The Zombie Playground

by Brian Rowe

  Brin and Ash started tiptoeing with trepidation toward the front of the school. Dozens of students from every direction were pouring inside, all with blank expressions, all returning from their blasé weekends filled with sleeping and drinking, and probably no vampire sightings. None of the students brushing past Brin and Ash ever could have guessed the kind of weekend the two film geeks had.

  “Where’s the vampire?” Ash said loud and clear.

  Brin opened her mouth in shock and slugged him in the shoulder. A freshman in front of them turned around and gave Ash a confused look.

  “I mean… uhh… Van. His name’s Van, right?”

  “Paul.”

  “Yes, of course.”

  The freshman finally turned back around and headed toward a classroom.

  Brin slugged him again. “For God’s sake, don’t be stupid! Watch what you say!”

  “Sorry,” he said, but then he shrugged. “But Brin, it’s not like anyone’s gonna believe us if we’re overheard. I mean, people already think we’re weird.”

  “Speak for yourself. I have friends.”

  “Who? Besides me?”

  “Dylan. And Paul. And—”

  “Where is Paul? You didn’t answer my question.”

  “He’s with my mom. They’re in the office getting all his things in order. He’s going to be a student here at Grisly High.”

  “Really?”

  “Really.”

  Ash shook his head. They reached the end of the hallway, where the two friends in the morning always parted ways. “But why? What’s the point?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “What does it benefit him to come to Grisly, to start his life over? He’s like 100 years old.”

  “Paul deserves a chance at a normal life, Ash.”

  “You’ve known him for one day!”

  “Two days.”

  “Whatever. I don’t think it’s a good idea.”

  Brin shrugged, her long black hair dangling down beside her shoulders. “You’ll come around.”

  “Oh, OK. Tell me that again when he’s tearing through the artery in my neck.”

  She rolled her eyes and turned to her right. “I’ll see you in Barker’s class.”

  Brin rubbed her forehead temples and made her way down the adjacent hallway. She’d had so much on her mind these last three days that she almost forgot what class she had first. She was a whole new person; the girl who departed school on Friday was someone she no longer recognized.

  She tried not to focus on every living breathing body that passed her in the hall. She figured she might give someone the wrong look or see another member of her Film class. She imagined locking eyes with Lavender, who up until now might have been able to keep her cool, but who with a sighting of Brin would erupt into a lavish meltdown, screaming to the school, and to the world, that she had been attacked by a clan of vampires, and that Sawyer and Chace were victims of their bloodthirsty tendencies.

  Brin turned another corner. Now she faced her French class. She could see her small, pudgy teacher on the inside, her red pen to paper like she was delighting in a round of hardcore grading. Brin didn’t want to go inside. She wanted to run the other direction. She wanted to make sure Ash would be in good spirits for the rest of the day. And she wanted to see what classes the irritating man in the attendance office had stuck Paul in.

  I wonder if we’ll have any classes together, Brin thought. And will he be a junior or a senior? He’s apparently 100 years old, so maybe they’ll promote him to superintendent.

  Brin turned to the French room. She knew she didn’t have a choice: she had to step inside.

  But before she did, she felt a pair of eyes staring into her back, making a large hole in her stomach. She thought it was Lavender.

  She turned around to see that it was Anaya. The girl looked awful, like she had woken up this morning without a shower, or a shave. Her eyes were baggy; her second chin, droopy. Brin was surprised to see her.

  Brin waved and tried to say hi.

  But the bell rang before she could utter a single word.

  “Get to class!” the frumpy vice principal shouted from afar. “Everyone hurry and get to class or you’ll be sorry!”

  Another student pushed Brin into the classroom. She lost sight of Anaya. But she knew it wouldn’t be the last time seeing her today.

  ---

  Brin did her best to pay attention in her classes. She wasn’t going to get high marks on her participation for the day, but none of the teachers seemed to notice that Brin was dealing with some serious post-traumatic stress. She fought her way through Algebra and English, and slept her way through study hall, before she met up with Paul for a brief lunch in the quad. He only had half a banana in front of him.

  “So really? You like it?”

