by Gayle Katz
“Here, press down,” she said, placing a cotton puff against the puncture wound. While he did that, she put the vial down, tossed the needle in the plastic container, and grabbed a band aid. She unwrapped it, and then stuck it on. “There. Now wait here,” she said, handing the vial off to an assistant.
“What’s going on?” he asked.
“It appears there was some bad outbreak on the plane. But, you should be fine if you’re not already sick. How do you feel?”
He put the back of his hand up to his forehead. “I feel fine.”
“Good.”
Her assistant quickly ran back to her. “He’s fine.”
“Good, you can go. I believe your parents are waiting in the next tent over.”
“Thank you,” he said, standing up, a bit unsteady on his feet.
“Oh, be careful,” she said.
“I think it’s because of all the stress.”
“Understood. There are refreshments in the next tent over.”
One of the military men came over and escorted him out. This time they didn’t place their hands on him.
“Did you get the zombies on the plane under control? It was like snacks on a plane up there.” He had a good chuckle.
The soldier tried not to smirk. “We’re taking care of them.”
In the distance, Owen could hear the sounds of gunshots. “How many were there?”
The soldier shook his head sadly. “Unless they were one of the lucky ones who had someplace to hide, pretty much three quarters of the plane. It’s a good thing that it wasn’t a full flight.”
“Gosh, that’s horrible.” He wanted to ask more questions, but the soldier abruptly motioned to the tent, and then took off.
“Owen!” called out his dad, with his mom right behind.
“Hi! Are you OK?”
“Yes, I’m fine! All checked out.”
His mom gave him a hug. “We were so worried about you. I wanted to open the door, but Dad wouldn’t let me!”
“It was brutal,” he said. “Almost everyone died.” In the distance, he heard more gunshots. He didn’t tell his parents that the undead would soon be dead.
“And to think we got away from the violence in Uganda,” said Dad.
“It was because of a curse,” said Owen. “It wasn’t the guy’s fault. He couldn’t have known that the mask would lash out like that.”
“What do you mean?” asked Dad.
“Oh, I’ll tell you all about it later, but right now I’m starving.”
“Come inside the tent,” said Mom. “They’ve set up an entire table of food just for us.”
Owen followed his mother into the tent. She was right. There were people sitting in chairs, enjoying refreshments. He recognized some from the plane. He nodded at Akello, but didn’t want anything more to do with him.
Chapter 10
________________________________________
PRESENT DAY
Owen tossed and turned in his sleep. He had felt safe in the tent on the tarmac at the airport. Little had he known that the outbreak wasn’t confined to the plane and had led to a bigger disaster and loss of life. Some of the zombies had attacked and eaten the marines who had been trying to secure the plane.
In his dream, he watched his family happy and glad they were still alive, while zombies escaped the airplane. Some of them milled around the tarmac, while others found a ramp up into the airport building. He wanted to call out and warn people, but this was something that had happened in the past.
He watched while his family was finally led into the airport. They still had to clear customs and immigration before heading onto their final flight to Portland, Oregon. He wanted to warn them of the zombies, but fortunately, the zombies hadn’t reached this point yet.
There he was standing in line, laughing and chatting with his parents. They had been pleased that their son was finally excited about moving to America. He looked up for a moment and saw a young woman, around his age, with long black hair, walk past. She looked a bit suspicious, like she was on a mission, and a smirk on her face.
“Zan!” Owen called out, waking up. “That was Zan!” He laughed. He hadn’t realized that he had seen Zan at the airport, over two years ago. He couldn’t wait to tell her.
But was that it? Why had he dreamt of something that had happened over two years ago? Besides figuring out that he had seen Zan at the airport, why else would he have replayed these events in his dream? Had she seen him? Obviously, she had not remembered it.
He remembered that they had discussed being at the airport during the time of the first zombie outbreak in Oregon. He had told her about what had happened on the plane, and she had told him some of what had happened with her new mentor. Of course, she had glossed over those details. He had known she had killed her mentor, and that she had been quite upset over it.
But that wasn’t it. He had dreamt about this event for another reason. He ran through the events in his mind. There had been a mask. That was it!
Owen wondered if Akello had returned the mask to the Amazon, or if he had destroyed it? Owen picked up his phone.
“Hey, Owen. What’s up?” asked Stewart.
“Hi! I just had a dream. I was wondering, in order to break a curse, would a stolen object have to be returned to its origins, or could it be destroyed, say through fire?”
“Why are you asking?”
“Well, I dreamt about when my family first left Uganda and arrived in Ashland. You know, during the first zombie outbreak on this side of the country.”
“That’s curious. Do you think it means anything?” asked Stewart.
“It could,” said Owen. “I get the same stupid dreams as anyone else, but this dream was in intricate detail. I think it was trying to tell me something.” He grabbed the glass of water on his bedside table and took a sip. His throat was getting dry.
“Well, yes, usually destroying a magical or cursed object with fire is enough to break the curse.”
