Zombies of the Science Fair

by Bruce Coville

  “I feel terrific!” he cried.

  “Good. I have the impression you’re feeling terrifically intelligent, too. Why don’t you get busy on your project for the science fair. I bet you’re going to have fun working on it.”

  “You’re not kidding!” cried Tim. “I love this stuff!”

  Pushing up his sleeves, he sat down in front of one of the counters and began doing calculations, drawing graphs, and making labels for illustrations he had already stuck on a display board.

  I continued working on my project as well, designing an animated demonstration of the human brain. Soon I was deep into the work, so absorbed I forgot about eating. Even so, I was aware of the skritch of Tim’s pencil, the sound of his scissors cutting paper, the farty noise of the glue bottle when he squeezed out glue.

  I’m not sure when I noticed that the room had fallen silent.

  I turned around. Tim’s project was finished. It looked very impressive.

  Tim, however, did not. He was sitting in front of the display, staring at it with a blank expression on his face.

  “Are you all right, Tim?” I asked anxiously.

  “I don’t know,” he said. “Am I?”

  I began to feel nervous. “Why aren’t you moving?”

  His answer sent a thrill of terror tingling through my sphen-gnut-ksher. Looking at me with vacant eyes, he said, “I’m waiting for you to tell me what to do next.”

  CHAPTER 10 [TIM]

  THE NEW ME

  It is hard for me to explain how I felt as I sat there in front of my science project. My brain was sharp and clear, ready for action. But my energy… well, I didn’t feel any energy at all. It was as if a switch had been turned off inside me. Even though I had a vague sense of being hungry, I had no urge to do anything but sit and wait for my next suggestion from Pleskit.

  I could tell from the rotting carp smell that came from his sphen-gnut-ksher that he was upset. “Tim!” he said urgently. “Tim, talk to me!”

  “Certainly,” I replied, glad to oblige. “What do you want me to talk about?”

  “Uh… Tarbox Moon Warriors!”

  “Certainly,” I said again, and began to recite the show’s description from Ballon’s Guide to Classic Television Sci-Fi. “Tarbox Moon Warriors was one of the great science-fiction shows of early television. The crew of the Tarbox consisted of the strong and heroic captain Lance Driscoll, his wisecracking pilot, Hunter Wilbourne, known for—”

  “Stop!” cried Pleskit.

  “All right.”

  “Don’t you want to know why I told you to stop?” he asked, sounding almost terrified.

  “If you want to tell me.”

  “No, I want you to want to know.”

  “Well, in that case, I’m dying to find out!” I cried, filled with a sudden, desperate longing to know exactly that.

  “Are you serious?” asked Pleskit suspiciously.

  “As serious as you want me to be.”

  “Gibblespratten,” muttered Pleskit, which confused me, since I had no idea what I was supposed to think. Pleskit stared at me for a minute, tapping his nose. He took a deep breath, then said, “I think it’s time you were your old self again, don’t you, Tim?”

  It was as if some strange fog had lifted from my brain. I shook my head, blinked a couple of times, then said, “What the heck was that all about?”

  “I fear the Suggestibility Ray was more successful than I intended,” said Pleskit. “It took away your free will, leaving you in a state where you would not do anything unless I suggested it.”

  “Whoa,” I said nervously. “I don’t like the sound of that!”

  “It was certainly not my intention when I started this project,” said Pleskit. “On the other hand, it is an interesting development. Perhaps it will make my science fair project more compelling.”

  I looked at my own project. Though I could hardly remember having worked on it, it looked pretty good—better than anything I had ever managed before. And it was only eight o’clock. A new record!

  “Look,” I said nervously, “am I back to normal now, or is the Suggestibility Ray still in effect?”

  Pleskit wrinkled his brow, and his sphen-gnut-ksher bent sideways. “I’m not sure. I suggested you should be back to normal, but I don’t know if that erased the effect of the ray, or if the thing is still in effect underneath your seeming normalcy. It shouldn’t make that much difference. Your suggestibility was limited to things I said, so it’s not like anyone else can suggest something weird.”

