by Andrew Cope
‘Seventy-nine Zombie squads!’ squealed Harriet Hawk, clapping with glee. ‘All brainwashed and ready to obey. Soon,’ she said, standing tall and looking down her nose, ‘I’ll be the wealthiest, most powerful woman in the world.’
‘And us, boss?’ said Squat, nearly dropping the tray of syringes in excitement. ‘We’ll be rich too?’
‘I suppose so,’ sighed Harriet Hawk.
‘And powerful?’ gasped Dumbbell.
The boss rolled her eyes, trying her best to imagine a pair of rich and powerful idiots. ‘And powerful,’ she droned. ‘But you’ll be neither, unless we get the new recruits injected and move our ingenious plan to the next level.’
Harriet Hawk pressed a button and the dark screen in the centre of the display lit up. ‘Squad number eighty,’ she announced. The screen showed Mr and Mrs Cook and the other new recruits marching in place. At the end of the row of machines, there was an empty treadmill where Lara was supposed to be.
Lara groaned under her breath. Oops!
For one long second, nobody moved. Then Harriet Hawk, Dumbbell and Squat all swivelled their heads and looked up to the top of the stairs, straight at Lara.
10. Oscar
Lara nearly turned and ran, but then she had a better idea. She began to march in place at the top of the stairs, banging her head against the handrail with every step she took.
‘Squat! Bring the syringes,’ ordered Harriet Hawk as she headed up the stairs.
Lara kept marching, staring straight ahead and nutting the handrail. This had better work, she thought. I’m getting a very sore bonce!
‘I see what has happened here,’ said Harriet Hawk. ‘The stupid mutt must’ve fallen off the treadmill again, then got up and just kept on marching. If it wasn’t for that handrail, she would’ve marched right over the edge of the stairs. Turn her round, Dumbbell.’
Thank goodness, thought Lara as the big-eared giant grabbed her by the collar and pointed her away from the handrail, in the direction of the gym.
‘But why did she turn through the door to the basement instead of marching straight ahead?’ asked Squat, glaring at Lara suspiciously. ‘Are you sure she’s properly brainwashed?’
‘What does it matter?’ sneered Harriet Hawk. ‘She’s only a dog.’
‘I dunno,’ said Dumbbell. ‘There’s something odd about that mutt and her pups.’
Speak for yourself, big ears!
‘What a pair of scaredy-cats,’ sighed Harriet Hawk. She approached Lara and clicked her fingers in front of her face. Lara wasn’t quite sure what to do so she took a guess and stopped. She stood, unblinking and hoping. Does click mean stop?
‘See,’ said Harriet Hawk. ‘The mutt is totally gone.’
Phew! thought Lara as Dumbbell scooped up the heavy dog and plonked her back on the treadmill. She was soon marching again, acting out her zombie role perfectly.
‘Besides,’ Harriet Hawk added, ‘even if she isn’t quite zombified yet, this implant should sort her out!’
Before Lara could do anything, Harriet Hawk whipped a syringe from Squat’s tray and jabbed it into her sticky-up ear. She just managed not to yelp.
‘Good,’ said Harriet Hawk, withdrawing the needle. ‘The implant is under the skin now. That’s one down, twenty to go. Let’s get injecting.’
Lara held her breath, waiting for the implant to take over her mind, but nothing happened. Huh! That doesn’t work on me either! Doggie brainwaves rule!
Harriet Hawk moved along the row, injecting an implant into an ear lobe of each zombie-squad member. ‘That’s this little batch sorted,’ she said proudly. ‘Now for the tricky part,’ she said, holding up her crossed fingers. She pulled a small electronic device out of her pocket and pressed a red button. All the ear lobes started to glow with a blue light. An evil smile lit Harriet Hawk’s lips. She lifted the device to her mouth and spoke. ‘This is your captain speaking,’ she said. ‘You must obey my every word.’
Lara looked out of the corner of her eye as she marched. ‘Obey every word,’ chanted the adults.
‘Hands on heads,’ commanded Harriet Hawk.
