Z

by Michael Thomas Ford

  Firecracker pulled Josh to his feet. “Nice work,” Josh said, grinning.

  The two of them ran as fast as they could back to the doorway, where Scrawl and Charlie were standing with their throwers at the ready. “What happened?” Scrawl asked. “You guys were right behind me.”

  “We had a visitor,” said Josh. “But we took care of it.”

  “You mean I took care of it,” Firecracker corrected him.

  “Just look for z’s,” said Josh. “They’ve got to be coming out sooner or later.”

  As if on cue, four zombies emerged from the smoke. They walked slowly and heavily. One, already on fire, clawed at its charred shirt. The other three headed for the four friends and the door.

  “Four of them and four of us,” Charlie said. “Pick your z, boys.”

  The four of them fanned out, each one heading for a different zombie. Scrawl took the one that was already smoking, hitting it dead on with a blast that peeled the skin from its torso. Charlie took on a massive man who, even after being set afire, continued to walk toward her until a second blast from Scrawl took out the zombie’s legs and left it a pile of melting fat.

  Josh advanced on his target. To his left Firecracker was toasting his zombie, which left just one to go. For the first time Josh allowed himself to think that they really might get out alive.

  Then he saw the zombie’s face. “Stash,” he whispered.

  Stash saw him and stopped. His dead eyes stared at Josh, and his mouth began to move. His head rolled from side to side as well, and his arms twitched spasmodically. Josh raised his flamethrower. But as he took aim, he saw Stash’s mouth move again. Something about it wasn’t right. He wasn’t just making random sounds. He’s trying to talk, Josh realized.

  Before he knew it, he was running toward his old teammate. He heard Charlie, Scrawl, and Firecracker screaming for him to stop, but he kept going, coming to a halt only when he was just out of Stash’s reach. Stash turned his head, looking at Josh, and mumbled. Josh still couldn’t hear him.

  You have to get closer, he told himself.

  Fighting every one of his natural instincts, he took another step toward Stash. Stash didn’t move. Josh took another step, then another, until he was right in front of Stash. He looked into the boy’s one remaining eye. It was milky, and thick yellow ooze dripped from the corners. But then, just for a moment, it seemed to clear, and Josh almost believed he was looking at the old Stash.

  “Home,” Stash mumbled. He pressed something into Josh’s hand. Then, before Josh knew what he was doing, Stash staggered back, pretending to be hit, and fell into the flames that had engulfed the garden. Josh watched, a scream stuck in his throat, as Stash disappeared behind the wall of fire.

  The next thing he knew he was being pulled back by Scrawl and Charlie. “We have to get out of here,” Charlie yelled above the roar of the inferno.

  Josh turned his back on the garden and followed his friends through the door. When they were in the hallway again, Firecracker shut the door behind them. “Now what?” he said. “We got them all, didn’t we?”

  Scrawl nodded. “Yeah,” he said. “But somehow I don’t think we’re done yet.”

  “What are you holding?” Charlie asked Josh.

  Josh looked at the key in his hand. “Stash gave it to me just now. But I don’t know what it’s for.”

  Scrawl took the key from Josh and looked at it for a long moment. “I think I know what this is,” he said.

  “What?” asked Josh.

  “You know how Clatter wears that coat with all the keys sewn on it?” Scrawl said. “He doesn’t just do it because it looks cool. He does it to hide things.” He held the key up. “Things like this.”

  “What’s the key to?” said Firecracker.

  Scrawl held the key up. “If we’re lucky—the way out.”

  24

  “Clatter is a genius,” Scrawl said as they walked. “But he’s also paranoid. He has escape routes all over the place. I think this key opens the door to one of them.”

  “How do you know?” Charlie asked.

  “Here,” said Scrawl, pointing to one end of the key, where the letter F was stamped. “F for Feverfew.” He turned the key over, and on the other side was the number 237. “Room 237,” he said. “Whatever this key unlocks, it’s in that room.”

  “What if it isn’t?” asked Firecracker. “What if Clatter gave him the key to trick us?”

  Josh thought about the look in Stash’s eye when he handed over the key. A lump formed in his throat. “I don’t think he did,” he said.

