by R. L. Stine
I took a step back. “Trevor, I … I’m sorry,” I stammered. “I … don’t know what to say. I —”
“You want me to explain what the coffins are doing down here?” Trevor demanded. “My family owned a funeral parlor. In Birmingham. You know, the next town over. But they lost their lease.”
I shook my head. “I’m really sorry. I didn’t know —”
“My parents had to close their business,” Trevor continued. “They were stuck with these expensive coffins. They tried to find someone to buy them. But no one was interested.”
He closed the second coffin lid. “So … my parents decided to use them for storage.” He gave me a strange, lopsided smile. “That’s the whole story, Kenny.”
I didn’t know what to say. I stood there staring at him. Talk about awkward. I really wanted to fall through the floor and disappear. “S-sorry,” I choked out again.
He narrowed his eyes at me. “What did you think was in the coffins?” he demanded.
I shrugged. No way I could tell him the truth. That I was trying to find some clues that his family were zombies.
“Dead bodies?” he said. “Did you think we had dead bodies in the coffins?”
“No,” I said. “I was just curious, that’s all. I saw the coffins go into your house, and … and I was just curious.”
Trevor studied me for a long time. “Was this part of your zombie patrol? Did you think you’d find zombies in my basement?”
“Of course not,” I said. “No way, dude. I … don’t even believe in zombies.”
“But I saw you with your friend in the graveyard….”
“Alec? Alec believes in zombies. I don’t,” I said. “I told you, Trevor. I came down here because I was curious. That’s all. We watched your movers and —”
“You were spying on me?”
“No. Really,” I said. “We were … excited. Someone new moving in next door. So we watched the movers for a little while.”
He nodded. He still gazed at me as if he was trying to read my mind. “Well … now you’ve seen everything,” he said softly.
“Uh, yeah,” I replied. “Guess I’d better get home.” I took a few steps toward the stairs.
Trevor stepped up behind me and placed a bony hand on my shoulder. “Sorry, Kenny,” he said in a low growl. “You won’t be going home tonight.”
I spun around. “Excuse me?” A stab of fear made me freeze.
“You won’t be going home tonight — or ever,” Trevor whispered. “You’ve seen too much.”
A chill ran down my back. “What are you — ?”
Trevor tossed back his head and laughed. “Kidding,” he said. “I was joking. I had to get you back. I mean, you broke into my basement.”
“Sorry about that,” I muttered.
“You still think I’m a zombie or something — don’t you? Admit it, Kenny. You still think I’m a scary guy.”
“No. No way,” I said, trying to cover up my fear. “I … was just surprised, that’s all.”
He chuckled some more.
I couldn’t wait to get out of there. What a frightening night.
I didn’t realize that Saturday night would be even scarier.
* * *
I didn’t tell my parents about sneaking into Trevor’s house. But I did tell Grandpa Mo.
That next morning, I found him alone in the kitchen, having his usual hot oatmeal and grapefruit. Mom and Dad had already left for their jobs.
I grabbed a glass of apple juice and sat down across from him at the breakfast table. He didn’t look good. He gazed at me with red, watery eyes. The skin on his cheeks appeared to be dry and peeling.
“Grandpa Mo, you stayed up very late last night,” I said.
He lowered his spoon to the bowl. “How do you know that?”
“I saw your light on,” I said. Then I told him the whole story of what I found in Trevor’s basement and why the coffins were down there.
He shook his head and mumbled something to himself.
“What’s wrong?” I said. “I thought you’d be glad to know the new neighbors are okay.”
“Yes, that’s good,” he said after a long pause. “Very good. But still …” His voice trailed off.
“Still?” I said.
He wiped his wet eyes with his fingers. “It’s getting late, isn’t it? You’d better get ready for school.”
I started to stand up. Tricia burst into the room, dressed for school in a red-and-white sweater and a short black skirt over black tights. “You both look so serious. What are you two talking about?” she demanded.
“The football season,” I said. “Same old Lions, you know?”