  “Good thing I trust you,” I said.

  “And a good thing that the science fair is tomorrow,” said Pleskit. “I don’t think we should use this thing anymore.”

  I sighed. “You’re probably right. But I’m going to miss being a genius.”

  “The intelligence remains,” said Pleskit. “You just can’t get at it. Of course, that seems to be one of the basic problems of the human race.”

  * * *

  Mom was astonished when I arrived home from the embassy with my project completed and ready to go.

  “Is this really my son?” she asked.

  “Yeah, pretty much,” I said, not wanting to get into details.

  I chowed down hard, then headed for bed. As I drifted off, it occurred to me that, of all the strange things that had happened in the last few days, getting a decent night’s sleep before the science fair was probably the strangest.

  * * *

  The next morning Mom drove me and Linnsy—and our science fair projects—to school. Linnsy’s project had involved growing several kinds of mold on different foods. Obviously, she had started it way back when we were supposed to.

  School wasn’t bad that day, though the time seemed to drag because all I could think about was going to the gym to set up our projects. Classes were scheduled to go in one at a time, so things wouldn’t get too crowded and crazy. Our class was supposed to go in right after lunch. Normally, I dreaded the setup, since that was when I finally had to display how little I had actually done. But this year I was so excited by the fact that I had my project finished that I couldn’t wait to get going.

  But I had to, of course. Sometimes I get the feeling that the biggest thing they’re trying to teach us in school isn’t reading, writing, or math.

  It’s waiting.

  After about five hundred years had passed, it was our turn to set up. We gathered our projects—which had been taking up all the available space in our room—and headed down the hall.

  Several classes had already set up their displays, of course. Unfortunately, this made it hard for me to focus on my own work, since I kept wanting to go look at what the other kids had done.

  Pleskit and I worked side by side. His display was incredible. It had three-dimensional holographic X-rays of the brain of his “anonymous subject” (Mr. Anonymous being me, of course), computer simulations of how various parts of the brain worked, charts about suggestibility, and an explanation of how the brain-testing was done to begin with. The centerpiece of the display was the “Pleskonian Suggestibility Stimulator” (his fancy name for the Suggestibility Ray), which Pleskit had now equipped with a safety switch so that no one would turn it on by accident.

  Next to all that, my display looked fairly pathetic—though I was still proud to have one at all for a change. Several kids complimented me on it, which made me feel good. And everyone seemed to get a kick out of Gramma’s old spray gun.

  Jordan’s display was on computer graphics. It was very impressive. But I don’t think he had any idea of what was really in it.

  Larrabe’s woodchuck display was kind of cute. Linnsy’s mold project looked totally professional (and unlike Jordan, she had done it all on her own). Misty Longacres had a neat project on plant growth and soil types. And Michael Wu had done a very cool project on simple tools, which had been one of our first units that year. The coolest part was a big galvanized tub connected to a set of pulleys that he wanted to connect to the ceiling so he cou
ld demonstrate how he could hoist himself into the air. Unfortunately, the ceiling in the gym was way too high for that. Finally Principal Grand and Coach Philgrinn agreed to let him hook it to one of the metal bars holding up the basketball backboard.

  After we were pretty much set up, I was talking to Linnsy when Jordan came ambling by. Brad Kent, Jordan’s deputy butthead, was with him. No surprise there. Brad follows Jordan like stink follows a skunk.

  They stopped to stare at my project.

  “Methods of Spraying?” said Jordan in disbelief. “Man, you give new meaning to the word ‘lame,’ Tompkins!”

  “Hey, at least I made this myself, rather than having my father buy it for me,” I shot back.

  He narrowed his eyes, then snarled, “Hey, at least I’ve got a father.”

  It would have been easier if he had just hit me—though in a way it was like being hit, since I actually staggered under the insult. Other than that, I couldn’t move. I felt as if I were frozen.

