There's a Zombie in My Bathtub

by Henry Winkler

  Okay, Hank, I thought to myself. You’re not getting that B word, so let’s just go to the next sentence. Moving my fingers under each word, I read this.

  “According to experts, there is evidence that zombies exist.”

  Wait! What did that say? It said that zombies exist. In other words, they’re real. Right there in black and white. On the page. In the actual encyclopedia. In the New York Public Library. It said that zombies are real!

  With shaking hands, I slammed the book shut. I could feel my cheeks start to burn and my throat close up. I wanted to call out for Papa Pete. I opened my mouth and screamed, “Help!” but only a little squeak came out.

  I looked around the room, and everyone else was just sitting there, reading their books. Like everything was normal. I was the only one who knew that tonight was the night of the real live zombie invasion.

  Papa Pete was in a great mood when he returned with Ms. Lopez.

  “This trip to the library has been very successful,” he said. “I now know more about bowling leagues than any human should. How about you, Hankie? Did you learn the truth about zombies?”

  “I sure did,” I said.

  “See what I told you?” He patted me on the shoulder. “Knowing the facts is the best way not to be afraid.”

  He said good-bye to Ms. Lopez and we walked downstairs and out the door onto Amsterdam Avenue. I was completely silent. You’re probably wondering why I didn’t tell Papa Pete the real truth I learned about zombies. This is why.

  I love Papa Pete more than anyone in the world. And I knew that zombies went for old people first. It was going to be up to me to protect him. I just hadn’t figured out how to do that yet. So I decided to keep quiet until I figured out a plan. The last thing I wanted was to scare him, too.

  When Papa Pete dropped me off at my apartment, I said to him, “Keep your phone close, okay?”

  “Why?”

  “I’m going to need to talk to you in a little while.”

  “Oh, you’ve got a secret, do you?” Papa Pete said with a wink. “I love secrets.” He wasn’t going to love this one, that’s for sure.

  “Oh, and Papa Pete,” I added. “You might want to practice some of your karate moves. They could come in handy.”

  “This gets more interesting by the minute,” he said. Then he gave me one of his giant hugs and headed for home.

  When I walked into my living room, my parents were busy helping Emily into her Halloween costume. She was in a really bad mood because her tail had fallen off.

  “I told you that we put too many scales on it,” my dad was telling her. “The costume just couldn’t take the weight.”

  “Fine,” Emily snapped. “Then I’m not going trick-or-treating.”

  “Don’t be silly, honey,” my mom said. “You wait all year for this night.”

  “A Komodo dragon without a tail is like a pizza without cheese,” she said, and stomped her clawed foot so hard that one of the toenails fell off, too.

  “Hank,” my mom said. “Maybe you can talk Emily into going out trick-or-treating with you and your friends. I don’t want her to miss a good time.”

  “I think I’ll stay home, too,” I said. “You know how I always want to support my little sister.”

  “When did that start happening?” my dad asked.

  “A minute ago.”

  “What’s up with you, Hank?” Emily asked. “You seem weird.”

  “Me? Nothing’s up with me. I was just thinking that what we should do tonight is call Papa Pete and have him come over. Once he’s inside the apartment, we lock all the doors and windows and don’t turn on any water faucets. We’ll have a fun family night, just us, locked inside. Oh, and if we want to have an even better time, we could shove the couch over to block the front door.”

  My mom, my dad, and Emily all stared blankly at me. But before anyone could answer, the doorbell rang.

  “Nobody open that,” I whispered.

  “Of course we’re going to open the door,” my mom said. “It’s probably Frankie and Ashley. They called a few minutes ago to say they’d meet you here to go out trick-or-treating.”

  “But how do you know it’s them and not some creepy zombie?” I blurted out.

  My father had already reached the front door and opened it. Standing there was a creepy zombie, his eyes half closed and his arms reaching out to me!

