Zombie Elementary

by Howard Whitehouse

  Jermaine rushed out of the office. All along the hallway, doors were opening and kids who were still in class came running out. Kids already on recess were running back into the building. I heard teachers yelling. Some of them were trying to stop the kids, but it wasn’t working. Some teachers were just running after their classes. I hoped nobody would get trampled. Fire drills were waaay more quiet than this.

  Just then, three things happened:

  First of all, Chainsaw Chucky burst in through the main door, which was right opposite the office. (He was supposed to report to the office first thing, but I guess he wasn’t signing in or getting a pass.) Chucky was carrying a chainsaw and a real big sack full of—well, I don’t know what it was full of. He was panting. Sweat was dripping into his beard and off the other end.

  Second, right behind him came his granny. I screamed, ’cause I knew she’d been turned into a zombie. Jermaine screamed and hid behind me. Big wuss. Francine picked up her lacrosse stick and stepped toward Granny.

  “Why, hello, li’l missy!” said Granny. “Ain’t yew jest a firecracker?” She grinned and showed her four top teeth.

  She wasn’t a zombie.

  Oh, right, the third thing.

  There was a splintering noise, and the zombies broke down the fire door. It had lasted way longer than I expected. But now the zombies were swarming all through the ground floor of my elementary school.

  And I didn’t have the Louisville Slugger. It was still in Miss Scoffle’s classroom.

  42

  “I thought Granny had you trapped in the attic,” I said to Chucky. “Like maybe she’d turned into a zombie.”

  “Misunderstanding,” he answered. “Ah went up there in case ah’d left some extra dynamite next to the Christmas decorations. She heard the noise, figured it was zombies comin’ in through the roof, and started shootin’. Missed me, though.”

  Granny grinned at me. “When ah stopped to reload, he called out and ah knew he wasn’t no zombie.”

  Granny’s pretty deaf, so I guess Chucky had to yell pretty loud to stop her opening up again with the shotgun.

  “Dang!” said Chucky, as he fired up his chainsaw. “Ah could use two of these things!”

  “What now?” asked Jermaine. He was out of ideas, at last. Francine was ready to fight the zombies. Granny pulled a plastic case out of her bag. She opened it, showing a whole selection of kitchen knives laid out from small to large.

  “These is them Amazin’ Japanese Chopping Knives,” she said. “They wuz on sale on a late night TV show. Got two sets for the price of one ’cause I called within twenty minutes, plus shippin’ and handlin’!” She showed what she could do with them by pulling out one of the knives and throwing it, handle first, at the picture of the principal over the office desk. Broke a window.

  Most people’s grandmothers don’t go around with two boxes of knives from a TV special offer. The office ladies forgot about their purses and ran for the library.

  “We need to lure them ghouls away from the kids!” shouted Chucky over the noise of his chainsaw. “Let’s lead ’em away from the library.”

  But where? Suddenly, I knew the answer!

  “The cafeteria! That’s where this whole thing started. It’s a separate building from the school, and all the younger kids will be finished by now. It’ll just be us, the lunch crew and the zombies.”

  I figured we could tell the lunch crew to leave.

  Granny pulled out a couple of the Amazin’ Japanese Chopping Knives and hurled them at the undead horde. Missed the zombies completely, but stuck in the bulletin board like darts. Impressive.

  “That’ll git their attention!” she said.

  We backed out of the main doors, still making noise and waving our arms and stuff. What we needed to do was get the zombies out of the main school building. They’d follow us to the cafeteria and, uh, we’d figure out what to do next.

  Right. That was the plan.

  But first, I had some things to do. “I’ll meet you there in a minute,” I said.

  These are the things I needed to do:

  Thing one: run all the way round the school, avoiding any zombies if I could.

  Thing two: climb into Miss Scoffle’s classroom through the window.

  Thing three: get my bat, climb back through the window and run to the cafeteria. Avoiding zombies, like I already said.

  When we got outside, everyone piled into Chucky’s truck, which he’d parked in a crazy sorta way right by the school’s main doors. Except me, of course. I had an errand to run.