  Linnsy stepped between us. She’s as tall as Jordan, and plenty tough when she wants to be. “That’s enough, Jordan,” she said, her voice low but firm. “Get your sorry butt out of here.”

  Jordan stared at her for a moment, then shrugged. “Good thing you’ve got a girl to protect you, Tompkins,” he sneered, making “girl” sound like a dirty word. He and Brad turned and swaggered away, laughing as they went.

  I wanted to thank Linnsy, but I was too upset and embarrassed to say anything.

  Even more, I wanted the strength and the wit to be able to strike back at Jordan.

  And I knew where to get it.

  Stepping to Pleskit’s display, I grabbed the ray gun.

  “Tim!” cried Linnsy. “Don’t!”

  Ignoring her frantic attempt to stop me, I flipped the safety switch and turned the ray on myself full force.

  CHAPTER 11 [PLESKIT]

  THE ZOMBIE

  I was at the end of the gym, studying Michael Wu’s pulley project, when Linnsy grabbed my arm and whispered urgently, “Pleskit! We’ve got a problem!”

  Humans do not communicate by smell. Even so, they send more information by odor than they realize, and the strong scent of fear I picked up from Linnsy made my clinkus tighten.

  “What is it?” I asked, keeping my voice low as she had done.

  “Just come with me.”

  Before we even got back to my display, I could see that whatever the problem was, it involved Tim. He was standing in front of the table, pointing the Suggestibility Ray directly at his own head.

  That was strange enough.

  What was even stranger was that he was absolutely motionless.

  “What happened?” I asked as we hurried toward him.

  “He gave himself a dose of the ray,” said Linnsy. “Then he just sort of froze.”

  “What?” I cried. “Why would he do that?”

  Other people turned to look at us. I lowered my voice. “Why would he do that?” I repeated.

  “I don’t know,” said Linnsy. “We had a problem with Jordan—it was pretty nasty, actually—and next thing I knew Tim was pointing the ray at himself.”

  I glanced around for McNally. He was at the side of the gym, talking to Ms. Weintraub. The other kids were scattered at various tables, either still setting up their own projects or looking at someone else’s. No one seemed to have realized what was happening.

  I hurried to Tim’s side. He stared straight ahead, a glazed expression on his face.

  “Tim!” I cried. “Are you all right?”

  No answer.

  Realizing my mistake, I said suggestively, “You probably feel pretty good.”

  No answer.

  I realized with horror that, since I had not administered this dose of the ray, I was not the one he was bound to take suggestions from!

  Desperate, I decided to go for a direct command: “Tim, answer me!”

  No answer.

  “What’s going on?” asked Linnsy. She sounded frightened, which made sense to me, since I was pretty terrified myself.

  Concealing my fear, I tried again. Making my voice as stern and commanding as I could without actually shouting, I said, “Tim, take a step forward.”

  For a moment, there was no response. Then Tim said, “Yes, Master.” His voice sounded cold and mechanical. And his movements were stiff as he followed my command. But at least he had moved.

  “Pleskit!” cried Linnsy. “You’ve turned Tim into a zombie!”

  “I don’t even know what a zombie is,” I said, trying to fight down the feeling of terror threatening to throw me into kleptra. “Besides, I didn’t do it. He gave himself that last dose of the ray.”

  I turned to Tim. Using that same firm voice, I said, “Tim, I order you to act like your old self again.”

  He stood without moving for a moment. Then he started to tremble, almost as if he were trying to do something but couldn’t. After a moment or two of this he spoke. The words, when they came, were slow and halting.

  “I… do… not… understand.”

  My clinkus got even tighter and felt so cold I could barely breathe. Turning to Linnsy, I said, “Go get McNally. We’ve got to get Tim back to the embassy so I can work on an antidote.”

  She nodded. “I’ll be right back.”

  As she left I ordered Tim to walk behind the project so no one would see him.

  He hesitated, then shambled forward, not looking from side to side. As he went behind my display, I had a sudden thought. Running after him, I said, “Tim, are you doing this for a joke? If you are, please stop it now.”