  “Haaaaaannnnnnnnnnnnnk,” the zombie moaned. I knew that voice. It was Frankie. Standing behind him was Ashley. At least, I think it was Ashley. Either that, or a giraffe wearing a really sparkly necklace had just walked into my apartment.

  “Frankie,” I said. “You can’t just come in here and scare me like that.”

  “Why not, Zip? It’s Halloween. We’re supposed to be scary.”

  “How will I be able to tell you from the real zombies?”

  Frankie laughed.

  “Wow, my costume must really be good. Now hurry up, Zip. You’re not even in your costume yet.”

  “We’re going to miss all the best candy,” Ashley added.

  “I don’t think we should go trick-or-treating in this building,” I said. “I think we should head right over to Papa Pete’s.”

  “Oh, is there better candy in his building?” Ashley asked.

  “Yes,” I said. “That’s exactly the reason.”

  Actually, the real reason was, I wanted to get to Papa Pete to protect him. “But we’ll miss the full-size chocolate bars in 3B. They always run out fast,” Frankie reminded me.

  Frankie was right. So I went along with it. “Give me a minute,” I said. “I have to make an important phone call first.”

  I ran into the kitchen, picked up the phone, and dialed Papa Pete’s number from memory. It’s the only one I never get wrong.

  “Papa Pete,” I said, when I heard his voice. “We’re coming to you right away. It’s not safe for you to be there by yourself.”

  “Hankie,” he said. “You’re not still worried about zombies, are you? I thought that was the reason we went to the library.”

  “Yeah, and I never told you what I learned at the library. In the encyclopedia, it said that—”

  “Hankie,” Papa Pete interrupted. “There’s my doorbell. It must be my first trick-or-treater. Come in!” I heard him call out.

  “No!” I hollered into the phone. “Don’t let anyone in. Lock your door!”

  Papa Pete wasn’t listening. I heard him laugh and say, “What are you supposed to be? Oh, a bumblebee princess. That’s so clever.” Then speaking into the phone, he said to me, “Hankie, come whenever you want, but I have to go now. I’ve got a plastic pumpkin full of candy to hand out.”

  Click. Just like that, the phone went dead. I didn’t even have time to tell him that the zombies were going after him first.

  That did it. I had no choice. I was going to have to get trick-or-treating in our building over with as fast as possible. Then I’d make everyone trick-or-treat all the way over to Papa Pete’s apartment building. I couldn’t let myself be stopped by the zombie invasion.

  I had to save Papa Pete.

  As I hung up the phone, the door to the kitchen swung open, and Frankie stuck his head in.

  “We really have to go, Zip. Do you need help with your costume?”

  “Actually, I do. I can tie on my anti-zombie gear, but I could use some help with the tinfoil.”

  “Okaaaay,” Frankie said, raising his eyebrows. “I’m your tinfoil man.”

  I took out the terry-cloth robe belt that had all the stuff hanging off it and tied it around my waist. Then I went to the second drawer under the sink where my mom keeps the sandwich bags and stuff like that. I pulled out the roll of tinfoil and handed it to Frankie.

  “Wrap me up,” I said. “You pull the tinfoil off the roll and I’ll turn. Don’
t stop until I’m completely wrapped up like a hot dog at a Mets game.”

  My idea was that if no zombie could pick up my body heat, they would pass me right by. I wasn’t sure if it would work, but it was worth a try. Anything to get safely to Papa Pete’s.

  Frankie and I worked quickly. In a few minutes, I was wrapped in tinfoil from head to toe, except for my nose and mouth and eyes.

  “Actually, you look pretty cool,” Frankie said, standing back to admire his work. “Let’s go ring some doorbells.”

  “Okay,” I said. “But we have to hurry so we can get to Papa Pete’s soon.”

  “What’s the rush?” Frankie asked. “Afraid they’ll run out of candy in his building?”

  “You never know,” I answered.

  I hurried into the living room. You could hear the tinfoil crinkle as I took each step. Emily let out a huge laugh when she saw me.

  “What are you supposed to be? A tuna sandwich in a lunch bag?”

  “Can we just go?” I snapped.

