The Zombie Chasers (7 page)

R
ice’s house was dark and empty except for the bluish glow of the television flickering from the living room window. An abandoned backpack sat half-opened on the porch steps.

“That’s his backpack,” Zack whispered. “But I don’t see Rice.”

Madison puckered her lips in the rearview mirror. “How long are we supposed to wait for this kid?”

“I don’t know. He should be right here.” Zack put down the automatic window. “Psssst…Rice?” he called in a strained loud whisper.

“Oh, man, it reeks out there,” Madison said, catching
a whiff of the rank, musty air wafting in from the humid night. She pinched her nostrils and breathed in through her mouth. “Eww, you can taste it, too.”

Yeah,
Zack thought.
This whole night stinks
. Just then, Rice stepped around the back corner of the house at the far end of the driveway. “Here he comes!” Zack exclaimed, pointing at the squat, husky silhouette waddling toward the street.

“Tell him to hurry up,” Madison demanded.

“Rice, come on, man, we gotta get movin’!” Zack urged.

But Rice didn’t respond. He just kept lumbering slowly, swaying back and forth.

As he stepped out of the shadows, Rice’s arms drifted in front of him, hanging as if by strings on a marionette. His face was spackled with blackened scabs and ripe pink pustules. “Raaaaghrr!” he groaned, approaching the street.

“That dude is
so
not getting in this car,” Madison said, shifting out of park.

“Wait a second,” Zack said, squinting at his friend.

Rice’s eyes had the same blank stare as the others: that trancelike gaze that seemed to blur the difference between the living and the undead.

Suddenly, zombie Rice broke into a sprint and rushed the car. “Rraaaaarrghhh!!!” he growled, slapping the hood with a loud bang. Zack and Madison both screamed. “Brrrraaaiins!” Rice intoned. “Brraaaiiiiiins!” This was followed by a raspy chuckle.

Zack breathed a sigh of relief as his friend snapped back to humanity. Rice trotted over to the front porch, fetched his bag, and bounced into the backseat.

“I got you guys g
ood
,” Rice gloated proudly before zipping up the backpack.

“Not funny, Rice,” Zack said.

“Oh, lighten up, will you? I was only foolin’ around.”

Madison turned around and seized Rice by the shirt collar like an angry drill sergeant harassing a brazen rookie. But then, upon seeing his scabby face, she quickly released her grasp.

“Eeckhh,” she grumbled. “What’s up with all the zits?”

“It’s not acne,” Rice murmured. “It’s chicken pox.”

“Is he absolutely necessary?” Madison asked, turning to Zack.

“I’m afraid I am,
Madison,
” Rice explained smugly. “For instance, I know that y
ou
need to know what I know. Because
I
know what we need to do. And right now what
we
need to do is to pick up ginkgo biloba.”

“Is he the new exchange student from Tokyo?” Zack asked.

“It’s not a ‘he,’ Zack. It’s an ‘it,’” Rice clarified. “And we’re gonna need plenty of it if we plan on making it through the night.”

“Ginkgo? That’s your brilliant plan?” Madison
scoffed. “Have you even seen one of these things yet?”

“Zombies? Yeah, I’ve seen zombies,” Rice said defensively. “I saw ’em all over the news. What’s your point?”

“Well, Rice?” Madison spoke as if explaining something to a small child. “It’s a little different when they’re trying to rip your guts out.” She steered the Volvo away from the curb into the empty street.

“No need to rub it in,” Rice said, disappointed. “I’m jealous enough as is. My neighborhood’s sooo boring.” Rice lived in a tiny alcove of the city, all dead ends and one-ways. The zombie attack had missed the area completely.

“You actually want to see the zombies?” Madison was shaking her head. “Why?”

“For the same reason that people chase tornadoes. Because they’re freakin’ awesome!” Rice said. “But that’s not the point. Based on my internet research, I’ve discovered that this ginkgo biloba stuff
will, like, repel the zombies. Kind of like what garlic does to vampires….”

“Kind of like what your pock-covered face does to me,” Madison cracked.