Squat jumped up and down in excitement as the marching adults obeyed. He grabbed the gadget. ‘Walk like a chicken,’ he bellowed, almost collapsing as the marchers started clucking and waggling their elbows.
‘Enough,’ shouted Harriet Hawk, snatching the control back and glaring at Squat. ‘This is not a laughing matter.’
‘Not a laughing matter,’ echoed the marching adults.
‘In two days’ time you will be part of my evil plan,’ announced Harriet Hawk.
‘Evil plan,’ droned the adults, their ear lobes flashing blue.
‘I mean very evil plan,’ she smirked.
‘Very evil plan,’ chanted the army.
‘Very, very evil plan,’ piped up Squat, before he was cut down by another icy stare from his boss.
‘Idiot,’ Harriet Hawk snarled. She put her finger to her lips and then pressed the button once more. The ear lobes stopped flashing and the treadmills stopped. The adults stopped marching and stepped off the machines, looking a little confused.
‘Well done, everyone,’ said Harriet Hawk. ‘Great workout. Back here tomorrow, please, same time. Until then, off you go.’
Obediently, the adults began to shuffle, exhausted, towards the door. ‘Hurry them up, gentlemen,’ ordered Harriet Hawk with a yawn. ‘I’m holding the country to ransom in two days’ time. I need my beauty sleep.’
You sure do, thought Lara, looking at Harriet Hawk over her shoulder as Dumbbell and Squat hustled everyone out of the gym. About a thousand years of it!
The last adult left the gym and Squat locked the door.
‘Yeah! That was so easy!’ Dumbbell high-fived Squat and then turned to Harriet Hawk, who gave him an icy and withering glare.
‘I don’t think so,’ she sneered. ‘But it’s true, everything is going to plan. Eighty gyms recruited. That’s nearly two thousand parents zombiefied and implanted.’
‘All awaiting their orders,’ grinned Squat.
‘We’ll test this local army tomorrow tonight,’ she reminded him, holding up the small electronic device, her thumb hovering over the red button. ‘And if it works, we’ll switch on the big receiver and activate zombie armies across the land.’
‘When it works, boss,’ chuckled Dumbbell. ‘I checked the radio mast when I was up on the roof. It’s ready and waiting. As for these new recruits, they will act normally enough to carry on with their lives until you press the red button – but if any one of them tries to remember how they were brainwashed, the implant will send pain pulses into their brains to make them stop. It’s a no-brainer,’ he said, disappearing into peals of laughter at his own joke. ‘Geddit?’ he snorted. ‘No brai …’ his voice trailed off when he realized the other two weren’t laughing.
‘I have to say, ma’am, it’s total genius,’ leered Squat, sucking up to his boss.
Harriet Hawk looked down sternly at her henchman. ‘Evil genius,’ she corrected.
‘Well, dear, did you enjoy that?’ asked Mrs Cook as they walked back home across the field.
‘Yes, I did!’ said Mr Cook. ‘At least, I think so. I can’t quite remember what we did, however much I try … Ouch!’ He winced and gripped his head.
Lara looked back at the dark gym. She could see the radio mast on the flat roof. She noticed a light was fixed to the top of the mast, and began piecing the puzzle together.
I’m pretty sure, once that lights up, the zombie army will be called to action. She looked at Mr Cook nursing his throbbing head. Poor man! There’s no poin
t me trying to tell him he’s brainwashed; he’ll just end up with an even bigger headache.
‘That’s odd,’ said Mrs Cook, opening their garden gate. ‘I can’t remember either.’ She grimaced. ‘Ooh! Ouch! Bit of a headache there for a minute.’
‘One thing’s for sure,’ said Mr Cook. ‘I can’t wait to go back for our next gym session! I feel strangely drawn to Hawk’s Gym.’
‘Me too,’ said Mrs Cook, pushing open the kitchen door. ‘Let’s see if Mrs Brown will babysit for us again tomorrow night.’
‘I most certainly will not!’ cried Mrs Brown.
Lara frowned. What was going on? Mrs Brown was standing in the kitchen with a sleeping Marmalade in her arms. The kitten had a bandage around his middle. Ben and Sophie were sitting at the table looking very upset.