  “I’m having so much fun,” Paul said. “There’s something incredible about it, Brin. To be looked at, by everyone, as human.”

  “You haven’t had the urge to bite anyone yet, huh?” She was only half joking.

  “No. And I’m not going to have that urge, do you understand? I won’t let my father win.”

  “You’re going to have to eat… or… you know… drink, sooner or later. Won’t you?”

  “I’m fine.”

  “Won’t you die if you don’t?”

  “I’m fine right now, Brin. Can we please change the subject?”

  Brin did, and before she had time to finish her turkey wrap, Brin was on her way to US History to suffer through an abysmal documentary video about World War I that she and Ash could have made twice as better with half the budget. She managed to get through the class without dozing off, and then it was time for her last class of the day.

  She felt a shiver run through her body, the kind that she had felt when she stepped onto the dark stage for the vampire finale on Saturday night. She knew there wouldn’t be any suspicion yet, that Mr. Barker would just go on with his class like nothing out of the ordinary had happened over the weekend. And Brin and Ash and the others would have to sit there like no deaths, certainly none caused by homicidal vampires, had occurred.

  As much as she knew it could never happen, especially with Paul in her day-to-day life, Brin wanted an escape. Something that had nothing to do with Paul or Ash or movies or school. She just didn’t know what it would be yet.

  She strapped her backpack as tight to her aching back as possible and bit down hard on her bottom lip. She made the paces toward Mr. Barker’s classroom, seeing Anaya out of the corner of her left eye and Ash out of the corner of her right. The trio slowly merged together over the course of ten seconds, their bodies nearly slamming against one another as they reached the door.

  “Hello Brin,” Anaya said.

  “Anaya.”

  The big girl took a step forward and smiled not at Brin, but at Ash. “And hello Ash. How are you holding up?”

  “I’m doing OK,” he said, taken aback by her acknowledgement of him. “Under the circumstances, I mean.”

  “I never properly thanked you… you know… for saving us.”

  Brin felt weird standing in the middle of this madness; the previously heartless Anaya was actually trying to befriend her and Ash.

  Looking death in the face can change a person, Brin thought. For the good. And the bad.

  “Lavender,” Brin said. “Has anyone seen Lavender today?”

  Anaya and Ash shook their heads. “She probably stayed home to recover,” Anaya said, “you know, like the rest of the group. I haven’t seen Dylan either—”

  As she finished her sentence, Dylan appeared, wearing a black hat, his facial hair having somehow multiplied since yesterday. His eyes were bright red—thankfully a different shade of red than the vampire kind.

  “Hey guys,” Dylan said.

  “Hey,” Brin said. “Have you seen Lavender?”

  “No.”

  The bell was about to ring. As the last of the students moseyed into Mr. Barker’s classroom, Anaya, A
sh, and Dylan stepped in and took their seats. Brin was the only one who remained in the halls. She was frightened, now more than ever before.

  He’s gonna see it. He’s gonna see it in my face. He’s gonna know something happened. We’re not gonna get away with this. We’re not gonna be able to hide this. From anyone.

  She stepped toward the classroom entrance like she was taking a long walk down death row to the electric chair. She thought she might turn the corner to see Anaya and Ash in handcuffs, and Dylan off to the side with a bullet in his head. “Self defense,” the cops would say. “That Dylan tried to lunge for the gun and kill us. The same way he maimed and killed Sawyer and Chace.” She thought she might find the room packed with faces, from students to teachers to superintendents to weeping mothers and fathers, all looking at her with quiet antipathy, and with the seething urge to stomp over her body until she released her final dying breath.

  Brin stepped into the room. Her head was a cloud of confusion, but she still remembered Mr. Barker’s successful attempt a week ago to make her scream. She was the last one to enter the room, with mere seconds to go before the bell rang.

  What kind of mask will he be wearing today? she thought. The Wolf Man? Frankenstein’s Monster? George W. Bush?

