His family had received a brief stay of execution. With any luck, it would be long enough to clear everyone out of the family cabin and get them to someplace safe.
Surely by now, Luma Bridge was gone. Leo and his team had to be home. Anton couldn’t afford to consider any other option. Leo would be waiting for him at the cabin. They would pack up and get everyone to safety.
Anton clung to this thought as the tank rolled west along the freeway, carrying him back to his home.
Everyone would be okay. Leo. Lena. Dal. Nonna. Bruce. Stephenson. Amanda. Cassie. Jennifer. Spill. Griggs.
Everyone would be okay.
Everyone, except him.
Anton knew he wasn’t going to be okay for a long time.
The blisters, cuts, bruises, abrasions, and burn marks on the outside of his body didn’t even begin to scratch the surface.
Part II
Fifteen Miles
15
Plan
The Cecchino cabin felt empty without Cassie. She and Amanda had been best friends since freshmen year in high school. They did everything together: studied together, panicked over PE tests together, ate lunch at school together, and competed in chess tournaments together.
The world had gone into the crapper. They were in the middle of a war and a zombie apocalypse combined. Both of Amanda’s parents had been killed.
Through it all, Cassie had been there. Every. Single. Day.
Amanda hadn’t realized how much it would hurt to see her best friend disappear down the road from Pole Mountain on a bike with her hot boyfriend. Or how lonely she would feel without her. The idea of Cassie going off to blow up a bridge in enemy territory was a chess game Amanda did not want to play, let alone think about.
She wished she had gone with them. When Leo asked for mission volunteers, she’d wanted to raise her hand.
But what could she add to a group of trained soldiers, varsity football players, and an ex-gymnast? Heck, Cassie didn’t even fit so well within the group, except that she could outthink all of them combined.
And if Cassie barely fit, Amanda knew she stood no chance.
She was acutely aware of her lack of athletic abilities. She was from a big-boned family. No one ever wanted the big girl on their team. Ever since she’d been a kid, she was always the last one picked for PE teams.
It had been even worse in high school, where looks mattered more than ever. Mrs. Fink, their PE teacher who competed in triathlons on the weekend, had taken one look at Amanda on her first day of freshman PE. From that day, she’d been sentenced to right field in both the literal and the figurative sense. She might not be into sports, but everyone knew right field was reserved for the useless players.
Amanda had known better than to volunteer for the mission to Luma. It just would have made everyone uncomfortable. Leo would have been forced to figure out a way to let her down gently. He had enough worries on his mind; he didn’t need to be bothered with her.
So Amanda had kept her hand down—and now regretted it. That regret piled even higher on her shoulders with every minute that passed without Cassie.
She did her best not to think about it.
On the bright side, it wasn’t like she had a lot of spare time on her hands. She, Lena, and Dal were scheduled to go on another broadcast mission bright and early tomorrow morning.
They had important information to share: there were several busses of Soviet invaders on their way to West County. If Cassie and the others didn’t get to the bridge in time, a new wave of invaders would hit their home. The few survivors out there needed to know what was happening.
Dal and Lena never looked at her the way Mrs. Fink did. They treated her like a valuable member of the team. She tried not to bask in their kindness or look too desperate for their approval.
Amanda had a side project she’d been stewing on for several days now. When Nonna went to use the bathroom, she slipped into the kitchen and swiped a Ziploc from a drawer. Ziplocs were a prized commodity these days and she didn’t think Nonna would approve of her taking one.
“What are you doing?” Stephenson frowned at her from where he washed dishes.
In a drastic effort to avoid participating in missions, Stephenson had thrown himself into the kitchen work with gusto. He was often up early and late, prepping food or cleaning up.
Tonight was no exception. He was up to his elbows in suds as he scrubbed a big pot.
“What are you doing?” he asked again as she shoved the Ziploc into her back pocket.
“I keep thinking about the zombies.” Amanda absently fiddled with the hilt of her hunting knife, a gift from the Cecchino family. Most days, she tried to pretend it belonged on her belt, though she secretly worried about slicing off her finger with the darn thing. “We need to get a good look at the bodies.”
A look of horror overcame Stephenson’s face. He stopped mid-scrub, soap bubbles popping delicately around his elbows.
“Are you even listening to yourself? You’re being disgusting.”
“Please.” Amanda snorted. “I mean we need a scientific look at them.” She scooted closer to Stephenson so Dal and Lena wouldn’t overhear. The two of them sat on the couch, snuggled into each other and talking quietly. “Who knows what we might learn if we can get a piece of one of them under a microscope?”
Stephenson gave her a soft look. “I know you miss Cas. I miss her already, too. But I think you’re being a little extreme with this carve-up-a-dead-zombie plan.”
“I don’t want to carve up a zombie. I just want to get a tissue sample. Sometimes we see bodies when we go out for a broadcast.” Sometimes they saw live zombies, too. “I might get a chance to get a sample tomorrow.”
Stephenson resumed his scrubbing. “The Cecchinos have a lot of stuff in their basement, but