She squinted at me. “Since when are you into football?”
“I’m not,” I said. “I was lying.”
She slapped the back of my head as she walked to the kitchen counter. “Do you want cereal or toast?”
“I want peanut butter and jelly on toast,” I said.
“Then make your own,” she said. “I always get sticky peanut butter all over my fingers.”
“That’s why most people use a knife,” I told her.
I thought it was funny, but she didn’t laugh.
I turned back to Grandpa Mo. He had that weird, faraway look in his eyes again. He was shaking his head and mumbling to himself. His oatmeal was only half-eaten.
He raised his eyes to me. “The zombie threat isn’t over,” he said. “I’m an old man, but I know what I’m saying.”
* * *
As soon as I got to school, I told Alec about what happened at Trevor’s house. “I guess we were wrong about him,” I said.
“I still think the dude is weird,” Alec replied. “But I guess we can cross him off the Zombies to Be Watched list.”
Saturday night, he and I went out by ourselves on another zombie patrol. I talked to the other four guys and gave them a chance to change their minds and come with us.
But they said they were going to a Star Trek movie at the mall. They said they were over zombies. Zombies were old news.
As if Star Trek wasn’t old news?
“They’ll be sorry when they see us on TV talking about our zombie encounter,” Alec said. “They’ll be sorry when we’re famous.”
But we had a boring night — at first. I mean, we ended up just walking around and not seeing anything at all. Maybe it was because we decided to save the graveyard for last.
We started at the elementary school and patrolled the playground. Some high school kids were racing bikes back and forth on the soccer field in the dark. You’re not allowed to have bikes on the soccer field. But Alec and I weren’t going to tell them that.
The basketball court was lighted. A tall kid in shorts and a gray hoodie was all alone, practicing free throws. He was missing a lot and mumbling to himself.
“The school is zombie-free,” Alec said.
I shook my head. “We’ll never get on TV this way,” I muttered.
A few blocks past school, TanglePark Woods begins. It’s like a forest. It stretches for blocks. I’d never walked in it.
I swept my halogen light along the bare trees at the edge of the woods. All was still. Nothing moved. Somewhere to the right, I heard the scrape of footsteps over dead leaves. Probably a deer or some other animal.
“I don’t think we’ll patrol the woods tonight,” I said. “Too quiet.”
“Zombie-free,” Alec said. It seemed to be his phrase of the night.
Actually, our whole patrol was zombie-free. We gave up a few blocks past the woods and turned back for home. I shivered. The late-night air was damp. It felt cold enough to snow.
I stuffed my hands into the pockets of my down jacket. Alec whistled a tune I didn’t recognize. He’s a pretty good whistler. We didn’t say anything. We both knew this patrol was a waste of time.
An SUV rolled by, filled with teenagers. Rap music blasted out of the open windows. They honked their horn at us as they sped past.
“Th
ey’re having fun,” I muttered. “Maybe we should have stayed at my house and played The Walking Zombies.”
“Yeah. We would have seen more zombies that way,” Alec joked.
We turned onto Ardmore. A few minutes later, the graveyard came into view. Beyond the iron fence, the gravestones glowed dully under the silver moonlight.
We were nearly to my house when we saw something going on in there.
Who were those people huddled around that tall gravestone? So many people together in the graveyard at night?
“Oh, wow,” Alec muttered. He pressed his hands to his face as he stared. “Oh, wow.”
And then the scene came clear to me, too — and I uttered a shrill cry of horror.
I could see four or five people circling the tall gravestone. They were walking strangely. Stiff-legged. Their arms hung at their sides.
My flashlight was on, but I decided not to shine it on them.
“Let’s go closer,” I whispered to Alec. “I can’t really see them.”
He nodded but didn’t reply. We both edged across the street and stopped outside the tall iron fence.
I peered through the bars. And let out another cry because now I could see their faces clearly. I could see their decayed, rotting faces. Patches of skin missing on their cheeks and foreheads. Jagged teeth poking from their lipless mouths.
