BY JOHN KLOEPFER
ILLUSTRATED BY STEVE WOLFHARD
DEDICATION
For my niece,
Brayton Isabelle
–J. K.
For Leslie
–S. W.
CONTENTS
COVER
TITLE PAGE
DEDICATION
CHAPTER 1
CHAPTER 2
CHAPTER 3
CHAPTER 4
CHAPTER 5
CHAPTER 6
CHAPTER 7
CHAPTER 8
CHAPTER 9
CHAPTER 10
CHAPTER 11
CHAPTER 12
CHAPTER 13
CHAPTER 14
CHAPTER 15
CHAPTER 16
CHAPTER 17
CHAPTER 18
CHAPTER 19
CHAPTER 20
CHAPTER 21
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
CREDITS
COPYRIGHT
ABOUT THE PUBLISHER
CHAPTER
The black Secret Service helicopter jetted under the clouds as a sea of walking dead ravaged the landscape below.
Inside the chopper, Zack Clarke stared out the curved windshield, watching the full moon vanish from the sky, then reappear like a magician’s coin trick. It was late. Or was it early? Zack had been losing track of time since the zombie outbreak on Friday night. It was Sunday, and he was exhausted, hopelessly praying for the moment when he would wake up from this undead nightmare, back in his own room in Arizona. But that wasn’t going to happen. That was one thing he knew for sure.
Zack was riding shotgun next to Ozzie Briggs in the cockpit of the helicopter they had commandeered after escaping the zombified White House with the antidote. Zack’s sister, Zoe; her BFF, Madison Miller; his best buddy, Rice; and Dr. Scott, the ginkgo-sedated zombie scientist, were all resting in the back of the chopper. Madison’s puppy, Twinkles, snored contently in his owner’s lap.
“Where are we now?” Zoe asked, her voice a little weary.
Ozzie pointed to a red radar blip blinking over a neon green map of North America. “Near Memphis, Tennessee.” An orange light ticked on the control board, and Ozzie’s eyes flicked down to the fuel gauge. He shifted the levers and hit a few buttons. The chopper began to descend.
“Gotta gas up,” Ozzie explained, as they cruised just above the treetops.
Beneath the branches, a swarm of flesh-eating lunatics prowled through the streets, bellowing in the gloomy moonlight. Zack twisted around in his seat and peered in the back. Rice was asleep with his head tipped back and his mouth hanging open. “Pssst, Rice … wake up! We’re about to land.”
Rice shot up with a start, squinty-eyed with sleep, and wiped a driblet of drool from his chicken-pocked chin. “PFC Johnston Rice, reporting for duty, sir!” He brought his right hand to his forehead and chopped downward with a sleepy salute that whacked Zoe squarely on her thigh.
“Ow, you little punk!” Zoe flicked Rice hard in the ear. “Watch it!”
“Dang, Zo!” Rice clutched the side of his head.
“Shhhh!” Madison snarled angrily from her wheelchair, still weak from a barrage of blood tests and serum samples in the secret White House laboratory—not to mention the nasty bite wound Greg Bansal-Jones had left on her leg back in Tucson. “Some of us are trying to recuperate,” Madison grumbled and dozed back to sleep.
Zack gazed out the cockpit window as they flew over a used car lot and some fast food joints, angling toward a glowing Shell gas station sign with its first letter blacked out.
Ozzie lowered the chopper over the roof covering the fuel pumps, and they touched down.
“Why are we landing up here?” Zack asked.
“Better to stay above ground level,” Ozzie said. “Come on, we gotta do this quick.” Ozzie grabbed his crutches off the floor and then leaped from the cockpit, balancing on his good leg.
Zack hopped onto the flat gravelly roof and stared across the open view. The sky was pitch-black, but the darkness was alive with the moans and howls of the living dead.
Rice and Zoe jumped down from the chopper, too, and threw the rope ladder off the side of the roof. Ozzie climbed down first.
“Ladies first,” Zoe said, gesturing at Rice to go ahead.
Rice made a face with his tongue stuck out and climbed down after Ozzie.
Zack followed his sister, edging backward nervously until he found one of the rungs with his foot. Here we go again…, he thought, wobbling fifteen feet in the air.
