by Tony Abbott
The creatures shuffled around the cook-out fire that the teenagers had left burning. They splashed water on it using an abandoned beach pail. A thick puff of smoke filled the air. They sat down and breathed the smoke in.
Their dead eyes bulged.
One of them stood up. He was taller than the rest. His head had pulsing knobs all over it and his Ping-Pong eyeballs rolled from side to side.
“Good-looking guy,” Liz whispered. “He must be their leader.”
Another creature picked up the set of bongo drums the teenagers had left behind and began tapping on them slowly, rhythmically.
Tap-tappa-tap. Tap-tappa-tap.
The tall one moved to the center of the group and started swaying back and forth to the beat. All the bulging Ping-Pong eye-balls looked to him. He began to sing. The song went like this —
Once, we were so cool and shiny,
Now we are dead and we’re whiny.
Hey! We’ve all gone so flaky
And now our poor hearts are achy.
To get to our planet so far —
The planet that we call Mar —
zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz!
“Mar — zzzzzzzzzzzz?” Jeff snorted into Liz’s shoulder. “That doesn’t make sense.”
“They’re dead, Jeff,” said Liz. But before she could brush her shoulder, all the creatures rose to sing a second verse!
Our skin is dry like crepe paper,
If we don’t eat brains — we’re vapor!
Fresh brains are good for what ails us,
Until the mother ship sails us
Back to our planet so far —
The planet that we call Mar —
zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz!
At that instant, the knob-faced creature pointed up to the sky directly over the mountains to the north. All the zombies looked.
“Mars is that way,” mumbled Liz. “These zombies are from Mars!”
A tear rolled from one of knob-head’s eyeballs and disappeared in the flaky skin of his cheek.
“And they’re homesick,” Holly whispered. “That’s so sad. I wonder if they need help or — ”
“We need brains!” the zombie leader shouted loudly. “Living, breathing brains! Or else we will all dry out and die. When you see a good brain, put a little mark on their forehead, like this!” He tapped at the air. “It means — good eats for later!”
Then the bongo pounding started again. This time it was faster, harder, and more violent than before. The groaning and droning and moaning got louder. The creatures stomped around in the sand. Some of them began to wail like wolves.
“I think maybe they’re hungry,” Holly whispered.
“Yeah, hungry for brains!” Liz said.
“But still, one of them was crying,” said Holly.
“Um,” Jeff mumbled. “All in favor of getting out of here say so now!”
“So now!” said Liz.
“So now!” said Holly.
The alien zombie drumming on the bongos was going crazy, pounding harder and harder!
Kra — THUMP!
A flaky gray finger smashed against the bongos, snapped off, flipped over, and landed on the hot dog counter inches away from the kids!
Liz moved back instantly. The finger wriggled across the counter.
Then, before you could say — gross! — it sprang up and tapped Holly right in the forehead!
“Grosssssss!” she screamed, jumping up.
The bongos stopped. The creatures turned toward the hot dog stand.
“Brains!” The knob-faced one howled, pointing at the kids.
5
Snaaaack Time!
Immediately, the surfers from Mars split into two attack groups and charged the hot dog stand.
“Uh-oh,” Jeff gasped. “Commandos!”
“Sorry, guys!” cried Holly, rubbing her forehead. “The finger grossed me out.”
“Never mind!” yelled Liz, grabbing a handful of uncooked dogs and stacking them on the counter in front of her. “Grab some ammo!” Then Liz began hurling the hot dogs one by one over the counter at the zombies. “We have to defend ourselves!”
The zombies leaped and jumped at the hot dogs. They gobbled them right up and kept charging.
“They’re hungry, all right,” quipped Jeff. “Now they need the good stuff!” He reached over and pulled up two squeeze bottles of thick, yellow mustard. He laid them down on the counter like little cannons and began pounding them with his fists.
Splurp! Sklish! Splap!
Spurts and splashes of mustard shot through the air and into the faces of the zombie attackers. They dived for the sand to avoid the spicy spray.
“Ugh!” groaned one zombie, flicking his flaky finger at a fleck of mustard in his dead eye!
