Dal leaned low over the neck of Thunder. “Come on, boy. You can outrun them.”
Gravenstein Highway—named after the most popular apple of West County—appeared before them. It was the main road through Bastopol.
In the middle of the road were two Russian soldiers. They stood beside a bright yellow Corvette convertible, which they’d no doubt stolen from someone. They were armed with dart guns—which were aimed right at Dal and Lena.
Zombies behind them. Soviets in front of them. What the fuck were they supposed to do?
“They don’t know we’re armed,” Lena called to him over the drum of the horses’s hoofbeats. “We have surprise on our side.”
She was right. It was their best chance. Turning around wasn’t an option. All they could do was charge the Russians and hope to get lucky.
Hanging onto the mane with one hand, Dal fumbled the machine gun into his other hand. Lena did the same.
He was a damn good shot in the forest, even when he had a moving target. But he’d never fired a weapon from the back of a galloping horse.
He didn’t even bother to aim. He propped the machine gun against his shoulder so that it would fire over the top of Thunder’s head. Then he pulled the trigger, spraying the barrel back and forth in the general direction of the Russians.
He caught one of them across the torso. The invader collapsed in a spray of blood. The second one dove for cover on the other side of the car.
Lena’s horse spooked at gunfire. The big animal reared. Lena screamed as she was thrown from his back.
“Lena!” Dal instinctively turned toward her, but bullets thudded into the ground right in front of Thunder. The animal reared. Dal grabbed the mane with both hands, the machine gun swinging from around his neck.
The weight of the transmitter unbalanced him. As Thunder crashed back down to his forelegs, Dal felt himself slipping.
He decided not to fight it. If he got thrown, the transmitter could be wrecked. He released the mane, simultaneously swinging his left leg around.
He hit the ground and dropped low. He shrugged out of the backpack and flattened himself to ground as the Russian fired again. He shouted at Dal and Lena, the rough Russian language mixing with the gunfire. The horses scattered.
One of them, a stocky female bay, was hit as she bolted too close to the yellow convertible. She cried out as she was hit.
Dal looked wildly around for Lena. She was okay, crawling in his direction. She flattened herself to the ground as more bullets came in their direction. The Russian continued screaming and firing in their direction. Lena cried out, covering her head with her arms.
Rage exploded through Dal’s chest. It came all at once, tunneling his vision and gripping his throat so hard he could barely breathe.
No fucking way was this fucker going to hurt Lena. He crawled forward, closing the distance between him and the invader. He wanted to strangle the fucker, but he’d have to settle for shooting him.
The Russian hid behind the front driver’s side tire. His gun was on the hood and he fired indiscriminately in their direction. Dal was able to move beneath the bullets as they zinged by over his head.
Fury made him reckless. When the gun clicked empty, the Russian dropped back to reload.
Dal seized the opening. He popped up and sprinted at the car. He leaped on top of the Corvette’s hood and opened fire.
He caught the Russian just as he snapped in a replacement clip. Screaming, Dal emptied his own clip into the head of the invader.
But he didn’t stop there. Even as the body tipped over, Dal jumped to the ground on the other side. He flipped the gun around and swung the butt at the body. He brutally smashed the side of the man’s face, still yelling. The gun butt came down a second time, smashing down so hard across the chest he heard the sternum snap.
“Dal!” Lena grabbed his arm just as he hauled his arm back to hit the body a third time. “He’s dead, Dal. He’s gone.”
Her voice stabbed through the fog of rage. Hands suddenly shaking, he dropped his gun, horrified by the violence that had gripped him.
He felt sick. How much had Lena seen?
Did she know he was like his father?
“Are—are you okay?” he gasped, trying to get his breathing under control.
“I’m okay.” She looked him up and down, assuring herself that he was in one piece. “That was some crazy kamikaze shit you just pulled.” She threw her arms around him and squeezed. “You scared the hell out of me. I thought for sure you were going to die when you jumped on top of the hood.” She smacked him in the shoulder. Hard. “Don’t do that again.”
He sagged, all the adrenaline rushing out of his body. He gave himself to the count of ten, resting his cheek against Lena’s head and inhaling the scent of her. Then he broke away.
“We have to keep moving.” The nezhit students had covered a lot of ground during their short battle with the Russians. “Grab any weapons you see. I’ll get the car.”
“We’re not taking the car.”
“We’re not?”
“No.” Lena shook her head. “We need to stay off the roads and stick to the fields. It will take longer, but it’s the safest way home.”
She was right. They had to avoid the roads. If nothing else, this latest confrontation had shown them that.
“I’ll get the horses,” Dal said. “You grab their weapons.”
Chapter 29Dance
IT TOOK THEM SEVERAL hours to make their way through the farmland of Bastopol. They not only had to dodge other Russian patrols, but they also had to evade roaming clumps of zombies.
When the Cecchino farmhouse at last came into the view, with the weathered barn and the brimming orchard, Dal could hardly believe it. They rode the horses down the gravel road and drew to