Zack let out a grunt as his feet hit the ground. He scanned the darkened perimeter. No zombies in sight, but the stink of death and decay quickly filtered through his nostrils. He choked on the scent as the shadows slowly came into focus.
The leprous goons staggered into the dim neon glow surrounding the gas station. “I see dead people,” Rice joked.
“Listen up,” Ozzie barked, slamming something into Zack’s chest. “Buy us a little time with these flares while … hold up, Zoe, gimme your mom’s credit cards. Then bring those over here!” He aimed his crutch at a display of red gas cans stacked on the sidewalk in front of the store.
“Excuse me, Mr. Bossypants.” Zoe flung the handbag at him and strutted away to fetch the empty gas jugs. A zillion zombies closed in around them, their shredded arms spread wide open, their lips shriveled back, barking mucus and sputtering phlegm. It was gross.
“Ready?” Zack gave Rice a fist bump.
“Time for a little crowd control,” Rice said, lighting the flares. He handed one to Zack and they took off in opposite directions.
Straight ahead, an elderly zombie man lumbered toward Zack.
“This way, gramps!” Zack called out to the undead geezer. The zombie sneered back at him, revealing its hideously decomposed chompers. A nasty boil exploded like a lava bubble on the old codger’s pulsating cheekbone. Zack wagged the flare in its face and jogged back and forth, shepherding the growing throng of zombies away from Ozzie and Zoe at the gas pumps.
At the other end of the lot, more zombies poured off the roadside, plodding toward the bright pink light. “Hurry up, you guys!” Rice yelled. “I’m dyin’ out here!”
“We’re going as fast as we can!” Zoe called back.
“Almost done!” Ozzie shouted.
The brain-craving mutants were closing in steadily, forming a dense semi-circle around them. Zack could feel a hundred undead eyes upon him. “How much longer?” he yelled.
“Ahhhhhh!” Rice screamed.
Zack whipped his head around to see his buddy lose control of the zombie flock.
“Rice!” Zack cried, as an undead biker in a black leather vest grabbed Rice’s leg and yanked him down to the asphalt. Zack gasped at the sight of his best friend being swallowed up by the ravenous mob.
“Zack, look out!” Zoe screamed. “Behind you!”
Zack spun around on his heel. A humongous zombie lunged at him with a double swipe of its colossal arms. Zack ducked then kicked his leg out, tripping the zombified brute, and sent him tumbling to the blacktop with a squishy splat.
He whirled around searching for Rice, but all he saw was an endless stream of zombies—a big-bellied butcher with a blood-splattered apron; then a bandy-legged housewife, face dripping with bad plastic surgery; and an undead construction worker with his eyeballs boggling around in his protective goggles.
No Rice.
“Rice!” Zack called out again, sick to his stomach. He backed away from the zombie horde slogging toward him, and a helpless panic ran through his gut. “Rice!”
“Zack!” Ozzie shouted. “Get back in position!”
Then, out of the corner of his eye, there he was: Rice crawling on all four
s out of the massive undead pile-on. With glasses askew, Rice scrabbled to his feet and lit another flare. “En garde!” he shouted and struck a fencing stance, galloping in place like a medieval swordsman.
Zack breathed a sigh of relief and went back to work, when suddenly a terrified screech rang out from above. Madison! Overhead, Twinkles was barking like crazy, and Zack could see the zombified Dr. Scott thrashing about inside the helicopter. He spun away from the zombie frontline and raced for the rope ladder.
“Ahhhhhh!” Madison shrieked again, and without a second thought, Zack scrambled up the ladder, hoping he wasn’t too late.
CHAPTER
At the top of the ladder, Zack beelined for the helicopter and then leaped inside the cabin. Madison was cornered in her wheelchair, the ferocious zombie doctor looming over her, about to pounce. Twinkles growled and tugged at the zombie’s pant leg, whipping his tiny head back and forth violently.
“Rargh!” Dr. Scott slammed her zombie mitts down on Madison’s shoulders like a pro wrestler at the start of a match.