“OK, so, there was this mask,” explained Owen. “I had totally forgotten about it.” He was getting excited.
“A mask?” asked Stewart.
“Yes, this was the reason for the zombies in Ashland, Oregon.”
“I guess I never really thought about it. I was living in Texas at the time,” said Stewart. “And I know for a fact that the zleader moved from Texas to Oregon and settled in Portland. Which is why I moved up here, and encouraged Charlie’s grandmother to do the same. I’m surprised they’re still talking to me, actually.”
“Yeah, I get that. But I’m talking about the first zombie outbreak in Ashland, not Portland.”
“OK, so you’re saying that a cursed mask was brought from Uganda, and then caused the zombie outbreak on the plane you were on?”
“Yes, exactly,” said Owen.
Stewart sighed. “OK, but why didn’t you ever tell me about the mask before?”
Owen sighed too. “Because I didn’t think it was important at the time. After the zleaders were killed, all the zombies died there. I didn’t think there was any point in continuing the conversation.”
“Hmmm,” mumbled Stewart. “If you’re trying to say what I think you’re trying to say, you believe that if the mask is destroyed, that all zombies will be gone from the state?”
Owen smiled. “Or the world?”
“Wow, that’s something,” said Stewart. “Can you send me an email with all the details you have on this mask? I can do some research on it.”
“Sure, though I don’t know much. But the dream helped me remember some details that I had forgotten from before.”
“Do you know where the mask is now?” asked Stewart.
“No, I don’t. This man called Akello was an archeologist. He said he had dug the mask up from somewhere in Central Uganda.”
“Wouldn’t that be in the mountains or something?”
Owen laughed. “The country is broken up into regions. Central is the name of one region.”
“Oh, so, this might
be more difficult than expected. I’ll have to see if my contacts know of anyone there. Maybe I can find out more information.”
“He told me that the mask had originally been from the Amazon. So, somehow it got from there to Uganda.”
“Oh. OK, that may have triggered the curse. It’s quite common for a mystical object to trigger a response like that when it’s been moved.”
“Right. So, let’s see if I can figure out where this Akello went. I think he had family in Ashland or something.”
“Good. That’s a start.”
Owen was about to say goodbye, when he remembered something else. “Oh, and it’s not actually a mask. Now I remember.”
“Not a mask?”
“No, it’s one of those shrunken heads.”
“A shrunken head? From the Amazon?”
“That’s right.”
“Wow. This whole thing is even more complicated than I originally thought.” Stewart paused for a breath. “This may be the reason why zombie outbreaks started in the first place.”
“That’s just crazy. OK, so I’ll send you an email with anything and everything that I can think up.”
“Sounds good. I’ll be waiting for it.”
Owen hung up, glad that he’d made a contribution to the zombie slaying cause.
zzz
Sebastian had felt relieved that he had reached out to Charlie about Keri. The teacher had since apologized to him, saying that something had come over her, and that she hadn’t been herself. He had accepted her apology, and then told her if it happened again that he would have no choice but to report it. But she had assured him that it wouldn’t happen again.
But right now it felt like the least of his worries. He had a high fever and his throat was so sore and scratchy that he wanted to rip it out. He had taken three pain relievers and still, no comfort. But as long as he could force water and soup down his throat, he wouldn’t seek medical attention.
zzz
Owen looked through the online phonebook for the Akello family, but then realized that was probably his first name, not last. He searched through Google to see if he could find anything on an archeologist with the first name of Akello.
He found a few who worked in museums, but they were the wrong age or race. Finally, he found him. “Bingo!” Owen read through his list of credentials and important findings. While it was impressive, it mentioned nothing of a South American mask or shrunken head.
Perhaps after that zombie fiasco in Ashland, he had decided to keep quiet. After all, if the families of the victims had known the true reason, that could open up Akello to a ton of lawsuits. Owen was certain that he felt bad about what had happened. He hadn’t intentionally gone on the plane with the mask that day to kill all those people.
“Where are you now?” Owen muttered to himself. “You must be working somewhere.” But when Owen looked through some of the more prominent universities and museums in Uganda and also in Oregon, he could find no more mention of the name.
He opened up an email and sent off a short letter to the last museum where Akello had been working in Kampala. Even though the site said he was a former archeologist, hopefully they would know where he had gone from there.
Owen closed his laptop. There was nothing else he could do but wait and hope that someone would answer his question.
zzz
Owen had an uneventful weekend with his parents. Soon it would be back to school. Exams were coming up, so he fit some study time in.
“So, what’s happening with the zombie business?” asked Dad.
“Not much at the moment. It’s been pretty quiet,” said Owen, finishing off the last of his hot chocolate.
“That’s good. That was horrendous what happened last week.”
“You mean Dr. Arora taking control of that teacher?”
“Yes. How would something like that even happen?”
“Well, I’m thinking that it’s something that Dr. Arora set in place before she died.”
