Zombie! (5 page)

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Authors: Alan MacDonald

BOOK: Zombie!
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Bertie gazed out of the window as the coach entered the gates. This was it –
the zoo
– the greatest school trip ever! He couldn’t wait to get inside. He wanted to see everything – the lions, tigers, bears, gorillas, hippos and, best of all, the elephants.

Last week, Miss Boot had asked the class to choose an animal and make a
Fact File. Bertie had picked elephants. He’d drawn a massive elephant poo beside a pigeon dropping. Miss Boot had written, “See me!” in his book.

The coach stopped and Bertie joined the stampede to get off. But the huge figure of Miss Boot blocked the gangway.

“STOP! Everyone back to their seats!” she yelled.

The class groaned.

“Before we go anywhere, let me remind you of the rules. First of all, keep together, I don’t want anyone getting lost. Secondly, no running, no yelling and no fighting.”

Bertie rolled his eyes.
In other words, no fun,
he thought.

“Finally, DO NOT feed the animals,” warned Miss Boot. “And I’m talking to you, Bertie.”

Bertie gaped. He wasn’t going to feed the animals – not unless Know-All Nick leaned over the crocodile pool.

Nick raised his hand.

“Can we make sketches, Miss?”

“Excellent idea, Nicholas,” said Miss Boot. She sighed. Bertie was waving an arm. “What is it?”

“When can we eat our lunch?” asked Bertie.

“When I say so and not before,” snapped Miss Boot.

They waited at the entrance while Miss Boot collected the tickets. Bertie wished they didn’t have to stay together. He wanted to race off and find the elephant house. Maybe the zookeeper would let him climb up for a ride? If he had a pet elephant he’d train it to pick up heavy objects – Miss Boot, for instance.

Finally they set off with Miss Boot and Mr Weakly leading the way. Bertie, Darren and Eugene kept to the back. Miss Boot dragged them round all the boring bits of the zoo. They saw a camel
chewing grass, a flock of deer and a yak dozing in the sun.

Bertie sighed. When were they going to see the lions and elephants? He didn’t want to miss feeding time – and, talking of food, he was starving!

“When’s lunch?” he moaned.

“Not for hours,” said Eugene.

“And Miss Boot says you’ve got to wait,” said Know-All Nick, butting in.

“Who asked you, smelly?” said Bertie. Nick was such a teacher’s pet. He probably didn’t pick his nose without permission. Well, Bertie couldn’t wait any longer – he reached into his rucksack for his lunch box.

“Umm, you’re not allowed!” cried Nick.

“It’s
my
lunch,” said Bertie.

“But Miss Boot said you mustn’t,” bleated Nick. “I’m telling!”

Bertie took no notice. His mum had packed him two rolls. Cheese and peanut butter – yum! But as he went to take a bite, Nick snatched it from him.

“HEY! Give that back!” shouted Bertie.

“Make me, bogey nose!” jeered Nick.

Bertie made a grab for the roll but Nick threw it to Trevor and missed. It sailed right over his head, landing on the other side of some railings.

“Oops! Silly me!” smirked Nick.

Bertie glared in fury. “Go and get it!”

“I can’t,” said Nick. “Look where it is.”

Bertie looked. The railings were actually part of the monkey cage. Over by their house, a group of monkeys were playing on some rubber tyres. Bertie scowled. He would get Nick for this.

Bertie could see his roll lying just inside the railings. It was probably dirty but who cared about that?

“You could reach it,” he told Nick.

“Reach it yourself!” Nick replied.


You
threw it,” said Bertie.

“Tough luck!” sneered Nick. “Serves you right for being such a greedy pig!”

Bertie scowled. If he had his way, Nick would be locked in a cage and never let out. He glanced round.

Miss Boot was up ahead, admiring the flamingos with the rest of the class. No one was watching. Bertie reached a hand through the bars. The roll was just out of reach. Maybe if he squeezed his head through? Got it! Now to get out before Miss Boot or the monkeys noticed.

UHHHH? Bertie tried to free his head. ARGH! HE WAS STUCK!

He tried turning his head one way then the other. It made no difference – it wouldn’t fit through. He was starting to panic.

“What are you playing at?” asked Know-All Nick behind him.

“I’m stuck!” grunted Bertie.

“Oh dear!” sniggered Nick. “Shall I fetch Miss Boot?”

“NO! Just get me out!” cried Bertie.

Nick folded his arms. “Hmm, let me think about that,” he said.

Darren and Eugene came over.

“What’s going on?” asked Darren.

“Bertie’s got his head stuck,” crowed Nick. “It’s because it’s so big.”

“You’re kidding,” said Darren.

“Stop messing around,” said Eugene.

“I’M NOT!” moaned Bertie. “DO something!”

Darren and Eugene looked at each other. Miss Boot wasn’t going to like this. Any minute now she might see Bertie and march over.

“Turn your head,” urged Eugene.

“I’ve tried that!” said Bertie.

“Hold your breath and count to fifty,” said Darren.

Bertie rolled his eyes. “That’s for hiccups!”

“I’ve got an idea!” chortled Nick.
“Let’s tickle his feet!”

Bertie ground his teeth. If he ever got out of this he’d get even with that two-faced sneak. He’d push him in an elephant poo. He’d put a rattlesnake down his trousers. He’d…

“OWWW! What are you doing?”

“Trying to get you out,” said Eugene. He and Darren pulled with all their might.

“ARGHHH!” yelled Bertie. “YOU’LL PULL MY HEAD OFF!”

They let go. Up ahead, Miss Boot had finished talking and the class were moving off.

“Bye Bertie, have fun!” cried Nick, hurrying to catch up.

Eugene looked round. “We’ll have to go,” he said.

“Hang on!” cried Bertie. “You can’t just leave me!”

“We can’t all stay,” said Darren. “Miss Boot will notice if we’re missing.”

“But what if I’m attacked by monkeys?” moaned Bertie.

Darren looked over. The monkeys were busy swinging on their tyres.

“You’ll be okay,” he said. “Good job it’s not the lions’ den – that
would
be bad.”

“We’ll come back later,” said Eugene.

“WAIT!” cried Bertie. “You can’t just—”

But they’d gone. He was left alone. Actually not quite alone because one of the monkeys was looking at him with bright little eyes. It threw back its head and screeched.

Uh oh,
thought Bertie.
Just when I thought things couldn’t get any worse
.

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