Zombie Dog

by Clare Hutton

  7) Made by herbal medicine?

  “Anything else?” she asked.

  Nate shrugged. “I don’t know a lot about monsters,” he said. “Do we want to ask Paul more about this? He’s obviously the expert.”

  Becky shook her head. “I’d like to keep this kind of quiet,” she said. She couldn’t help remembering the looks of disgust and pity on Lila’s and Charlotte’s faces when they had called her house creepy. “And I’m sure he put everything he knew into his report.”

  “Let’s try looking online, then,” Nate said. “We’re supposed to use library period for doing research, anyway, right?”

  Becky followed him to an empty terminal and pulled up a second chair. Nate typed zombies into the browser’s search bar. Then he gave a low whistle.

  “There are a lot of computer games about zombies,” he said. “And movies. I’m not seeing much real information here.”

  “Try herbal cause for zombies,” Becky suggested. Nate typed it in.

  “Huh,” he said. “Here’s some stuff from the Voodoo Museum in New Orleans.” They both leaned forward to read. This website described several different kinds of zombies: spiritual zombies, which were reanimated corpses; bargained zombies, where people offered to let the voodoo master take their souls in return for protection; and, lastly, herbal zombies.

  “Herbal zombies — that sounds like what Paul was talking about,” Nate murmured. “Ew, through their feet.”

  The website said that voodoo practitioners would first poison their victims with a paralyzing nerve poison that came from blowfish, which they would secretly put in their targets’ shoes to be absorbed by the sweat glands in the feet.

  “Yikes,” said Becky. “I hope that’s not what Dr. McNally did to the lab rats.”

  She wrote down the facts in her notebook, anyway, under the heading Voodoo Zombies. Looking at her neat list of the information they had so far, she felt a little pang for the study sessions she’d shared with Charlotte last year; Charlotte had always complained that Becky needed to make organized lists and outlines to study efficiently.

  “Let’s try another search,” she said, typing in getting rid of zombies. They scanned the results. “Yuck, I am not cutting off anything’s head.”

  Unfortunately, any real information about zombies was buried among a ton more sites about games and movies and books. After a while, they found a little more advice that looked relevant on a website that seemed to be mostly about magic.

  “It says here that a paste made of poppy seeds and cloves can help put a zombie to rest,” Becky said, her eyes taking in the words onscreen. “And it says that if it’s the kind of zombie that wants something before it goes away, it can’t be put to rest until it gets what it’s looking for. Like, if it lost something important to it.”

  “It was some kind of animal, though, right?” Nate said. “What could it be looking for? Was it a squirrel?” He crossed his eyes at her, then held his arms up in front of him in a zombie pose. “Aaaaacorns,” he said. “Aaaaacorns.”

  “What’re you guys doing?” Charlotte’s voice said behind them, and Becky turned toward her. Charlotte was smiling and looked like she was about to start laughing at Nate’s zombie squirrel impression. But then her eyes fell on the computer screen in front of them and she frowned instead. Becky glanced over to see what Charlotte was looking at.

  On the computer screen a gray-skinned monster, flesh stripping off its bones, lurched toward the viewer, its mouth open in a moan. Above it flashed in glaring red letters “ZOMBIE DEATH RACE: RUN, DEAD MEN, RUN!” Becky felt her face start to heat up.

  “It’s a role-playing game,” Nate said smoothly. “I’ve been trying to get Becky into it.”

  Charlotte looked at Becky’s neat list of things like some zombies eat brains and the bite of a zombie could turn you into a zombie and made a face, her nose wrinkling in disgust. “You guys are so weird,” she said. “I’ll talk to you later, Becky.”

  They both watched as she crossed the library back to the table where Lila and Tonya sat and said something to them. Lila glanced over at them and laughed.

  “If we don’t get rid of this zombie, not only am I going to lose my dog, I’m going to have no friends left at all,” Becky said glumly.

  Nate nudged her with his elbow, his face sympathetic. “You’ll still have me,” he said, and Becky, feeling warmed, nudged him back.