  “Okay, I’ve decided to go with you,” Emily said. “Even my broken dragon costume doesn’t look as bad as yours.”

  “I’ll come with you kids,” my dad said. “Mom will stay here to hand out candy.”

  “Oh, I don’t believe in unhealthy snacks,” my mom said. “I’m handing out little boxes of raisins.”

  Normally, I would have told my mom that raisins are for putting in cereal and not for Halloween treats. But I was in a rush to get going, so I just said, “Great idea, Mom. And please check to make sure everyone you open the door for is actually alive!”

  We left the apartment and went across the hall. The first doorbell we rang was apartment 10B where Dr. James Watson and his family live. The Watsons had just moved in a couple weeks before, so we didn’t know him very well.

  “Trick or treat,” Emily growled, trying to sound like what a Komodo dragon would sound like if it spoke English.

  “Trick or treat,” Frankie and Ashley chimed in.

  “Oh my,” Dr. Watson said as he opened the door. “What have we here? A zombie, a sparkly giraffe, a roll of tinfoil, and a dragon with a missing tail.”

  Emily looked down on the floor, and saw that her tail had completely fallen off once again. She burst into tears, picked up her tail, and stomped back toward our apartment.

  “I’ll go with her and do an emergency repair,” my dad said. “You kids stay on this floor until I’m back.”

  Dr. Watson held out a bowl of candy. It was filled with whole candy bars, not the fun-size ones. Ashley and Frankie started to sort through all the different candy bars to pick their favorite one.

  “Hurry up, guys,” I whispered. “We have to move faster than this.”

  A little boy in a Superman cape and red rain boots came running to the door.

  “Look, Daddy,” he said, pointing at me. “He looks like a sandwich in my lunch box.”

  “That he does, Luke,” Dr. Watson agreed. “Have you kids met my son, Luke?”

  “I’m not Luke, I’m Super Luke,” he said.

  “Well, Super Luke,” I said to him. “Just so you know, I am not something you eat. I am a zombie-detecting robot.”

  Luke’s eyes grew wide.

  “Zombies!” Luke screamed. “I hate zombies!”

  And he ran as fast as he could back into his apartment.

  “I better go now,” Dr. Watson said, closing the door on us. “Thanks for coming by, kids.”

  Boy, did I know how little Super Luke felt. I hated zombies, too.

  All of a sudden, I heard the elevator ding as it arrived on our floor. I stepped out in front of Frankie and Ashley.

  “Hide behind me,” I whispered. “It might be THEM.”

  “Who?” Ashley whispered back.

  “Shhhhhhhhhhh. Say nothing.”

  The elevator door creaked as it slid open. I held my breath and waited to see who was coming out.

  Please don’t be a zombie, I thought.

  It wasn’t a zombie. At least, it wasn’t one we could see. No one was in the elevator. Then why did it come to our floor? Was it THEM, sending us a message? Was Meatbag the baby zombie coming to find me?

  The elevator door slid shut.

  “That was creepy,” I whispered.

  “Zip, it was just an empty elevator,” Frankie said. “I bet that Robert Upchurch from the fourth floor pushed every button. He’s the kind of kid who’d think that was funny.”

  Ashley had already rung the doorbell of apartment 10C where Mrs. Fink, a very nice older lady, lives.

  The door flew open and out of it burst a bright green face and a deep hole where the mouth should be. There were no lips. There were no teeth. Just loose skin the color of green slime.

  “Helloooooooo, kids,” the face cackled. It almost sounded like Mrs. Fink, but I knew it wasn’t. She had been turned into a zombie! McKelty was right. They had gone for the old people first!

  “Run!” I screamed.

  “Run?” Frankie said. “But she’s got Tootsie Rolls!”

  I grabbed Frankie by the arm and yanked him toward the door of my apartment.

  “You too, Ashley,” I screamed, “before that horrible green zombie eats your brain!”

  I was already banging on the door of our apartment, wildly turning the knob trying to get it open.

