Memoirs of a Neurotic Zombie

by Jeff Norton

  ‘NO!’ cried Corina and Nesto to my left.

  ‘We’ve got a Greek chorus thing going on,’ I said awkwardly.

  ‘I love the Greek yogurt,’ she said. ‘In fact, we’re making a Greek-yogurt flavoured doughnut in the new batch.’

  I was confused and I must’ve looked it because Growl explained, ‘The Lebkuchen family doesn’t just own this camp but they also own the Canadian Nibble Donut Corporation.’

  ‘You own Can Nibble?’ I asked excitedly. ‘I am completely in love with your product.’

  Even Corina nodded her head in agreement.

  ‘I wish they were in the States,’ I added.

  ‘Someday soon,’ she said with wide grin ‘We’ve just about conquered Canada, but I think the world is nearly ready for our recipes, don’t you?’

  ‘Most definitely,’ I said. ‘I was sceptical at first, but I’m a convert and a cheerleader.’

  ‘We’re totally taking some home with us,’ said Nesto.

  The Bavarian-born doughnut queen of Canada moved down the row to inspect Nesto next.

  ‘Small, but solidly built,’ she said.

  ‘Thanks, Mrs Leprechaun,’ Nesto said, proudly holding up his model of the mess hall. ‘I worked really hard on it.’

  ‘Ernesto,’ said Growl. ‘It’s Leb-ku-hen.’

  ‘Oh,’ he said. ‘Sorry.’

  ‘It’s an old name, from the old country. That’s why we bought this camp – this forest reminds us of our ancestors’ home in the woods of Bavaria.’

  ‘Well, it’s really nice to meet you, Mrs Lebkuchen,’ said Ernesto, slowly pronouncing the woman’s name. ‘But, I’m dying to know. Who’s won the contest? Who’s the best?’

  ‘The what?’ she asked.

  ‘The model making,’ said Growl, reminding the old lady, clearly suffering from a bit of dementia, of why she was here.

  ‘Oh, yes, that. Well, I’ve inspected everybody and I think the winner of this group of campers has got to be, hmm …’ She looked slowly around the room. Each of the campers smiled, hoping to will her into picking them as the winner.

  ‘That boy over there,’ she finally said, pointing her cane at Jake.

  ‘Yes!’ he exclaimed. ‘NinjaMan rules!’

  I was disappointed, but gave Jake a congratulatory wave across the room. He really had made something special.

  ‘What is the prize?’ I asked.

  ‘The prize,’ she said, ‘is that we’ll name a new doughnut after you.’

  I saw Jake beaming with pride. ‘My folks are going to freak,’ he said. ‘I’ll be famous. Well, famous in Canada anyway.’

  ‘And soon the world,’ Mrs Lebkuchen reminded him.

  ‘Cool,’ said Jake.

  Lucky duck, I thought.

  16

  In Which I Learn the Truth

  After stuffing our faces at dinner and destroying our gingerbread creations for dessert, the LITs rounded us up and marched us out of the dining cabin and into the woods. I noticed a dastardly mosquito buzzing around Nesto’s neck and, acting on instinct, I went in for the kill.

  Slap.

  ‘What’d you do that for?’ he asked.

  I showed him my palm, now decorated with mosquito guts and blood.

  Corina inhaled. ‘Even chupa blood smells pretty good.’

  ‘I’m going to go wash this off,’ I said. ‘Hygiene first.’

  I peeled off from the group, marching a well-beaten path through the field and headed towards the wooden restroom hut.

  ‘Where you going, camper?’ asked Growl from the front.

  I crossed my legs and did the universally accepted pee dance and he instantly understood. He gave me an understanding salute and told me to, ‘Hurry back. You don’t want to miss the Camp Nowannakidda Chant.’

  I was certain I did want to miss any such chant – I had vampire-enticing blood on my hand. But when I opened the wooden door to the boys’ bathroom, I froze.

  This was no bathroom.

  It was an outhouse.

  On my left were three stalls, with no more than a wooden plank separating me from the cumulative waste of hundreds, if not thousands, of campers who’d pooped before me, lurking down below in a man-made pit of defecation despair.

