Clash of the Worlds

by Chris Columbus

  In spite of the dizzying headache gnawing at the back of his skull, it didn’t take Brendan long to figure out that Fat Jagger had never intended to swallow him, even. Part of it was the fact that he was still in the giant’s mouth, sitting in a pool of gooey saliva on a massive tongue. The other clue was the arms of his sisters wrapped around him.

  “Brendan, you’re alive!” Eleanor said.

  “Did it work? Did you manage to talk to Denver Kristoff?” Cordelia asked, getting right down to business.

  Before Brendan could answer, the sound of a helicopter outside interrupted their reunion. Brendan had never heard a real rocket launcher being fired before, but he’d played enough video games to recognize the sound right before they were all tossed around inside Fat Jagger’s mouth from the impact, like toddlers in a bouncy castle.

  Fat Jagger bellowed in pain. In the split second that his mouth was open, the Walkers saw a gaping and bloody hole in the colossus’s left shoulder.

  “They’re going to kill him!” Eleanor shrieked. “Jagger, get back to the bay! You need to hide!”

  Cordelia screamed, too, but for an entirely different reason. Rising up slowly behind Brendan . . . was the Storm King!

  It wasn’t a spirit version of the Storm King. It was the real flesh-and-blood version. That much was obvious as they jostled and bounced inside Fat Jagger’s mouth as he ran back toward the bay.

  Brendan spun around, yelped, and then quickly scampered over to Cordelia and Eleanor.

  Fat Jagger dove back into the water, shaking his four passengers together like dice in a cup. Once the colossus was smoothly swimming through the bay and his mouth was settled, the Storm King climbed slowly to his feet again with a loud groan.

  The Walkers scrambled away from him, toward Fat Jagger’s right molars. Their cell phone flashlights cast an eerie glow onto Denver Kristoff’s rotting face.

  “Denver?” Cordelia ventured. “I know we’re not exactly best friends or anything . . . but we really need your help.”

  The Storm King had never looked worse. His normally putrid face was even more hideous than usual. If it weren’t for a few greenish flaps of rancid flesh clinging to his head, he would have basically just been a skull with hair.

  The Storm King finally opened his mouth to reply.

  “Graaanghhhhh!” the Storm King moaned. “Brrrraaaa-oooohhhhrrrr!”

  “Um, what?” Cordelia said.

  “Oh yeah, did I forget to mention that I accidently started the zombie apocalypse?” Brendan said.

  “What are you talking about?” Cordelia asked.

  “The spell did bring Kristoff back from the dead,” Brendan explained. “But it also turned his corpse into a zombie, along with the rest of the cemetery’s inhabitants. I must have used the wrong inflections or something. . . .”

  “Are you kidding me? Now what are we going to do?” Cordelia asked, panicking. “He was our only way out of this!”

  “Let’s start by making sure no one else gets bit,” Brendan said, standing up.

  He’d watched enough zombie movies to know that they moved pretty slowly—plus, he’d already been bitten so he wasn’t nearly as afraid to attack a zombie unarmed as he normally would have been.

  Brendan charged at zombie Denver and slammed his shoulder into the old dead guy’s chest. He wasn’t sure what he expected to happen—he considered for a moment that the decrepit old man might simply explode from the force. But zombie Denver didn’t explode. Instead, the old man went flying backward into a row of Fat Jagger’s molars, a low moan escaping his green lips as he slammed into the teeth with enough force to cause Cordelia and Eleanor to look away.

  Brendan tensed, waiting for the old man to get back up again. But he didn’t. Zombie Denver just stayed there slumped against a pair of huge Fat Jagger teeth. Brendan took a few steps closer and then realized that the old man’s arm was firmly wedged between the teeth. He was stuck.

  “Well, I think we won’t have to worry about him anymore,” Brendan said, turning back toward his sisters with a satisfied grin.

  “Nice check,” Cordelia admitted, her voice wavering. “But why did you say ‘no one else gets bit’?”

  Brendan answered by showing them his infected and pulsating bite wound.

  “I’m going to become a zombie,” he said somberly. “There’s nothing we can do to stop it. Pretty soon, I’ll be trying to eat your giant brain, Deal.”

