It was incredibly frustrating to be trapped inside a body I could not control. I knew who I was and what I had been, but it didn’t seem to make any difference. Now I was just a zombie, with no willpower, no ability to change anything, to move a muscle on my own.
When Pleskit ordered me to squat, I squatted. When McNally picked me up and put me in the carton, it didn’t really bother me.
That’s just the way things were.
McNally closed the box.
It was dark. I felt like I should be afraid, but since no one had told me to, I couldn’t manage to summon up the emotion.
McNally picked me up.
I heard a door open, then close behind us.
“That’s a relief,” said McNally.
“Look!” cried Linnsy. “What’s that?”
CHAPTER 13 [LINNSY]
MAD SCIENTIST
First, in case you’re wondering why I, Linnsy, am writing this chapter, it’s because Tim was packed in a box and Pleskit says he has too little memory of what occurred after he went into his creative frenzy to describe what happened next.
So they asked me to do it.
* * *
When we came out the side of the gymnasium, I figured we had made our escape and would just head straight for the embassy. That was before I saw the dark figure lurking at the edge of the building.
What made the figure particularly strange was that it seemed to shimmer around the edges.
“What’s that?” I cried.
McNally spun around so fast he nearly dropped the box with Tim inside. “What’s what?”
I pointed to where I had seen the figure. “That!”
But it was too late. The figure was gone.
I described what I had seen.
“Great,” muttered McNally nervously. “A mysterious stranger. That’s all we need. All right, we can’t take a chance out here. We’ll have to go back inside and try something else.”
Which was a good idea, except for one thing. The doors had security locks and couldn’t be opened from the outside. And when I peered through the window, I saw our class lining up to leave the gym. I pounded on the door, but it was too late. They were gone.
“Tremendous,” fumed McNally. “Just beautiful. All right, let me readjust this.” He shifted around so that he had the box with Tim in it on his back. He bent forward so that he was supporting the box mostly with his back and could keep it in place with one hand. Then he reached his other hand inside his jacket and pulled out a gun.
I suppose I shouldn’t have been all that surprised. After all, I knew McNally was a bodyguard, and bodyguards have to carry weapons.
Even so, it was a shock to see it.
“Now look,” he said grimly. “You two stick with me till we get to the limo. No wandering off!”
We did exactly as he said. I, for one, had no interest in leaving his side.
The limo was parked in the lot at the back of the building. Ralph-the-driver looked at us oddly. But he didn’t say anything. According to Tim, he never does.
McNally put the box with Tim in it in the front seat. He fiddled around for a minute, trying to secure it with the seat belt, but finally gave up.
“Drive carefully,” he said to Ralph. He didn’t explain what was in the box.
Ralph nodded.
McNally, Pleskit, and I climbed into the backseat. It was only the second time I had been in the limo, and I was excited about it. Though I had never told Tim, I was pretty jealous of all the times he got to ride in the limo and go to the embassy. I also think that’s one of the reasons Jordan has been on his case even more than usual for the last few weeks. He’s really annoyed that Tim is the one who gets to do all this cool stuff.
When we got close to the hill in Thorncraft Park where the embassy is located, Ralph pushed a button on the dashboard. A door opened in the ground, and we drove down a long ramp. Then we took this slick glass elevator up the “pipe” (as Pleskit called it) into the embassy itself. Instead of getting out at the main reception area, as we had the one other time I was in the embassy, we went to one of the upper levels.
Pleskit led the way to his laboratory. McNally—still lugging the box with Tim inside—came second. I brought up the rear, listening for Ms. Buttsman—though what I was supposed to say if she showed up I have no idea.
In the lab McNally opened the box. Pleskit ordered Tim to stand up.
He did, moving slowly. His face was totally blank. It didn’t seem to bother him at all that he had spent the last fifteen minutes folded up in a box.
“Go stand over there,” ordered Pleskit, pointing to a spot against the wall.
“Yes, Master,” said Tim. He shambled across the floor and stopped at the wall. He was still facing it.
Pleskit sighed. “Turn around!”
“Yes, Master.”
“And stop calling me Master!”
“Yes, mmmm… mmmm… mmmm—”
Tim stopped, obviously uncertain of what to say next.
“You made your best friend into a zombie!” cried McNally. He sounded horrified.
Pleskit made a terrible smell. “Linnsy said the same thing! Just what is a zombie?”
“Someone who has died and been brought back to life by an evil magician who wants to use him as a slave,” I said.
“Zgribnick!” cried Pleskit. “Tim has not died, I do not want to use him as a slave, and I am not an evil magician!”
I sighed. “That’s just where the word comes from originally,” I explained. “I read a book about it last summer. It’s pretty cool. These voodoo priests down in Haiti have this special poison made from toads and sea snakes and tarantulas and all kinds of stuff, and they use it to sap a person’s will. People used to think it was just a myth, but this guy from Harvard went down there and figured it all out. Anyway, that’s where the word comes from. But now it just means someone who moves mindlessly and doesn’t seem to have any will of his own.”
