No, he needed to at least get the ball before he left the yard.
So ignoring his fear, Ricky began to hunt for the ball again.
He discovered a few more hidden treasures as he searched. A football, a soccer ball and another Frisbee were found and tossed aside. His plan was to take them when he left. But what he needed was the ball they used for stickball.
He was kicking the grass hard now, eager to be done and leave this yard of spooks, when he spotted the ball at the edge of the tall grass, near the overgrown shrubs that surrounded the foundation of the house. If the shrubs had been trimmed, there would be a foot or so between them and the house, but as it was, the thin, leafy branches reached out to touch the house here and there. But there was still room for a small boy to fit in the gap if he wanted to. Pushing through the grass, which was like walking in thick snow, Ricky waded out until he was standing over the ball.
With a happy grin he called out to Eric and Jimmy. “Found it!”
Ricky picked up the ball triumphantly, and was about to turn and leave, when he heard something odd coming from the shrubs next to the house. Though he should have run away right then, he was a curious boy and he couldn’t help but be attracted to the noise.
Then he heard it again.
“OOOOHHHHH,” filtered through the shrubs.
Cocking his head like a curious puppy, Ricky walked up to the shrubs and looked through them. He
saw a basement window, the glass covered in a film of dust and dirt.
Then he heard the noise again. “OOOOHHHHH.”
It sounded just like moaning. The kind of moaning he’d hear from the zombies in the movies he watched when his mom let him put in one of his dad’s scary DVDs. She didn’t like him watching them because they gave him nightmares and he didn’t like bad dreams either, but he liked being scared.
Well, usually. This was different, though. This was being real scared and that wasn’t any fun at all.
With the ball still in his hand, Ricky crouched low and moved up to the basement window no more than six inches off the ground. His heart was beating a mile a minute and sweat broke out on his forehead.
Pushing through the shrubs, he leaned down at the window.
Cupping his free hand to the side of his forehead, he placed his nose to the dirty glass and peered inside what looked like the basement of the old house.
The basement was wreathed in shadows, only the wan light filtering in through the shrubs and dirty glass
illuminating the large room. Ricky’s eyes went from the left to the right, trying to spot the origin of the moaning, but there was nothing there.
As he looked, he did see ominous shadows everywhere. They looked human shaped, some as tall as the six foot ceiling.
His heart was beating faster now as adrenalin filled his system. One shadow in the far right corner almost seemed to be human in shape. He could just make out the right ear on what would be the edge of a face, and then he saw what he thought was an arm, too.
Jimmy and Eric were calling him now, wanting to know where he was. His two friends couldn’t see him hidden in the shrubs. And then, as he stared into the basement, a face slapped against the inside of the glass.
Ricky stared in horror, not believing what he was seeing.
It couldn’t be, it was impossible, but yes! As he jumped back from the window, he knew he was staring at the face of a zombie!
Ricky was already moving out of the shrubs, a frightened scream on his lips. Even as he backed away, his eyes locked onto that horrible visage.
The zombie’s face was slack with cracked skin, the eyes sunken and white. Ricky saw no pupils, only a bright white, like two hardboiled eggs. The hair was matted, sticking to the skull like it was wet, and the mouth was partially open, the source of the moaning Ricky had heard.
Ricky stumbled out of the shrubs and tripped over his feet, landing hard in the grass. There was a small puddle beneath him and his butt dropped right into it, the water soaking into his underwear and pants.
Ricky barely noticed, his eyes wide with shock and his mouth open to yell like he’d never yelled before.
And then he was standing again, the ball still in his hand, though it was forgotten.
He spun on one heel and ran to the fence, where a waiting Jimmy and Eric were now laughing, not understanding what Ricky had seen. Ricky ignored the other found items, such as the football and Frisbee and he dashed across the lawn, the tall stalks of grass slapping his arms and waist.
When he reached the fence, he tossed the ball over it, Eric catching it, and then he began to shimmy up the bars to climb over.
