by E. Van Lowe
She was right. We needed to tell the authorities what was going on at Salesian. That meant getting out of the building and away from campus. We calmed ourselves as best we could, and ventured cautiously into the corridor.
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Chapter Nine
I could hardly believe my eyes. The place was crawl-crawling with zombies. Zombies. It was a ridiculous thing to imagine, something out of a horror flick, and yet it seemed to be true.
"There's so many of them,"Sybil whispered.
It was then I noticed the zombies moving sluggishly through the halls were still among their normal circle of friends: popular zombies, Goth zombies, nerd zombies, all roaming in their close-knit groups.
"They're still hanging in their cliques," I said.
"I can see that." There was a hint of outrage in Sybil's voice. "Being a zombie hasn't changed anything around here."
"I guess not."
Isolated screams erupted from all parts of the building as the remaining living students were set upon by the zombies. I saw a lone student in the stairwell under attack by stoner nerd zombies. We passed a classroom where a teacher was struggling on the floor beneath a horde of loser zombies. I surmised
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that after you were attacked by a clique, you became a card-carrying member of that clique.
I glanced at Sybil. Fear was once again rising in her eyes. "They're turning everyone into zombies," she said.
"Not us. We just need to stay together and stick with the plan," I whispered. "Act like them." 1 began walking like a zombie toward the south exit.
"Where are you going?" Sybil called. Her voice rang out in the corridor.
Slowly the zombies turned their attention to her.
"Stop talking! Moan, zombie walk, and follow me," I whispered out of the corner of my mouth.
Sybil stared at me with a faraway look in her eyes. My words weren''t making any sense to her. Her sanity was slipping away. More zombies emerged from their catatonic state and began slowly advancing on her.
"Oh, my!" She gasped.
"Don't panic. Put a vacant stare on your face and zombie walk."
The zombies were getting closer.
I continued zombie walking toward the exit door as a pack of nerd zombies advanced on Sybil. I have to let her go r I thought. There is no way I'm going to let them turn me into a nerd.
Visions of Amanda snubbing me in the bathroom flashed through my mind. The nerve of her! She didn't want the Twigettes to bite, me because I would have become an it-girl zombie. Even as a zombie, she couldn't stand for that to happen. I made up my mind right then that if the it-girls didn't bite me, there was no way I was settling for a bite from a lesser zombie.
I continued putting distance between myself, Sybil, and
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the zombies. I glanced back and saw her frozen to the spot, practically surrounded by snarling, moaning zombies--Goth zombies, loser zombies.
Uh-uhl No way! I do not want to become a Goth--although, black is slimming.
Yet as peeved as I was with Sybil over the Dirk thing, I knew I couldn't just walk away. We'd come too far together for me to do that.
'Oh, all right!" I said with a sigh.
Stiffly, I walked back toward the pack of zombies that surrounded her. I pushed past an emo zombie, took Sybil's hand, and yanked her along.
"You do not want that emo to bite you. You hate that kind of music." Sybil nodded. I didn't know if I was getting through to her, but she allowed me to pull her along. The zombies followed. "Zombie walk, Sybil. It's our only chance."
That seemed to snap her out of her fog, and she began walking stiffly beside me, shuffling her feet. She glanced back over her shoulder. "They're still following us."
"That's because you're not acting like a zombie. Put a vacant stare on your face, as if someone just told a joke and you have no idea what they're talking about."
Her face contorted. "Is this vacant enough?"
"No, you look annoyed."
More zombies joined the group following us. They seemed to be coming from everywhere.
"Think back to chemistry class. Remember the look on my face the first time I saw the periodic table of elements?"
Sybil thought for a moment, then her face went blank. "Like this?"
"Yes, exactly! Now just keep walking Not too fast." A
part of me wanted to run. But how far would we get? Zombies
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were coming at us from every direction. Our only chance was to fool them into believing we were zombies like them. If that didn't work, we were about to join the living dead.
Just then the PA system squawked.
"Hellooo, and a fabulous Friday morning to the Knights of Salesian High." Principal Taft's morning announcement echoed throughout the school.
The zombies around us all stopped as if they were listening. Sybil and I were forgotten. We reached the exit door.
"They're not going to attack," Sybil said. She stood stone-still, keeping her face expressionless, and spoke softly. "We need to zombie walk out of here and right to the police station."
"Not yet. I'm not going anywhere until I find out why Principal Taft is normal like us. Maybe he knows something," I started zombie walking away from the exit. "You coming?"
"Where?" Her voice was filled with trepidation.
"To Principal Taft's office. There's someone in this school who doesn't seem to be afraid of the zombies, and I'd like to know why."
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Chapter Ten
Principal Taft's office was near the main entrance on the first floor. To get there you had to pass through the general office where teachers came in the mornings to punch in and students went to sort out daily problems. Inside the general office, behind a wooden door that was always closed, was Taft's office.