  On my right was what appeared to count as the hand-washing station at Camp Nowannakidda. Three leaky faucets dripping over one long, stainless-steel* basin and one cracked bar of soap that had dirt permanently lodged into its crevices. Half of a mirror hung dangerously above the metal sink and I caught a glimpse of myself looking sweaty and decomposed.

  I turned the tap on and reached for the filthy soap. The lather was brown, so I rubbed the sliver of soap, expunging the remnant dirt and getting down to the untouched, white core underneath. Once I was satisfied I’d rid my hand of the mosquito’s ill-gotten dinner, I air-dried my hands (who says there’s no use for jazz hands outside the theatre?) and emerged from the stinkroom into the open air of the field.

  Beyond the treeline, I could see the orange glow of the campfire and the plume of smoke whisping into the evening sky. And then I heard it – the Camp Nowannakidda Chant.

  But the singing voices were quickly upstaged by two camp counsellors chatting as they walked past the outhouse. I slipped back inside the stinkhouse because I just didn’t feel like being social.

  ‘Whaddya think of this batch?’ asked a girls’ voice, maybe Petal.

  ‘Too scrawny,’ replied an older guy, whom I think was Duke. ‘I thought there was supposed to be an obesity crisis.’

  I waited for them to pass and peered out of the wooden door. Duke and Petal sauntered towards the mess hall and instinct told me to follow them, keeping my distance.

  The two camp counsellors disappeared inside and I found an open window and peeked in. The camp crew were chatting, listening to music and cleaning up.

  ‘Think we’ll make quota this summer?’ asked Lana.

  ‘You know what happens if we don’t,’ said Crow. ‘Don’t worry – two weeks of poutine and sundaes and they’ll be ready!’

  ‘Not the vegan,’ said Petal. ‘I don’t know what we’re going to do about her. Granny won’t be pleased.’

  ‘I’m more worried about that kid in make-up,’ said Duke. ‘He looks sickly.’

  ‘At least their little friend is eating for the three of them.’ Lana laughed.

  ‘Don’t worry, guys,’ said Petal. ‘Growl’s a master at this. We’ll make quota. I’m sure of it!’

  I shifted my weight – my quads were killing me – and fell over.

  ‘What was that?’

  ‘Go check!’

  I heard the rapid rush of footsteps on the floorboards and then quickly descending the wooden steps. I looked out to the field but knew I couldn’t make the treeline in time.

  The only hiding place was under the cabin. I imagined the space between the ground and cabin’s floor was the domain of filthy foxes or rabid field mice. But if I didn’t want to get caught snooping around, I really didn’t have a choice. I crouched down and prepared to burrow like a badger.

  I swung my body under the cabin, quickly entangling myself in a myriad of cobwebs, then felt something squish under my shoulder that I’m pretty sure was fresh animal poo, and continued my roll until I was covered in nature and well and truly hidden from the LITs rushing around the cabin, searching for the source of the alarming noise.

  ‘There’s nobody here!’ one of them called.

  ‘Probably just an animal,’ said another.

  ‘Too bad we can’t add ’em to the batch,’ joked Lana.

  ‘Humans only, and kids at that,’ said Petal. ‘You know Mrs Lebkuchen’s rules. The Can Nibble Donut Corporation is very particular on its ingredients.’

  Can Nibble.

  As in …

  Cannibal.

  Oh no, they were going to turn us into doughnuts.

  * Don’t be fooled by the branding. It had plenty of stains.

  17

  In Which I Plot Our
Escape

  Once our camp counsellor captors had retreated back inside, I scrambled out from under the mess hall, covered in cobwebs and stains that shall forever, well, stain my memory. I ran as fast as two decrepit legs could carry me. It was dark now and I only had the glow of the lakeside campfire to guide me.

  I’d eaten a Can Nibble doughnut, and so I’d unknowingly eaten people. I’d become a cannibal. But worse, I’d become a cliché. I’d become the very thing that everyone expected from a zombie: a people eater.

  As I raced under the night sky, I worried that maybe this was the start of my descent into rampaging cannibalism. Maybe all of the stereotypes about zombies were true and I was just late to the party?

  Maybe deep down, Corina and I were the same. On the surface, we maintained a façade of civility, but underneath we were monsters. Maybe we all were.