  “Okay,” said Firecracker doubtfully. “Then let’s get up to room 237 and see what’s up there.”

  They headed for the stairs, but the ding of the old elevator drew their attention. The doors opened, and Clatter emerged with Seamus and Finnegan. He strode across the lobby toward where the four exhausted friends stood.

  “Play along,” Scrawl whispered to the others as Clatter got closer.

  “I must say, you’ve impressed me,” Clatter said. The tone of his voice was warm, but Josh heard an undercurrent of frostiness that he didn’t like. “Your methods on the final test were a bit crude, but given the time constraints, rather brilliant.”

  “I’m glad you liked it,” Scrawl said. “Now how about keeping your end of the deal?”

  Clatter took a deep breath. “As much as I’d like to, I’m afraid I can’t,” he said. “You see, you didn’t complete the game in the allotted time. You were exactly one minute and seventeen seconds over.”

  Scrawl shook his head. “I knew you’d never let us go,” he said.

  “Mmm,” Clatter replied. “Your lack of faith in me is disappointing. But it’s irrelevant, as you lost.”

  “So now what?” said Josh. “You kill us?”

  Clatter feigned shock. “Of course not,” he said. “They do.” He nodded toward the stairs, where a dozen or more zombies were shambling toward the lobby. “And now I will say good-bye,” said Clatter. He, Seamus, and Finnegan walked rapidly toward the waiting elevator, stepping inside. As the doors shut, Clatter tipped his hat and smiled. “Good luck!” he called out.

  Scrawl glanced at the zombies, then ran for the elevator. “Help me!” he yelled to the others.

  Josh, Charlie, and Firecracker joined him at the doors. Scrawl looked up at the needle over the door. It was only halfway between the lobby and the basement. He shoved the grate that covered the elevator doors aside and started prying them open.

  “What are you doing?” Josh said. “We have to get to the second floor.”

  “We can’t let them get out of here,” said Scrawl, trying to force his fingers into the crack between the doors. “If we don’t stop him, Clatter will keep on doing what he’s been doing. He’ll just replace us with other players. More people will die.”

  “And how are we going to stop him?” Charlie asked.

  “There’s a hand brake on top of the elevator,” Scrawl said. “The mechanics used them for stopping the car during shaft maintenance, when they rode on the roof to access the pulleys. If I can get to it, I can stop the car between floors and trap them there. That way the police will know just where to find them.”

  “There’s no time for that,” Firecracker said.

  “Not if you keep arguing,” said Scrawl. “Now help me get these doors open.”

  Firecracker and Josh took one door while Scrawl and Charlie took the other. At first the doors wouldn’t budge, but then they reluctantly creaked open. Josh peered inside. He could just see the top of the elevator car.

  “We’ll wait for you upstairs,” Josh told him. “In room 237.”

  Scrawl shook his head. “Don’t wait,” he said. “In case something goes wrong, I want you on the way to the police. Now get out of here.”

  Josh started to object, but Scrawl was already lowering himself into the shaft. He clung to the ladder. “Go!” he yelled. “Now!”

  Josh and the others turned and faced the zombies. In order
to get to the stairs, they were going to have to fight their way through, and they had no weapons left. Even then, they had no idea what waited for them in room 237. It could be nothing, Josh thought. We could be walking right into a trap. But it was their only chance.

  “We can’t kill them,” Josh said. “So let’s just get through them. Don’t let them grab you, or you’ll probably get bit.”

  “Really?” Firecracker said. “Thanks for the tip.” He grinned at Josh. “Race you to the second floor,” he said, and took off.

  Josh watched as his friend ran straight at one of the zombies at the front of the pack, a fat man wearing a blood-spattered butcher’s apron. Firecracker lowered his shoulder and hit the z square in the chest, sending him flying backward into some of the other zombies. They fell like bowling pins, and Firecracker shouted, “Strike!” triumphantly.

  Charlie and Josh followed him, dodging the zombies that grasped clumsily at their clothes. Firecracker was already halfway up the first flight of stairs, calling for them to hurry. Charlie ducked under the arms of a zombie woman swinging her purse like a weapon—and Josh, who was behind her, was hit right in the face by it. He fell backward, hitting his head on the tile floor.

