The Zombie in the Basement (7 page)

Both Ricky and Eric gasped in shock as the light showed the slack, cracked skin of the zombie. The skin was pale and hung from the chin like a turkey’s wattle. Liver spots and two warts added to the picture to cause both boys to quiver in fear.

But Ricky was going for it all now, and with one last flick of his wrist, the flashlight went up and illuminated the face of the zombie.

The eyes were sunken into the face, the skin sagging and covered with wrinkles. The zombie’s mouth was half-open and the teeth, faded yellow, like dentures, flashed in the light. There was a white mustache of all

things on the ghoul, but it was bushy and unkempt, as was the white hair. And the eyes were dull, hidden behind a pair of thick, coke-bottle glasses.

And as the light illuminated the terrifying visage of the zombie in all its glory, both boys screamed and prepared to run, the flashlight dropping from Ricky’s trembling fingers, the bulb shattering when it hit the floor.

Then the light went out, plunging the basement into darkness.

CHAPTER 8

AT THE SAME
exact time the flashlight winked out, both Ricky and Eric spun around and prepared to run back to the open window and safety. Neither boy had any thoughts other than escape, knowing the zombie was behind them, ready to attack and eat them.

But before the boys could get two feet, a hand fell onto each of their shoulders, gripping tightly and halting their progress before it could begin.

In the darkness, Ricky yelled again, not wanting to die by being eaten by a zombie. For he knew, he would then return as one of the walking dead and that wasn’t something he was looking forward to.

“
No! Don’t eat me! Help! Someone help!” Ricky screamed as the hand on his shoulder pulled him back.

He could imagine the zombie’s mouth opening in the darkness, the teeth getting ready to sink into his warm flesh. It was too much to bear and it was all he could do not to wet himself.

Beside him, Eric was yelling, too, a few sobs added to the mix as he begged for his life.

But then, before he felt teeth sink into his body, an overhead light snapped on in the basement, banishing the darkness to the farthest corners.

Ricky turned around, expecting to see the zombie getting ready to pull him closer to eat him, but what he saw was an old man with white hair, pale skin and liver spots. He immediately realized this wasn’t the face he’d seen at the basement window. What he thought was a zombie was in fact the owner of the house.

This was Mr. Rollin, in all his glory, looking about as close as you could get to a real live zombie.

“
Now just what in blue blazes are you boys doing in my basement?” Mr. Rollin asked as he stared at the two quivering boys through his thick glasses.

At first, neither Ricky nor Eric spoke, both still in shock and relieved they weren’t about to get eaten.

But slowly, as the seconds passed, each boy regained his composure and calmed down.

“
We’re sorry, sir, we were looking for the zombie. We wanted to find it so we could be heroes,” Ricky said, deciding honesty was the best course of action.

“
Ah-ha, and do your parents know you like to break into people’s houses after dinner?” Mr. Rollin asked.

“
No, sir,” both boys said at the same time.

But Ricky was up to defending himself. He quickly filled in Mr. Rollin on what he had seen earlier that day and what he and Eric had decided to do.

“
And then we came in here to get proof of the zombie so people would believe us,” Ricky said.

Mr. Rollin listened quietly, smiling a few times and nodding his head. Then, as Ricky finished his story, the old man began to chuckle.

Ricky and Eric looked to one another, not understanding what was so funny. After all, the old man had been caught red-handed. The truth was out that he had a zombie in his basement. He couldn’t hope to keep it a secret any longer, and if he tried to hurt either Eric or Ricky, people would find out. But the old man laughed,

as if the story Ricky had spun was all make believe.

Finally he stopped and patted both boys on the shoulder gently, then he turned and began shuffling back to the doorway of the large metal door.

“
I think you two boys might want to come back into this room with me and see your zombie for yourself.”

As Mr. Rollin shuffled away, Eric looked to Ricky. “Should we?” Eric asked.

Ricky shrugged. “Why not? If he wanted to hurt us he would have done so already. I think he’s safe enough.”

“
But what about what our parents tell us about strangers?” Eric asked.

Ricky shrugged again. “Eric, we’re the ones who broke into his house. If we’re worried about him being a stranger, I think it’s a little late for that.”

Eric nodded. “Yeah, good point. Okay, let’s go.”

Ricky took the lead and the two boys followed the old man who was now at the doorway. A light flicked on in the other room, and as Eric and Ricky reached the doorway and stepped inside; their eyes went wide with wonder at the sights that greeted them, their nose tick-

ling to the smell they first noticed upon entering the basement.

In every corner of what was obviously a workshop, stood life-size statues of every conceivable monster from history. Wolfman, The Mummy and Dracula to name a few, were mixed in with Jack the Ripper and other assorted characters. It was as the boys were walking around that Ricky came face to face with his zombie.

The statue was standing in the far corner, and as Ricky looked up into the dead eyes and pale face, he recognized it immediately. This was the same one he’d seen in the basement window when he had fetched the ball. On a workbench were supplies, such as glue and wax, and this was the odd smell they had noticed, the odor being the chemicals to make the statues.

“
But how?” Ricky asked. “I saw this zombie at the window and I heard it moan.”

Mr. Rollin nodded from across the room. He was leaning against his workbench as he watched the two boys with amusement.

“
Sorry, to disappoint you, son, but what you heard was an old man trying to move that heavy statue without

a dolly. I thought I could do it but it was too heavy. That’s when I leaned it against the basement wall and went to get the dolly from upstairs where I’d left it. I’m not as young as I used to be and a groan and a moan are a few of the things that slip out of me every now and then.”

Ricky nodded in understanding, feeling slightly silly. Eric was off to the right, admiring a life-like statue of a cannibal. The teeth were filed down and the head was bald, a spear in the left hand. Eric touched the arm and it came back with a light film on it.

“
What is this stuff?” Eric asked.

“
That’s wax, son. I make all these statues out of wax. That’s why I work in the basement. It’s cooler down here so the wax doesn’t melt. Then, when they’re done, I send them off to different wax museums across the country. I have a few in Las Vegas, too. I did a special one of Elvis Presley.”

“
Who’s that?” Ricky asked.

Mr. Rollin waved the question away, realizing the boys weren’t impressed with names such as Elvis.

“
It doesn’t matter, son. So, are you two happy now that you know my little secret?”

“
What secret?” Eric asked.

“
The secret that I work in wax. I keep to myself and you two are the first people in the neighborhood to know. I always ship my statues at night when everyone is inside so no one knows what I do here. I like my privacy.”

“
Okay, if that’s true, then why is your yard so messy? Why don’t you cut the grass or trim the trees?” Ricky asked. “Why does the house look like a haunted house?”