“Yeah, but she’s a freaky gymnast,” Anton said. “That saved your life, bro.”
Jennifer arched a triumphant brow at him before marching into the storage room.
“Headlamps are in the white box on the back left shelf,” Anton called.
Oh, hell. Leo looked to Nonna for help. She just shrugged.
“I’m a good shot.” Bruce cracked his knuckles. “Is there an extra bike for me?”
“Yeah,” Anton said. “Mom bought us lots of different bikes at yard sales when we were kids.”
Approximately five minutes later, Leo found himself riding down Pole Mountain with Anton, Bruce, and Jennifer. The headlamps—something they kept around for the organized hunts—lit the bumpy dirt road.
The night air was cool against his skin. It carried with it all the scents of the forest: the damp earth, the yellow grasses, and the bay trees. If there weren’t Russians afoot, Leo could almost imagine he was a kid out on a mindless bike ride.
It took them twenty minutes to ride down the mountain.
“What’s the plan?” Bruce asked as they reached the orchard.
“We scout the road. If it looks safe, we go to the Craig farm.” Leo refused to think about all the different scenarios they might find.
“The Russians might have already come and gone,” Jennifer said.
“If the way looks clear, we check on the Craigs,” Leo repeated.
The apple orchard was quiet as they rode beneath the trees. The half moon in the sky cast dappled shadows on the dark ground.
“I wish Nonna had given me a gun,” Jennifer said.
“Why? You have your stilettos.” Leo knew he was being a dick, but couldn’t help himself.
“Dude.” Anton frowned at him. “She killed a zombie with a stiletto. You need guns to kill Russians.”
He looked at Jennifer out of the corner of his eye. She had a right to defend herself against the Russians as much as everyone else. Besides, what if she were staying with them for a while? A team was only as good as its weakest player. That lesson had been drilled into him over the years of playing football.
“I’ll give you some shooting lessons when we get back to the cabin,” he said. “If you want.”
Jennifer straightened. “Really?”
“Yeah.”
“I can give you lessons,” Anton said.
Leo rolled his eyes. “Or Anton can give you lessons.”
“I’d rather have them from you,” Jennifer said.
Leo glanced at her before he could stop himself. Her hair was in disarray, but she looked beautiful under the dappled shadows of the orchard.
Stop it, he told himself. Don’t go there, idiot.
They reached the Cecchino farmhouse. Nothing was out of place. It looked just as it had when they’d left it this afternoon. They continued on to the main road, which was nothing more than a narrow two-lain road. It was deserted, not a sign of a car or Russians anywhere.
Leo peered through the dark in the direction of the cattle farm. Too bad they didn’t have long-range walkie talkies. Nonna could have kept watch on Pole Mountain and given them a report of everything she saw. A person could see just about everything from up there.
“Let’s go.” Leo led the way onto the highway.
They rode past the entrance to the Granger farm. What were Dal’s crazy parents doing right now? Did they know about the Russian invasion?
Another mile up the road, they hit the entrance to the Craig cattle farm. This side of the Gravenstein Highway were rolling hillsides dotted with oak trees, perfect for cattle. The Craig farm was nearly four times the size of the Cecchino farm. They not only raised cattle, but they had a small dairy and made cheese.
They pedaled down the road in a tight cluster. Leo was in the lead, his eyes glued to the black horizon. He searched for the familiar lights of the Craig farmhouse.
There. The lights popped to life as they rode up the crest of a small hill. The farmhouse was intact. That was good. Leo had been half afraid they’d find it on fire.
But some of the lights were moving. It took Leo a moment to realize the moving lights belonged to vehicles.
“Get off the road,” he barked. The tone wasn’t unlike what he had used on the football field back in high school. “There are cars coming. Could be the Soviets.”
Leo jumped off his bike and pushed it into a stand of oak trees. The trunks were covered with moss and lichen. Acorns and dead leaves crunched underfoot as the others followed him. They propped their bikes against the trees.
The cars continued to rumble up the road, spewing up a line of dust. Leo raised the binoculars to his eyes for a better look.
“What do you see?” Anton asked.
“Russians. Two each in the front cabs.” Leo could just make out their uniforms through the binoculars. “They’re stealing cattle. I see a cow in the back of each truck, and—oh, shit.”
“What?” Bruce demanded. “What is it?”
“They have Tate and Jim.” His two childhood friends were in the back of the lead truck with one of the cows.
Leo hadn’t seen the Craig brothers much after they graduated. They both got their associates degree from Rossi junior college before working full time on the family farm. What did the Russians want with Tate and Jim?
Leo decided then and there that he wasn’t going to stand by and let the invaders kidnap his friends. No fucking way.
“Anton, hide behind the trees on the other side of the road. We’ll have a better chance of taking out the Russians if we shoot at them from both sides.”
Anton’s jaw sagged open. “We’re attacking?”
“Hell yes, we’re attacking. We’re not letting them take Jim and Tate.”
Bruce gave a soft hoot of approval and racked his rifle. “Those communist bastards are going down.”
Anton’s shock morphed in gritty determination. Gripping his rifle, he raced across the road and disappeared into the trees on the other side.
“Jennifer,” Leo said, “stay back with the bikes.”At her mutinous look, he added, “Just until we get you proficient with a gun. Then I promise you can fight.”
She glared at him.