“Ew!” Madison shouted and put up her bandaged leg to block the shrieking wretch with the sole of her shoe. “Get offa me, lady!” She grunted and leg-pressed the zombie back to a vertical posture.
Dr. Scott snarled and lashed out, clawing the air in front of Madison’s face.
“Hey!” Zack shouted. “Pick on someone your own size!” He took a running leap and latched onto Dr. Scott’s back, hanging with his arms wrapped around her neck. He drew his feet up as the zombie snorted and reared like a bucking bronco.
“Hi-ya!” Madison kicked the undead doctor stiffly in the stomach. Dr. Scott doubled over, nearly flipping Zack to the floor, but he held on tight as she stumbled backward, crashing into the cockpit.
DOINK! Zack thunked his elbow on a sharp metal corner and cringed with funny-bone pain. WHAM! The zombified doctor pinned him against the control board with her back. Zack strained to wriggle free, but the grown-up zombie was too heavy to budge.
“Blekchle-glugrargh!” The undead M.D. pawed the controls, groping every switch, button, and dial on the console. Suddenly the helicopter’s motor roared to life and the rotors started to spin, ready for takeoff.
“Zack, come on!” Madison yelled over the roar of the engine.
“I’ll take care of this, Madison!” Zack shouted. “Just get out of here! Quick!”
Zack lost his grip, and the zombie doctor flipped around and flailed, pulling down the throttle on the steering column.
Madison jumped out of the wheelchair, grabbed Twinkles, and dropped to the rooftop just as the chopper rose into the air. “Zack!” she called, watching the helicopter drift out of control.
Inside the aircraft, Zack socked the undead doctor square in the kisser and squirmed free. He dove back in the cabin. The flight deck seesawed and sent him stumbling headfirst toward the open side hatch. Zack braced himself in the doorframe, peering down at the deadly drop below. He caught a flash of Madison on the roof, clutching Twinkles.
“Zack!” Her scream sounded like a whisper as the chopper arced over the dark horizon.
“Blargh!” The mad zombie doctor staggered wildly into the cabin. Zack looked down again. The helicopter spiraled over an industrial-size Dumpster filled with black garbage bags.
One … two… Dr. Scott lunged.
“Three!” Zack plugged his nose and plummeted down through the rank zombie night.
PHLUMP!
Zack landed safely, spread-eagled in the massive trash pile. He lay there for a brief moment, happy to be alive—even in the heap of reeking garbage. That was until something wet seeped through his jeans.
“Ah man,” Zack said aloud and lifted his backside. He felt the slimy denim with his hand then sniffed his fingertips and gagged. Nasty!
He grabbed a wad of crumpled BurgerDog napkins and daubed at the damp spot when something rustled and squirmed underneath him.
“Rayrgh!” A zombie raccoon shot up between Zack’s legs, snarling and hissing. Zack scrabbled back as the undead scavenger lunged out of the rubbish and snapped its rabid jaws repeatedly. He grabbed the rim of the Dumpster, hoisted himself up, and dropped down to the cement.
BOOM! A blaze of light flashed and a thick stream of smoke curled up into the clouds. Zack turned his head to see the helicopter burst into flames as it smashed into the median of a divided highway. Dr. Scott clung to the branches of a nearby tree.
Rice and Zoe ran to a stop in front of Zack while Ozzie leaped over on his crutches. The horde of zombies amassed behind them, coming up the rear.
“You’re okay, dude!” Rice threw his arms around Zack and gave him a long, awkward hug. “Man, you scared the crud out of me.”
Ozzie grasped Zack on the shoulder. “Thought you were a goner, bro.”
“Had to go and be the hero.” Zoe glared at her brother coldly. “Now how are we gonna get out of here?” She gestured to the smoldering chopper.
“I coulda almost just died, Zoe!” Zack looked at his sister in disbelief. “So why don’t you just shut up?”
“I don’t shut up, I grow up; when I look at you, I throw up.” Zoe made a yacking sound and pushed her brother out of her way. Zack quickly shoved his sister right back.
Zoe froze, chuckling to herself. “I know that didn’t just happen…,” she said, then spun around and shoved him twice as hard.
“Do it again,” Zack yelled in her face. “I dare you!”