  Jermaine understood right away. “Stay safe,” he said, like he was a police officer in a TV show.

  ZOMBIE TIP

  Sometimes in movies a character will say something like, “This is just crazy enough to work!” What this means is “In real life, anyone who pulls a bone-headed stunt like this will get exactly what he or she deserves.”

  “Scoot, young fella!” called out Granny. “Don’t let them varmints git yew, neither!” She flashed all her teeth at me.

  Then the truck took off in a big donut across the parking lot, honking and flashing all its lights. It had a whole lot of lights. Just in case the zeds didn’t take the bait, Chucky wound down the window as the zombie horde pushed through the main doors and out onto the curb.

  “Hey, y’all ugly, green-skinned brain chompers! Catch us if’n y’all can!”

  I could tell they didn’t like to be teased. Nobody does.

  43

  Chucky had said there were, like, thousands of zombies all headed for the school, but I guess he was exaggerating. Either that or they’d all gone into the school by now.

  I wasn’t complaining, though. I was scared that the whole place would be surrounded by ghouls all jammed up against the windows like a Black Friday sale at Walmart, and I might not be able to get to my classroom. But the outside of the building was pretty much free of the undead when I ran around the building. There was a zombie in a wheelchair having a hard time getting over a speed bump and a couple whose legs had fallen off trying to drag themselves along. I ignored them.

  I had to count the outside windows to find my classroom. They all looked the same. I made a mistake and hauled myself up over the windowsill into Ms. Schuler’s room, which was next to Miss Scoffle’s. The window was busted out, which was a bad sign. Still, the desks were all pretty much lined up and there was no, uh, blood or guts or anything. I guess Ms. Schuler got her class out and up to the library. I looked over to the closet. Yep, they even took their jackets and bags. (I don’t think zombies would steal anyone’s book bag.)

  I could walk through this room, out into the hallway, and into the classroom next door. Or I could go back out the window and in through the next one. I decided to go back out, but then I saw that Wheelchair Zombie had made it over the speedbump and was headed alongside the building. Better not. He’d only go all “BRAIINNNSSS!!!!” and “NNGAARRRGGGHHH!!!!” and alert the other zombies.

  So I sneaked to the door, inched it open, and peeked out. The hallway looked empty. I pushed it a bit farther so I could see all the way down the hall. Clear. Other direction: also clear. I stepped out. I tiptoed to Miss Scoffle’s door and looked through the glass. It was dark in there, and quiet. Okay. I went in.

  ZOMBIE TIP

  Larry was right to be cautious. While he was unlikely to be seriously threatened by a lone zed, any zombie who detects a living person is likely to set up the distinctive wailing that summons other members of the undead community over a very large area.

  Remember—if one zombie knows where you are, soon all the others will too.

  Not as neat in here. The desks and chairs were all over the floor. The window wasn’t broken, though. Maybe the kids just rushed out in a hurry. I walked over to the closet for my bag.

  All the bags and coats were here. I guess Miss Scoffle didn’t think about telling the kids to take them. Anyway, I pulled the Louisville Slugger out of its case.

  As I turned around,
I spotted two feet sticking out from behind the teacher’s desk. Old lady shoes, fat ankles and those weird veins that Miss Scoffle always complains about.

  Oh.

  LARRY: Various veins, that’s what I mean.

  KYLE: You mean varicose veins.

  LARRY: Yeah, that’s what I said.

  I was pretty darn scared. I mean, did the zombies eat the rest of Miss Scoffle? Or did she just get sick? Jackie Mellor’s grandpa had a sudden heart attack at the All-U-Can-Eat Buffet right after he sat down with a plate of fried chicken and waffles. His third.

  I had to check. I mean, she was my teacher. It might go on my Permanent Record if I didn’t at least see if she was okay.

  I tiptoed toward the desk. “Miss Scoffle,” I whispered. “Are you okay?”

  I heard a scraping noise, and one of the old lady feet twitched a bit. And a voice came from behind the desk. It was real slow and scratchy.

  “Is that you, Lonnie Mullins?”