“Ricky, what’s going on, what’s the matter?” Jimmy asked when he saw the look of fright on Ricky’s face.
Ricky had both hands on the bars as he pulled himself up, muddy water dripping off his pants.
“There’s a zombie in there, Jimmy! A real, honest to God zombie!”
“What!” Eric laughed, that’s crazy, there’s no such thing.” But now Eric had seen Ricky’s look of panic and knew his friend was upset.
Ricky was on top of the fence now, trying to get his left leg over.
“I’m telling you guys, I saw a zombie in the basement? It’s in there, all gross and stuff, the eyes were so white. It was a zombie!”
Jimmy waved his right hand in dismissal. “Oh, please, give me a break, a zombie? What are you trying to pull, Ricky?”
Ricky got his other leg over the fence and was now crawling down the sidewalk side. When he was five feet up, he let go, dropping to the ground. He landed hard, his sneakers slapping the cement, and he fell onto his butt. He looked a mess, his pants ripped and muddy. He knew his mom was going to kill him but he didn’t care. All he wanted was to get out of there.
Jimmy leaned down, and with an offered hand, helped Ricky up.
Ricky, now standing, shook his head back and forth. “No, I’m serious. I found the ball and was gonna leave when I heard this moaning.”
“We didn’t hear no moaning,” Eric replied.
“You couldn’t, you were way over here,” Ricky explained. He glanced back to the house to make sure it was safe, and when it was, he continued. “So I went to the basement window and I snuck a look. And that’s when I saw it. It was all dead and stuff. I’m telling you, it’s was a zombie!”
Jimmy and Eric laughed, thinking this was hilarious. Ricky was about to try and explain again to them when the front door to the old house opened and an old,
disheveled man came out, using a cane as a walking stick. His clothes hung loose on his skinny frame and his hair was bone white.
“There it is! There’s the zombie!” Ricky screamed, seeing old man Rollin and thinking he was one of the walking dead.
“Hey, you kids, what are you doing in front of my house!” the old man yelled, waving his cane like a weapon. “Get out of here before I call the police.”
“Come on, let’s get out of here, that old guy gives me the creeps,” Eric said.
“But…” Ricky tried, calming down when the old man spoke. That made him know he wasn’t a zombie because zombies didn’t talk. They just moaned a lot and shuffled around, looking bored. Well, that is until they spotted a nice, young boy. Then they chased you and tried to eat you, wanting to make you one of them with their infectious bite.
“You don’t have to tell me twice,” Ricky replied and all three boys took off, running away from the wrought iron fence.
“And don’t come back here again or I’ll call your parents!” the grouchy old man called after them. Then, satisfied the boys were gone, he turned and hobbled back into his home, slamming the door closed.
Ricky, Jimmy and Eric all ran back to the cul-de-sac, and once there, each agreed it was time to go home for dinner.
“Well, at least you got the ball back,” Eric said as he tossed it into the air.
“I’m tellin’ you guys I saw a zombie in that old house,” Ricky said, not letting go.
Jimmy waved his hand
again. “Oh, would you give it a rest? It was probably just the old man. Did you see him? He sure looks like a zombie.”
Ricky shook his head again, too. “No way, that wasn’t what I saw.”
“Whatever, I’m going home,” Jimmy said. “See ya at school tomorrow.”
Jimmy left and Ricky and Eric stood in the middle of the street. There was a small puddle of water below Ricky now, drips from his wet pants. Eric pointed this out.
“Ripped your pants and stuff, huh? Man, you mom’s gonna kill you.”
“I’ll deal with it. But what are we gonna do about the zombie? We can’t just leave it there. We have to tell someone,” Ricky said.
Eric’s eyebrows went up slightly. “Oh, yeah? And who are we supposed to tell? Wait, I know, let’s go to your parents. It can go like this. ‘Hi, there, Ricky saw a zombie in old man Rollin’s house. We need to go kill it’.”
