The Zombie Chasers (13 page)

Z
ack jumped down and stepped on the defeated zombie’s chest. He threw his arms up victoriously, but then quickly backed away. One blow to the head was little more than a catnap for this thing, and Zack had no idea when it might wake up.

Across the graveyard, Rice broke into a sprint. He ran as fast as his short little legs would carry him, flailing his arms and pointing.

While Madison clapped cheerfully for Zack Clarke, zombie chaser, Greg’s torso lifted straight off the ground, stiff as a board. His bent, shadowy outline jerked forward.

“Madison!” Zack yelled. “Behind you!”

Zombie Greg’s cold dead fingers curled around her calf, and Madison tried to leap away. But the zombie super jock’s viselike grip was unshakable.

“Help! I can’t budge!” Madison screamed,

Zombie Greg wrenched his head back and swung his neck to one side. Rice flung himself at Greg and dropped his shoulder into the reanimated psycho-jock. But Rice was no match for the Gregster’s brute strength. Rice bounced off zombie Greg, who clamped his toothy mug onto the back of Madison’s leg and bit down hard.

“Ooowwwwwww!” she wailed, and dropped to the ground. Greg whipped his head from side to side like a dog playing tug on a chew toy. He snarled and chewed.

Zack reached the bloody fray and swung the bat hard, clocking zombie Greg in the temple. Bansal-Jones slumped to the ground. Too little, too late. Madison had been bitten, and the superb delight of clubbing Greg over the head was now only bittersweet. Madison sobbed in the dirt, her leg bearing a gnarly red gash. Rice was rubbing his head, dizzy from the spill.

“Come on, Rice,” Zack said. “Help me get her out of here.” They raised Madison, who wobbled on one good leg, stunned and shaking. She draped her arms around their shoulders, and they limped a safe distance before Madison collapsed. She sprawled out on the ground between them, her knee bent and her leg dripping blood.

“Dang, Madison, your leg looks raunchy!” said Rice.

“Don’t you have some bandages or something in that backpack of yours?” Zack asked.

“Maybe I do and maybe I don’t.”

“Well? Do you or don’t you?”

“Of course I do. But she’s just gonna turn into one of them, Zack! It’d be a waste of a good bandage…. Soon she’ll be the enemy. Remember Twinkles?”

Madison’s eyes shimmered with tears, but she bit her lip and breathed deeply, trying to accept the immense pain in her leg.

“Rice,” Zack said. “If you don’t start bandaging her leg in the next ten seconds, I’m gonna tell her your secret shame.”

“But you swore a blood oath that you would never tell another living soul.”

“According to you, she’s not a living soul. She might as well be a zombie, remember? Madison, would you like to know Rice’s secret…?”

“Fine, fine, fine,” Rice conceded.

“Zack,” Madison said, coughing pathetically as he wrapped her leg with gauze, “can you get my bag for me? I’m so parched, I just want a sip of something.”

“Sure,” Zack said.

He ran over to the unfinished hole he’d begun to
carve out for Twinkles. He picked up the purse, forgetting its contents, and strained with the unexpected weight of it. He pulled out the crowbar and tossed it on the ground. He reached back in the bag and felt Twinkles’s rigid body, sopping wet with VitalVeganPowerPunch. Zack pulled out the soaked puppy and laid it on its side next to the half-dug grave. Twinkles’s fur was stained pink from the fruity beverage, which had leaked all over the inside of Madison’s purse.

Zack brought the bag over to Madison, who poked her bandage and winced in pain. He handed her the half-empty bottle.

“There’s no use denying it,” she said. “If it weren’t for that dog, I’d never have been bitten in the first place. Now I’m gonna turn into a zombie just like everyone else. I’ll be ugly and hideous and stinky.” She took a sip of the lukewarm drink.

“Okay, I hate to say this, but since you’re going to change into a zombie, we’d better tie you up so we don’t have to worry when you come back to life,” Rice announced matter-of-factly.

“Can’t we just wait until she passes out?” Zack asked.

“No, Zack, he’s right,” Madison said. “It’s the smart thing to do. I don’t want to bite one of you guys and infect you, too.”

Once again, Madison went into her handbag and pulled out the infamous duct tape. “This will work,” she said. “We already tested it on Zack.”

“Ha-ha. Real funny.” Zack snorted sarcastically.

Rice stretched out the tape and bound Madison’s ankles together. Having finished the feet, he looked up and said, “All right. Now gimme yer hands.”