  Stunned, he couldn’t move. He saw the zombie woman’s face as she leaned over him. Her milky eyes rolled back in her head and her mouth opened, revealing broken teeth. She dropped her purse and reached for him with hands covered in sores.

  “Back off, meatbag!” he heard Charlie yell.

  The zombie woman turned her head, snarling, as Charlie’s foot hit her in the stomach. The z let out a grunt and was flung to the side. Then Charlie was grabbing Josh’s hand and pulling him to his feet. His head throbbed as he stood, and for a moment he thought he might faint.

  “Come on!” Charlie encouraged him. “We’re almost there.”

  Josh forced himself to move. He saw the stairs ahead of them, clear of z’s. They just had to get to the second floor. His feet moved up the steps as behind them the zombies moaned in frustration. Josh knew they would follow, and even though they moved slowly, there were a lot more of them.

  As they reached the landing, a body fell in front of them, almost hitting them. The zombie—a teenage boy—twitched frantically, trying to move his broken limbs.

  “Sorry!” Firecracker yelled, looking at them over the balcony. “I didn’t know you were there.”

  Charlie and Josh stepped over the z and ran up the rest of the stairs. Josh’s head still hurt, but it was clearing. When they met up with Firecracker in the second-floor hallway, he looked at the number on the nearest door.

  “Room 237 is this way,” Firecracker said, pointing to the left. “And we should probably hurry. Company’s coming.”

  Josh and Charlie turned and saw four zombies coming up the stairs, moving with surprising quickness. The three friends dashed down the hall, finding the room about halfway down. They’d passed the room during their sweep of the floor, but because it was locked, they had assumed it was zombie free. Digging the key from his pocket, Josh jabbed it into the keyhole and turned it. For a moment nothing happened, and Josh’s stomach sank. The four z’s were getting closer.

  Then there was a click and the lock slid open. Firecracker and Charlie slipped into the room, with Josh entering last. He slammed the door shut and turned the lock just as a zombie face appeared in the window, pressing its bloody mouth against the glass.

  Josh turned away from it and surveyed the room. They didn’t have much time. The z’s would either break the glass or break the door down. Whatever was in the room Josh and the others had to find it, and soon.

  But the room was empty. Completely empty. There wasn’t a chair, a desk, a bed—not even any trash.

  “What is this?” Firecracker said. He turned and looked at Josh. “I told you this was a trap. Now we’re stuck in here, and sooner or later those things are going to get in.” He pointed at the door, where the faces of two more zombies were peering in at them. They were also banging on the door, and it shook in its frame.

  “Not so fast,” said Charlie. “There’s a closet.”

  “Oh, a closet,” said Firecracker. “That makes everything better. We can just hide in there until the meatbags go away.”

  Ignoring him, Charlie went to the door in the wall and turned the knob. She pulled the door open, stepping back in case there were any surprises inside. When nothing jumped out, she looked in.

  “What is it?” Josh asked.

  Charlie shook her head. “I’m not sure,” she answered.

  “Well you’d better figure it out in the next thirty seconds,” said Firecracker. “That door isn’t going to hold.”

  There was pounding on the door, followed by the sound of breaking glass. Outside, the zombies’ moans grew more frantic. “Like I said,” Firecracker yelped, pushing Charlie into the closet as he grabbed Josh by the wrist and pulled him inside too.

  There was barely room for the three of them in the closet. Not that it really mattered. As far as Josh could tell, they were simply inside an ordinary closet, an empty ordinary closet. There were no weapons in it, not even coat hangers. The only thing in there was a single old-fashioned lightbulb hanging from the ceiling.

  The sound of breaking glass came again, and Josh peered out to see a zombie reaching through the window of the room’s door and grabbing its doorknob from the inside. Soon the room would be filled with z’s, and there would be no escaping them this time. There were too many of them, and without weapons Josh and his friends would be zombie food.