“Ha!” yelped Jeff. “A real snack attack!”
Liz wondered how long they could keep this up. “Feed me! Feed me!” she cried, hurling hot dog after hot dog at the zombie commandos.
“They’ll remember this as Custer’s last hot dog stand!” Jeff yelped, pounding more.
The zombies leaped for the dogs and gobbled them. “Not brains,” knob-face said, a hot dog in each hand. “But not bad!”
“Out of dogs!” screamed Holly. “We’ll have to switch to burgers!” She tore open a bag of hamburger patties and began flinging them wildly like Frisbees.
Suddenly, the zombies stopped their attack to watch the burgers zipping overhead. The patties looked like little flying saucers spinning across the blue desert sky.
“Home!” cried one zombie. A tear welled up and disappeared into its flaky cheek.
“Oh!” gasped Holly. “That’s so sweet!”
“Brains!” knob-face reminded his fellow attackers.
“Brainnnnnnns!” the commandos chanted.
Suddenly — craaaaaaack!
An arm broke through the back of the stand!
“They’re getting in!” Liz cried out, ducking back as a gray hand groped around.
“I just splurped my last splurp!” Jeff gasped, pounding a tiny drip of mustard from an empty squeeze bottle.
“Get the brains!” the knobby zombie leader shouted to his troops.
In a flash, Liz bolted over the front of the counter, pulling Holly along with her. They dropped to the sand. “To the clubhouse!” Liz cried. Then she and Holly began to make their way across the dunes to the old shingled building.
Jeff tumbled out of the stand right behind them, but he slipped getting to his feet.
“Help!” he shouted. But the Martians cut him off. He looked around the dunes. There was nowhere to go. Nowhere but up!
Jeff bolted to his feet and climbed up a lifeguard chair looming above him.
But the ugly squad attacked the chair!
Flaky gray hands clutched at Jeff’s feet. He kicked back, stomping his heels wildly. Kkkk! A flaky head snapped back and dropped to the sand!
“Sorry, man!” winced Jeff.
Suddenly, from behind him, he heard a call.
“Hey, zombies! Nyah-nyah!”
The zombies turned.
It was Liz, holding up her bangs and showing her forehead. Holly was behind her, making a face at Liz.
“Yum!” yelled knob-face. “Let’s go!”
The squad deserted Jeff on the chair and shuffled across the sand after Liz.
“Hey!” shouted Jeff. “What’s wrong with my brain?”
THONKA-THONKA-THONKA!
A huge roaring, grinding, thundering sound filled the air. The sky darkened above the beach. The water in Lake Lake swirled.
Liz gasped as a black shadow spread low across the sand.
Holly fell instantly to the sand.
Liz dived. “Watch out!” she screamed.
6
Under Party Lights
RRRRRRR! It was horrible! The beach turned into a swirling tornado of wind.
Liz and Holly lay motionless on the sand.
Jeff didn’t. He started walking into th
e tornado. “Mother?” he cried.
“Jeff, no!” Liz screamed. But the dark, thundering noise came so low she couldn’t move.
Out of the noise and wind a jet-powered helicopter appeared. It roared low over the beach. Sand swirled up in funnels everywhere.
Then, a woman’s face smiled from the front bubble window of the helicopter. She waved.
Jeff waved back. “Hi, Mom!”
An instant later, the helicopter roared away.
Liz peered around. “Hey! The zombies are gone!” It was true. Not a gray skin flake in sight!
Holly jumped up. “Your mom? That was your mom? Does she always scare people to death?”
Jeff looked hurt. “Well, yeah. People always drop down and play dead when she goes over. Just like you did. Anyway, she scared the zombies away.”
Liz glared at Jeff. With a mother like that, she wondered if it was already too late to help him.
Jeff frowned. “What’s the big deal? It’s just my mom.”
“Okay, Jeff,” Liz said. “I thought you told us your mother worked in a shoe store. What does she really do?”
Jeff shrugged. “She works in a shoe store.”
“Wrong!” said Liz, like a game show host.
“She sells seashells by the sea —” Jeff started to say.
“Jeff!” Liz snapped.