Owen’s dad put his cup down. “You mean like leaving an artifact or something behind?”
“That’s right! Oh shit! I mean, sorry, crap. Um, thanks, Dad! You’ve been a big help today.” Owen put his dishes in the sink, and then raced back upstairs. He grabbed his phone and tried to call Stewart.
“Come on. Come on. Come on,” he said. “Darn it! Should I just text?”
The phone just rang and rang. Stewart must have forgotten to leave his voicemail on. Owen stopped the call, and then went to ring Charlie.
“Hey, Owen. How have you been?”
“Just great! Say, any idea where Stewart is?”
“No, but he’s probably out with Philly or whatever her name is.”
“OK, well, I think this can wait until Monday. I think.”
“OK,” she replied. “Did you call Zan?”
“No, why?”
“Nothing,” she said. “I’ll see you in school on Monday.”
“Cool,” he said, hanging up.
He had another look at his phone. There was a small notification on his email icon. He quickly opened it up.
“Good. It’s the university responding back. That was fast.” He quickly read the email:
“Dear Mr. Nakkonde,
We regret to inform you that Mr. Akello Bicombe passed away from cancer last year. He did so peacefully at his home, surrounded by friends and loved ones. I shared your message with his family, and they were pleased that you made a connection on your flight to Oregon. They gave their permission for me to pass this information to you. Have a nice day.
Mukasa Jelani, Director of International Student & Faculty Services, University of Kampala.”
Owen clicked off his phone. “Now what?”
He pulled out a map of Oregon to have a look at where Ashland was located. It was far to the south of Portland, very close to the Oregon-California border. He considered driving down there, but that was a long trip and there was no way he’d be back in time for school on Monday. He clicked on his phone again. Akello’s last name was Bicombe. Perhaps there were some family members in Ashland that he could call?
He shrugged. It was the best he could do until Stewart read through the notes he’d sent and could do some research.
Owen sighed. It always seemed like one step forward, three steps back in this zombie business.
Chapter 11
________________________________________
“Is everything all right, Mayor Cote?” asked her personal assistant.
“Yes, it is. Thanks for asking.” Jane shuffled some papers on her desk. “What is your workload like?”
Marta walked into the room and sat down in the chair opposite her. “Well, to be honest, I feel overwhelmed.”
Jane smiled. “Me too. Should we hire another assistant? Just to get us past this busy budgeting season? They can do the filing and enter boring numbers into spreadsheets.”
Marta smiled. “Sure, and I can spend a little more time with my family this week.”
“Good, then please go ahead and advertise for an assistant. Probably about twelve dollars an hour. Some student should be happy with that.”
“That’s great. I’m on it.” Marta got up to attend to the details.
“Oh, and one more thing. Can you pick a cute guy?”
Marta grimaced. “I’m pretty sure that request violates all the labor laws.”
The mayor just shrugged and laughed.
zzz
“Any luck in learning anything?” asked Stewart at one of their many meetings at his apartment.
“None here,” said Owen. “I couldn’t find anyone with the last name of Bicombe in Ashland, or even in all of Oregon.”
“Is it possible he was lying?” asked Zan.
“Really, Zan?” said Charlie.
She shrugged. “It sounds like a lot happened on that plane that day. Maybe a little lie slipped through.”
“I don’t think so. My next step is to call the thirty Bicombes in the rest of the c
ountry. And I believe Portland University might have some info on the head mask as that was where it was supposed to be going.”
Stewart put his cup on the table. “Good idea. I think it’s worth doing that. If you need some cash for the calls, let me know.”
“Nah, my parents will cover it,” he replied.
“How is Julian doing?” asked Charlie.
“He seems to be fine,” said Owen. “He said things are quiet.”
“Well, it’s not likely to stay this way,” said Stewart. “So stay aware when you’re out there.”
“Any luck with the books?” Charlie asked Stewart.
Stewart shook his head. “But if there is further zombie activity, then something may be revealed to me. And I couldn’t find anything on witchcraft or shrunken heads being related at all.”
“That may be good news then,” said Owen. “Perhaps it was a one-time thing.”
“Perhaps.”
“Oh, I just thought of something,” said Owen. “And Zan, I’m so sorry for bringing up this topic.”
“What is it?” she asked.
“Well, I had a dream the other night.”
“Cool! Did you dream of me again?”
Owen shook his head. “Not exactly. It was about your mother.”
“Oh.”
“Well, it was about seeing you when I was at the Ashland Airport. I saw you there when we were coming through from our flight.”
Her eyes squished up. “We were at the airport at the same time? In Ashland?” Her eyes opened in amazement.
Charlie leaned forward. “Wait a minute. You guys met before we all met here at school?”
Owen laughed. “Not exactly. But I have realized that both Zan and I were at the same airport at the same time.”
“Wow. Cool,” Zan said. “You know, there are so many people coming and going at an airport, I probably don’t remember much else, except what was right in front of my face.”