“You bet, and I brought the tools to do it, too,” Ricky said and reached into his pocket and pulled out a flashlight and a Swiss Army knife.
Eric took the Swiss Army knife and held it in his right hand, staring at it. Then he opened it, showing Ricky the corkscrew, nail file and clippers. It was the clippers and nail file he pointed at.
“So what’re you gonna do with this, do the zombies nails?”
“No,” Ricky said defensively. “I’m not.” He swiped the knife from Eric’s hand and pushed the items back into the housing, then he pulled out the small, three inch knife with the tip of his index finger and thumb.
“I’m gonna use this to pry open the basement window so we can sneak in. Then the flashlight will let us see what’s in there.”
“Well, duh,” Eric said, making a face.
Ricky frowned at his friend again. He knew he was being made fun of.
“Let’s just go, okay?” Ricky asked.
“Fine,” Eric said and the two boys headed off.
From a nearby tree, the owl watched the two boys walk into the shadows, and with the boys gone, it flew off once more, searching for that tasty mouse or rodent.
CHAPTER 6
A FEW MINUTES later, the two boys were standing at the wrought iron fence again, the darkness all but wrapping them in a cocoon of ink. The streetlight on the sidewalk in front of the old house was out and the next working one was three doors down.
Both boys glanced at one another, neither wanting to admit they were scared.
“So, do we climb the fence again?” Ricky asked, remembering what happened last time.
“Maybe,” Eric said. “But give me a second to look around first.” He padded off to the right as Ricky watched him leave.
Ricky stood alone in the darkness, staring at the old house. It looked much worse at night. There were two spires on each side, like bell towers, and the windows seemed to leer at him like big square eyes. The over-
grown trees and shrubs now resembled hands and arms, all reaching out for some unwary child foolish enough to fall into their clutches. Though trying to be brave, Ricky felt his stomach fill with butterflies and he was beginning to think this was a bad idea.
A really bad idea.
Suddenly, a hand fell on his let shoulder and he jumped, holding back a scream that would have woken the neighborhood if it was sleeping.
“Relax, it’s just me,” Eric stated as he stepped in front of Ricky.
Ricky, glad his friend couldn’t see his face, tried to smile, though it didn’t work very well.
“I know that dummy, I was pretending,” Ricky said.
“Sure you were, tough guy,” Eric replied. “Come on, I found us a way into the yard.”
“You did? Where?”
“Just come on,” Eric said, as he turned and walked away. “It’s easier just to show you.”
Not wanting to be alone anymore, his heart still beating a mile a minute, Ricky jogged after his friend, all the while trying not to look at the old house.
“Check it out, there’s a hole in the fence,” Eric said as he pointed to where one of the bars had broken free of the fence. The metal welds had weakened from rust and it was easy for Eric to push in on it.
“How’d you find this?” Ricky asked.
“Luck, really. I just started testing some of the bars. Figured maybe one of them wasn’t attached or something. After all, this fence is old, like twenty years, easy.”
Ricky only nodded. To a ten-year-old, a twenty-year-old iron fence seemed like it was ancient.
“So,” Ricky said. “Who goes first?”
“I’ll go; why, you gettin’ second thoughts now?”
“No,” Ricky replied with a wave of his right hand. “I was just askin’.”
Eric stared at the dark visage of his friend and then turned and slipped through the hole in the fence, his back rubbing the left bar. If he wasn’t so skinny, he wouldn’t have been able to fit, but he was thin and he just made it. Ricky watched him slide in and step into the tall weeds. As Ricky watched, he half expected Eric to be attacked by a werewolf or a mummy. Some mythical creature that would jump out of the weeds and grab his friend, then
drag him to its lair. These images were flooding his mind when Eric spoke up.
“Well, Ricky, you comin’ or what?”
That broke the spell and Ricky came back to reality. “Huh? Oh, yeah, I’m comin’, keep your shirt on.”
Ricky slid through the hole in the fence and almost got stuck halfway through. He was a little bigger than Eric, what with too many Pop-Tarts and potato chips. But he sucked in his stomach and popped through, losing his footing for a second. But his friend was there to help him and Eric caught him easily.
“You okay?” Eric asked.
“Fine, let’s get this done,” Ricky replied, not as confident as back when they had discussed this before dinner. Now that he was actually in the yard of the old house, things looked very, very different.
CHAPTER 7
WITH ERIC IN the lead, the two boys crossed the yard, the shadows even deeper under the overgrown trees. Their legs rustled the grass and a few stray stalks brushed their arms, causing them to scratch. Mosquitoes flitted about, seeking a choice piece of arm to sink proboscis in and have a feast.
But it didn’t take the two boys long before they reached the house and the windows of the basement.
Ricky took the lead now and showed Eric the window where he’d seen the zombie.
“It was right there, looking at me with its face all gross and stuff. Then it moaned and I took off.”
Eric peered at the dirty glass. “Well, it’s not there now,” he said simply.
“No kidding,” Ricky replied. “It must be in there somewhere. We need to go inside.” Before Eric could
reply, Ricky knelt down and pulled out his Swiss Army knife. He opened it so that the small blade was out and then he pushed it into the wooden frame of the window.
