“Do you hear that?” Tate’s attention snapped west.
Anton strained his ears. After a beat, he heard the sound that had nabbed Tate’s attention.
“Car,” Anton said. If they were within earshot, it meant they weren’t too far away.
“Do you think it’s my mom and dad?” Tate’s voice took on a desperate edge.
“I don’t think so, man.” The disappointment in his friend’s eyes gutted him. “There’s no way we could have gotten out in front of them. They had too much of a lead on us.”
Tate didn’t respond. Instead, he jumped off his horse and climbed on top of a minivan. He shaded his eyes, looking west.
“Do you see anything?” Anton asked.
“Yeah. A U-Haul van. It’s coming our way, but it’s moving slow.”
“A U-Haul?” That was weird.
“Yeah. Wish we had the binoculars. I bet it’s Soviets driving it.”
“What makes you say that?”
Tate shot a frown in his direction. “Who else would be driving a U-Haul out here? I bet they’re taking supplies from Bastopol to Rossi. Remember that big cache Dal and Lena saw at the elementary school?”
“Yeah, that’s right.” Anton recalled his sister telling them about the big supply of food the Soviets stockpiled at Bastopol Elementary.
“I bet those assholes are taking our stuff to Soviet troops in Rossi.” Tate jumped back to the ground. “Let’s ambush the assholes and steal their uniforms.”
“We can cut them off at George’s,” Anton said. “Remember that big patch of eucalyptus trees by the fruit stand?”
“Good idea, bro. That’s a perfect spot for an ambush.”
“We can take them out with head shots from the trees.” Anton nodded eagerly. “Shoot them right through the windshield of the U-Haul. That way, there won’t be a lot of blood on the uniforms.”
“Come on.” Tate kicked the black stallion into a gallop, sending the animal leaping through the carnage. The horse nickered in protest when Tate tried to lead him over a clump of dead bodies. Stealth side-stepped, then bolted past the bodies.
The poor animals were as traumatized by the war as the rest of them. Anton kneed Thunder, taking off after Tate.
Their horses raced down the freeway and took the next offramp. More farmland dotted this part of Bastopol. Anton and Tate galloped through orchards, taking a short cut across the land to George’s Fruit Stand.
George’s was a converted barn that sat next to the freeway. The Russians would drive right by the barn on their way to Rossi. It was the perfect place for an ambush. The fruit stand was a popular place to buy local produce. Mrs. George, a renowned baker, made the best cookies in all of West County. Anton’s mother always bought cookies for the family when she came here to shop.
Anton tracked the U-Haul with his ears. Determination tightened his chest. They could do this.
Up ahead was the tall stand of eucalyptus trees that grew along the road next to George’s. In wordless agreement, Anton and Tate leaned over their animals and urged them straight for the trees at a dead run. The horses ran so fast Anton’s eyes watered.
They were fifty yards from the trees when Anton slowed Thunder. The animal’s chest heaved from the exertion, his coat lathered with sweat. Anton gave him a pat before sliding to the ground. He and Tate left the horses behind several tall stacks of corn bins near the barn. Side by side, they raced toward the eucalyptus trees.
Anton gripped his stolen Soviet machine gun and ducked behind a tall tree. God, it smelled like hell. Not even the pungent scent of the eucalyptus could cover up the stink of the dead. He glanced at the hulking wooden structure of the barn, thinking there must be a lot of dead inside those walls for the air to stink this badly.
“They’re coming.” Tate ducked behind a second tree.
The freeway was badly clogged here; George’s was a popular place. Anton had no doubt the place had been busy when the Russian bastards attacked. That worked to their advantage now. There would be no quick way through the cars for the Soviets, especially with the U-Haul.
Anton aimed the machine gun at the freeway, mouth dry with anticipation of the ambush. The U-Haul came into view, threading its way through the vehicles. Anton’s focus narrowed. He sighted down the barrel of the gun, tracking the vehicle.
Sure enough, he saw Soviets sitting in the front seat of the U-Haul.
“You get the driver,” Anton said. “I’ll get the guy in the passenger seat.”
“Come to papa, Soviet scum,” Tate murmured.
The U-Haul came within range just as a scream went up from the horses. Anton’s shot went wide, hitting the driver’s side mirror instead of the Soviet.
Tate was rock-steady. Two shots punched through the front windshield. The U-Haul careened sideways and crashed head-on into an abandoned Datsun.
Another shrill of panic went up from the horses. Anton swore, ducking behind the tree trunk to see what was going on behind him.
Stealth, the black horse, bolted out from behind the corn bins. On his heels were two zombies. Not regular zombies, which were bad enough, but mutant zombies. Mutant zombies, with their distended, enlarged muscles and black-veined skin, were easy to recognize.
There was no sign of Thunder, but Anton heard the animal screaming.
“Fucking shit, we have mutants!”
2
Damn Good
“You take out the mutants,” Tate yelled back. “I’ll take care of the last Russian.”
Bullets ripped through the air. Anton pressed his back against the eucalyptus and took aim at the mutants.
It took a lot of shots to kill a mutant zombie. The only sure-fire way to bring them down fast was with a head shot.
“Stay away from my sister’s horse,” Anton snarled. He fired at the first of the mutants, who was dangerously close to taking down the black stallion. It was a woman with