  Instead of laughing at his joke, Cordelia choked out a sob.

  Eleanor, meanwhile, seemed to not have heard Brendan at all. She just sat there staring at Denver Kristoff lazily struggling to free his trapped arm. He was more of a skeleton now than the rotting monstrosity he had been when he was still alive.

  “I’ve got it!” Eleanor said suddenly. “I know how to fix this!”

  “How?” Brendan asked. “It’s too late to chop off my arm to slow the infection. . . .”

  “No, and that’s disgusting, Bren!” Eleanor said. “I’m talking about the bigger problem.”

  “Geez, Nell,” Brendan said. “Can’t you at least pretend to be upset like Cordelia? Or say you’ll miss me?”

  “We have to get Fat Jagger back home!” Eleanor said, her words rushing out in a panic. “We have to somehow fix all of this! If not, more and more creatures and bad guys from the book world are going to come into our world and eventually destroy everything!”

  “So what’s your big plan then?” Cordelia asked her little sister with more edge in her voice than she’d intended.

  “I’ll explain later, there’s no time right now,” Eleanor said. “Fat Jagger!”

  They felt him grunt in reply as he swam.

  “Can you get to the surface and open your mouth?” Eleanor shouted.

  Their ears popped as Fat Jagger ascended. They heard splashing as his head broke the surface of the water. His jaw hinged open slightly. A dolphin caught in Fat Jagger’s hair dropped into the water and swam off to safety. Eleanor looked out of the giant’s mouth and saw the pink haze of the sunrise on the ocean’s horizon. They were currently headed west, out of the bay toward the open Pacific.

  “Turn left slowly!” Eleanor screamed over the sound of an approaching police helicopter.

  Fat Jagger spun slowly. As soon as Eleanor saw what she was looking for, she shouted for him to stop.

  “Go back down and swim straight ahead!” Eleanor screamed over the roar of the nearby helicopter. “When you get to shore, climb the cliff and look for our house.”

  “You remember what it looks like?” Brendan yelled. “You’ve held our house before, Jagguuhhhhhhnn . . .”

  Brendan looked confused as he opened his mouth to speak again.

  “Urhhhh,” Brendan grunted, trying desperately to get the words out of his mouth. “Urgggghh?”

  “You okay, Bren?” Eleanor asked.

  Brendan lifted himself up slowly and Eleanor gasped. She wasn’t sure if it was the Giant’s saliva, the seawater, or something else entirely, but Brendan’s face was now a pale shade of green.

  “Cordelia?” Eleanor shouted frantically. “I think Brendan just turned into a zombie!”

  Cordelia instantly knew Eleanor was right; the pale twelve-year-old groaning in the center of Fat Jagger’s mouth wasn’t their brother anymore.

  Brendan turned toward Eleanor and snarled, his jaw hanging open and his dead eyes unblinking. He limped forward, drool seeping out from between his teeth. His now-leathery grayish-green skin was filled with saggy wrinkles and festering welts, as if Brendan had aged a hundred years in a matter of seconds.

  “It can’t be,” Cordelia pleaded desperately. “We were so close to the house. We were almost there!”

  Eleanor ran into Cordelia’s arms as they watched Brendan slouch down against the wall of Jagger’s cheek. His skin seemed to tighten across his skull; he was looking more monstrous by the second. His head lolled to the side as a guttural groan escaped from his gray lips. Seeing their normally jovial brother just sitting
there, looking so empty, gutted them both—it was almost worse than seeing him die. Their brother’s eyes, which once gleamed with mischievous humor, now lolled vacantly from side to side, a shade of gray that was even more neutral than inexistence.

  “Is there a cure for zombie-ism?” Cordelia asked frantically. “Holy water? Penicillin? Aspirin?”

  Eleanor, having watched one too many scary movies with her older brother, shook her head dejectedly.

  “The only way to stop a zombie is by destroying its brain,” she said, fighting tears.

  “I’m going to go try to talk to him,” Cordelia said, unhooking Eleanor’s arms from around her. “Maybe if we can get him to remember us, he can turn back? Maybe it’s not too late?”

  Brendan, still slumped against a pair of Fat Jagger’s massive teeth, looked up as Cordelia approached.

