The Zombie Chasers

by John Kloepfer

  “You just saved my life, Madison,” Rice huffed.

  “I know. I should have my head examined.”

  Safely inside the car now, Madison sped out of the parking lot in a burst of hysterical rubber. Zack stuck his head out the window and sighed. He sniffed the night air, still ripe with the musky tang of meat gone bad.

  “Zack, put up the window, man.” Rice coughed. “You shouldn’t be breathing that stuff.”

  “We’ve been breathing the air all night and nothing’s happened, Rice,” Zack said, slumping back down in his seat. “Stop being so paranoid.”

  “Please roll up the window, Zack. That smell is awful,” Madison said calmly, focused behind the wheel.

  Zack buzzed up the window, and Madison nodded thank-you. Rice rolled his eyes, and Zack flicked on the radio.

  A long, high-pitched beep pierced their eardrums. Zack clasped both sides of his head. The beeping stopped, and an electronic voice recording came over the speakers, half human, half machine: “This is not a test. Repeat. This is not a test. The Emergency Alert System has been activated by the president to inform all United States citizens of the grave national crisis unfolding. All survivors in the Phoenix area should proceed directly southbound to the Tucson Air Force Base.”

  “Tucson…? Tucson, Tucson?” Zack stammered.

  “That’s like over an hour from here, guys,” Madison whined. “And I’ve never driven on the highway before.”

  “We have no other choice,” Zack said.

  The voice came back on the radio: “All drivers are advised to stay inside of their vehicles until they reach their designated military outpost. The source of the infection is still unknown…. Beeeeeeeeep…”

  “Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Madison said, slowing down at a stop sign.

  Just ahead of them, the block teemed with hundreds of zombies. They drifted drowsily, like crazed sleepwalkers.

  “Sick….” Madison shuddered.

  “Sick!” Rice smiled.

  A teenage zombie wearing a BurgerDog polo shirt and server’s cap turned to face them. His left knee buckled backward, and he tottered with an excruciating sidelong limp. His head tilted to the right where the side of his neck was missing a large hunk. The drive-through headset and microphone were still clamped to his head. Zack did not want fries with that.

  Madison made a wide left turn away from the zombie-laden street.

  “Didn’t that guy in the news van choke to death on a burger and then attack that camera guy?” she asked.

  “Do you think the burger had something to do with it?” Zack asked.

  “I think it’s a little weird, that’s all,” Madison said. “One minute he’s eating a burger and the next minute he’s turning into a zombie.”

  “Not possible. Hamburgers don’t turn people into zombies, Madison,” Rice said defiantly. “Besides, you have to be bitten by a zombie to become one of them—”

  “Wait, Madison, where are you going? We need to get on the highway,” Zack said, realizing that they were headed straight back into his neighborhood.

  “And we will,” she replied. “But first we have to go back to your house and find Twinkles. He’s probably scared half to death. Plus, I forgot my bag.”

  “But that’s Zombie Central back there!” Rice hollered from the backseat.

  “I don’t care. I’m not abandoning my dog, you little rodent,” Madison yelled.

  “You heard the radio,” Rice protested, “I’m pretty sure it said don’t get out of your car and start searching for lost mutts.”

  “Twinkles is not a mutt. He’s a Boggle mix,” Madison shot back.

  “You named your boy dog Twinkles?” Rice asked.

  “I’m sorry, isn’t your name Rice?”

  “Actually, it’s Johnston. Last name’s Rice. And I don’t care that your dog’s a mutt or that you gave it a stupid name,” Rice said. “All I care about is getting out of town. Not driving back into it! Zack, can you back me up, please?”

  “I—I don’t know, Rice….” Zack hesitated. “Maybe if Madison goes back for Twinkles, then we could maybe find Zoe and you know…help her.”

  “Have you lost your mind? Your sister’s a goner, dude. There’s no cure for zombies,” Rice tried desperately to explain.

  “Oh yeah, and what if there is?” Madison retorted.

  “Rice, my parents would kill me if they found out I left Zoe behind,” Zack argued.

  “Our parents might even be zombies right now. We could be orphans for all you know!” A grim silence followed Rice’s dreadful notion.

  “We might be the last people on earth when this whole thing’s over,” Madison thought aloud.