  44

  Suddenly the desk toppled over with, like, a real big crash. Miss Scoffle stood up and pointed at me. Just like she did every single day. Except this was different. Her eyes were blazing and her actions were jerky. Plus, she said, “NNGAARRRGGGGHHH!!!!”

  Actually, she said, “NNGAARRRGGGGHHH LARRY MULLET!!!!” which was kind of a first for her.

  I ran to the window and smashed the glass with my bat. One strike, two strikes—I was vandalizing school property and making a noise in homeroom. I could feel the outstretched wrinkly old-lady hands trying to grab me. Nuh-uh! I dove like I was headed into home plate. I closed my eyes and went straight through the broken window, not even worrying about the bits of glass.

  Then I was racing toward the cafeteria, which was around the corner. I didn’t just run straight around the corner, though—I once slammed into the principal doing that and got in trouble. I reached the end of the wall and peeked around. I’m glad I did, because there were waaaay more zombies than just a few minutes ago. I guess all the zeds that had been inside the school were trying to get into the lunchroom. Plus, there were little groups of ghouls coming from all directions. I could see four or five coming over from the Valu-Rite, all pushing shopping carts. Wheelchair Zombie was trying to haul himself out of the chair and up to the cafeteria door. (They really need to get a ramp. It’s the law, I think.)

  I had to figure this out.

  But I didn’t have much time, because when I looked back, I saw Miss Scoffle hobbling toward me, all “BRAIIINNNNSSS!!!” and grabby arms. So I remembered what I saw in one of Jermaine’s DVDs, and pretended to be a zombie myself. Movies can be real educational. I staggered forward with my arms and my tongue stuck out. I don’t know how good it was. I’m not real good at impressions.

  Then I saw the back door to the building open. It’s by the dumpsters, with a sign saying “Delivery Zone.” Kids don’t go in that way. The head lunch lady, Elsie, stuck her head out. Then the other lunch ladies followed, and Jeremy the lunch dude too. They ran to a parked van and took off real fast. All except Elsie, who waved and started to walk back inside.

  “Hey!” I yelled. I started to run toward her. “Let me in the cafeteria!”

  She stared at me. “You’re the boy who brought the message earlier, right? And you’re the kid who told everyone not to eat the cheeseburgers?”

  “Yeah,” I replied. “My name is Larry Mullet, and I am not a zombie.”

  “Good to know,” she said. “I guess you’d better come in.”

  ZOMBIE TIP

  When meeting other humans, it’s a good idea to confirm that you are not a member of the brain-eating undead. I mean this only at times of a zombie infestation; there’s no need to do so on an everyday basis.

  45

  I gotta say, Francine and Jermaine and Chainsaw Chucky and Granny did a real good job at getting the cafeteria all barracuda’d against the zombies getting in. Maybe the lunch crew had helped before they left, I dunno. They’d put two long tables against the doors, stacked one on top of the other. They’d turned other tables upright and put them over the windows. It was a great job.

  “Ah figure this gives us five minutes!” said Chucky when he spotted me. “Glad to have yew back—and yew got the bat!”

  “Five minutes?” I said.

  “Maybe ten,” he allowed. “Hard to say.”

  I heard the zombies banging against the doors and wailing. I heard them thumping on the windows.

  Glass splintered and cracked. I thought five was probably right.

  KYLE: The word is “barricaded,” Larry. Not “barracuda’d.”

  LARRY: But “barracuda” is a real word, right?

  KYLE: It’s a kind of fish, Larry. A fish with rows of sharp teeth.

  LARRY: Whoa, cool!

  I had no time to think about having only five minutes to be alive—you know, alive alive—because Granny came out of the kitchen carrying a big steel tray with something wrapped in tinfoil. Elsie looked at it and started crying.

  “I knew there was something wrong with the meatloaf on Thursday. I mean, it’s always pretty disgusting, but this time it was really bad. It smelled okay—I’d have thrown it away if it smelled bad—but it was a weird color. It kind of glowed. That’s not right.”

  “Where’d it come from?” asked Chucky.

  “Usual place. The Education Department runs the school lunch program. The food itself comes from a giant factory owned by a massive corporation that manufactures institutional meals, truck tires and industrial chemicals. They arrange for healthy nutrition to provide for our children’s dietary needs.”