  The second the bell rang, she jumped, turned to her left, and let out a wimpy whimper. But Mr. Barker wasn’t there to frighten her; he stood behind his desk with a stack of papers in his hands. Everyone turned to look at Brin. Dylan, Anaya, Ash—all gave Brin a gaze that said, sit down, shut the hell up, and act normal.

  She would do her best to act normal, but it would be difficult now with the new familiar face in the room.

  “As I was saying,” Mr. Barker said, “we have a new student in the class. Everyone, please say hello to Paul.”

  There he stood, wearing her brother Justin’s clothes, his hair stiff with her mom’s gel, his skin radiating that pale white glow of his infamous father.

  Paul flashed his million-dollar smile and strutted to the back of the room, where he found an empty seat near the back window.

  “Brin?” Mr. Barker said. “Are you going to sit down?”

  After a few seconds of deliberation, she responded. “Yes.”

  “OK, then, have a seat. We have a lot to get done today.”

  Mr. Barker started handing out papers, as Brin took a seat next to Ash in the front of the room. She pulled out her folder and a black felt-tip pen.

  She turned around to look at Paul. He nodded back at her. She couldn’t believe she was sharing a class with him. And she couldn’t believe he had managed to get into the crowded Film class.

  Mr. Barker dropped a packet on Brin’s desk. She turned around and looked at the cover.

  It didn’t take a mask for her to scream this time.

  Chapter Seven

  “Just the reaction I was looking for, Brin! Thank you!” Mr. Barker laughed, then started dropping more packets, which had the striking ghostly face of a zombie girl on the cover, on other students’ desks. “I’m going to ask you all a question, and I want you to answer me honestly. Who here has seen George Romero’s Night of the Living Dead?”

  Two hands went high up in the air. Ash turned around, annoyed that another student was stealing his thunder.

  “Yes,” the teacher said, clearly excited to call on another student besides Ash. “Mr. Cleaver.”

  Brin turned around to see who had his hand raised. First her attention veered to the empty chair behind her, where Chace usually sat; a tight knot formed in her stomach. Next she looked past the empty chair, to see Colin Cleaver sitting proudly, his elbow against the desk and the palm of his hand facing the sky. Freckled, with tiny green eyes, light brown hair, and a mouth full of sparkly black braces, Colin was handsome in his own strange way.

  “Thoughts, Colin? What did you think of the movie?”

  “I saw it when I was in middle school,” he said. “I don’t know, it was OK. It was kind of boring. And it’s not that scary. The only scary part is when the little zombie girl attacks her mom, and even then… I found it kind of funny.”

  “What?”

  Brin turned to Ash. The boy was foaming at the mouth.

  Mr. Barker chuckled and crossed his arms. “Do you have a different opinion, Mr. Gorman?”

  “Night of the Living Dead is one of the greatest horror movies of all time,” Ash said. “It was made on the kind of budget that funds catering on a Will Smith movie today. It was a true independent film through and through, before independent film even existed! George Romero is a genius, and for you to belittle him and his movie, Colin, especially in a class where we’re supposed to appreciate the history of horror cinema, astounds me.”

  Colin smiled. “You’re such a geek,” he said. “I’m sorry. I was just offering my opinion.”

  “I’m a geek? You’re a jerk.”

  “Hey, hey,” the teacher said. “Let’s not get personal here.”

  “How can I not, Mr. Barker? Night of the Living Dead is amazing. And this guy’s taking a big, fat dump on it.”

  “And you’re shoving your exaggerated opinion down all our throats!” Colin said.

  Brin couldn’t believe it. For a minute it seemed like these two would be taking part in a nasty, zombie-like brawl in the middle of the classroom.

  “Mr. Barker, can I change the subject?” a young girl said in the back.

  “Certainly,” he said.

  “Can I ask you a question about our short films?”

  The students starting whispering among themselves, nodding and shaking their heads. Brin turned around to see Anaya tapping her fingers nervously against her double chin, and Dylan planting his hands against his chest like a bad case of heartburn had fallen upon him.

  “Yes, of course,” Mr. Barker said. “Oh, and that reminds me. I need to take roll. There appears to be some missing faces today.”