  “I… do… not… understand,” he said again.

  I poked him. He didn’t flinch. I snapped my fingers in front of his eyes. He didn’t blink.

  My hope that this was a mere prank collapsed.

  Before I could think what to do next, McNally appeared beside me. “Holy smoke!” he cried. “What happened to him?”

  “He’s been zombified,” said Linnsy, who was standing beside McNally.

  “We have to get him back to the embassy,” I said. “I need to work on an antidote.”

  McNally saw the need for immediate action, which meant he would save his questions—and any lecture I might get—for later. He glanced around quickly, then said, “Better if we can get him out of here without attracting a lot of attention. No need to stir up another round of anti-alien hysteria—though if you can’t snap him out of this, that’s gonna happen anyway.”

  I groaned. It was not enough that my best friend was now a zombie—whatever that was. I had once again endangered the mission of the Fatherly One. This was a problem not only for us, but for the entire planet, since if the Fatherly One is recalled by the Interplanetary Trading Federation, the next beings who have a claim on Earth are more likely to simply take over the planet than to try developing it as a trading partner.

  All I wanted to do was create a science project that would have useful information for Earthlings. Yet once again I had managed to put the entire planet in danger.

  Desperate measures were required.

  “How are we going to get him out of here without attracting all kinds of attention?” asked McNally.

  “How about the box I used to carry my project?” suggested Linnsy.

  McNally and I just looked at her.

  “I’m serious! You can put Tim in the box and carry him out the side door. I’ll go tell Ms. Weintraub that Tim and I are going back to the embassy with you to help Pleskit with an unexpected problem—which is pretty much the truth.”

  “You don’t need to go,” said McNally.

  “If you want to use my carton, I do,” replied Linnsy firmly.

  McNally groaned. “I should have listened to my mother and joined the Marines. All right, I don’t have time to argue. Go clear things with Weintraub.”

  “Be right back!” said Linnsy.

  “Not here,” I said. “Meet us at the side exit.”

  While Linnsy ran off to talk to Ms. Weintraub
, I retrieved the carton from under the table where she had put up her display and carried it behind my own project.

  I looked at the box.

  I looked at Tim.

  Only one way he was going to fit.

  “Squat down!” I ordered.

  Without a word, he did as I said.

  McNally picked him up and put him in the box. He folded the flaps over him. Then he bent down and picked up the box, grunting a little with the effort.

  “Come on, Pleskit,” he said. “Let’s get out of here.”

  I followed my bodyguard as he carried the box that held my friend to the side of the gym.

  Linnsy met us at the door.

  “I sure hope you know what you’re doing,” she said.

  “So do I,” I whispered. “So do I.”

  CHAPTER 12 [TIM]

  ZOMBIE-BRAIN

  All right, you’re probably wondering why I zapped myself with the Suggestibility Ray.

  First, I was so upset with Jordan that I wasn’t thinking entirely straight.

  Second, what I had thought would happen was that if I kept a suggestion in my mind as I used the ray, the suggestion would still be in place once the ray took hold.

  So I told myself, “You are going to be smart and strong!” then blasted myself with a full-strength dose of suggestibility.

  My theory was screamingly wrong. As soon as that purple ray hit me, I felt my energy start to slide away. I couldn’t move or speak. I had no control of my body. It was one of the most terrifying things I have ever experienced… as scary as when Pleskit and I were being held captive by Mikta-makta-mookta and she was going to empty our brains. My brain wasn’t empty, but I felt as if the connection between it and my body, it and my willpower, had been severed.

  So I just stood there, holding the ray gun, unable to move or speak.

  When Pleskit first tried to suggest things to me, nothing happened. By zapping myself I had made myself the Suggester. Only I couldn’t suggest anything.

  Fortunately, when Pleskit got very stern, his orders somehow got through the fog of my brain and I responded to them. My theory is that this worked because he had already used the ray on me a couple of times, and that had some leftover effect.