Understanding flooded Ricky’s face but then it changed again as an idea hit him.
“That’s it, Eric, that’s exactly what we’ll do,” he said with the hint of a smile.
“Do what?”
“We’ll kill the zombie before it can bite anyone and get some proof it exists.”
“No way, I’m not doin’ it,” Eric said.
Ricky crossed his arms over his chest. “Fine, then I’ll do it myself. Some friend you are, letting me go all by myself. How are you going to live with yourself if something happens to me?”
Eric frowned, knowing Ricky had a point. Friends stuck together no matter what and Eric and Ricky were the best of friends.
“Fine,” Eric sighed. “We’ll go get your zombie, if it is that. When do you want to do this?”
Ricky rubbed his chin with a dirty hand, thinking about that very thing.
“Tonight, after dinner. Right when it gets dark. Can you come out?”
Eric shrugged. “Yeah, I guess so. I’ll tell my mom I’m going to your house.”
“Okay, and I’ll tell my mom I’m going to your house. It’s perfect, it can’t fail,” Ricky said with a grin.
Eric said nothing, but just stared at Ricky.
Ricky saw the concerned look in Eric’s face and he placed his right hand on his friend’s shoulder.
“Trust me, everything will go as planned,” Ricky smiled. “We’ll sneak in, find the zombie and destroy it. Then we’ll tell our parents and we’ll be heroes. We’ll be the two kids who killed the zombie. It can’t fail.”
Eric stared at his friend. “You better hope not, Ricky, because I don’t want to become zombie chow. That would totally ruin my week.”
CHAPTER 4
AFTER LEAVING ERIC, Ricky ran home. Going into his backyard, he ran up the back porch steps and into the kitchen, slamming the screen door as he entered.
His mother turned from the stove and frowned when she saw the condition of her son.
Ricky’s pants were covered in mud and grass stains, as was his shirt. His arms and hands were also covered in a thin layer of dust and dirt and his elbows were caked with mud. His face was so dirty it made him look like a camouflaged soldier going to war. His hair was matted down on the sides of his face from sweat.
She ignored the pot of boiling water for the pasta they were going to have for dinner and crossed her arms over her chest.
“Ricky James Meyers, what in the world were you doing out there?”
Ricky tried to look as bashful as he could. “Sorry, Mom, I fell down.”
“Fell down? In what? A dumpster?” She pointed to the hallway leading to the upstairs bathroom. “You get right upstairs and take a shower, and make sure you wash in all the cracks and other places on that filthy body.”
“Yes, Mom,” he said, thinking he was getting off lightly, but as he passed her, she saw his torn pants and she gasped in shock. Ricky hunched his shoulders, preparing for the onslaught of chastising.
“Oh my Lord, Ricky, just look at your pants, they’re ruined,” she began. She continued on, telling him about how he didn’t appreciate what he had and the value of a dollar. Ricky nodded when appropriate and tried to look sad, but inside he was itching to go. He wanted to wash up, eat, and get ready for his and Eric’s zombie hunt.
When she finally finished, she waved him away, telling him he needed to be more careful with his school clothes or he would pay for them out of his allowance.
“Dinner is in half an hour and you better not make a mess of the bathroom.”
“Yes, Mom,” Ricky said again, looking as sad as he could. She softened as she looked at him, then she smiled.
“Oh, just go. You’re lucky I love you so much.”
Ricky looked at her with love and he opened his mouth, wanting to tell her about the zombie, but then he stopped.
“What, dear, were you going to say something?” she asked.
He closed his mouth and shook his head. “Just that I love you, too.” Then he turned and was off. She shook her head as her son galloped up the stairs.
“And don’t touch my walls with those dirty hands!” she called. Then she had to deal with the pot of boiling water. Her husband would be home soon and she knew he would be hungry after a long day at work.