  “Our children’s zombification needs, yew mean,” said Chucky.

  Elsie was really tearing up now. “I served it as meatloaf on Thursday, spaghetti with meatballs on Friday, cheeseburgers today, and—I hate to admit this—I was planning on souvlaki with a Greek salad tomorrow. Maybe lasagna the day after. I have to keep on and on until it’s all gone!”

  “That’s five straight days of exposure!” said Jermaine. (He always has to show off his math skills.)

  “I know!” wailed Elsie. “It just won’t go away! That’s why I had to stay—to end this thing!” She showed how serious she was by jabbing the meatloaf with a big metal fork. We all jumped back in case some of the meatloaf juice splashed on us.

  Chucky looked around at us. “Yew know what ah said yesterday?”

  “That we should let scientists from BURP analyze it?” said Jermaine.

  “Nope, Jermaine. It was yew said that. A real smart, forward-thinkin’ solution as would provide definite answers to deal with future outbreaks.” He reached down and picked up a big plastic jug. “Ah said we should douse it in gasoline and set fire to it.”

  “Right now?” I said.

  “Just as soon as our guests arrive.”

  46

  Just about then I heard a splintering noise, like the front doors were giving way.

  “The front doors are giving way!” shouted Francine, just so we knew.

  “Right,” said Chucky. “Now, ah want yew kids to creep out the back door, sneak around to the front and bring my truck around.”

  “We’ll stay and fight!” I said. Francine nodded and held up her lacrosse stick. She was ready.

  Jermaine looked at us like we were idiots. Chucky threw him the keys. He knew how to drive.

  “Be careful with the truck,” said Chucky. “It’s old but it still runs good. And it’s paid fer. Now all of y’all GIT!”

  So we git, like Chucky told us. We headed out the back door. Francine stepped out first with her stick, and I had the Slugger ready, but there was nobody there. No zombies, I mean. Behind us I heard “BRAIINNSS!!!” and “NNGAARRRGGGHHH!!!!” I guess the undead had already broken into the cafeteria. We ran like heck.

  The truck was outside the front of the lunchroom, where Chucky had parked it in his usual way. The cafeteria doors were smashed in, and I could see hundreds of zombies inside. It looked like the ones who’d been beating on the wi
ndows were breaking in as well. They didn’t take any notice of us. We jumped in the truck. Jermaine cranked it and threw it into reverse on his third try.

  “You know they only sent us here to get us away,” said Francine. “They didn’t want us to—”

  “What?” I said.

  Just then there was a huge, like, popping noise from inside the cafeteria, and flames were everywhere. Our school lunchroom was on fire.

  The building was burning real serious. Like, smoke coming out of the roof and flames at the windows and sounds like little explosions.

  “Gasoline and saturated fats,” said Jermaine. “They don’t stand a chance in there.”

  “You think we should check if Chucky and Granny and Elsie are waiting for us?” I asked.

  Jermaine and Francine gave me a pitiful look, like I was totally clueless.

  “Okay,” said Jermaine. “Let’s drive around the back.”

  47

  Just as we drove maybe three hundred feet around the building, the cafeteria turned into a fiery, um, something of fire. The roof was alight.

  I guess I’d figured out that Jermaine and Francine were pretty sure nobody was going to make it out of the lunchroom alive. I got a hollow feeling in the pit of my stomach. I thought I was about to cry.

  Then we turned the corner, and I saw figures moving. Jermaine had to decide whether to stop or speed up. If they were zombies, he needed to run them down. But it was Elsie running toward us. Jermaine hit the brakes and skidded to a stop. The head lunch lady reached the truck. Granny was behind her. She turned and hurled another Amazin’ Japanese Chopping Knife back at the burning lunch room.

  “Dang it, Granny!” came a voice. “Yew almost hit me. Again.”

  I opened the door so the ladies could get in. I was going to ride in the truck bed, so as to be polite. When I jumped out, I could see that Chucky had his chainsaw fired up and he was facing off against a whole bunch of zombies at once. I grabbed the Louisville Slugger.