  “Hey, Bren,” Cordelia spoke softly. “It’s me, Cordelia. . . . Are you still in there, buddy?”

  Eleanor peeked out from behind a molar, as Cordelia got even closer to their undead brother.

  “Brendan, come on, I know you recognize me,” Cordelia said, now just a few feet away from him. “We don’t always get along . . . but it’s me, your sister, Cordelia. Can you say Cordelia?”

  The corners of Brendan’s mouth slowly widened and his eyes glowed with life again, in what could have only been a sign of recognition. As Brendan’s lips parted further, it was clear to Cordelia that he was trying to smile! She reached out to help him up, and his smile grew even wider.

  “It’s okay, Brendan,” Cordelia spoke softly, offering her hand for support. “I knew you could fight through it!”

  CRUNCH!

  Brendan’s teeth clamped down on Cordelia’s hand before she even knew what was happening.

  “Ouch! He bit me!” Cordelia shrieked.

  Cordelia screamed as she looked at the gruesome bite wound on her hand. She wondered if she might faint just from seeing it.

  Eleanor joined in with Cordelia’s screams until the colossus’s mouth sounded like a haunted house. Cordelia looked up from her throbbing hand to see Brendan slowly chewing on his own arm like he was munching on a chicken tender.

  “Don’t eat yourself, you jerk!” Cordelia yelled, slapping Brendan across the face with her good hand.

  Suddenly Jagger’s mouth shook violently, sending all three Walker children flying.

  “What happened?” Cordelia asked as she stood up uneasily, still holding her injured hand.

  Eleanor knocked twice on Fat Jagger’s lower lip. He understood the signal and opened his mouth just enough for Eleanor to peek outside.

  “We made it out of the bay!” Eleanor shouted excitedly.

  But her excited expression instantly turned to one of horror. Coming right at them were helicopters, police boats, SWAT trucks, and patrol cars, all loaded to the brim with enough firepower to take out a whole family of Fat Jaggers.

  Across the city of San Francisco, the residents feared that another Great Earthquake was upon them as the ground shook and rumbled. As cars rattled on their tires and antitheft security alarms blared. As windows shattered, causing sleeping children to scream out into the early-morning fog. As the entire city pounded to a steady beat like it was sitting atop a huge bass drum at a Rolling Stones concert.

  But it was no earthquake.

  Rather, it was a huge colossus named Fat Jagger bounding across the city in long loping steps. Crushing mailboxes, trees, and parked cars under his massive feet as he ran through streets.

  Several helicopters were in close pursuit, including a small SFPD chopper and a dark green military helicopter manned by members of the U.S. National Guard. A stream of large-caliber bullets ripped across the sky and tore into the giant’s back like a swarm of angry wasps.

  A second later, a series of missiles erupted from the twin cannons mounted just below the whirring blades of the National Guard helicopter. They zipped across the faded pink sky and connected with the colossus. The colossus screamed in pain, his teeth gritted together to keep his mouth closed.

  Inside Fat Jagger’s mouth, the Walker kids screamed as pinholes of light started to appear in his cheeks from the machine gun fire. Cordelia pushed Eleanor down onto Fat Jagger’s tongue, behind a row of molars, as blood pooled around their feet.

  They peeked over the gumline and spotted their zombie brother. Not only had becoming a zombie robbed Brendan of his youthful looks, but also his sense of personal safety. He stumbled around Jagger’s tongue, right in the middle of the firefight. Gun fire exploded all around him.

  “We need to help Brendan!” Eleanor screamed over the deafening battle.

  Cordelia was about to respond, but it was too late. The National Guard helicopter let loose another burst of high-caliber rounds, sending Brendan sprawling onto Fat Jagger’s tongue.

  “Brendan, noooo!” Eleanor shrieked.

  Cordelia quickly hugged Eleanor, shielding her eyes. Brendan’s body lay in the middle of Jagger’s tongue, now with several bullet holes in his chest.

  How could this have happened? Cordelia let her face fall into Eleanor’s shoulder; she was too shocked to even cry. Cordelia thought she might never be able to move again. But then the sound of a low groan caused her to lift her head quickly.