While he worked, Eric leaned over his shoulder. “You know, Ricky, this isn’t right. We’re breaking into this house. That’s wrong.”
Ricky stopped working and turned to look at his friend. Eric’s face was wreathed in darkness and he could barely see him.
“It’s only wrong if we we’re gonna do some damage or steal something, but we’re not. There’s a real live zombie in there and the only way we can prove it is to kill it and then tell the police. I don’t think anyone will care how we did it after it’s done, do you?”
Eric couldn’t help but acknowledge Ricky’s reasoning. After all, it wasn’t like they could just go to the police and tell them there was a zombie in the basement. They would be called crazy kids with wild imaginations and sent on their way. So they had to find the zombie first, then tell the authorities.
Eric leaned closer to Ricky, so close that Ricky could feel Eric’s breath on his neck. This continued for almost a minute until Ricky stopped working and turned to Eric. “Do you mind?”
“Huh? Oh, sorry,” Eric said and took a step back.
“Thank you, this is hard enough without you trying to give me a hickey,” Ricky joked.
“That’s gross; don’t even joke about something like that.”
Ricky ignored Eric and went back to work. It was taking so long because the window was painted shut. After years of paint, the frame was one big piece of wood, with dozens of layers of dried paint over it. Ricky had to scrape along the line where frame met window until he could wiggle the knife in enough to try and pop it out.
When he did this, he was rewarded with a groan of wood and paint chips, which fluttered to the ground like confetti.
“Hah, got it. No one can stop the master burglar, Ricky Meyers.”
“Don’t say it like that,” Eric told him. “We’re not burglaring anything. We’re gathering evidence for the police.”
“Oh, sure, of course we are,” Ricky said. “My mistake.”
An odd smell seeped out of the open window and bo
th boys covered their nose in disgust.
“Oh, gross, what’s that smell?” Eric asked.
“I don’t know, maybe it’s the zombie. After all, they’re all rotted and stuff.”
“I hope you’re wrong, Ricky,” Eric said. “I’m starting to think this was a bad idea.”
Ricky shook his head. “But we’re so close, we can’t stop now. Come on, we’ll just take a peek. Tell you what. At the first sign of the zombie, we’ll take off and go tell the police, okay?”
Eric sighed. “Fine, let’s just go before I lose my nerve.”
Ricky smiled so wide the moonlight reflected off his teeth. “Cool.”
Ricky opened the window some more, and when it was propped open, he turned around so his feet were now pointing into the basement. Eric took his hands and Ricky began to scooch back an inch at a time.
For a few seconds, Ricky’s legs dangled in the air, his upper body still outside, and he saw images of his legs being chopped off or torn off by some monster. He now wondered if the zombie wasn’t alone in the basement. Maybe other creatures of the night were in there and they were all waiting to have a midnight snack named Ricky.
“Slow down, I can’t hold you,” Eric hissed, but it was too late. One second Ricky’s legs were kicking open air, then his waist was past the window frame and he was sliding down into the basement.
His stomach rubbed the wood frame and he felt a few small splinters slide into his skin, but other than a slight pinch, he was fine. He dropped down heavily into the basement and turned around so his back was to the wall, the window over his head now.
His butt was planted on the cold cement floor and his eyes tried to peer into the darkness, but the ebony shadows were complete.
In other words, he couldn’t see a thing.
“Ricky? Are you okay?” Eric’s panicked voice called down from the open window.
Ricky sat perfectly still, the darkness like a cloak. He was waiting for something to jump out at him, but after almost a minute and still nothing, his frantic heart began to slow.
It looked like the zombie wasn’t in this part of the basement.
“Yeah, I’m fine. It’s safe, come on down,” Ricky whispered. He heard a scraping, scuffing sound above him and then some loose dirt and grass fell onto the top of his head. Realizing his head was going to become a stepping stool for Eric, he moved to the side.
“Ricky, where are you? Help me down, will ya?” Eric hissed as he held onto the edge of the window frame.
Ricky moved to his friend and grabbed him by the waist, then helped Eric slide down the wall.
The open window allowed the slightest bit of light to filter into the basement, and now that Ricky had been inside for a few minutes, he realized he could see a little better. Then he remembered he had his flashlight and took it out of his pocket.
Turning it on, it was pointed at Eric’s face, who cried out as the light blinded him.
“Hey, cut it out, get that thing out of my face, gees,” he snapped as he turned away angrily, now seeing white spots dance across his vision.
“Sorry,” Ricky said, not really feeling that sorry about it. Eric was his best friend but he could be a pain sometimes.
Eric blinked a few times and his vision cleared. He moved next to Ricky, not wanting to be alone in the dark and dingy basement.
“So, what do we do now?” Eric asked as he peered into the darkness past the circle of light the flashlight cast.
“Simple, we go find the zombie, and after we get some evidence, we go tell the police.”
“Evidence? What kind of evidence?” Eric asked.
Ricky frowned, thinking on that. He hadn’t really given that part of the plan too much thought. So in the end, he just shrugged. “I don’t know, we’ll see what we can find. Now come on, let’s go.”