“Is she always this funny, Zack?”

“I’m the funniest person you’ll ever meet,” Madison taunted, refusing to back down.

“Guys, relax,” Zack intervened, raising his hands like a substitute teacher trying to regain control of a rowdy homeroom. “Did you hear anything important on the news, Rice?” Zack wanted facts, not one of Rice’s half-baked theories.

“Well, I tried, but the reporter kind of got eaten in the middle of the broadcast.”

“They ate him?” Madison said slowly, completely revolted.

“Yeah, totally. This one zombie came out of nowhere and was like ‘Blaaahhh!’ And then this other one chomped the guy’s neck. And then blood spattered all over the camera lens, and then—”

“We got the picture, sicko,” Madison said.

“Let’s get back to the ginkgo,” Zack prompted.

“Okay, now I don’t know if it’s the ginkgo or the biloba, but it’s supposed to prevent cell damage, which zombies
do
have, improve blood flow, which zombies
don’t
have, and increase brain function, which they
definitely
don’t have. Plus, the ginkgo tree never gets diseases and it’s completely insect resistant. It all ties together, man! Zombie garlic! Get it?”

Not really,
Zack thought, staring like a zombie at his overzealous pal.

“That makes zero sense,” Madison said.

“
You
make zero sense,
Madison,
” Rice jeered. “Zack, are you sure Zoe’s the only person you clobbered over the head tonight? Should this girl even be driving? We’re doing like five in a thirty.”

“Shut up, creep!” Madison shouted, veering toward the curb. “I’m still getting the hang of it.”

“Lay off, Rice. It’s not like she has a license, and you can’t even reach the pedals,” Zack said.

“Sorry, Madison,” Rice apologized reluctantly. “I didn’t mean to dog you out like that.”

“Dog…?” Madison tapered off into a shrill whimper. Her eyes welled up with tears as she choked back the sobs. “Poor Twinkles!” The Volvo started to drift off-center again.

“Who’s Twinkles?” Rice asked.

“Twinkles was…I mean,
is
her dog,” Zack explained. “He got spooked and ran away.”

“Oh, man. That sucks. You know they say that if zombies can’t find human flesh to chow down on, they’ll settle for smaller animals like squirrels or rodents or—”

“Dude!” Zack shouted.

“How do you even know this loser anyway?” Madison spluttered between sobs. “He’s so mean!” The car veered across the middle of the road.

“He’s my best friend,” Zack admitted.

“This is your best friend, Zack?” Madison sniffled, regaining full control of the car. “You’ve got serious problems.”

Just then, the Volvo bounced up and down as if it had hurtled too fast over a speed bump. Rice had neglected to buckle his seat belt and sprang up off the backseat.
Madison slammed the brakes. The car pitched to a halt in the middle of the road.

“Wh-what was that?” Zack stuttered.

The three of them flipped around, looking out the back window. All they could see was the empty road behind them.

“Should we get out and look?”

Madison asked, preparing to unbuckle her seat belt.

Rice gasped as a bloated zombie woman rose off the pavement. She was stiff and twisted, wearing a torn shirt with a tire mark mudcaked across her stomach. Her dead silver eyes blazed red in the ruddy glow of the tail-light. Purple drool oozed from her chapped, flaking mouth. The zombie woman pounced forward and latched on to the back of the car, snarling and shrieking.

“Go!” Zack yelled. Madison hit the gas. The rabid
ghoul clung to the back bumper.

“Aahhhhhh!” Madison cried, and jerked the steering wheel, which flung the zombie lady loose. She thumped and rolled onto the grassy lawn.

“Watch out, Madison,” Zack warned as they swerved from side to side. “They’re everywhere!”

The road ahead was filled with freshly risen corpses, awakening like dominoes in reverse. The Volvo zigzagged gradually through the zombie obstacle course, but there was a much more serious problem ahead. A dense pack of the walking dead was making its way across the street, like a zombie parade, right where they needed to turn.

“Madison, step on it!” Rice shouted.