Zoe laughed hysterically.
The tightly packed mob shuffled their way down the cement yard, gurgling and grunting, panting with insatiable hunger.
“Come on, you guys!” Rice shouted, pointing to the zombies.
Zack broke off from Zoe’s death stare and they all ran down the side alley. As they ducked around the back corner, Madison called down from the roof of the gas station. “Wait up, people!”
“Madison!” yelled Zack, looking up at the top of the black iron ladder running up the side of the building.
Madison peered down over the ledge. “Here, catch Twinkles.” She dropped her puppy and started to climb down herself.
“Arf arf!” Twinkles flailed in the air, landing in Zack’s arms.
The little pooch licked his cheek. “Uh-oh…” Zack glanced over his shoulder as the massive zombie swarm rounded the corner into the lot behind them.
“Hurry it up, Madison!” Rice shouted.
“She’s going as fast as she can, you little runt!” Zoe sniped.
At the head of the pack, a hefty zombie woman unhinged her jaw, ready to gobble up anything in its vicinity. The ghoulish fat woman limped toward them, her arms wide open, wearing pajama pants and a T-shirt with FREE HUGS written on the front.
“Come on!” Rice pleaded. “I’m really not in the mood for hugs right now!”
Madison jumped down off the ladder and stood still, catching her balance, when suddenly her whole body fell slack.
“Whoa!” Zack and Zoe jinxed each other as Madison fainted. They caught her mid-fall and propped her up on their shoulders.
“SNAP-Glarghlgle-rrrgh-RAH!” The zombies stomped closer.
“This way, guys!” Ozzie said, pointing to a service area across a four-lane highway.
“I’m just guessin’ here, guys,” Rice said, huffing and puffing as they ran past the twisted mass of smoking metal that used to be their helicopter. “But I don’t think we’re gonna get another chopper that easy, I mean—”
“Rice…” Zoe panted, lugging her BFF with her little bro. “Save your breath.”
CHAPTER
They hustled through the parking lot of a rest I stop and pushed through the front doors. Zack MJ and Zoe hauled Madison into the dining area, where a trio of fast food joints lined the far wall—Jim’s Steakout, Mighty Taco, and BurgerDog. Madison’s feet dragged through the squalor of the demolished food court—spilled fountain sodas mixed with puddles of zombie sludge, squashed hamburgers and half-eaten chicken-finger subs stamped with footprints on the floor,
and bits of busted glass and crumpled-up food wrappers littered the entire building.
“Hello?” Rice called out. “Anybody home?”
Nobody answered.
Over by the cash registers, Zack and Zoe lifted Madison onto the BurgerDog counter and laid her flat on her back. Her face was dead asleep. Ozzie held Madison’s limp lifeless wrist, checking her pulse.
“Is she gonna be okay?” Zoe asked meekly, worried for her friend.
“She’s still breathing,” said Zack.
“Check this out!” Rice jogged over from the gift shop, holding two bottles of Madison’s all-time favorite drink: kiwi-strawberry VitalVeganPowerPunch. “I can’t believe they have this!” Rice stood over Madison and cracked the top off a bottle. He poured a few drops of the pink fruity punch into her mouth and waited.
A few seconds later, her eyelids began to flutter and then popped wide open. Madison smacked her lips and furrowed her eyebrows. “Give that to me. Give it here!” She grabbed the ginkgo drink away from Rice then chugged back the whole bottle in a single gulp. “Kah!… Yummy.”
They all let out a collective sigh of relief.
“You’ll be all right, sweetie,” Zoe patted her bestie on the head. “Right now you just need to replenish. What did Dr. Scott call it?”
“Bio-molecular regeneration,” Rice said. “She still can’t be zombified, but she can’t unzombify anybody either right now. We don’t know for how long.”
“But if she keeps drinking ginkgo,” said Zack.
“It might speed up the process?”
“I don’t know about that,” Rice said. “But first things first: I’m starvin’ like Marvin!” He put his hands on his hips and studied the chip rack by the sandwich shop with a puzzled frown. “What kind of rinky-dink place doesn’t have honey barbecue flavor twists?”
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