Ricky started out, taking small steps as he made his way through the basement. The massive room was as big as the entire house from left to right, only large metal
beams and crossbeams blocking the way from making it one absolutely huge room. Ricky played the flashlight over the edges of the room, seeing boxes with Xmas labeled on them as well as odds and ends such as old garden hoses and a couple of broken garden rakes. Another corner held snow shovels and bags of salt and sand.
So far, it was a typical basement, no more special than any other in the town.
It was when the two boys were halfway through the basement and were becoming bored, Ricky beginning to second guess what he’d seen earlier that day in the basement window, that the flashlight beam rested on what was obviously a door leading to another part of the room.
“What do you think is in there?” Eric whispered as he stared at the door. It was a big gray door, made of metal, with a large silver doorknob, the knob faded from age. The bottom part of the door had scrape marks, like when people kick a door open because their hands are full, the paint old and chipped.
The door had a keyhole for a lock, but the boys couldn’t tell if the door was locked or not.
“That has to be where the zombie is,” Ricky said. “Old man Rollin must lock it up at night so people can’t hear it moaning.”
“What do you think he feeds it?” Eric asked, swallowing hard. He had an idea it was probably little kids just like him.
“Don’t know, probably animals and stuff. If he fed it people then the town would know they were missing. Yeah, animals mostly, dogs and cats, maybe some mice.”
Eric stared at his friend who was chatting about a zombie’s diet like they were talking about what they had for lunch that day at school.
“Ricky, you are one sick puppy. Has anyone ever told you that?”
Ricky grinned. “Yeah, you just did.”
Eric opened his mouth for another rebuttal when Ricky stepped towards the door, and before Eric could tell him to stop, Ricky turned the doorknob and opened it, the door unlocked.
Eric ran up to Ricky, wanting to make his friend close the door and leave with him. This had all been a big
mistake. If they left now, no one would ever know they’d been here and the two could go on living happy lives.
But it was too late. The heavy door swung inward on squeaking hinges and Ricky stood stock still in the doorway, Eric right behind him and looking over his shoulder.
The flashlight had been pointed down to the floor, and Ricky moved it slowly forward. He stopped when the light picked up something both boys recognized immediately.
It was a pair of shoes. The shoes were brown and worn with one of the laces undone. Ricky and Eric were frozen in fear as they stared at the shoes which were connected to a pair of legs. Though petrified, Ricky slowly raised the flashlight to illuminate the legs. The beam ever so slowly crawled up the legs until it stopped at the knees. The knees were normal, though one seemed to have a scuff, like the owner had knelt down on a dirty floor. Ricky, as if he was on automatic, slowly raised the beam some more, the light showing the leather belt
buckled on a waist and an old flannel shirt, red once, but now faded to a dull brown color.
Ricky and Eric were shivering in fear, but Ricky, as if possessed, raised the light to the chest, knowing he needed to see the face of the zombie before the spell holding him immobile could be broken and he could run.
The light rose to the chest of the zombie, showing one of the buttons on the old shirt wasn’t done right, so that all the other buttons were off by one. Slowly, the light rose until it was just touching the neck of the ghoul.
Both Ricky and Eric gasped in shock as the light showed the slack, cracked skin of the zombie. The skin was pale and hung from the chin like a turkey’s wattle. Liver spots and two warts added to the picture to cause both boys to quiver in fear.
But Ricky was going for it all now, and with one last flick of his wrist, the flashlight went up and illuminated the face of the zombie.
The eyes were sunken into the face, the skin sagging and covered with wrinkles. The zombie’s mouth was half-open and the teeth,
faded yellow, like dentures, flashed in the light. There was a white mustache of all
things on the ghoul, but it was bushy and unkempt, as was the white hair. And the eyes were dull, hidden behind a pair of thick, coke-bottle glasses.
And as the light illuminated the terrifying visage of the zombie in all its glory, both boys screamed and prepared to run, the flashlight dropping from Ricky’s trembling fingers, the bulb shattering when it hit the floor.
Then the light went out, plunging the basement into darkness.
CHAPTER 8
AT THE SAME exact time the flashlight winked out, both Ricky and Eric spun around and prepared to run back to the open window and safety. Neither boy had any thoughts other than escape, knowing the zombie was behind them, ready to attack and eat them.
But before the boys could get two feet, a hand fell onto each of their shoulders, gripping tightly and halting their progress before it could begin.
In the darkness, Ricky yelled again, not wanting to die by being eaten by a zombie. For he knew, he would then return as one of the walking dead and that wasn’t something he was looking forward to.
“No! Don’t eat me! Help! Someone help!” Ricky screamed as the hand on his shoulder pulled him back.
He could imagine the zombie’s mouth opening in the darkness, the teeth getting ready to sink into his warm flesh. It was too much to bear and it was all he could do not to wet himself.
Beside him, Eric was yelling, too, a few sobs added to the mix as he begged for his life.
But then, before he felt teeth sink into his body, an overhead light snapped on in the basement, banishing the darkness to the farthest corners.
The Zombie in the Basement Page 3