“Oh, man! What can I say?” he said. “She won’t tell me what she does. It’s a secret. She and my dad are really quiet about it all.”
“Helicopters aren’t quiet,” said Holly, scanning the beach for anything that moved.
“Yeah,” Jeff admitted, looking at the black dot disappearing over the hills. “That’s a little strange. A chopper flies to my house every morning, drops a rope ladder, and my mom climbs up and goes to work. Every night at eight it flies back and she parachutes down.”
Liz turned Jeff around by his shoulders and pointed to the far hills. “Your mom works just over that giant pancake pan, in those hills, in a secret government test base, doesn’t she?”
Jeff bit his lower lip and looked down at the sand. “Well, one night, I heard her say something to my dad, but it doesn’t make sense.”
“What did she say?” asked Liz.
“Yeah,” said Holly. “You can tell us.”
“Fly sauce,” Jeff said. “She works with fly sauce.”
Holly wrinkled her face up. “Fly sauce? Why would she work with fly sauce? I mean, what is fly sauce?”
Liz jumped up. “No!” she exclaimed. “Not fly sauce. Flying saucers! I knew it!”
Jeff’s mouth nearly dropped to his chest. “Flying saucers? Really?
“Listen, you guys,” Liz went on. “I always knew Grover’s Mill was weird, and this proves it. We must be in like the world center of UFO landings and stuff. This place is a magnet for weirdness from every corner of the universe.”
“From Mar — zzzz?” Jeff looked thoughtful. “That might explain these dead guys with the — ”
Tap! Tap! Tap! The sound of bongos suddenly broke through the air.
Liz felt cold fear swat her back. A shiver fell across her shoulders. Her spine felt like cold jelly was sliding down it.
Holly jerked around and pointed to a nearby dune. “Maybe they’re dead — but they’re back!”
“Braaaaains!” the zombie knob-faced leader whined, as a squad of Martian commando surf zombies piled over a dune and charged at the three kids!
But the sand slowed the zombies down! Good thing the undead were wearing thick-soled, silver space boots!
“To the clubhouse, quick,” Liz shouted. In a flash the kids tore across the sand and leaped up to the wooden porch.
Pretty party lights swung all along the canvas awning. Liz stepped into the building.
Suddenly, she screeched to a stop and shot her finger up to her lips. Holly stopped and rubbed her forehead where the finger had touched her. “I feel — grumpfff.”
Jeff put his hand over her mouth. “Shhh.”
“Ohhh!” A low groaning sound came from inside the beach house. Then, the shuffling of feet.
“It’s them!” hissed Jeff. “They’re already in the beach house! We’re surrounded by an army of undead living zombie corpses!”
An instant later — flam! — a white door flashed open in front of the kids.
Liz’s heart froze.
7
The Mark of the Zombie!
A tall figure appeared in the shadowy doorway. It breathed out loud. “Hmmm?”
“Principal Bell!” shouted Liz, recognizing the man stepping out of the public rest room.
“Yes, Miss Duffey!” the tall man boomed, shuffling out under the party lights. “And what are you young students doing at the beach, hmm? There are only a few more weeks in my summer reading program! Where, oh where, are your stacks of books?”
“Um, Mr. Bell,” said Holly, rubbing her forehead. “Out there … on the sand … we saw …”
“Yes?” he said, peering down toward the beach. “That’s not the way to the library.”
“Zombies!” Liz burst out. “Flaky, ugly skin!”
Principal Bell’s eyebrows shot up, then he smiled. “Ho-ho! You must mean Miss Krafnutter, bless her soul. One hundred and four years old and every minute spent in the sun!”
“No!” insisted Liz, her voice trembling. “Zombies. Attack zombies. Commandos!”
“From Mars!” Jeff cried.
“They surf, too,” Holly added.
Principal Bell stepped off the porch and walked out onto the sand. He peered first one way then another. Liz followed his gaze. The beach was deserted. No army of undead living zombie corpses. Not a single one!
“Wait a second —” Liz started.
“Tut-tut,” boomed the principal, frowning a terrible frown upon the children. “Year-round school. That’s what you youngsters need. Builds team spirit! Now, off with you, or I’ll call your parents. Shoo!”