“Not yet,” she said, extracting a compact mirror from her bag. “I have to say good-bye to someone first.”

She clicked open the compact and stared at her reflection. Zack and Rice exchanged uncertain looks.

“Well, face, we’ve had some pretty awesome times. I can’t believe it’s over so soon.”

Rice leaned over and whispered to Zack as Madison said farewell to each one of her facial features individually.

“Is this normal?” Rice asked.

“I don’t really know,” Zack said. “She is pretty conceited.”

“Yeah, but Greg started acting kind of demented just before he went zombie.”

“That’s a good point.”

“Goodbye, chin…” Madison finished her vale-diction to her face and frowned, pouting her lips and raising her eyebrows.

“W
e’re not taking any chances.” Rice said. “Time to tape up those hands, Madison.”

“Not too tight, Rice.” Madison held out her wrists.

Zack walked away, kicking the dirt. “What are we going to do now?” he asked. “We’re stranded, and probably doomed to become zombies, too.”

“We’re not stranded,” Rice said, pointing to the truck.

“Oh yeah, I forgot we have a truck that we don’t have the keys to. And even if we did, we couldn’t drive it ’cuz we’re too freakin’ short. Face it, Rice. We’re toast.”

“Oh, quit your whining, you big baby,” Rice said, puffing out his chest. “First we go take care of zombie Greg and then we gotta find those keys.” He snatched the duct tape and snagged the line of rope attached to his pack.

They jogged over to where zombie Greg lay on the ground in a contorted slump. “He looks like the same old Greg, doesn’t he?” Zack asked. Except for a few open sores around his forehead and under his eye, Greg looked relatively normal.

“I guess so,” Rice said. “But give him a chance to really zombify.” They bent down and sorted out the sideways corpse till Greg’s body was flat on its back. “This would be so much easier if you had just brained him.”

“I couldn’t do that,” Zack said.

“I know, the vegan would have freaked,” Rice said. “And besides, Greg will make a great specimen.”

“All right, Rice,” said Zack, picking up Greg’s legs. “Wrap him up.”

Rice cranked the duct tape around and around. Next they taped Greg’s knees, then finished with the wrists.

“Nice work,” Zack said. Now they turned around to
face the mausoleum, and Rice scoped out the massive fallen creature for the first time.

“That is one magnificent zombie, dude,” Rice proclaimed.

“Those keys have to be on him somewhere.” Zack stepped up and poked the zombie with the baseball bat, rocking it slightly. He heard the metallic jangle of a key chain. Underneath the hip of the sleeping monster, the key ring was fastened to a belt loop. “There,” Zack cried. “Reach under and get them!”

“No way,” Rice said. “I’m not touching that thing bare-handed. I could have microscopic cuts on my hand, and then the slime could infect me—”

“Hurry!” Zack said. “Before he wakes up!” He shoved the baseball bat underneath the zombie and lifted the handle upward so that Rice could reach the belt loop.

Rice wormed his hands under the swampy, diseased flesh and unhooked the keys, grimacing the whole time.

“Okay, got ’em.” Rice gagged, diving away with a jangly clink. He stood up and whipped the key chain at his friend. “You happy now?” The Louisville Slugger
was now gloppy with zombie pus, and Zack whipped a glob in Rice’s direction.

“I hope you’re satisfied,” Rice said, and wiped his hand on Zack’s shirt.

“Whatever, man, let’s just take care of Greg and get out of here.”

They stooped over zombie Greg, and Zack wiped the Slugger clean on Greg’s soccer jersey.

“Shoot, how are we gonna carry him?” Zack asked.

“Here,” Rice said, and uncoiled the rope. He threaded it between Greg’s duct-taped legs, up the length of his front, and out through the sticky wrist-cuffs taped above his head. Rice took one end of the rope and handed the other to Zack, who wrapped it around his hand and held the aluminum bat firmly.

Side by side, the two friends dragged zombie Greg back toward Madison, whom Zack fully expected to be zombifying.

“You got the keys, right?” Rice asked.

“Yeah…but how are we supposed to drive without Madison?”

“I don’t know, man. We’ll figure it out.”

From the far end of the cemetery, Madison sat up and called to them. “You guys are taking forever,” she said.

“Do you feel like a zombie yet?” Rice grunted. “I kind of want to get out of here.”

“No…I feel like taking off this tape, though,” she said. “It’s really uncomfortable.” She tried to break free from her duct-tape manacles.