‘Whatever’s the matter, Mrs Brown? Have the children been naughty?’ asked Mr Cook.
‘No. The children have been fine, but your pup attacked my poor Marmalade. So I’m afraid you’ll have to find another babysitter from now on.’
Mrs Brown hurried out of the door. Mr and Mrs Cook followed her, full of apologies.
‘Spud? Star?’ woofed Lara. ‘Where are you?’
The pups crept out from under the kitchen table. Spud ran to Lara and hid under her tum. He was trembling. ‘Oh, Ma!’ he whined. ‘Mrs Brown thinks I bit Marmalade!’
‘But he didn’t,’ whimpered Star, her eyes big with tears. ‘Spud was so brave! He rescued Marmalade from a big eagle and then he carried him all the way home on his back!’
‘I admit I was a bit jealous of the way everyone loved him, even Ollie. But I would never hurt him. You have to believe me, Ma!’ whimpered Spud.
‘I do believe you, Spud,’ soothed Lara, licking Spud’s ear. ‘I’ve seen that eagle too. Harriet Hawk is his owner.’
‘What’s going on, Lara?’ whispered Ben.
‘We know Spud didn’t hurt Marmalade,’ added Sophie. ‘But who, or what, did?’
‘Let me explain,’ woofed Lara, jumping up on to a chair and pulling Ben’s notepad towards her. Spud and Star jumped up beside her and Ben and Sophie leant closer. Lara picked up a thick felt-tip pen in her mouth and thought for a minute. There was so much to tell them, she was not sure where to begin!
I’d better start with Mr and Mrs Cook, she thought sadly. Sophie and Ben deserve to know what’s happening to their mum and dad – and I need to do it before Mr and Mrs Cook come back. Gripping the pen more firmly in her mouth, Lara bent forward and began to write.
Ben and Sophie looked at each other, their brows furrowed. ‘Zombies?’ said Ben. ‘The living dead?’
Lara shook her head. Not exactly, she thought. At least, I don’t think they’re dead.
‘Ma, Dad, teacher, police. Grown-ups,’ she scribbled, some slobber smudging her writing.
Spud was on his hind legs, his front paws out in front of him. ‘Zombies,’ he woofed, walking round the kitchen with his eyes bulging and his tongue lolloping.
‘Hawk’s Gym,’ wrote Lara. ‘Danger! Zombie army let loose in 2 days.’
Ben frowned. ‘Sounds a bit far-fetched. Shall I tell Mum and Dad?’
Lara shook her head. Definitely not, she thought. The pups and I will investigate and report back.
‘Ring Prof,’ she scribbled.
Ben reached for his mobile and dialled a number in Chile.
11. Zombie Test
Lara staggered across the living room on stiff legs and collapsed on to the sofa.
She had just finished her final zombie-squad session at Hawk’s Gym and everything ached. Mr and Mrs Cook were suffering too; after two days of intensive training, they were exhausted and covered in bruises. They had crawled upstairs to bed as soon as they got home.
‘What was the training this time, Ma?’ asked Star.
‘Boxing and swimming,’ Lara whimpered. ‘Lots and lots of swimming.’
‘What is she planning, Ma?’ asked Star.
‘I wish I knew but I can’t get near the basement command centre. I did overhear Harriet Hawk say that tonight would be a final test before the big day tomorrow.’
‘Maybe we could ask the prof to get a search warrant?’ woofed Star.
‘Ben left him a message,’ sighed Lara. ‘Fingers crossed he’s on his way back from South America.’
‘What about the police?’ yapped Spud. ‘We could get Ben or Sophie to call them.’
Lara shook her head. ‘That won’t work. The local bobby is one of the zombie squad! No, we’re on our own, pups.’
‘And so are they,’ woofed Star, nodding towards the kitchen where Ben and Sophie were trying to wash their school shirts, do their homework and make tomorrow’s packed lunches, all at the same time.
Lara sighed. ‘Poor things. I have to sort this out, for their sakes. Zombie mums and dads are useless. They’re desperate to get their real parents back.’
‘Except him,’ yapped Spud, as Ollie ran past clutching a can of fizzy drink and a big bar of chocolate. ‘He’s having a great time!’