  “Just the three of us,” Zack affirmed.

  “We’ll be responsible for repopulating the planet,” Rice smirked.

  “Don’t get any ideas, Freako Suave,” Madison said. And just like that, they drove off: two against one. Three against the world.

  CHAPTER 12

  The Volvo made a right onto Locust Lane, and they moved slowly down the road toward Zack’s house. The blacktop was stained with crimson streaks, shining in the glitter of the streetlamps. The green lawns were drizzled in trails of cherry red. White picket fences were dashed with blood. Tipped-over trash cans lay sideways on the sidewalk and in driveways, spilling garbage all over.

  “Where’d they all go?” Zack asked.

  “To find us, probably,” Madison said.

  “Rice, I don’t get it, man,” Zack started. “You’re saying the only way to turn into a zombie is if one of them bites you. So who bit the first zombie?”

  “Chicken and the egg.” Rice flipped his hand in the air. “There are tons of theories, guys: Meltdown at a cryogenics lab. Toxic biochemical waste. Nuclear radiation. Extraterrestrial radiation. Aliens taking over our brains—now that’s what we should really be worrying about….”

  “He doesn’t actually believe in aliens, does he?” she asked, steering steadily down the road. Zack nodded silently.

  “Madison, if I told you yesterday to expect an all-out zombie invasion tomorrow, what would you have done?”

  “I would have made fun of you for being a loser.” Madison slowed in front of Zack’s demolished house. “Then again, I probably would have done that anyway.”

  “Fine, but if there are zombies, that means there could be vampires. There could be werewolves. Bigfoot could really exist. Even Pigman. And Mothman. The Loch Ness monster. The Yeti. El Chupacabra—”

  “Stop talking, dork. We’re supposed to be on the lookout for Twinkles,” Madison barked.

  “And Zoe, too,” Zack added, scoping out how badly his lawn had been trashed.

  “Yeah,” Rice scoffed. “I’m sure she’ll be tough to miss.”

  They rolled into the driveway. Nearing the garage, Zack surveyed the damage through the windshield.

  “Yo, Zack, they totally wrecked your house!” Rice exclaimed.

  Rice was right. Zack’s home was demolished. The lawn was trampled into bloody mud puddles, and the front garden was in shambles. The door was ripped off its hinges, the entrance reduced to rubble. Every last window had been shattered.

  “Why would aliens want to take over our brains in the first place?” Madison asked, unbuckling her seat belt.

  “For the same reason zombies want to eat our brains,” Rice said, sort of twist-hopping off the backseat.

  “Which is what?” Madison asked snottily, leading the way toward the front of the house.

  “To gain our knowledge,” Rice answered. “Which is probably why they haven’t bothered with you all that much.”

  “Hey, buddy,” Madison said defensively, “there are tons of zombies out there just dying to eat my brains.”

  “Look at this,” Zack said, interrupting their quarrel. He picked up a bit of paper stuck in the bush off the front stoop. “It’s another one of those wrappers.”

  “BurgerDog,” Madison jeered. “That just sounds so gross.”

  “The h
ot dog that looks like a hamburger,” said Rice, bungling the slogan.

  “Maybe this is what the news van guy was eating,”

  Zack proposed.

  “Duh…” Madison sneered.

  “It could have been anything, you guys. Wendy’s, McDonald’s, Burger King, you name it…” Rice said, disregarding Madison’s theory. “But what if it wasn’t anything, Rice? What if it was this thing? What if Madison’s right?” Zack asked.

  Rice threw his hands up in frustration.

  “Shut up,” Madison shushed. “I’m going inside….” She stepped cautiously into the house through the mangled archway of rutted wood and shattered glass that now comprised the entrance. “Twinkles?”

  She nearly lost her footing on the slick layer of zombie slime coating the hardwood. Rice and Zack followed closely behind. Crossing the threshold, they squish-squashed through the residue of slippery sludge.

  Suddenly, they heard a tiny bark coming from the living room.

  “Twinkles!” Madison said excitedly, running into the room. She skated into the doorway and let out an ear-piercing scream. “NO!”

  Zack and Rice hurried over, sliding in behind her. Rice hit a slick spot and fell with a splat, gliding into the wall.