“Oh, wow,” Alec repeated in a hushed whisper. “Oh, wow.”
Their clothes were ripped and shredded. Their feet were bare, and I could see the bones … the bones of their toes jutting out from the rotting skin on their feet.
Some had skeletal hands. Two of them had dark holes where their eyes had been.
“Zombies.” The word slipped from my mouth. “Dead people. Living dead people. We really found them.”
I gripped the bars of the fence with both hands. Frozen in fright, I kept my eyes on the lurching, stiff figures. Moving in silence, they staggered around the tall, narrow tombstone.
And then they pulled another figure out. Someone had been hidden by the tombstone. Two of the ugly creatures had their hands on the man’s arms. They jerked him roughly away from the grave.
“Whoa. Who’s that?” Alec choked out. “Kenny, look. They’ve caught someone. It looks like …” His voice trailed off.
The zombies surrounded the man. I pressed my face against the bars of the fence, trying to see more clearly. I recognized the white hair first. And then his pale face came into focus.
“Oh, noooooo!” The horrified cry burst from my throat. “It’s Grandpa Mo! They’ve got Grandpa Mo!”
I didn’t wait. I didn’t think. I pushed away from the fence, turned, and started to run full speed toward the cemetery gate. Panting like an animal, I heaved open the gate and raced inside.
Alec ran close behind me. Our shoes thudded the soft ground. I raised a fist and screamed at the zombies. “Let him go! Let my grandpa go!” My voice came out in a shrill, terrified cry.
I shook both fists in the air as I ran. I wasn’t thinking about my safety. I wasn’t thinking at all. I only knew I had to get my grandfather away from the hideous creatures.
The zombies turned at the sound of my cries. Grandpa Mo’s mouth dropped open. He lurched toward me — but bony hands held him back.
“Let him go! Let him GO!” I screamed so loudly, my throat ached.
As I came closer, the smell of death swept over me. The thick, sour odor that rose from the zombies made me gag. They watched me approach. One man’s face was divided in two — half skin, half bone. The one next to him had an eyeball dangling from a gaping socket.
A tall zombie held on to my grandfather. The creature’s shirt had rotted away. So had the skin on his chest. I could see his rib cage.
“Let him GO!” I screamed again.
Alec hung back. “Kenny — no! You can’t fight them!”
Three of the undead creatures lined up in front of Grandpa Mo. They formed a wall to keep me from reaching him. The one in the middle opened his mouth wide and growled at me. He had no tongue.
“Kenny — go back!” Grandpa Mo choked out. “They … they … they are hungry. Very hungry.”
“I … won’t let them hurt you!” I screamed.
“You … can’t … stop … them …” Grandpa Mo replied in a hoarse cry. “Go back! Go home!”
“No!” I cried.
The zombies grunted and growled like animals. One of them shook a fist at me. He had only two fingers on his hand.
Before I could back away, he lurched toward me. He grabbed my arm. He brought his face close to mine, so close I could see the tiny white worms crawling in and out of the skin on his cheeks.
“N-noooo,” I uttered. “No. Please …” I tried to squirm free.
But he held on tight. And then he raised his hand with only two fingers. And slowly, he slid a bony finger down the side of my face, down my cheek.
Chill after chill ran down my cheek.
He snapped his teeth hungrily. A ragged tongue licked the spot where his lips had rotted away.
With a cry of horror, I broke free. I staggered back.
Alec had been paralyzed with fear. But he reached out and caught me before I fell.
“Grandpa Mo —” I gasped.
The three big zombies still formed a wall in front of him. I couldn’t see how I could get to him.
And then, led by the two-fingered creature, all five zombies began to stagger toward me. They stretched out their ragged, bony arms, waving their skeletal hands in front of them. And lurched forward, lurched toward Alec and me.
“Run, boys!” Grandpa Mo called. “Run! It’s too late for me. Save yourselves! They’re hungry!”
I took a step back and bumped into Alec. My heart beat so fast, I thought my chest would explode. The grunting creatures moved slowly toward us, waving their hands in front of them, glassy eyes wild, reaching … reaching for us.