“Sorry, Madison,” Rice huffed. “No can do. Too risky. But don’t worry, you’ll be a zombie soon and then you won’t even care.”

Zack and Rice dropped the rope and bent over, huffing and puffing. Rice’s eyes zeroed in on Madison’s final swig of kiwi-strawberry vegan juice. He waddled over and picked up the bottle.

“Rice, don’t drink that!” Madison screamed. “It’s my last sip ever,” she whimpered.

He twisted off the cap and sniffed. “Ooh, kiwi-strawberry…” he said, tormenting her.

“Rice, please,” Madison begged. “I’m dying over here!”

“So am I!” he retorted. “Do you know how heavy that kid is?”

“Pretty please with zombies on top. That’s my all-time favorite drink, and it’s my last sip forever and ever!”

“What is this stuff anyway?”

“It’s magically delicious,” she said pathetically.

Rice furrowed his eyebrows, reading the label. “How much of this junk do you drink?”

“I don’t know, like five or six bottles a day?” she answered. And then without hesitating, Rice tipped his head back and gulped the final swig.

“Rice!” she yelled. “That was the meanest thing you’ve ever done!” She scowled.

“Oh, quit your mean-muggin’,” Rice said. “I was thirsty, and besides…”

“That was pretty mean, dude,” Zack interrupted, siding with Madison. “I mean, it was her dying wish—”

“No, it wasn’t,” Rice said. “Because that’s not going to be her last sip!”

“What are you talking about?” Zack asked.

Rice cleared his throat, then recited like an old-time medicine man selling his patented magic elixir: “All-natural, high-energy, organic fruit drink supplement. Fortified with blah, blah, blah…and
ginkgo biloba
to boost your brain and your body.”

Rice threw the empty bottle into the air and jumped a miraculous two inches off the dirt. “Don’t you see? She’s been drinking so much of this stuff that it’s rendered her immune.”

“Don’t get my hopes up, Rice,” Madison said.
“Remember what happened last time you tried out your ginkgo theory?”

“But that was different, Madison. I’m not trying to squirt you with ginkgo water. I don’t have to. You can’t turn into a zombie. I mean, sure, they could still rip you limb from limb, but you’re un-zombie-fiable because of the ginkgo! I told you it would work.” Rice placed his hands on his hips proudly and cocked his chin up.

“Wait a second,” Zack said. “You don’t know that for sure.”

“Think about it, Zack.

She’s a pure ginkgo vegan, man! She probably doesn’t even eat honey because one bee died to make it.”

Madison nodded. “He’s right. I don’t.”

“She’s the complete opposite of everything that’s going on! The
zombies…the BurgerDog…everything!”

They all paused, contemplating the notion. Then, in a mad dash to the backpack, the boys busted out the ginkgo, gobbling pills by the mouthful.

“This maybe wasn’t such a great idea,” Zack said, spitting out the bitter powder.

“I have a better idea,” Rice said. He brought over a bottle of ginkgo to Greg’s lifeless corpse and knelt down. Rice began stuffing ginkgo capsules into Greg’s mouth. “Help me, Zack. He’s not swallowing.”

“What do you want me to do?” Zack said, crouching down next to Greg.

“Ummm, try closing his mouth and plugging his nose.”

“That won’t work,” Zack said. “He’s not even breathing.”

“Well, then just stuff them down his throat or something.”

“I’m not putting my fingers in his mouth!”

“It’s your turn, man. I shoved my hand underneath that nasty thing over there!”

“Fine,” Zack groaned. He closed his eyes and jammed his fingers deep down Bansal-Jones’s throat. He felt a chunk of vomit in his own throat and shuddered. “There. Done.”

“Good work, buddy,” Rice said.

“Are you guys going to untie me or what?” Madison shouted impatiently.

Zack took out his Swiss Army knife and cut her free.
She rubbed her wrists and stretched her leg, grimacing from the sharp sting in her half-eaten calf muscle.

“Are you gonna be okay to drive, Madison?”

“I think so,” she said, straightening her knee. “Oww…once I get to the truck.”

“C’mon,” Rice said, gathering up the scattered gear. “Let’s load up and hit the road. We got to get her to the military base, pronto. She could be the answer to the outbreak!”

“What about Twinkles?” Madison asked with puppy dog eyes. “He hasn’t had a proper burial.”

“No time for burials, Madison,” Rice answered, zipping up his pack.

“Dude,” Zack said.

“What?” Rice whined, eyes wide and palms up.

“It’s the right thing to do.”