  Nate came over that afternoon to inspect the damage the zombie (or whatever the creature was) had done to the yard.

  “Jeez, it stinks,” he said, clapping one hand over his nose and mouth.

  “You should have smelled it last night,” Becky told him. “It was even worse.” The smell now was more a background nastiness rather than the heavy, suffocating stink it had been before. She led him into the backyard, where they looked at the path of dead grass. Below the yellowed blades of grass, worms and insects still wriggled and squirmed. Becky backed away in disgust as a long pink worm writhed toward her, moving quickly and jerkily.

  “Yeah, I really don’t think this is a natural thing,” Nate said, looking pale and slightly nauseous.

  When they went inside, they found Becky’s mom in the kitchen, scrubbing out the inside of the cabinet under the sink. She looked flustered and hot, her hair sticking out frizzily. She straightened up when she saw them, pulling off her rubber gloves and tossing them in the sink.

  “I’ve been cleaning all day,” she said tiredly. “I just can’t figure out where that smell is coming from. I don’t think it’s the pipes. Do you think Bear brought a dead squirrel or something in here, Becky?”

  “No!” Becky said indignantly. “Why are you and Dad always blaming everything on Bear?”

  Her mom gave her a sudden sympathetic smile. “Poor Bear,” she said. “I know he doesn’t mean to make trouble, honey. But he gets into so many messes that we’ve gotten into the habit of thinking he’s probably behind anything that goes wrong.”

  “I think the smell’s coming from outside, Mrs. Nolan,” Nate said politely. “Maybe somebody’s using a pesticide on the trees or something?”

  “Maybe,” Becky’s mom said doubtfully. “I’ll have to talk to the neighbors.” She ran her hands through her hair, making it frizz a little more. “I’ll call around and see if anyone knows what’s causing the stink.” She plucked her phone off the counter and was already dialing as she left the kitchen.

  Becky led Nate back out into the backyard, and they circled the house, looking for clues. Jake was crouched by the driveway, poking the squirming insects in the grass with a stick.

  “Isn’t this cool?” he asked.

  Becky shook her head. “You like such gross things,” she said, and Jake laughed.

  Becky pulled Nate over by the fence, out of Jake’s earshot. “You know we need to go next door if we’re going to find anything out,” she said unhappily. Her hands were sweaty.

  There was a long, taut pause. They both looked at the high wooden fence in front of them and the bit of the McNally house they could glimpse behind it.

  “Yeah, you’re right,” Nate said. He gave her a small smile. “It’s daytime, though — the zombie won’t be out.” Becky tried to smile back and look reassured, even though her stomach was flip-flopping wildly.

  The board in the corner of the fence was still loose, and it screeched loudly as Becky pushed it back. She glanced nervously toward Jake, but he seemed oblivious, dangling a worm from the end of his stick. Her own house was still and quiet, sunlight reflecting peacefully off the windows. In contrast, the McNally yard looked shadowed and ominous, and Becky really wished for a moment that Jake would look up and ask what they were doing, or that her mom would come bursting out and stop them.

  No one came, though, and Becky led the way into the yard of the McNally house.

  It wasn’t immediately scary, just quiet and still. The hole behind the loose board let them out into the space between a couple of evergreen trees. Becky had to push branches out of he
r way to move forward, holding them back so they didn’t hit Nate behind her.

  The yard between the fence and the McNally house was a maze of dead and dying yellow grass, multiple wandering trails leading from one to the other, as if something had paced back and forth from the house to the fence. One trail led directly to the dark hole dug beneath the fence and into Becky’s yard. Becky walked closer and peered at the nearest patch of dead grass and below it, as she’d expected, saw the sinuous writhing mass of black beetles and pink worms, moving slowly along the trail.

  “Just like at your house,” Nate said thoughtfully, coming up beside her. “Maybe you should show your parents, so they know Bear wasn’t the one who made the grass die.”

  “I don’t think that’ll work,” Becky told him. “First of all, we’re trespassing, remember? I don’t think we should give them evidence. And they’d just say Bear’s been sneaking in here, anyway, and he’d get in more trouble.”