  This camp was clearly up to something evil, but what about all of us who’d tucked into the produce of that evil … the doughnuts? I wondered if the Canadians, who seemed so nice, knew they were eating children with every nibble of their favourite Nibblers. My head was spinning as I ran, and I wanted to unknow what I now knew.

  I suddenly felt very alone. I missed my parents – I really wanted to call them but I couldn’t. We had no phones and no contact with the outside world until we broke free of the camp’s confines.

  As I ran in the darkness, I worried about Corina too. I feared the hunger for humans would soon overcome her. She’d sucked blood and craved more.

  I hoped I was different.

  I’d accidentally ingested people and was repulsed by the prospect of eating anyone else (sugar-coating or not).

  I couldn’t stand by while Camp Nowannakidda turned campers into doughnuts. Somehow I had to stop the murderous conspiracy. But first, I needed to get out.

  I burst through the treeline and navigated a winding path to find the campers in a big circle around a bonfire. They took turns holding sticks to the flames, melting marshmallows and chanting camp songs.

  That’s where I want to go.

  Back to my Ohio.

  Oh I how I long to go …

  Ho-oh-ohm.

  I spotted Corina in the crowd, not chanting. She sat on a large log with her arms crossed, looking bored. I sat down beside her.

  ‘So we’ve got a big problem,’ I whispered urgently.

  ‘Yeah, way too much camp cheer,’ she replied. ‘I can’t take this much enthusiasm.’

  ‘Where’s Ernesto?’ I wondered.

  ‘Doing an imitation of a chipmunk,’ she said, pointing over towards the raging fire.

  Nesto popped a few burnt marshmallows into his cheeks, puffing them out like the breed of rodent that everyone seems to think is adorable.

  ‘Chipmunks,’ I vented to no one in particular, ‘just rats with stripes.’

  ‘He’s stuffing his face while I’m … Adam,’ she leaned in to whisper, ‘I’m hungry. There’s so much life, so much tasty, juicy blood, and it’s right here.’

  ‘You gotta fight the urge, Corina,’ I said, having no idea how hard that might be. I like to think that I’m a bastion of self-control, but deep down I know I give into my neurotic urges all the time. Who was I to lecture Corina to do any different? ‘Because somebody else wants to gorge on these kids too.’

  ‘There’s another vampire here?’

  ‘No,’ I said, ‘this camp isn’t a camp at all. It’s a farm. A fat farm, getting us plump and ready to be turned into doughnuts.’

  ‘The fumes of the outhouse go to your head?’

  They did, yes, and if I ever made it out of Nowannakidda alive (well, intact) I’d explore a nose-hair transplant because particles of campers’ poo were probably trapped amid my nasal follicles, but that’d have to wait.

  ‘I’m serious,’ I said. ‘I overheard the camp counsellors. We’re all supposed to be ingredients for the Can Nibble Donuts. Can Nibble … as in Cannibal.’

  ‘So that’s why those donuts taste so good,’ she said. ‘It isn’t the sugar, it’s the protein!’

  Ernesto bounded back from the fire, his face full of sugary goop, and mumbled, ‘Hi Adam, did you have a good poo?’

  ‘I was just going to wash my hands!’ I said in my defence.

  ‘Sure, sure,’ he said, gulping down the marshmallows. ‘Isn’t this great?’

  ‘No, Ernesto. It’s all terrible. We’ve got to get out of here, get everyone out of here, before it’s too late.’

  ‘You’re such a downer tonight, Adam,’ Nesto said. ‘I’m having the time of my life. No parents, great food and plenty of room to let my chupa run loose. And … I’m in love.’

  ‘Listen Hansel and Gretel,’ I said. ‘Unless you want to be turned into doughnuts for these cannibalistic Canadians to munch on, we’ve got to bust out of here. Pronto!’

  Nesto tilted his head, looking very confused.

  Corina filled him in. ‘This camp is fattening us so that we can be eaten.’

  ‘Well that’s just rude,’ Nesto said.

  Corina looked around at the happy campers and asked solemnly, ‘How are we going to get everyone out?’

  ‘I have no idea,’ I confessed. ‘But we have to try.’

  18

  In Which We Take to the Sea (Well, the Lake)

  After the campfire, the leaders shuffled us off to our tents. I looked at each of them with suspicion but did my best not to make my scorn obvious. I didn’t want to arouse any unwanted attention.