  “Help, Mom!” I yelled. “Open the door.”

  But it was too late. The slimy green hand touched my shoulder, and the creature pulled me toward her. And then that scary, awful zombie let out a wicked laugh.

  The door to our apartment opened just in time. I had never been so glad to see my mom’s face. I broke free from the zombie and zoomed inside like I had a jet pack on my back.

  “Frankie! Ashley! Get in here,” I yelled. “And Mom! Slam the door! Quick!”

  But my mom wasn’t fast enough, and the green-faced zombie followed us into the living room. This was it. I had no choice. It was time for me to be brave.

  “Stop right there,” I said, stepping in front of my family and friends and spreading my tinfoil arms in front of them. “I am a zombie fighter. Take one step farther and I’ll have to use my powers to melt you into a green puddle.”

  “Hank,” my mom said. “That’s no way to talk to Mrs. Fink.”

  “But, Mom, can’t you see? That’s not really Mrs. Fink anymore. She’s been taken over by zombies. Just look at her.”

  “Oh,” Mrs. Fink said, reaching out to touch my arm. “I think I understand the problem.”

  “Don’t get near me,” I warned her. “You can’t eat my brain. It’s off-limits.”

  “I’m not a zombie, honey,” she said. “I promise.”

  “Then why is your face green?”

  “I was just having some Halloween fun. So I covered my face with my avocado face cream.”

  “Oh really? Then where have your teeth gone?”

  “They’re in a glass on the sink. Maybe you didn’t know, but I wear false teeth. I’m so sorry that I scared you.”

  “Mrs. Fink,” my mom said. “I’m so embarrassed about the way Hank spoke to you. If you’ll excuse us, I’d like to have a word with him.”

  Mrs. Fink winked at me as she left, and a big glob of green slime slid off her face onto her shoes.

  “Don’t forget to come back for a Tootsie Roll,” she said to all three of us as she left our apartment.

  My mom looked me right in the eye.

  “What is all this about, Hank?” she asked.

  “I think I know, Mrs. Zipzer,” Ashley said. “Ever since last night’s movie, Hank has been worried about a zombie invasion.”

  “We thought he was just kidding,” Frankie said. “But now we see he wasn’t.”

  “This is silly, Hank,” my mom said. “There’s no such thing as zombies. They are
made up.”

  “Oh yeah?” I said. “Then how come it says in the encyclopedia at the library that zombies do exist? I read it, right on the page. It said, “According to experts, there is evidence that zombies exist.”

  My mom nodded her head.

  “I think I understand what’s happening here,” she said slowly. “Isn’t it true, sweetie, that reading is very hard for you? And sometimes you add words to what’s on the page . . . or leave words out?”

  “I guess that’s true, Mom.”

  “So I suggest we all go to the computer and look up zombies again. We’ll give it another reading.”

  Frankie, Ashley, and I followed my mom to the dining-room table, where she sat down in front of her laptop.

  She typed in some words. In just a few seconds, the encyclopedia page about zombies popped up. It was the same page that was in the book I read.

  Frankie leaned toward the screen and read the first sentence out loud.

  “The word zombie was first used in 1819 in Brazil,” he read.

  “Oh, that’s what that word was,” I said. “Brazil! Well, that makes much more sense than Bad Bill.”

  Frankie continued reading. “According to experts, there is no evidence that zombies exist.”

  “Wait a minute,” I said. “Where do you see the word no?”

  “It’s right here, Zip,” he said, pointing to the word on the screen.

  “Do you think it was there this whole time?” I asked.

  “Yes, I do.”

  There was a long silence as I thought about that.

  “So I’ve been scared of a zombie invasion this whole time because I skipped over a two-letter word?”

  Frankie and Ashley and my mom all nodded.

  For some reason, I felt like I was going to cry. Why couldn’t I read like Frankie and Ashley? At that moment, I really didn’t like my brain. Why didn’t it work like everyone else’s?

  Ashley put one of her giraffe hooves on my shoulder.