  Acting on instinct, Josh pulled the closet door shut as the first zombie staggered into the room. Now the closet was pitch black. Josh could hear himself breathing heavily as he thought frantically for some way out.

  “I’m not dying in the dark,” Firecracker said, reaching up and pulling the frayed string attached to the lightbulb.

  The light flickered on. A second later the floor fell away beneath them. Josh, Charlie, and Firecracker shouted in surprise as they plunged into darkness. Above them the light continued to burn but grew smaller and smaller as they fell.

  A few seconds later, Josh landed with a thud on something soft. Charlie fell next to him, and Firecracker landed on top of them both. He rolled off with a grunt and sat up.

  “Where are we?” he asked.

  Josh looked around. They were on top of what seemed to be a pile of old mattresses—at least six or seven of them—in some kind of cellar. The mattress they were sitting on was stained, and it stank of mold and dirt. It sagged beneath their weight, and Josh had to roll to the left to get to the side and throw his legs over the side.

  That’s when he saw the old ambulance. Large and white, it had a fat, round fender over each wheel and a long front end with circular glass headlamps that looked like eyes. A single red light stuck up from the roof. On the side door was painted a big red cross, and underneath that, in black, the words FEVERFEW ASYLUM.

  Firecracker jumped down from the mattress and looked at the ambulance. “This thing must be at least a hundred years old,” he said.

  Josh climbed down from the mattress pile and helped Charlie down as well. Once on the ground, Charlie eyed the ambulance doubtfully. “This is the big secret of room 237?” she said.

  Firecracker, who had gone around to the other side of the ambulance, called out, “The keys are still in it!” Then the door beside Josh and Charlie opened. “Get in!” Firecracker ordered.

  Josh looked at Charlie. “He’s got to be kidding.”

  Before Charlie could answer, something fell onto the mattresses behind them. Josh turned and saw a zombie flailing around, trying to turn itself over. A second later another one fell from the hole in the ceiling, and then another.

  Charlie looked at the ambulance, then at Josh. “I don’t think we have a choice.”

  She and Josh climbed into the ambulance just as one of the zombies managed to roll off the mattresses. It lay on the floor for a moment, then moaned and got up. It turned its h
ead toward the ambulance, where Josh was looking at it through the window.

  “Can’t you get this thing started?” Josh asked as the z snarled and spat out strings of bloody drool.

  Firecracker was turning the key in the ignition. The engine made choking sounds but didn’t start. More zombies had fallen to the floor, and now, attracted to the sound, they started congregating around the truck. There were half a dozen of them. They stared in the windows with milky yellow eyes, their faces only inches from the glass. Josh looked away.

  “I don’t know what to do,” Firecracker said, his voice cracking. “This thing is ancient.”

  “The clutch!” Charlie yelled. “Push in the clutch!”

  Firecracker looked at her in bewilderment. “The what?”

  Charlie pointed to one of the pedals near the floor. “You have to push that in and put the gears into neutral, otherwise you can’t start the engine.”

  Firecracker pushed tentatively against one of the pedals with his foot. “This?” he said.

  “Switch seats,” Charlie ordered, climbing over him.

  Firecracker scooted next to Josh. “How do you know how to drive this thing?” he asked as Charlie fiddled with the pedals and pulled on the gearshift that rose up from the floor.

  “My father has an old Mustang,” she said. “It was his father’s, and someday it will be mine. He taught me how to drive it when I was twelve.” She turned the key, and the engine sputtered. A zombie banged on the passenger-side window, which cracked.

  “Go!” Josh said as the zombie hit the glass again. “Go, go, go, go, go!”

  Charlie turned the key again. This time the engine rattled to life. The zombies began to bang on the ambulance, roaring angrily. The one outside Josh’s window hit the glass once more and it shattered, the pieces falling all over Josh’s lap. A rotting hand came through the opening, reaching for Josh’s hair. He smelled the stench of decomposing flesh.

  Suddenly the ambulance leaped forward, knocking a z to the ground. There was a sickening crunch as the tires ran over it. Charlie pulled on the gearshift, and the ambulance shuddered. Something inside made a grinding sound. But a moment later they were moving ahead even more quickly.