  Zombie Zoe whipped her beastly head around and roared at Zack and Madison. Clenching the poor little Boggle in her right hand, Zoe beat her chest, puppy-fisted, like King Kong at the top of the Empire State Building.

  “Zoe,” Madison squeaked, addressing her monstrous BFF. “I don’t care that you’re already dead, or that you can’t under stand what I’m saying…but if you don’t put my dog down, I’m going to kill you!”

  “That’s not very vegan of you, Madison,” Rice said, rising from his puddle of muck, a bloody black skid mark skunk-striping his back.

  Zack hurried around the couch and picked up a vase from the mantel. Swooping in behind his zombified sister, he raised the vase and smashed her on the head, resulting in a blast of jagged porcelain fragments.

  Zoe reeled forward, her head slumping to her chest as she dropped to her knees. She wobbled for a second before tipping flat on her face, knocked unconscious.

  Twinkles splashed across the floor, pawing through the living room mire. He scampered over to Madison, who lifted the little dog high in the air and twirled him around and around joyously.

  Zack stood over his mutant sister, who hog-grunted into the wet hardwood. Madison sloshed over to Zack, cuddling Twinkles.

  “Zack, that was so brave!” Madison exclaimed gratefully. “I’ll never forget how you saved Twinkles’s life. Ever.” She brushed her hair to one side and leaned toward Zack, giving him a kiss on his cheek. “And Twinkles won’t either, will you, Twinkles?”

  Zack’s face reddened, and he wiped off the glossy mark that Madison’s lips left on the side of his face. “It was nothing,” he gushed goofily. He suddenly wished there were more puppies around that needed rescuing.

  “All right, kids,” Rice said. “You got your little pooch and you got your little smooch—now it’s time to saddle up and hit the road.”

  “Rice, I can’t just leave Zoe behind chewing people up and spitting them out.”

  “But she’s doing what she loves,” Rice replied. “You don’t want to take that away from her, do you?”

  “Sorry, Rice. I know she’s a zombie, but she’s also my sister.”

  “Fine, but if we’re bringing her along, we’re gonna do it my way.” Rice disappeared and returned promptly, carrying a lacrosse helmet, a leash, and a dog collar that had once belonged to Zack’s beloved pet boxer, Mr. BowWow.

  “What’re you doing with that?” Zack asked. “That’s Mr. BowWow’s.”

  “Well, since you insist on bringing your zombie sister along for the ride, we’re gonna have to take some precautions. The helmet will protect us from her bites if she wakes up…. Help me out, will you?” Rice said, crouching down next to Zoe’s limp body. “Now lift her head up so I can put it on.”

  Zack lifted the deadweight of his sister’s skull while Rice fitted the lacrosse helmet over Zoe’s tangled, matted hair. “There,” Rice said, dropping her with a clunk as he fashioned her neck with the dog collar and leash. “Gotcha!”

  Outside, Madison retrieved her bag from the garage and slurped her pink water.

  Zack dragged Zoe through the front of the house by the leash.

  “Are you sure it’s okay dragging her like this?” Zack asked, pulling Zoe over the heap of debris that used to be the front door. “I feel like I’m strangling her.”

  “Impossible, Zack. Zombies are already dead, so that means their respiratory and all of their other systems have totally stopped functioning. Except, of course, the brain, which obviously has now become its own flesh-eating impulse machine.”

  “Rice, lift her feet up,” Zack ordered, tugging her onto the lawn. “I don’t want her head to pop off.”

  “Whatever,” Rice said, grabbing Zoe by the ankles. “But then I gotta go grab some stuff.”

  Zack and Rice loaded Zoe into the back of the Volvo behind the dog partition and slammed the rear door. Twinkles flattened his ears back and growled in Zoe’s hideous face. Madison rocked Twinkles back and forth like a newborn baby.

  In the back of the garage, Rice and Zack each picked up a T-shirt from the pile of dirty laundry and started to change.

  “Don’t look at us, Madison!”

  Rice shouted.

  “Okay, Rice! I’ll try not to look,” Madison shouted with her back already turned.

  With a fresh shirt from the dirty laundry, Rice selected a small arsenal of blunt hand weapons: a shovel, a steel crowbar, a sledgehammer, and an aluminum baseball bat. “C’mon, Zack, help me carry these.” Rice picked up the crowbar and the aluminum bat.