“But we’re gonna crash into them,” she pleaded.

“Just go!” yelled Zack.

Madison dipped around the final zombie and mashed the accelerator. The engine bellowed. The needle metered. Twenty mph! Thirty!

“Faster,” Zack hollered. Forty mph!

The zombies blundered through the crosswalk.
A putrid, nauseating procession of the damned, narrowing the gap to the corner.

They all held their breath, and just before the throng of mutants reached the sidewalk, Madison spun the steering wheel to the right.

The tires screeched, jumping the curb, and Zack, Rice, and Madison shifted to the left of the skidding car, stunned into silence. The front bumper barreled through a blue mailbox on the corner, sending up a flurry of white envelopes and glossy catalogs. And now the Volvo was careening straight into a telephone pole.

M
adison swerved, dodging the crash. She straightened the wheel as hard as she could, and the tires regained their grip on the blacktop with an earsplitting screech. When the smoke cleared from the burnt rubber, the parade of zombies was behind them.

“We made it!” Zack shouted.

“That was insane!” said Rice.

Madison pressed the brakes, and the car sputtered to a halt. Zack stared through the windshield at the crumpled hood of the Volvo
. How am I going to explain that one?
he thought, rubbing the headache from his temples.

“Before we go any farther,” Madison announced, “I just have to say that I’m totally uncomfortable shopping anywhere but Whole Foods.”

“We’re not shopping,” Rice corrected. “We’re gathering the zombie garlic, remember?”

“Whatever, maggot,” Madison conceded. “Where is this place?”

“Two more blocks,” Rice said.

“All I’m saying,” she continued, “is that Whole Foods has a much healthier selection than this Albertsons place.”

The Volvo coasted down the block, snaking down the double yellow lines. Up ahead, a Channel 7 news van idled on the side of the road. The satellite dish fastened to the top rotated briefly and flashed red. Rolling by, they noticed the sliding side door left open. Behind the wheel, the driver was stuffing his mouth with a greasy double-chili cheeseburger.

“Gross!” Madison sneered.

The burger-gobbling van driver swallowed his last gulp of the slimy fast food, slowly hinging and unhinging
his jaw. Suddenly, the man’s spine went straight and rigid. He began shaking rapidly. The bits of soggy bun flew from his mouth in a deep, barking cough. He convulsed hard with three quick spasms, slumped over in the seat, and went limp.

“Yo, did you see that?” Rice asked. “Did he just choke to death?”

“We should go see if he’s okay,” Madison said, hitting the brakes.

“No way,” Rice answered quickly. “Every man for himself.”

They turned around and looked through the rear
windshield. A fat, bearded guy was lugging a giant news camera. A hysterical woman with red hair trotted behind him in high heels, carrying a microphone. They were racing back to the van.

“What are they running from?” Zack said.

“Whaddaya think, idiot?” Madison replied.

Just as the Channel 7 duo reached the news van, the unconscious driver pounced out of the front seat and mauled the cameraman like a rabid cougar.

“Duuude! Can we get out of here, please?” Rice yelled.

But straight ahead, more zombies wandered down the main drag and into the supermarket parking lot.

The asphalt shimmered with a thousand shards of glass. Garbage wrappers swirled in a hot gust of wind around the zombies’ shuffling feet.

Albertsons was completely infested. The groping herd thrashed down the well-stocked aisles, wreaking havoc inside the store.

“I told you we should have gone to Whole Foods,” Madison said.

“We’re not going to Whole Foods, all right? It’s
twenty minutes away. Turn around. There’s another Albertsons, like, six blocks from here,” Rice commanded.

Suddenly, something slapped against the windshield.

“Ahhh!” Madison yelled.

But it was just a grease-soaked fast-food wrapper. A cartoon logo of a smiling dachshund with a head shaped like a hamburger, its long body like a hot dog, smiled back at them.

“Ick!” Madison shrieked and turned on the windshield wipers.

“What the heck is BurgerDog?” Zack asked Rice, reading the wrapper through the windshield.