Pleskit looked at Tim uneasily. “Well, I guess he qualifies. All right, I’ve got to do something about this. Please do not interrupt me. I must go into major thought mode.”
McNally and I sat quietly at the side of the room. Tim, of course, was no trouble at all. Pleskit went to one of the computers and began to work. His fingers flew over the control area, which was sort of like a keypad, but had additional buttons, wheels, and levers, plus a bunch of other things I don’t even have names for.
He began to hum. Well, not hum, exactly. It was more of a high-pitched whine. After a while it seemed to be drilling a hole in my head. I wanted to shout for him to stop, only I was afraid of breaking his concentration. I glanced at McNally. He was frowning and massaging his forehead.
Suddenly Pleskit stood up from the bench where he was working. “Krepotzim!” he cried, letting go a mighty fart as he did. If I didn’t know that farts were part of the alien language, I would have been totally offended. As it was, I was still pretty grossed out. McNally just sighed and rolled his eyes.
Pleskit raced across the room and played with some knobs on the wall. The light grew dim and orangey.
“Thinking light,” he called over his shoulder, as if answering the question I had in my mind about what he was doing.
He went to a lab table and began taking out equipment—beakers and test tubes that looked a lot like the ones we use here on Earth, plus a lot of other stuff I didn’t recognize. Pretty soon he had so much stuff on the table that it looked as if he was running a one-person science fair.
He began singing to himself in what I assume was Hevi-Hevian, punctuating the end of each verse with a burp. Every once in a while he would scurry over to the computer and check the viewscreen. Sometimes he would turn a handle, push a button, or whisper a command. Then he would scurry back to the table.
He had a dozen beakers and bottles working now, filled with mixes and potions of all different colors. Some of them were bubbling. Some were steaming. Some were hissing and popping.
All this tim
e Tim just stood against the wall, his arms crossed over his chest, staring straight ahead, as if nothing was happening.
Pleskit went to a control panel beside the door and pushed some more buttons. An eerie, low-pitched wail began to quaver through the room.
“Thinking music,” he explained, without really looking at us.
Back to the lab table. Mixing, stirring, smelling, frowning, tossing stuff out, starting again. More chemicals, more potions. A beaker fell over. Pleskit ignored the bubbling puddle of goo, focusing completely on the steaming purple potion in his hand instead.
“Eegon spritzen plumto dimwakkle!” he cried in disgust, pouring it out.
He hurried back to the wall, pushed some more buttons. “Thinking smells!” he cried. Gusts of odor—some delicious, some revolting—began wafting through the room.
He began to zip back and forth between the lab table and the computer. “Yes, yes, yes,” he muttered. “No! Geezbat!” He turned toward us. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to swear.”
Then it was as if we didn’t exist again as he moved back into his mad-scientist mode. I had never seen such concentration.
Suddenly he began to laugh, a laugh of triumph and relief. Holding up a clear tube filled with a bubbling purple potion, he cried, “Behold the solution!”
Walking to Tim, he held out the tube.
“Drink this!” he ordered.
Tim took the tube. “Yes, Mast… mmmm… mmmm—”
Pleskit sighed. “Don’t talk, just drink!”
Tim lifted the tube and poured the purple potion down his throat.
CHAPTER 14 [PLESKIT]
JUDGMENT DAY
I do not think that I have ever worked as hard, thought as hard, as when I made the anti-zombie potion for Tim. When I was finished—or, at least, hoped I was finished, since I still did not know for sure if it was going to work or not—I had him drink it and then stood, watching, with hope and fear raging in my plinktum.
After he finished drinking the potion, Tim stood for a moment without moving.
Suddenly he blinked. He flexed his fingers. Then a deep, cleansing belch rose from deep within him.
“Whew,” he said. “That’s a relief!”
I had my friend back!
Linnsy and McNally began to cheer. My knees trembled, and I felt myself begin to shake. I realized I was on the verge of slipping into kleptra. It was only then that I understood how frightened I had been, and how deeply I had been concentrating.
“How do you feel?” I asked.
“Pretty good,” said Tim. Notice, he didn’t say: “How do you want me to feel?” or “How should I feel?” Just: “Pretty good.”
I don’t think those words have ever sounded so wonderful.
“Sit down!” I said firmly.
“I don’t want to,” replied Tim.
Never had defiance seemed so sweet!
“I think I need to rest now,” I murmured.
“Funny,” said Tim. “I feel terrific.”
“Come on, you two,” said McNally. “I’ll have Ralph take you home. Pleskit needs some sack time.”
I was barely conscious as I stumbled to my room, barely had energy to summon the air mattress. Flinging myself atop it, I fell quickly into a deep sleep. I had one last thought as I lost consciousness: Now that I have an antidote, my science fair project is bound to be a winner!
* * *
When I woke later that evening, I called Tim on the comm device to make sure he was still all right.
“Doin’ fine,” he said. “Sorry to give you such a scare, Pleskit. That was a pretty stupid thing I did at the science fair today.”
“We have a proverb on Hevi-Hevi: Rage makes fools of even the wisest men.”