Lara watched Ollie race to the top of the stairs and then slide down the banister, still clutching his drink and chocolate. Sophie and Ben had decided not to worry him by telling him about the brainwashed zombie squad his parents had joined; all he knew was that his mum and dad had suddenly stopped telling him what to do. He was staying up late, eating nothing but junk food and he hadn’t had a bath for three days.
I wish Mrs Brown would come round and sort him out, thought Lara, before remembering that their next-door neighbour wasn’t speaking to them. Well, at least Marmalade’s recovering. I saw him sitting on her kitchen window sill today, looking quite perky.
Ollie raced back into the room and jumped on to the sofa. Picking up the remote control, he flicked through the channels until he found a zombie film. ‘Cool!’ he cried.
‘He wouldn’t say that if he knew he had two zombie parents upstairs,’ Star yapped.
‘He’ll be sick if he eats that all by himself,’ Spud said, drooling, as he watched Ollie take a big bite out of his chocolate bar. ‘I’ll help him out.’
‘That’s not how we help him out, Spud,’ Lara said firmly. ‘We help him out by getting him to bed before midnight.’ She staggered over to the television and turned it off with her nose.
‘I was watching that!’ cried Ollie. ‘It was an evil zombies film.’
In reply, Lara put on her sternest expression and pointed up the stairs with her paw. Get some sleep, she thought. We might have to do battle with some real zombies tomorrow.
Two hours later, Ollie was finally asleep, with Spud snoring beside him. Ben and Sophie had gone to bed too, and Star had snuggled down beside Sophie. Lara was the only one left awake. She was sitting at the kitchen table with a cup of cocoa, puzzling over a question that had been bothering her ever since the first night at the gym. Harriet Hawk had chosen her zombie squad after reading the membership forms everyone had filled in. What did those twenty hand-picked people have in common? She had tried and tried to figure it out, but she could not find a connection.
Lara yawned hugely and scrambled down from the kitchen chair. One last check before I turn in. She trotted around the ground floor of the house, making sure everything was switched off. In the hall, she went up on her hind legs and pressed a front paw against the light switch, wincing at her aching muscles. As the hall went dark, she heard a noise from the landing. Lara turned and felt her hackles rise. Two shadowy figures were coming down the stairs towards her.
The figures stepped into a beam of moonlight, and Lara saw that it was Mr and Mrs Cook. She gave a relieved sigh, but then she s
aw that they were both walking stiffly with their arms straight out in front of them. Their mouths were slack and their eyes were blank. As they reached the hallway, Lara flattened herself against the wall to avoid being trodden on and they marched straight past her towards the front door.
Their earlobes are glowing! They’re zombie-walking!
Mr Cook was wearing his favourite Superman pyjamas. Mrs Cook was in her pink nightdress. They were both barefoot but, when they reached the rows of shoes by the door, they stopped.
‘Shooooes,’ slurred Mr Cook.
‘Shoooooes,’ echoed Mrs Cook.
They both turned and shoved their feet into random items of footwear. Mr Cook squashed his right foot into a black, peep-toed high heel and his left foot into one of Sophie’s roller boots. Mrs Cook ended up in a plastic garden clog and an oversized hiking boot.
Mr Cook looked very pleased with himself. ‘Goooodshooooes,’ he moaned as he wobbled and slid along the hallway to the front door.
‘Goooood,’ echoed Mrs Cook, clumping along behind him.
Mr Cook opened the door and the two of them stomped and wobbled down the garden path and into the street. They seemed to know where they were going.
They must’ve been summoned by Harriet Hawk, thought Lara as she eased the door shut behind her and trotted after them. They’re heading for the gym.
It was after midnight and the village was quiet. At first, Mr and Mrs Cook stumbled along the empty streets alone, but then other members of the zombie squad appeared in ones and twos, and soon the whole group was shambling along together with their arms out in front of them and their eyes staring at nothing. They were all in nightclothes and wearing everything from dinosaur slippers to snowshoes on their feet. Lara walked stiffly with them, pretending to be hypnotized too.