We were definitely not alone.
“Do you hear that?” Willa whisper-screamed.
“It’s coming from the kitchen,” I said back, keeping my voice as hushed as possible. It had been a strange, scarfing noise. Like someone eating messily.
Definitely not a human sound.
I crept toward the doorway to the kitchen.
Willa grabbed my arm. “What are you doing?”
“I want to check it out.” I slipped my phone out of the back pocket of my jeans and opened the Zombie Town game. Maybe one of my parents had returned and crawled in through the window.
But then what were they eating so sloppily in the kitchen?
My imagination went to terrible places and I forced it back to the situation at hand. The game was loaded and ready. I held the phone up in front of me and charged through the doorway.
But the kitchen was empty. No one stood by the sink. No one by the island. No one sitting at the table.
The noise came again. A slurping, disgusting sound. Like a starving person had found their favorite meal but had no utensils.
It had to be coming from the other side of the island. That was the only part of the kitchen hidden from view. And whoever it was had to be eating . . . on the floor.
I wiped a drop of sweat that had formed on my forehead and tiptoed toward the island. Phone raised high, ready for zombie battle, I took a deep breath and rounded the corner.
William Shakespaw stood on the floor—all twenty pounds of white fur and wiggly butt. And he was eating our trash.
“It’s only my neighbor’s dog!” I called to Willa, who was still hiding around the side of the doorway.
“Is it a zombie dog?” she asked.
William looked up at me with his perpetually excited eyes, tail wagging, the remains of my parents’ uneaten dinner hanging from his furry chin.
“No, he’s just a regular dog. But he might be a little smelly. He’s been going through the garbage.”
Willa exhaled a relieved breath and came over to join us. “I can deal with smelly. Remember, I have two younger brothers.”
I cleaned up the trash that William had spread all over the floor while Willa scratched behind his floppy ears.
“You must have been very scared when your owner turned into a big, bad, zombie, huh?” Willa asked in a baby voice. “But you climbed into Bex’s house like a smart boy. Oh, yes, you’re a good boy. Yes, you are.”
William rolled onto his back so she could scratch his belly next.
The kitchen cleaned, I set about to double-check every door and window in the house. They were all closed and locked, except for the one William had used as an entry point, but I locked that one, too.
“We’ll be totally safe tonight,” I said.
Willa had cleaned the dog’s dirty face and was now cuddling him in her arms. “He’s sleeping upstairs with us.”
“Sure.” It wasn’t a bad idea. Dogs had better hearing than humans, and he could alert us to any trouble.
Upstairs in my room, William made himself comfortable in a pile of my dirty laundry. Why sleep in a big comfortable bed when you could snuggle up to dirty socks? Oh, dogs never change.
Willa flopped onto the bed. “We haven’t had a sleepover in years.”
That was mainly because Willa had dumped me when she got popular, bullied me for a year or two, then more recently realized her mistake and earned my forgiveness. But whatever.
“Yeah, it’s been a while,” I said.
“Remember what we used to do at sleepovers?”
I thought for a moment. “You’d do my makeup and then we’d watch a horror movie.” I cringed. “Kind of unnecessary right now. We’re in a horror movie.”
Willa smiled slowly. “Yeah, but without makeup.”
I paused. “You can’t be serious.”
She gave me a hard stare.
Oh. She was serious. “Willa, no. I’m tired, and I want to go to sleep.”
She knelt and clasped her hands. “But I’m anxious, and it will give me something productive to do with my nervous energy.”
“I don’t even have any makeup.”
“Your mom has a ton. I saw it in the bathroom.”
I knew this disagreement would end with Willa getting her way, so I figured I’d give in now so the whole debacle could be over sooner. “Okay, fine.”
She clapped excitedly. “Yay!”
I sat still in my desk chair while Willa attacked my face with brushes and wands. Her expression was as serious as if she were painting the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel.
“Look up,” she ordered.
I complied, mostly because I didn’t want to get stabbed in the eye with an eyeliner pencil.
“You should totally let me do your makeup before the Halloween Dance,” Willa said.
“Um, the town is overrun with zombies. I don’t think we’re having a dance.”
She shrugged. “There’s still time.”
I didn’t know how she could be so confident. And even if we did have the dance, Marcus hadn’t asked me. I was still kind of bummed out about that. I let out a small sigh.
“Stop frowning, you’re scrunching your face.”
“Sorry,” I muttered.
Willa pointed a blush brush at me. “I don’t understand why you’re moping around waiting for Marcus to ask you to the dance.”
“Because I like him. You know that!”
She rolled her eyes. “That’s not what I mean. Why don’t you ask him?”
I paused. “You would ask a boy out?”
“Of course! Why not?”
The idea had occurred to me. But every time I thought about it, this horrible feeling shot through my entire body. It was the same feeling I’d gotten when I’d waited in line for an hour to ride the Death Screamer roller coaster. Then when it was finally my turn, I freaked out and left. That feeling.
“You’re scared,” Willa said.
“Terrified,” I admitted.
She put down the giant blush brush and picked up a smaller one. “You know he likes you.”