  Doodle-ee-doodle-ee-doodle-ee-doooo! A ringtone jingled from inside his backpack. “Wait.” Rice turned his back around toward Zack. “I’m getting a phone call. Reach in and get it.”

  “Rice, you had a phone this whole time and you didn’t say anything?” Madison shouted.

  “Who were you gonna call? Zombie Busters?”

  Zack unzipped the bag and stuck his hand inside, pulling out the Ziploc bag of zombie fingertips.

  “Dude, why did you collect these things?”

  “Specimens, man.”

  “How do you turn this thing on?” Zack handed the phone to Rice.

  “Like this,” Rice said. He slid his finger across the touch screen, and Zack could hear Rice’s mom on the other end of the phone. “Rice, honey?”

  Rice put the phone up to his ear. “Hi, Mom…I thought you and Dad were zombies…. Where are you guys? You’re still at parent-teacher night? Locked in the gymnasium? That sucks…. Sorry, Mom, I know you don’t like me using that word. Ummm, we’re okay…. I’m fine, Mom…. Okay, Mom…I love you, too.” Rice handed the phone to Zack. “Your mom wants to talk to you.”

  “Mom?” Zack said. “I love you, too, Mom. I know, Mom…. Zoe? She’s busy…. Yeah, she’s in the car…. Mom, we gotta hit the road…. Tucson…The Volvo…Calm down, Mom, Madison’s driving…. Mom, stop yelling…. It’s okay, Mom, we have to go…. I love you, too…. Oh, Mom, wait…. Don’t eat any of that BurgerDog crud, I mean stuff, sorry…. Just don’t!” Zack pressed the end button and handed the phone back to Rice.

  They dragged their assortment of weapons to the car, tossing them into the back with zombie Zoe. They finished loading the Volvo and buckled up, screeching off. A few minutes later, Madison stopped at a cross street and paused.

  “How do you get to the highway from here?” she asked Zack.

  “I don’t know,” Zack said innocently. “My mom always drives me.”

  “Well, I don’t know your neighborhood that well,” Madison said, drumming the wheel with her pointer fingers.

  “Don’t look at me,” Rice said. “I don’t get out that much.”

  Madison peered up through the windshield. “O-MG!” she said, pronouncing each letter deli
berately.

  Perched on the rooftop of a redbrick house, a cowering figure huddled in a ball, whimpering into his elbows. The man-boy lifted his head. Zack recognized his chiseled features and loveless eyes. Rice cringed.

  Greg Bansal-Jones.

  CHAPTER 13

  Greg Bansal-Jones could best be classified as an eighth-grade super jock and a world-class bully. He looked at least two years older than his actual age of thirteen and three-quarters and probably went through a can of shaving cream nearly every week. Standing almost five feet nine inches tall, Greg was broad-shouldered, with an upper body of solid muscle. He was the captain of the soccer, hockey, and lacrosse teams and could totally kick Zack’s butt. And Rice’s butt. And more than likely both their butts at once.

  “Bansal-Jones?” Rice half-whined, half-gulped. “Madison, the guy’s barely a caveman…. He’s a king-size knuckle-dragger.“

  “Okay, he’s sort of a meathead, but he’s so cute and helpless up there all shaking and pathetic. And anyway, we could use a little brute strength on our side for once. We’ll be the brains and he’ll be the brawn.”

  Zack hated Greg, not only for being so mean, but for being so spectacularly good at being so mean. Even without Rice’s bathroom swirly episode, Greg had an impressive highlight reel of torments that any practicing bully would envy. Tripping a lonely fifth grader carrying a lunch tray. Checking an obese seventh-grade girl into a locker. Laughing, stamping his feet in the general vicinity of a substitute teacher searching for her lost contact lens. Straddling a sixth-grade weakling, pinching his nose, and funneling atomic hot sauce into his mouth. The list could go on forever.

  “I’m not taking no for an answer,” Madison told them.

  Zack looked up and sighed. Rice scooted across the backseat, curbside, buzzed down the window, and whispered to Zack: “Don’t worry, man. I’m about to go medieval on this kid….” And with that, Rice stuck his pink pockmarked head outside.