  “I didn’t think of that,” Nate said, his shoulders drooping. He looked so disappointed that Becky felt bad.

  “Thanks for trying to get Bear out of trouble, though,” she said. Nate shook his hair out of his eyes and smiled at her again. She jostled her shoulder against his lightly, glad that he was with her.

  Stepping cautiously over the trails of yellowed grass, they walked away from the corner where they’d come into the yard. Becky was very conscious of the fact that they were getting farther and farther away from the easiest way to get back home. The house loomed above them.

  Close up, she could see how it was a lot like her own house, if her house had been neglected for years. A porch swing that was a twin of the one at her house dangled from one rusty chain at one end of the wide porch. The white paint on the house and the black paint on the shutters was peeling away in long, ragged curls; the boards over the windows were weathered and dirty. There was a wide patch of mud in front of them, and Becky stepped over it nervously, remembering the sinkhole in her dream and how she’d watched her sneaker disappear, sucked underground.

  From behind them came a screech of metal, and Becky shrieked.

  “What was that?” she asked, grabbing Nate’s arm.

  “I don’t know,” he said nervously, glancing around. “But I feel like something’s watching us.” They stood still and listened, but everything was quiet.

  After a few moments, Nate shrugged. “I don’t think —” he began, and suddenly, something burst out of the thick evergreens by the fence.

  “BOO!” Jake yelled, and Nate and Becky both screamed. Jake collapsed into giggles. “Come on,” he said, leaning forward with his hands on his knees and catching his breath. “Did you guys think I couldn’t see you sneaking over here? You are so un-ninjalike.” He straightened up, and looked curious. “So what are we doing? Are we going to try to get into the house?”

  “No,” Becky said automatically. She really didn’t want to go into the house. She realized that the smell was much stronger here. It made her think of disease and rotting things. She remembered the sickening give of the wet fungus under her feet in her dream, and for a moment she felt overwhelmed by dizziness.

  “Jake, you should go home,” she said. “It’s not safe here.”

  Her brother snorted. “No way!” he exclaimed. “You don’t get to have all the fun.”

  Behind them, something rustled.

  Becky whipped around. There was something moving back there, she was sure of it, shaking the line of bushes between them and the side of the house. One bush had withered, orange, bell-shaped flowers hanging from it, and several fell to the ground as its branches shook.

  “It’s probably just a squirrel or something,” Nate said nervously.

  “A zombie squirrel, thanks to Dr. McNally,” Becky muttered, and Jake giggled delightedly.

  “Come on!” Jake said, and rushed in front of them. Before Becky could call him back, he’d disappeared around the corner of the house. Becky wanted to hurry after him, but somehow it seemed important not to run, almost as if running might inspire something to chase them.

  Nate seemed to feel the same way. He grabbed hold of her arm, and they hopped and stepped their way over the trails of dead grass and insects, across the side yard and around the corner, calling “Jake! Wait!” Becky’s heart was pounding — she couldn’t hear Jake anymore.

  Jake was there, bent over to peer intently into an unboarded basement window. “Hey, you guys,” he said. “Check it out.”

  “Jake!” Becky scolded, her voice sharp with irritation. “Don’t run off without us like that.”

  Jake shrugged. “Sorry,” he said casually. “I just wanted to see what was over here.”

  “Well, you need to be careful, dummy,” Becky said nastily.

  Jake folded his arms, hugging himself defensively. His sharp white elbows stuck out, and he looked really young. Becky felt a little guilty for yelling at him. “We were worried about you,” she said in a nicer voice, and Jake relaxed, letting his arms hang free.

  “I’m sorry,” he said again, more genuinely this time. “But look, you can see into the basement from here.”

  Becky and Nate both leaned forward to look through the window, squinting to adjust their eyes to the dimness below.

  The basement was full of stuff — shadowy shapes stretching away into the darkness, beyond where the sunlight reached. Becky saw what looked like an old-fashioned sewing machine, a big chair covered with a sheet, and, farther back, a complicated mass of … something. Light glinted off the surface of whatever it was.