He strode away over the nearest dune, a little white slip of bathroom tissue trailing behind one of his socked and sandaled feet.
An instant later, the beach was empty as far as the eye could see. Totally deserted.
“Guys, we’ve got to warn people about the zombies,” said Liz, finally letting out a breath.
“Wait,” Holly whined. She rubbed her forehead some more. “Is there a dot?” She pushed her forehead out for Liz and Jeff to look at.
Liz stared closely at the dark, flaky smudge above Holly’s left eyebrow. She didn’t like the look of it at all. But her best friend seemed scared. “Just a little dot, Holly.” She nudged Jeff.
“Right,” said Jeff, nodding really big and backing away. “Not much at all.”
Holly rubbed her head harder. “I feel weird.”
“Well, you’re in the right place for it,” said Liz, scanning the quiet beach. “Let’s get going.”
“But what if we’re too late?” asked Jeff. “What if zombies have already snacked on the town?”
“Only one way to find out,” said Liz. She ran through the clubhouse and out the front door.
They only stopped when they reached Main Street. People were walking around as if they didn’t know alien zombies were after their brains. The Double Dunk Donut Den clock said nearly noon.
“Looks normal,” said Jeff.
“Maybe we just imagined it all?” Holly said quietly, trying to smile. “Maybe it’ll all be okay.”
Liz shook her head. “Sure, and I’m Glinda, the good witch. Those zombies are here, all right. They’re in the alleys and back streets. They’re in the shadows and around the corners. They’re with us!”
Jeff looked in every direction. “You’re being spooky, Liz. I don’t like it when you’re spooky.”
She stepped slowly down the street. Jeff followed closely behind her. Holly was last.
“These weird dudes came out of the lake, right?” Liz said. “But how did they get there? They look yucky, like zombies, but they’re not everyday regular zombies. They’
re — ”
“From Mars!” Holly cut in. “And it’s the air here that makes their skin all flaky and dead!”
Liz stopped and turned to her best friend with the dot on her head. “How do you know that?”
Holly wrinkled her forehead. “I don’t know, I just do.”
“Maybe that’s why they need brains to survive,” Jeff said. “Because of the air. Fresh brains are good for what ails us. They sang that, right?”
“And they put a dot on us,” Holly began to whine, “when they want to eat our kid brains.”
“Just a little dot,” said Liz, nudging Jeff again.
“Not much at all,” Jeff said.
“Home,” said Holly. “I want to go home.”
“Good idea,” said Liz. “Maybe our parents can help!”
They ran without stopping until they reached Holly’s house. Liz and Jeff followed Holly in.
Mrs. Vickers was in the kitchen, wearing a yellow apron and green oven mitts. The room smelled of cookies baking. “Dear, your face is dirty!” she gasped at Holly’s smudged forehead.
“Zombies, Mom,” Holly mumbled, yawning. “They want to eat my brain.”
Mrs. Vickers frowned, turned down the oven, then removed her mitts. “You know what your father always says — a brain is a terrible thing to taste. Oh! Such a funny man!”
Holly nodded. “I’m really sleepy. Can I take a nap?” That was it. Holly shuffled from the kitchen down a hall to her room. She closed her door.
Mrs. Vickers turned and smiled. “Oh, well. Cookies anyone?”
Liz’s brain began to buzz. “Um, no thanks, Mrs. Vickers.” She pulled Jeff out the door to the Vickers’ front yard. “Jeff, I think we need experts. Jeff?”
But Jeff just hunched over the sidewalk and stared at the cracks between his feet.
“Jeff? You okay?” Liz asked.
Suddenly, he slapped his cheeks. “What do they want?” he screamed. “Why are they here? Why us? What’s going to happen?” He buried his head in his hands. “It doesn’t make sense!”
Liz patted Jeff on the shoulder. She knew the feeling. She’d lived a lifetime trying to figure out why things didn’t make sense.
She wondered for a second if Jeff would really get it together when things got tough. She decided he would, but he’d need some help.
She took a breath, and she began to sing.