“Grandpa Mo — this is your chance!” I cried. “Run!”
But he stood watching the hungry zombies move in on Alec and me.
They dragged their bare, bony feet forward. The putrid odor rose off them, more sickening than any garbage pile.
“Run, Grandpa Mo!” I shouted one more time.
But the poor old guy seemed frozen on the spot, frozen in fear.
The grunting zombies were just a few feet away. Grabbing for us … stretching their decayed arms … reaching out for us.
I didn’t want to leave my grandfather there. I knew the hungry zombies would eat him. But Alec and I had no choice. We had to save ourselves. We had to turn and run.
Our shoes slipped on the dew-wet grass. We leaned into the wind and darted away. We knew we could outrun the slow-moving creatures. But what about Grandpa Mo?
Alec and I stopped at the gate. Breathing hard, we spun around and looked back. I could see the zombies moving off with my grandfather. They didn’t come after us. They just wanted to chase us away.
And now, they surrounded Grandpa Mo. They pressed against him. Formed a tight pocket around him so he couldn’t escape. Lowering their heads. Lowering their heads to eat him.
“We have to save him!” I wailed. “We have to do something!”
But what could we do?
“Let’s get your parents!” Alec cried. “Hurry — your parents!”
But I wasn’t thinking clearly. I wasn’t thinking at all. My grandfather was being eaten by zombies. My brain felt about to explode.
I took off running after Grandpa Mo. My shoes practically flew over the ground. Panic made me run faster than I’d ever run.
What did I plan to do? I didn’t have a plan. I just knew I had to go back for him and try to pull him away from the hungry, undead creatures.
“No — Kenny! Stop! STOP!”
I felt Alec’s hands on my shoulders. He gripped me tightly and forced me to stop running. “We … have to get help,” he wheezed. “We can’t … we can’t do it on our own.”
I gazed straight ahead. We had stoppe
d at the tall tombstone. The tombstone the zombies had circled. The one they had hid Grandpa Mo behind.
Gasping for breath, I squinted at the front of the stone. Squinted at the words engraved there.
“Oh, nooooo,” I moaned.
The words were faded, almost totally worn away. I couldn’t read the dates of when the person was born and died. But I could read the name on the gravestone clearly.
MARIO MANZETTI
Another low moan escaped my throat. I moved closer to make sure I was reading the name correctly. Yes. Yes, I was.
My body froze in a chill of horror.
Alec stepped up beside me. His eyes followed my gaze to the tombstone. “Kenny? What’s wrong?” he asked.
I pointed. “Mario Manzetti,” I said. “That’s my grandfather. That’s Grandpa Mo.”
Alex’s mouth opened but no sound came out.
“Grandpa Mo died,” I said in a trembling voice. “This is his grave. Don’t you see? He wasn’t captured by the zombies. He’s one of them.”
“But —” Alec stared openmouthed at the name on the stone.
“That’s why he was so obsessed with zombies,” I said. “That’s why he knew so much about them. Because he is one.”
“But he was afraid of them.” Alec was finally able to speak. “Don’t you remember, Kenny? How terrified he has always been.”
“That was to keep us from guessing,” I said. “But this explains why he went out at night. Why he came to the graveyard. To visit his zombie friends.”
My voice cracked. “I … I can’t believe I’ve been living with a zombie! I … I can’t believe we’ve been going out on stupid patrols when the zombie was there the whole time — right inside my house.”
Alec turned to me, eyes wide with shock. “Do you think your parents know?”
“I don’t think so,” I answered. “I have to tell them — right now.”
I took one last glance at the name etched on the stone. Then I turned and started trotting toward the house. Halfway to the gate, I turned back. “Alec, are you coming with me?”
“No,” he called. “I’m going home. I … I …” He couldn’t explain. He turned outside the gate and darted toward his house. I didn’t blame him. He wanted to be safe. He didn’t want to be in a house with the walking undead.