  He leaned over his desk and glanced at the roster. Brin looked behind her to see where Sawyer used to sit. She thought she saw his desk move, as if his ghostly apparition was making an appearance.

  No. I just learned vampires exist. I’m not prepared to believe in ghosts, too.

  “Let’s see, we have Chace, Sawyer, and Lavender out today,” the teacher said. “Hmm. All were in the same group.” He glanced at Anaya but passed her over to speak with Brin. “Did you wear everyone out filming your movie this weekend, Brin? You went to that ghost town, right?”

  “Uhh, yeah,” Brin said. “Bodie.”

  “Yes, Bodie. How did that go? Was it open?”

  “Uhh…” Brin looked at Anaya, who shook her head. “Yeah, it was open. We didn’t have any problems.”

  “Did you shoot late into last night? Is that why the others aren’t here?”

  “No, I don’t know,” Brin said, trying her best to pick words that wouldn’t incriminate her at a later date. “We finished shooting yesterday morning. Sawyer and Chace decided to stay to film some more footage. Lavender wasn’t feeling well, so we headed back to Grisly at, like, noon or so.”

  “So Lavender’s sick?”

  “Yeah. She didn’t look too good.” Brin thought she heard Anaya laugh behind her. But Mr. Barker didn’t notice.

  “Did you get good footage?”

  “Oh definitely,” Anaya said, butting in. “Lots of good stuff, Mr. Barker. We worked on it all weekend.”

  “What more did Chace and Sawyer want to film?”

  “I don’t know,” Anaya said. “We’ll just have to wait and see.”

  Mr. Barker nodded. He recorded the day’s attendance on his computer and returned to face the students. “So anyway, yes, Valerie? You had a question?”

  The diminutive cinematographer from Ash’s group lowered her hand. “Yeah, I wanted to reserve some editing time this week. Our group finished shooting our movie, too.”

  “Splendid. The musical, right?”

  “That’s right.”

  Ash rolled his eyes. Throughout Sunday’s craziness he had f
orgotten about his singing, starring role in Colin and Valerie’s ridiculous werewolf movie.

  “Yes, I’m going to pass out the sign-in sheet at the end of the period, and you can all sign up for editing time. We have four computers in the back, all equipped with iMovie and iDVD. You should all have an ample amount of time to complete your movies before next week. Is there anyone who hasn’t shot their films yet?”

  Only one group raised their hands.

  “I like what I see,” he said. “Don’t slack on this, guys. I want nothing but your very best.”

  Brin brought her head down to her desk and closed her eyes. She wanted to keep them closed. She never wanted to open them again.

  But then a deep voice from the back brought her head back up.

  “Mr. Barker?”

  Brin turned around to see Paul with his hand raised high.

  “Yes. Paul.”

  “What did you want me to do for the film project? Did you want me to join one of the groups?”

  “Oh, of course, let’s see.” Mr. Barker leaned against the front podium and thought for a minute. “You can join this last group. They only have five members, so it works out perfect.”

  “OK.”

  Brin didn’t recognize any of the students in the last group, but she did know it was the students making the romantic comedy. She hoped Paul would be asked to be an actor in it, to be the main member of some kind of volatile love triangle. Just seeing Paul try to act in a student film would be worth all the craziness of the last few days.

  Well, almost.

  “All right, so everyone, turn to page two in your packet, and listen up. This week, we’re going to be talking about zombies. And specifically Night of the Living Dead.”

  Ash cheered obnoxiously loud, while Brin politely clapped to the side of him. She was excited to see this film—Ash had talked about it in long drawn-out speeches before—and she was definitely ready to focus on a spooky creature of the night that wasn’t a vampire.

  “Night of the Living Dead is a masterpiece,” Mr. Barker said, starting to pace up and down the classroom, “as Ash said, one of the first true independent films in cinema history. George Romero was a nobody, a young man who simply had a dream—to make a horror film. But what Romero did with this movie, released in 1968, is something truly special. He used the backdrop of a horror film to make a subtle commentary on the Civil Rights Movement, which we know was prevalent throughout the 1960’s. This packet I’ve handed to you is going to be your study guide for an essay you’re going to write—”