As Principal Taft went on with the announcement, Sybil and I walked slowly down to the general office, opened the door, and let ourselves in. The office was empty. No teachers, no students, no half-eaten bodies, no zombies. We could hear Principal Taft's voice corning from the other side of his door. I tried to open it. Locked. I knocked. No response.
Principal Taft continued his morning announcement as if we weren't there.
"Why doesn't he answer?" Sybil asked.
Without responding, I knocked louder. "Principal Taft. It's Margot Johnson and Sybil Mulcahy. We need to talk."
Silence for a moment, then his voice rang out: "Good
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morning, ladies. And what a fantastic Friday it is." You could say that again, I thought. "What can I do for you?"
"You can start by letting us in," I called. There was another long silence. "Principal Taft? Are you there?"
"Yes, yes. But I'm afraid I can't do that. Perhaps you should go see your guidance counselor, Miss Everheart."
That would never do. If Miss Everheart had gone to her office this morning, by now she was a zombie.
"Principal Taft, we really need to talk to you."
"Well... then come back after eighth period. Maybe I can squeeze you in then."
A low moaning began just beyond the general office door. The zombies in the corridor outside had heard our voices. Pretty soon they'd be trying to get in.
"Um ... I guess we should come back," Sybil whispered as she fearfully eyed the outer door.
"We're not coming back. Who knows if we'll even be able to come back. Principal Taft!" I hollered. "I want to know why you're not dead or a zombie! And I want to know now!" More silence. And then the lock on his office door clicked open.
Tome in."
Principal Harvey Taft was a large, round man with almond-colored skin and a hearty laugh. Normally he was the picture of authority. So imagine my surprise when we entered his office and found him standing on his desk. His jacket was off, draped over the back of his chair, and sweat stains were beginning to show through his once-crisp white shirt.
"I hope you girls have a hall pass," he said, trying to sound authoritative.<
br />
"Principal Taft, why are you on your desk?" Sybil asked.
"I, uhh, thought I saw, um, a mouse."
"You're afraid of mice?"
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"No. Of course not," he said, grasping for a sense of dignity. "I... thought I saw a mouse on my desk, and... I was trying to step on it."
And these are our role models. Pathetic.
"Zombies/' I said. Nothing more. I looked up at him and waited.
"Zombies? I haven't seen any zombies."
But 1 hadn't asked if he'd seen any zombies--so obviously he had.
"Principal Taft, we need for you to tell us the truth. And if we don't get answers from you, we're going home and telling our parents." I stared at him for a long moment, the challenge hanging in the air. He didn't move.
"Okay, Syb, let's go. Our parents will be very interested to hear there's a crisis at school and Principal Taft isn't doing anything about it." I turned and started for the door.
"Wait," he called.
I turned back. Principal Taft reached into his breast pocket, pulled something out, and threw it on the floor in front of us. It was a sliver of raw meat.
"Eww!" Sybil cried. "Gross."
Principal Taft sighed. "Phew! You're not one of them. I had to make sure." There was relief in his words as he got down off his desk and collapsed into his chair. Just then the bell for first period rang.
"Don't try and get rid of us by telling us to go to class," I warned. "We want to know what you know." I stared at him long and hard.
"You're right. I shouldn't have pretended everything was hunky-dory. It's not." His shoulders slumped forward. "I'm going to need your help on this, young ladies."
The change in him caught me off guard, "Sure," I said.
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"How can we help?" asked Sybil.
"Here, sit," he said, gesturing toward two chairs.
"I went to the carnival last night," he said, after we were seated. "It was a glorious evening. The student body and faculty were all present, and everyone was having a wonderful time. Out of nowhere, dark clouds rolled in, filling the sky." His voice turned ominous.
"It was then I noticed some of the boys were becoming a bit surly. As the storm hit, more students began acting aggressively. I conferred with the carnival officials and decided to call an end to the evening. After that I left. But as I drove away I observed a change in all the students present. Their gaits had become slow and plodding, and their eyes were blank, as if they were sleepwalking/'
"It happened at the carnival last night," I said. I turned to Sybil. "That's why you and I are still normal. You left early and I never went."
"We have to contact the authorities about this," Sybil said. She reached for the phone.
"No, no. We shouldn't do that." Worry lines appeared on Tart's brow.
"But we need to do something," she said.
"Don't you see? They'll blame me. I was the major authority figure present." He beseeched us with his eyes.
"Just tell them the truth like you told us," said Sybil.
"I suppose I could," he said. "But I have a better idea. We continue as if nothing's happened."
We both stared at him.
"How is that better?" I asked. I couldn't believe what he was saying. He wanted us to ignore the fact that our classmates had all become zombies.
"I've been watching them," he said. "1 know what they like
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and don't like. I know what they fear. We could easily coexist with them if we wanted to."
"But why would we want to?" I could feel myself slowly losing it. He was asking us to take our lives into our hands and try to coexist with zombies.
"For me." There was a near pleading in the words.
I could tell that Sybil was feeling sympathy for him. But all of our classmates had turned into monsters. We at least needed to find out if we could turn them back.