  Nesto snuck off for his moose meetup, which I told him would have to be a goodbye, and I found myself alone in the tent, thinking and worrying:

  How were we going to escape?

  What insects were in here with me?

  How could an entire country become cannibals?

  And even if we did escape the camp’s perimeter, where would we go?

  I heard a scratching on the tent. Oh great, I thought, the weremoose has come calling.

  But it wasn’t an animal. It was a vampire. ‘Zom-boy, you still up?’

  I crept out of my sleeping bag, unzipped the tent and crawled out into the starlit field.

  ‘Nice ninjamas,’ she said.

  ‘Thanks,’ I said. ‘They’re from the upcoming movie, not the comic book, but I think they capture the essence of—’

  ‘You don’t know when I’m kidding, do you?’

  Maybe I didn’t, but at least I was wearing one of a limited edition of only one thousand pairs of NinjaMan: The Movie pyjamas and Corina was stuck in her traditional black vampire nightgown.

  ‘At least I’m not dressed for Prom of the Dead,’ I said.

  ‘Touché,’ she said. ‘This is my great-great-grandmother’s coffin gown and mother made me promise to wear it at camp.’

  Suddenly, Corina threw her arms around me. But I knew better than to expect a hug or other display of affection. She gripped me tight and rose up into the air.

  Her coffin gown flowed in the breeze of the night sky and, looking down, I spotted the rows of tents assembled near the treeline. I took in the lay of the land. The campfire area was down to the right, nestled against the eastern shore of the lake. The mess hall was inland, near the baseball diamond, and I followed my finger to trace where the barn would be in the woods to the north. Behind the barn was another clearing where half a dozen cabins sat. I supposed that was where the counsellors slept. The camp was penned in on three sides by the razor-wire fence, and to the west by the lake’s shore. There was only one gated road in and out. Since we couldn’t guarantee that everyone could swim across, and I didn’t think we could risk outing Corina as a flying vampire, we’d have to flee under the fence.

  Corina flew us over to the top of a pine tree and I sat myself on a branch.

  ‘Let’s try not to kill any drug dealers this time,’ I said.*

  She laughed. ‘So what’s your plan, Stan?’

  ‘Who’s Stan?’ I wondered. ‘Is he a camper? Someone you’re interested in?’

  ‘Forget about it,’ s
he said. ‘Listen, I just wanted to say sorry for being so grumpy. I meant what I said to that old witch Mrs Lebkuchen – it’s really hard keeping the hunger at bay. At least up here I can’t smell the campers’ blood. It’s not so bad.’

  But there was something I could smell. Something familiar, something delicious.

  I took a big sniff and smelled doughnuts – freshly made. Somewhere on the dark horizon a doughnut factory was turning plumped-up campers into tasty treats.

  ‘We have to get out of here, tonight,’ I said. ‘Get help, call the authorities and then get everyone to safety.’

  ‘Maybe he can dig us out,’ she said, spotting Ernesto down below at the fence.

  Just then I heard a bullhorn sound. A moose call. ‘If we can pull him away from his chupa-crush,’ I joked.

  Corina put her arms around me and we floated down towards the treeline. She hovered us along the edge of the field, about twenty feet up in the air. A howling hiss filled the air – Ernesto’s love call. I pointed to the bush below.

  ‘Down there,’ I said.

  We landed softly on a floor of pine needles and found chupa Nesto on his hind claws, rubbing noses through the chain-link fence with an enormous moose.

  Corina cleared her throat. ‘Well, isn’t this sweet?’

  ‘Is that her?’ I asked.

  The moose turned to me and in a perfectly normal, though I would say slightly snarky, voice said, ‘Of course it’s her. And yes, it is sweet. Nesty’s said a lot of nice things about you two, but never mentioned you were both masters of the completely obvious.’

  Corina and I looked at each other. That moose really put us in our place.

  Nesto turned around and shrugged. ‘We are kind of having a moment here guys, do you mind?’

  ‘Nesto,’ I interrupted. ‘Can you dig us out of this camp? There’s a fence all around the perimeter … we’re trapped!’

  ‘Is he always so demanding?’ demanded the moose.

  ‘More like needy,’ said Nesto. ‘And he wants to escape from camp.’