  “It’s science stuff!” Jake said excitedly. “Paul was telling the truth!”

  Blinking, Becky made out the shapes of beakers, test tubes, and flasks connected by long twists of tubing. It did look like something that a mad scientist might have handy, but … “I’m not sure a chemistry set in the basement proves that Dr. McNally was making zombies,” she said.

  Jake had just opened his mouth to reply when the bushes beside the house began shaking violently again. Whatever was back there was coming closer to them, and coming fast.

  Something big and dark burst from the bushes, and all three of them screamed. Jake grabbed Becky’s arm, and she felt her heart race. Becky saw Nate’s eyes fly wide open, the whites showing all around the irises, as he jumped backward.

  A second later, they realized the angry animal bearing down on them was Bear.

  But it was a Bear that Becky had never seen before. His lips were drawn back in a snarl, and his teeth looked huge and sharp. His ears were pressed down flat, and his eyes were bright and focused on them, as if the three of them were the only things he could see. And he was charging toward them so fast that all they could do, without even thinking about it, was run.

  Becky could hear the harsh pants behind them as Bear chased them all around the house, almost close enough to nip at their legs. She ran blindly, taking no time to avoid the trails of dead grass. Did the zombie get him? she thought. Oh no, oh no, oh, Bear.

  Becky felt a crunch underfoot and winced as she realized she might have just ground a bunch of beetles beneath her sneaker. She felt a squish of mud as she ran over the place she had thought might be a sinkhole. She was sweating and short of breath, a sharp pain in her side. Finally, they were at the loose board again, and Becky held it back as she shoved her little brother through it in front of her.

  Jake was crying — big, deep sobs — and Becky pushed him in front of them as they all ran toward the house. As they reached the porch steps, she turned back and suddenly stopped, Jake and Nate pausing beside her.

  Bear had finished pulling himself out from under the fence, and all the rage seemed to have gone out of him. He ducked his head and wagged his tail low and uncertainly, every line of his body expressing shame and worry. He whimpered appealingly.

  A realization came crashing over Becky, driving out all the fear. Bear hadn’t been angry or trying to hurt them. “Bear was trying to protect us,” she said. “He was herding us away from where he tho
ught there was danger.”

  Jake sniffed. “Really?” he said hopefully. Nate tilted his head a little and looked at Bear thoughtfully.

  Becky nodded. “Look at him,” she said. She held out her hand, and Bear gave a great doggy grin of joy at being forgiven. He galloped toward them. When he reached them, he licked indiscriminately at their hands and legs, his tail beating hard.

  “You can’t tell Mom and Dad that Bear chased us,” Becky told Jake fiercely. “They’re already mad at him, and they said they’d get rid of him if he made more trouble.”

  Jake stroked Bear’s head. “I know,” he said, sniffling. “I won’t say anything.” His voice shook a little. “But why did Bear think he needed to protect us? Is there really a zombie?”

  Nate swallowed. “Whatever it is,” he said thoughtfully, “something is really freaking Bear out.”

  “I don’t want to play zombies anymore,” Jake said, and kicked at the grass.

  Becky looked nervously at the fence between the houses. She really didn’t want to think about the something that might have scared Bear so much that the dog had chased them out of the yard. The tops of the trees above the fence were moving gently in the breeze, and the afternoon seemed calm. But something was over there — something dangerous. And Bear knew it.

  By dinnertime, Becky was a mess. She couldn’t stop remembering the horrible moment when she had been convinced that the zombie had bitten Bear, that he was a zombie, too. That her darling, sweet dog had become a monster, and that he was after her. Just the thought of it made Becky’s chest feel hollow and her eyes sting.

  And what if the zombie had been right there, lurking in the bushes? They didn’t really know that zombies only came out at night. It wasn’t just Bear. They were all in danger. If the zombie was real — and, even though it was almost impossible to believe, a deep-inside part of Becky was sure it was true — any of them could be bitten and turned into a zombie as well. Her mom and dad, Jake, Nate, Becky herself, all the neighbors, any of them could be attacked. Becky swallowed. She and Nate were the only ones who knew.