I looked at Taft and shook my head. "I don't know, Principal Tart."
Desperation sprang into his voice. "I've been a high school principal for a long time--too long, in fact. And finally I'm less than a semester away from a promotion to district supervisor, and this happens. I deserve better." He put his head in his hands and wagged it sadly. Sybil and I looked at each other again.
"So we should just pretend this hasn't happened?" I asked.
"No, I'm not saying that at all." He lifted his head. "But would it be so bad if we did? Just until the end of the semester. There's only seven weeks left. That's practically no time at all."
"I know, sir. But the authorities need to know about this," I insisted.
"You know if we go to the police they'll blame me. Is that fair? Just allow me seven weeks to try and fix it." He stood and put his hands together as if in prayer. "Please!"
I was beginning to feel sorry for him, too. "Even if we wanted to keep this a secret, sir, somebody will find out."
"Maybe. But I don't think so. The students came to school this morning like they've been doing all semester, and right now I bet they're headed for first-period class."
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"Why would zombies go to class?" asked Sybil.
"Sense memory, I suppose. They're doing what they've always done. And they'll keep doing it every day until the end of the semester... or until I can fix things."
I thought back to when Sybil and I zombie walked toward the building's south exit, surrounded by moaning zombies. As soon as the morning announcement began, the zombies had all stopped and listened as they did every morning. We were forgotten.
"What about parents?'' Sybil asked.
"Parents already think you kids are from another planet. They'll look at this new behavior as a phase. And the few parents who push the issue will join the living dead. So they won't be complaining."
It seemed Principal Taft had thought of everything. Still I knew what he was proposing was wrong. "I'm sorry, Principal Taft, but-"
"Margot Jean Johnson, how would you like to be president of the Homecoming Committee?" he suddenly said. The odd request caught me off guard,
"Amanda Culpepper is homecoming president,' I said.
"Amanda Culpepper is a zombie." A sly look crossed his face. "I'm going to pass a rule right now that no zombie can be in charge of anything at Salesian High."
And suddenly, what had seemed so wrong a few moments before was starting to seem right. Why should Amanda get to run everything? Selves her right for not biting me. And for ostracizing me in the eighth grade.
"What about the Prom Committee?" I heard myself asking.
"That's usually reserved for seniors, but seeing as how you're willing to help me out with my little problem, you are now chairman
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man of the Prom Committee. And we can have any prom theme you wish."
"Prom queen?"
"I know of only two candidates, and they're both standing right in front of me. I think you're a shoo-in." He winked at me.
Suddenly my thoughts were consumed with all the accolades I'd been denied for as far back as I could remember.
"Yearbook Committee?"
Tours."
"Head cheerleader?"
"You."
"Captain of the debate team?"
"Yes!"
"Wait. I don't want that. That's social suicide. I was just testing you." My high school manifesto flashed through my mind. Here was my opportunity to have the best semester of my life. And all I had to do was go along with his ... ridiculous plan.
"Lunchroom monitor," Sybil suddenly said. We both turned and stared at her.
"You want to be a lunchroom monitor?" My words were filled with disbelief.
Yes."
"A lunch... room ... monitor?" I said the words slowly-- not for her benefit. I wanted to make sure I was hearing myself correctly.
"I know it sounds silly, but I've always wanted to be a lunchroom monitor."
"Not only are you a lunchroom monitor, young lady, but you're the head lunchroom monitor," Princ
ipal Taft said.
"I get to run the cafeteria? Yes!" Sybil said, pumping her fist.
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1 didn't ask why she wanted the ridiculous position. At the moment I didn't care. The pendulum of popularity was swinging in my direction. My dreams were coming true.
The air of gloom that had surrounded Principal Taft a few moments earlier lifted. He smiled at us,a sly twinkle in his eye. "So, ladies, do we have a deal?"
I faced Sybil. "The principal of our school is asking for our help."
"I know."
"We'd be horrible student citizens if we turned him down,"
"I know."
"So, we'll just have to suck it up, and take over all those tasks that used to belong to Amanda Culpepper."
"I know!"
I was finding it hard to contain the laughter bubbling up inside of me. I couldn't believe our luck.
"A good student citizen should be able to get along with any visitor to our school, even a zombie," Principal Taft said, sounding like a principal again. "I'm going to give you my six rules for living successfully among zombies."
I pulled out a pen and paper and wrote them down:
Principal Jaft's Six Sample Rules for
Surviving a High School Zombie Uprising
Consisting With Student Zombies
Rule #1. Zombies are basically harmless creatures.
They went to be accepted just like you
Treat them with the same respect you
would any visitor on campus.
Rule# 2. While in the halls, walk slowly and wear a vacant expression on your face.
Zombies won't attack zombies.
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Rule # 3: Never travel alone. Move in packs.
Follow the crowd. Zombies detest blatant
displays of individuality.
Rule #4: In class, sit quietly in your seats and