“Get out of the way!” Lena cried.
Dal rolled sideways. The loose gravel on the rooftop bit through his jeans and shirt. Lena slammed the hatch shut. The zombies howled below them in frustration.
“Can they get it open?” Lena whispered.
Dal got to his feet, heart still pounding in his chest. There was seven feet of space between the hatch and closest boxes. It wasn’t impossible to think a zombie could knock it open and get through.
“You have to stand on it,” Dal told her. He didn’t like it, but there was nothing else up here to hold the hatch shut.
Eyes wide, Lena moved to stand on top of the hatch. “As far as backup plans go, this one sucks.” Her hands shook, but her eyes were fierce. Lena was in this to the end, even if she was scared shitless. “I can feel them hitting the hatch.”
“I’m sorry to ask this of you.” Dal hated putting her in harm’s way. “We could drop a bomb on them, but that would leave no way for us to escape.”
“It’s okay. We all have to do our part.” Her gaze traveled to the massive TV antenna perched above them on a tall pole. It had to be at least twelve feet long. “Get moving, Deejay Granger.” She gave him a gentle shove. “The world needs you. I’ll hold back the zombies.”
Dal hurried toward the antenna. He had seven minutes.
Chapter 40Time’s Up
JENNIFER STOMPED AROUND the rooftop, glaring at Leo. He ignored her, shoulders tense as he watched downtown Bastopol.
“If you insist on waiting, I’m at least going to get ready,” she snarled.
Muttering angrily—Leo was sure he was supposed to hear every word—Jennifer began lining up Nonna’s bomb’s along the edge of the roof. Leo joined her, preparing for the attack that was to come. Despite the raucous coming from downtown, the nezhit around the theater building hadn’t budged.
“Try not to hit the ladder when you drop the bombs,” Leo said. “We need it to get off the roof.”
Jennifer rolled her eyes, lining up more bombs. Leo pulled out two Zippo lighters, placing them at intervals along the neat line of black powder sachets.
Five minutes of mayhem. That was the plan. Set off a shit ton of bombs, raise holy hell, draw every Soviet in Bastopol to the high school, and then make a run for it.
Leo was well aware that fifty thousand things could go wrong with this plan.
“Four minutes,” he said.
Jennifer just shook her head at him.
Grabbing the binos, Leo once again checked on Jim and Tate. They were ready and waiting on the cafeteria, bombs lined up along the ledge. Anton and Bruce also had bombs lined up and waiting to go.
Leo shook his hands up and down, trying to dispel the adrenaline that made them shake. He hoped they could pull off this mission. He hoped he wasn’t royally fucking things up. He hoped his decision to stick to the plan wouldn’t get Dal and Lena killed. He hoped—
Jennifer grabbed his arm, turning his wrist so she could see the watch.
“Time’s up, Leo.”
Without waiting for his permission, she lit the first bomb and dropped it on the nezhit below.
Chapter 41Deejay Sniper
DAL LOWERED THE TRANSMITTER to the rooftop and yanked the plug out of his backpack. Luckily, there were electrical outlets up here. He flipped open a switch cover and plugged in the cable.
Now he just had to connect the antenna to the transmitter. This would have been a lot easier if they were inside with access to the cable. Instead, he was going to have to hardwire the transmitter to the antenna. Between having to work on the Beetle and the shop classes he’d taken in high school, Dal knew how to strip wires and reconnect them. Luckily, he had his Swiss Army knife. That would do the trick.
The antenna was on a six foot pole. Dal flipped open the Swiss Army knife and worked fast, undoing the screws that kept the pole upright. As soon as the pole came loose, he laid it sideways and exposed the wires going into the roof. Perfect. That’s what he needed.
He grabbed the lead-in cable, sliced off one end, and quickly cut through the casing. Then, using the Swiss Army knife screwdriver, he opened the back of the transmitter.
Despite everything, he grinned at what he saw. The transmitter had a simple screw terminal. All he had to do was wrap the wires around the screws and they’d be in business.
In only a few minutes, Dal had the transmitter connected to the antenna and ready to go. Not bad for a rush job.
“Lena,” he called, “I’m ready to broadcast. I’m going to need you to push the antenna upright so the signal will go out instead of up. Are the nezhit still trying to get up here?”
“I can hear them.” She remained planted on the hatch. “But I think they knocked the boxes over. None of them has tried to push open the hatch in the last two minutes.”
“We’re going to have to risk it.”
“Okay.” With one last look at the hatch beneath her feet, Lena hustled over to the antenna. It wasn’t heavy—no more than twenty-five or thirty pounds—and she easily pushed it upright.
Dal plugged the microphone into the transmitter and flipped the “on” switch. He let out a shout of triumph when it lit up.
“Are we live?” Lena asked.
“Yeah.” Dal looked down at his watch. Just as he did, several explosions went up simultaneously from the high school.
“That’s my big brother. Right on time.” Lena turned at Dal. “Your turn, Deejay Sniper.”
Deejay Sniper. That had a nice ring to it, even if he wasn’t a Cecchino by blood.
Dal raised the microphone to his lips. This might not be how he’d envisioned his deejay dream coming to pass, but in a weird way, he was still fulfilling