“Whoever said that must have had to live with someone like Jordan,” said Tim.
* * *
The next day was judging day. I got up early and prepared a large batch of the antidote I had created the night before, which I wanted to add to my display. I also created some new charts and a new computer animation to help explain how it worked.
It turned out that Science Fair Day was a very big deal at school, with lots of parents coming to see all the work the kids had done. A five-person panel of judges—three scientists from the university, a TV weatherman, and the mayor of the city—was going to look at all the projects and choose the ones that would go on to the citywide competition. Also, a team of reporters was allowed into the school for the first time since I had started coming here. As Principal Grand explained it in a call to the Fatherly One: the local news had always covered the science fair, and letting them in was part of getting the school back on a normal footing.
The Fatherly One himself did not come, alas. He had to go to India to visit the prime minister.
* * *
Despite Mr. Grand’s statement about getting the school back to normal, things were very complicated because of all the security measures they have put in place as a result of my presence. Some of those measures are to protect me from Earthlings who might want to harm me because they are frightened by contact with another species, or simply because—and this really terrified me when I found out about it—they are seeking publicity. Even more embarrassing is the fact that some of the security measures are because we have had problems with other off-worlders trying to sabotage the Fatherly One’s mission by getting at me. It is hard to be too critical of Earth’s primitive ways when we still have problems of our own.
Anyway, everyone who came into the school had to go through a very rigorous security check. This was the second large meeting we had had since all the security was put in place. Just like at the PTA Welcome Back night, some people complained bitterly about having to go through the metal detector and the body scanner while others said they thought every school in America ought to have such security devices.
This idea was truly strange and disturbing to me.
* * *
While the fair was going, we had to stand beside our projects to explain them and answer questions. I noticed a large crowd of people gathered around Michael’s basket and pulley project. People applauded every time he pulled himself into the air.
For security reasons, people were only allowed to approach my booth two at a time. (They did make an exception for the judges.) McNally stuck so close to my side it would have been hard to slip a piece of paper between us. People seemed to find my display either fascinating or offensive. The judges, however, were very impressed—especially the mayor. McNally said that was because any politician would love to have a ray he could use to get people to do whatever he told them.
At the end of the day the results of the judging were announced. Ten of us were to be selected to go to the citywide competition. The judges had chosen one third grader, one fourth grader, two fifth graders, and six of us from sixth grade. Of the sixth grade Ms. Weintraub’s class had done the best, with five of us being selected: Jordan, Linnsy, Michael, me, and—to everyone’s surprise—Tim!
Tim was so excited when his name was called that he let out a big “YESSSSSS!” and began pumping his arm up and down in a strange fashion.
“Jeez,” said Jordan. “Are you sure Pleskit didn’t use his mind ray to force the judges to choose that dweeb?”
Jordan is such a source of negative energy in our class that sometimes I wonder if he is made of antimatter.
I tried to ignore him and concentrate on the sweetness of victory.
My friends and I were going to the city finals!
It was a wonderful moment.
So I’m just as glad I had no inkling of the horror that was awaiting us.
RECOVERED COMMUNICATION (TRANSLATION)
FROM: Skizzdor, waiting and ready on Planet Earth
TO: One who must remain nameless
Glorious Leader:
All is ready for me to make the substitution at the appropriate time.
Our contact tells us we will have a good chance to make the snatch on Friday evening—partly because
of the work our on-site agent has done to adjust the schedule to suit our plans.
I know you have been told I was nearly spotted the other day. Please do not fear. I am confident I escaped detection. The agent who brought you that report was merely trying to curry favor. Rest assured that the Hevi-Hevian brat will be in your hands by Saturday morning. After that… well, whatever happens next is up to you.
I know you are looking forward to it!
Let me know if you have any last-minute instructions.
Skizzdor
CHAPTER 15 [TIM]
JUDGE NOT…
I couldn’t believe I had made the citywide finals for the science fair.
My mother was even more stunboggled than I was.
I did have a slight feeling of guilt because I had done it with the help of Pleskit’s Suggestibility Ray. Yet all the ray had done was let me tap my own natural abilities.
I thought about what Linnsy’s mom had told us about the kids in our class who take medicine to help them concentrate better. Was this any different? Some people are more able than others to use their brains—and according to what Pleskit and Beezle Whompis had told me, none of us humans is using them at full capacity. Since the ability was part of me, it wasn’t unnatural. On the other hand, I hadn’t accessed it in a natural way.
I tried to figure out what all that means, but my unenhanced brain wasn’t up to the job.
Things at school were pretty good, except for Jordan, who kept making snide remarks about everything Pleskit or I did. I was used to that, of course, but he seemed even worse than usual. I got the feeling he was offended because my project had been deemed as worthy as the one his daddy had bought for him.
* * *
The next round of judging was scheduled for Friday night and Saturday morning. The setup was a little different this time. Friday afternoon the finalists from each school were to take their projects to Elbork High and set them up in the gymnasium. Then the kids from each school—there were ten schools in all—had about an hour to come in and explain their projects to the judges.
Zombies of the Science Fair Page 5