Ricky stripped, tossing his dirty clothes into the hamper. Padding to the shower, he turned it on and hopped in. The water felt good, and though he hated to be clean, he had to admit it felt great to wash the dirt from the old house off his body. As he scrubbed, he thought back to the zombie he’d seen in the basement window. He remembered how that face was gaunt, the eyes dead, the mouth slack. He imagined what those teeth would do to him, and he got goosebumps, even though the water spray was hot.
He decided he was done, so he turned off the faucet and stepped out, grabbing a towel from the rack attached to the wall.
It was as he turned to face the sink, and the mirror mounted to the wall above it, that he stared at his visage, only now it was distorted from the steam of the shower.
He felt his blood run cold and his heart stop as he gazed at the face of the zombie again. The skin was mottled gray and the eyes were wide open, the cheeks having drops of what looked like raindrops.
Wait a second…raindrops?
Then reality set in and he realized he was staring at his reflection in the mirror, the steam droplets on the surface looking like they were on his face.
He felt silly now. He’d gotten scared by looking at
his reflection!
He decided right then he would keep this secret to himself. No one ever needed to know he was stupid enough to scare himself after taking a shower.
Feeling refreshed, despite the scare, he headed off to his bedroom to get dressed for dinner.
CHAPTER 5
THE SUN WAS just beginning to set as Ricky crossed the street and stopped at the end of the cul-de-sac. His stomach was pleasantly full with his mom’s pasta and garlic bread. He and his parents had enjoyed a nice dinner, his father chatting with him about school, and then to his mom about work. When dinner was through, they had gone off to do grown-up stuff and Ricky was free to go and meet Eric
In all the houses around Ricky, he could see lights on, the thin illumination sneaking out between closed curtains and drapes.
No one else was about. Mothers and fathers had returned home from work, the small rush hour now forgotten, and all along the cul-de-sac, families gathered to watch television, play games on the computer or read a book.
Ricky felt alone as he stood in the growing shadows, wondering if maybe what he and Eric were going to do was crazy. After all, he was just a kid? He wasn’t a monster hunter.
And a zombie was a serious thing. If it bit you, you could die, or worse, you could become one of them. He imagined himself as a zombie, face pale and eyes blank. He would go to school still, his shambling walk carrying him to the school doors. He would sit in class, drooling, his mouth sagging, as the teacher went on about numerals and fractions, then he would go to gym. They would play tug of war and he would accidentally get his arms pulled of
f when the other team won, but he’d be fine. He was dead, so there was no pain. After a quick trip to the nurse where he would get his arms sewed back on, he would then go to lunch. While the other kids ate pizza and fish sticks, Ricky would snack on the brains his mom had packed. Then he’d wash it down with a juice box.
Then he’d go home, do his homework, watch some television, and then go to bed, to do it over again the next day.
He gave that some thought. He did that every day pretty much, so in the end, being a zombie wouldn’t really be that much different from being a regular kid.
An owl hooted from a nearby tree, its eyes catching the waning light and glowing softly. Ricky stared at it, hearing it hoot, and he felt the slightest chill go down his spine. Perched on the branch, the owl looked menacing. The shadows wrapped around it, giving him the feeling it was a bird of prey. He imagined shaped talons ready to rip and tear his soft flesh, the beak that would attack his face.
But then the clouds cleared and the owl was in full view and it was just an owl again. It hooted one last time and flew off, searching for a tasty mouse or other small rodent, but then landed in another nearby tree.
Ricky shivered and shook off the chill, feeling silly. He heard footsteps coming from around the corner and his heart beat faster, but then Eric appeared, smiling widely.
Ricky frowned. “Took you long enough,” he snapped, but he was really mad at himself for getting scared over a stupid owl.
“Sorry,” Eric replied. “My mom said I couldn’t go out until my homework was done.”
“Well, fine, but still, I was waiting,” Ricky said.
Eric brushed his friend’s reply off and changed the subject. “So, we’re really gonna do this? We’re really gonna sneak into that old house?”
The Zombie in the Basement Page 2