“You haven’t seen the commercials? It’s this new fast-food joint. They’re opening up all over the country this weekend. It’s a hot dog that looks like a hamburger. Or something like that….”

“Nasty.” Madison hit the gas.

The second Albertsons loomed in the distance, taking up almost half a block on the main street. Madison
pulled into the empty lot and parked the Volvo. The trio hopped out and stalked up under the blue awning that hung over the front of the deserted store. They peered inside through the long line of large glass windowpanes. Rice yanked the handle of the automatic door, but it wouldn’t budge. He pushed the blue handicapped button over and over, but nothing happened.

“Okay, Ginkgo Boy,” Madison said, “How are we supposed to get inside?”

“Follow me.” Rice waved them along. Creeping down the alley past the loading docks, he led the way around back.

The rear of the grocery store was a flat two-story slab of cement. On both sides, fire escapes slashed down from red doors at the top corners of the building. At ground level, two big black double doors flanked an industrial-size blue Dumpster in the center of the outside wall. Above the Dumpster there was a half-open window.

Rice pried with his fingernails at the back service entrances, but both were barred and locked from the inside.

“Brilliant, Rice,” Madison said. “Where would we be without you?”

“Whole Foods?” he quipped.

“There!” Zack scaled up the blue steel edge of the garbage-filled Dumpster. Steadying himself, he slid the window all the way up, then squiggled through the opening. He dropped into the dark
Madison climbed up next, squeamish at the pit of reeking trash. Then came Rice, wheezing. He clung to Madison’s shoulder to catch his balance.

“Hands off, dork!” she sneered.

“Your wish is my command,” Rice said, scratching around a swollen chicken pock bubbling up on his cheek.

“Eww…” Madison muttered under her breath.

“Itchy,” Rice explained.

Inside, Zack found a small stepladder to stand on and reached his hand through the window. Madison quickly volunteered. She knelt awkwardly on the ledge and ducked her head, pausing halfway through.

“What’s the matter now?” Zack said.

“My shirt’s caught,” Madison said.

“Oh, come
on,
” Rice said.

“No! This is Juicy Couture,” she said, carefully pulling at the fabric. “There, got it!” She lost her balance suddenly, and her back foot kicked off the windowsill, slamming Rice in the neck, and sending him belly flopping into the heap of ripe, slimy garbage.

“Aahhhhhh!” he screamed.

Madison toppled forward onto Zack, who smacked the back of his skull with a dull thud on the hard linoleum floor. A woozy rush flooded his head. His vision speckled, and the room faded to black.

“Zack! Zack!” Madison shouted, jostling his shoulders.

Three blurry Madisons hovered above him. The two fuzzier Madisons on the right and left merged back into the real Madison in the middle. Their eyes met and flicked away.

“What? What’s going on?” he asked.

“I’m sorry, Zack. That was totally my fault,” Madison admitted.

Behind them, Rice clambered up through the window, groaning painfully. He was stuck, his pudgy gut seesawing on the window’s ledge. A black-spotted banana peel slid off his head. “Help,” he grunted. Madison strolled over, rolling her eyes.

“But you’re covered in trash….” She hesitated, brushing him off slightly.

“Please, Madison!”

“Fine,” she said.

Madison’s hands squished into Rice’s soggy, garbage-soaked sweatshirt as he wormed his way over the ledge. “This is too disgusting,” she said, letting him fall.

Rice crashed face-first onto the floor. He curled up like a large potato bug, wincing in agony.

Zack sat dazed in a sullen lump, rubbing his head. Madison tromped over and wiped off her grimy Rice-hands on Zack’s sleeves. Straightening his glasses, Rice rummaged around in his backpack and pulled out two flashlights. He waggled the bright, shining light on Zack’s unresponsive face.

“Stop that!” Zack squinted angrily and blocked the blinding beam with his palm. “Let’s just go gather up the ‘bingo globula’ and see if you’re right.”

“Ginkgo biloba,” Rice corrected. “And it’s gonna work.”

“More like geeko blobola,” Madison joked. “And it better work.”