightened. He scanned the Granger orchard, finger light on the trigger.
He didn’t like Mr. and Mrs. Granger. In fact, most days he thought they deserved to be hit by lightning. But he wouldn’t let them be hunted down by Russians. Not even they deserved that.
The dark head of Mrs. Granger appeared. She was wearing her customary orchard clothing, jeans and a flannel shirt.
Except one sleeve of her shirt had been torn off. She was bleeding all up and down her arm. There was also a tear in one leg of her jeans.
She ran through the the trees. Mr. Granger pursued her, a guttural growl rumbling up from his throat. It sent a chill across Leo’s shoulders.
Mr. Granger charged after his wife like a lion after a gazelle. Leo had never seen the man move like that. He must be more pissed off than usual. Or maybe more drunk than usual. Both scenarios were feasible. The guy was a royal dick.
Mrs. Granger never stopped screaming. She spoke no words, only screamed. That wasn’t unusual, either.
Sometimes, late at night when the house was quiet and the windows open, Leo could hear the two of them going at it. Mr. Granger was usually yelling. Mrs. Granger was always screaming.
That was why, when Dal moved in with them freshman year, he hadn’t argued when his friend offered to sleep in the utility room. He didn’t want Dal to have to listen to his crazy parents go at each other. The utility room was on the far side of the house, opposite to the Granger farm. If Dal could hear his parents over there, he’d never spoken of it.
Leo and Anton watched the two continue to dodge through the apple orchard.
“Does Mr. Granger have blood on his face?” Anton asked.
Leo had noticed that. “Yeah, he does.”
“Do you think she actually fought back this time?”
Leo shook his head. “I think Mr. Granger bit her. That’s why her shirt is torn.”
“Bit her?” Anton’s brow furrowed. “You really think so?”
“It wouldn’t be the most fucked up thing he’s done to her.”
Anton couldn’t argue with that. Over the years, they’d seen Mrs. Granger with a broken arm, dislocated shoulder, broken nose, and cracked ribs. Biting was fairly tame in comparison.
Mrs. Granger disappeared behind the barn. Mr. Granger was hard on her heels. When the couple was out of sight, the screaming went up several octaves.
“God, that guy is a dick,” Anton said. “Think I could get away with blaming it on the Russians if I shot him?”
“He must be raging drunk.”
“Whatever. Like that’s an excuse. What do you think?” Anton hefted the rifle.
Leo shook his head. He’d learned a long time ago that interference between those two was not appreciated by either party. It had been Mrs. Granger who threw Dal out of the house for trying to protect her.
“Let’s get back to the house and finish packing,” Leo said. “We need to get back to Lars.” Let those two kill each other if that’s what they wanted. After they kicked out their only son, Leo stopped caring what happened to either of them.
Thirty minutes later, the back of the truck was jammed full. It was dusk. Leo hefted the last box of supplies into the back.
“Funny.” Anton watched him with a somber look on his face. “I didn’t think you could lift heavy boxes like that with your messed-up shoulder.”
Leo ignored him, staring up the gravel road and hoping for some sign of his dad and the others. Mr. Cecchino left hours ago. He