  Brendan’s head rolled as if coming out of a very deep sleep. He slowly climbed to his feet to resume the search for a snack. He was much more interested in finding something to munch on than in the empty cavity where his lungs should have been.

  “What?” Cordelia said.

  She had just seen her only brother shot with enough force to stop an elephant, and now he was walking around like everything was fine.

  “I told you! Zombies can only be stopped if their brains are destroyed,” Eleanor explained. “You should put down Pride and Prejudice and read The Zombie Survival Guide sometime!”

  The two sisters wanted to run and hug their brother, but didn’t since it was likely that he would take a bite out of their faces if they tried.

  Suddenly, Fat Jagger rocked violently to the right, sending the three Walkers sprawling once again. Every bullet, missile, and rocket impact could be felt inside Jagger’s mouth and a gust of hot air rushed out of his lungs each time he winced in pain.

  “I don’t think Jagger can last much longer,” Cordelia said, almost in tears. “We need to get to Kristoff House!”

  They held on as Fat Jagger moaned in pain, which only made Eleanor sob more. Through her tears, she spotted Brendan fighting to keep his balance on the increasingly uneasy surface. Eleanor quickly bent down and unlaced her left shoe.

  “Cordelia, I need a distraction,” she said as she began working on her right shoelace. “Get Brendan’s attention!”

  Cordelia stood up and took a deep breath; her last encounter with Brendan hadn’t gone so well.

  “Hey, Dawn of the Dork!” Cordelia yelled as she walked toward her zombified brother.

  Brendan cocked his head in Cordelia’s direction. He shuffled toward what he hoped would be his next meal, stopping to groan after each uneasy step—until suddenly his legs wouldn’t move anymore. He groaned again before toppling over, a shoelace tied around his ankles.

  “Nice one, Nell!” Cordelia said.

  Eleanor grabbed Brendan’s arms and tied his wrists together with her other shoelace, careful to avoid his snapping jaws. Even with the future of her family on the line, Eleanor’s confidence surged through her. It felt good to know that she could actually help save her siblings—especially with a plan that was all her own.

  Once Brendan was tied up, the two girls dragged him to the back of Fat Jagger’s mouth and nestled him under the colossus’s gigantic tongue for safety. Eleanor almost giggled at the image of zombie Brendan tucked under a giant’s tongue like a pig in a blanket. But the reality of the situation quickly erased her smile.

  “I hope your plan works once we get to Kristoff House, Eleanor, whatever it is,” Cordelia said. “There are three lives on the line now.” />
  “Who’s the third?” Eleanor asked.

  “Me,” Cordelia said, holding up her wounded hand, already feeling a little woozy from the zombification process. “Brendan bit me. If my calculations are correct . . . I should start turning into a zombie in about twelve minutes.”

  “How close are we?” Eleanor yelled as Fat Jagger stumbled again.

  He opened his mouth just enough for Cordelia and Eleanor to peek outside. They saw Kristoff House sitting atop Sea Cliff Avenue a few more bounding steps away.

  More rockets collided with Fat Jagger’s back as he reached the house. He fell to his knees on the huge lawn next to Kristoff House, groaning in pain.

  “Spit us into the attic, Fat Jagger!” Eleanor screamed, tears pouring down her face now.

  She knew Fat Jagger was dying. Her only hope of saving him was if her plan worked. But the problem was, now that they were actually here, she was less convinced than ever that it actually would. It was a long shot, and she knew it.

  Fat Jagger gently poked a hole into the peaked roof of Kristoff House with his massive index finger. He bent forward slightly and spit the contents of his mouth into the attic. Then he slumped backward into a cross-legged sitting position like a small child getting ready for story time, exhausted and breathing heavily and barely able to keep his eyes open. But he had done it; he’d finally saved the Walkers.

  Fat Jagger smiled triumphantly, breathed his last breath, and then slumped forward onto the driveway, his face crushing a police cruiser like it was made of paper.

  The three Walker children and the Storm King spilled into the empty attic of Kristoff House, sloshing inside a tidal wave of warm and smelly Fat Jagger spit. They slid across the wooden floor like freshly caught fish being dumped onto a dock.

  Eleanor climbed to her feet, slipped a few times, and then rushed over to the attic window. She watched in horror as Fat Jagger slumped over onto the driveway.