“If he did, then why wouldn’t he have asked me by now? What was he waiting for?” I chewed on my lower lip. “He might have changed his mind. Maybe he doesn’t like me anymore.”
“Or maybe he’s nervous. Just like you.”
I thought about it. That might be true. But I pushed the thought away. “It doesn’t matter anyway. I highly doubt we’ll be having any dance any time soon. The priority now is survival. And we’re not even sure that Marcus is going to be okay. He might not even wake up.”
Willa threw her hands up in frustration, causing a cascade of powder to puff into the air from the brush she held. “You’re catastrophizing.”
I gave her a look. “Is that even a real word?”
“You’re assuming the worst.”
I crossed my arms. “Our town is full of zombies. If that’s not a catastrophe—”
“Okay, okay, it’s just . . . maybe don’t assume the worst-case scenario. Have hope.”
I didn’t know how she was managing to stay so optimistic in the face of utter disaster.
She put all the makeup tools back in the bag and clapped her hands together. “Okay, done! Turn around and look in the mirror.”
Speaking of the face of utter disaster . . .
I was expecting to look like a clown. Or a little kid trying too hard to look like an adult. But—shock of all shocks—I looked kind of . . . good.
Willa beamed. “What do you think?”
I didn’t look like me. My freckles were gone and my face looked all smooth. My eyes seemed bigger and brighter. I looked like Bex’s older, prettier sister.
“Be honest,” Willa said.
“It’s kind of nice but also kind of freaky.”
Willa laughed. “Your eyebrows are goals, and they’re totally natural!”
“Thanks? I think.”
I preferred my regular face to the stranger in the mirror, but Willa seemed h
appy and relaxed, so I was glad I let her torture me. Now we could both go to sleep.
I headed toward bed and pulled the covers back.
“Um, what are you doing?” Willa asked.
I pointed at the bed as if it were obvious. “Going to sleep.”
Willa gasped. “But you have to wash your face!”
“You just put the makeup on. Isn’t that a waste?”
“Yeah, but if you sleep with it, you could get a pimple.”
I slid into bed and pulled the covers up to my chin. “I could get bitten by a zombie tomorrow. A few zits don’t scare me.”
And with that small act of rebellion, I went to sleep. I only hoped that when I woke up the next day, Marcus would wake up, too.
I woke early, light from the rising sun barely peeking through my window shade. William Shakespaw’s light snoring from my laundry pile was strangely soothing. I didn’t want to get up yet and wake Willa. But then I heard a noise in the house. William Shakespaw stirred and let out a low growl.
Willa shot up in bed. “What? Where? Who?”
“It’s okay,” I said, pushing myself up on my elbows.
“No, it’s not,” she insisted, her hair plastered to the side of her face. “I heard something.”
I heard it, too. But I recognized it right away. I’d been listening to that sound my whole life. It was the loud, sometimes clumsy, footfall of Charlie clomping up my stairs. I always knew when it was Charlie and not one of my parents or other friends.
“It’s only Charlie,” I said. “He must have awakened and—”
Willa shot out of bed. “It could be a zombie.”
“The doors and windows were locked. No zombie could get in.”
“Then how could Charlie come in?”
“He probably used our hidden key. He’s done it before.”
William Shakespaw growled, baring his tiny white teeth.
“Grab a weapon,” Willa said. “Any weapon.”
“I’m telling you we don’t need a weapon.” I rubbed my face with my hands and then choked back a laugh when I saw what she’d chosen. “Is that a mascara wand? What are you going to do, lengthen his lashes?”
“It’s the first thing I found!” she cried.
William stood up, his little doggie head cocked to the side.
The intruder delivered two swift knocks on the door, then swung it open.
Willa screamed and pointed her mascara wand.
Charlie gave her a strange look. “What are you doing?”
Willa dropped the cosmetic weapon to her side. “Just . . . getting ready.”
“Good,” Charlie said. “We were hoping you two were awake.”
My heart rose up into my throat. “We?”
Another set of footsteps clomped up the stairs, and Marcus poked his head into the room from behind Charlie. “Hi!”
“You’re okay?” I cried.
“I was undead, then I slept like the dead, and now I’m totally back to normal. All cured, thanks to you.”
Relief rushed through me, and I couldn’t help myself. I ran to Marcus and threw my arms around his neck. “I’m so glad!”
Then, realizing I’d been hugging him for a weirdly long amount of time, I pulled back and grinned. “Sorry.”
He smiled back. “It’s all good.” Then he looked at me strangely, like he was trying to figure something out.
Oh. I still had that makeup on!
“Willa did it,” I said quickly. “She put makeup on me.”
“Ah!” he said, nodding. “You look pretty, don’t get me wrong. But I miss your freckles. Is that weird?”
I laughed. “Not weird, no. You like my freckles?”
He shrugged. “Yeah, they’re you.”
I felt a blush spread across my face—and not the makeup kind. Willa gave me a knowing look.
“So,” Charlie said, breaking the awkward silence. “I brought the ingredients for French toast. Who wants breakfast?”
Downstairs, Jason was already picking his way through my cabinets as we walked into the kitchen.
“Glad to see you’re better, too!” I said.
Jason turned around, mouth full of cookies, and said, “Mamphs. Grad yoo cuu meh.”
Willa raised her eyebrows. “Are you sure he’s cured?”
“Yeah,” Charlie said. “He’s just rude.”
Jason wiped the cookie crumbs off his mouth and tried again after he finished chewing. “I said, ‘Thanks. Glad you cured me.’”
“And we basically carried you all the way home,” Willa added.
“I owe you one,” he said, turning back to the cabinet for more food.
“Is ravenous hunger a side effect of the cure?” I asked.
“No, that’s just normal Jason,” Charlie said.
Charlie whipped up an amazing breakfast, and we all sat around my dining room table, like a family, to eat it. I still missed my parents terribly, but having my best friends here together helped a lot. And knowing the cure worked filled me with hope for the first time since this disaster began.
I took a sip from my orange juice. “Okay, let’s plan.”
Charlie cleared his throat. “The good news is that we can cure the zombies. The undead turn into the merely unawake. And then they’re completely back to normal after a lot of sleep.”
“But the bad news,” Willa said, “is that there are too many of them, and they have to be cured one at a time.”
“And every time we go out there to cure someone, we put ourselves at risk,” Marcus said.
Jason stabbed a piece of French toast with his fork. “What if we all get bitten, and there’s no one left to throw the cures?”
My throat tightened. “Then the whole town is doomed.”
Charlie stared down at his plate, frowning as he chewed. I knew that look. His brain was working hard.
I bumped his elbow with mine. “What are you thinking about?”
“Science class.”
Jason rolled his eyes. “Really? Right now? Such a nerd.”
Charlie scratched his chin. “We learned about viruses the other day. They require a host to survive and multiply.”
“Just like this zombie video game virus,” I said. “It needs a host to survive, and it uses that host to replicate—by biting other potential hosts.”
“So we need to replicate the cure,” Marcus said, following along.
Charlie nodded. “With regular viruses, our bodies defend us by fighting back with an army of white blood cells.”
Willa dabbed at her mouth with a napkin. “So we make more white blood cells—us—to cure the zombies.”
I sat up straight in my seat. “Right! We can’t cure the whole town ourselves. But if we can find people we know are good gamers and cure them, we could build up a team.” I looked around at all my friends and smiled for the first time in what felt like days. “We’ll create an army of gamers.”
Now that we knew the cure really worked and we had our gamer army plan, I felt more ready to set out into the day. We all dressed and met outside on Charlie’s front lawn.
“We should split up,” Charlie said, “cover more ground, cure more zombies faster.”
“Any ideas who to target?” Willa asked.
“Mrs. Dorsey probably went to work and turned there,” I said. Mrs. Dorsey was my favorite librarian and a hardcore gamer. She’d helped us in the past with other mobile game disasters, so I knew she’d be on board.
“I’ll go to the library with Bex,” Marcus said.
I tried not to blush. And failed.
“I could go to my friend Chloe’s house and cure her,” Willa offered.
“I’ll go with you,” Charlie said. “Then we’ll hit a couple of other friends’ houses. I think some people who played the game live near Chloe.”
“I know a bunch of kids on the football team who played,” Jason said. “I can go alone. I mean, look at me.” He flexed his biceps.
I stifled a laugh, and Charlie just shook his hea
d.
“Okay, Gamer Squad,” Marcus said. “Time to build our army. Find them, cure them, enlist them. We’ll fix this town, one zombie at a time.”
I plastered a smile on my face and exchanged enthusiastic high fives with the team. But on the inside I knew it wouldn’t be that easy.
It felt strange to walk downtown alone with Marcus. I walked alone with Charlie all the time, but this was different. I didn’t have to think when I was with Charlie. But with Marcus, I was nervous. I didn’t want to say anything dumb.
Here we were, walking through a desolate town searching for zombies, and my hands were sweating because I was scared to look silly in front of my crush. I really had to examine my priorities.
“Um, so,” I said, searching my brain for anything to bring an end to the silence. “Any word on your parents?” Marcus was an only child like me, another thing we had in common. And his parents had also come down with the sickness that first night.
“When I left for school, they were still in their bedroom with the door closed. They’d been sick all night. So they’re probably locked in the house, which is fine. They’re safer that way until I can get back and cure them.”
Safer than mine, I thought, who were out who knows where.
The sadness must have shown on my face because Marcus winced and said, “Sorry.”
I shrugged. “It’s okay. I’ll find my parents and save them.”
“And I’ll help,” he said.
As we neared the common, a zombie woman wearing a long pink housecoat staggered toward us.
“I’ve got this,” I said, whipping my phone out of my pocket and launching a cure. I had the game loaded and ready.
My first shot was a direct hit. The woman stumbled back a few steps, then shook her head as human consciousness returned. Well, barely. She was almost asleep on her feet.
“What am I doing in the middle of the road?” she asked, confusion settling over her features.
I coughed into my hand. “You were heading to the store to get some cold medicine.”
“Was I? Yes, that must have been it. I do feel sick.” She frowned.
App of the Living Dead Page 5