Return of ZomBert

by Kara LaReau

  “Mrs. Witt,” I said, brushing cobwebs off my arm. “She said she had yard work for me to do. I didn’t expect I’d end up cleaning out her husband’s workshop.”

  “Workshop?” Danny said. “Find anything good in there?”

  “Yeah, but it’s like no one’s been in there for a hundred years. We spent all morning just dusting and packing everything up.” It had taken extra long because we had to be so careful — Mrs. Witt said some of the equipment might still have chemical residue. She had us both wear respirators and gloves while we worked and loaded the test tubes, pipettes, and petri dishes into Mr. Witt’s special laboratory dishwasher.

  “Sounds like it would be an awesome place to film,” Danny said. He’s always making horror movies, which he posts on his online channel, Hurlvision.

  “Good luck with that. I could barely fit, with all the stuff crammed in there,” I said.

  “Did the Candy Witch give you anything else?” Danny raised his eyebrows.

  “Yes,” I said, rolling my eyes. “But let’s not call her that anymore. Mrs. Witt’s a really nice old lady. And she knows about science.”

  I rummaged around in my coveralls pocket and took out the bag Mrs. Witt gave me. I gave one candy to Danny and took one for myself.

  “This tastes like a YummCo Fizzer, only . . . better,” he said.

  I looked at the wrapper. It said WITTS CONFECTIONERY.

  “That’s because this was made by the Witts before YummCo bought their company,” I said. “I bet YummCo changed the recipe.”

  “Big mistake,” Danny said.

  “I wish YummCo Animal Pals was hiring,” I said. “I could have worked there in exchange for free checkups and shots for Bert. And I could have learned about animals.”

  “Mmm . . . this candy is super fizzy,” Danny said. “Think you could get Mrs. Witt to give you more?”

  I handed Danny the bag. “I think this job is working out better for you than me,” I said. “Maybe you need to work for Mrs. Witt.”

  “No thanks,” Danny said. “Though it would be another excuse for me to get out of the apartment so I don’t have to be around my mom and her boyfriend.”

  “You have to admit, she seems a lot happier these days,” I said.

  Danny sighed. He knew I was right. But the last guy his mom was with was Danny’s dad, who turned out to be a total jerk, so I can see why he’d be suspicious of anyone new and why he wouldn’t want to share anything with this new guy. But he really seemed to like Ms. Hurley. And he was nice to Danny and me. It was like he was really listening to us when we talked, like he actually found us interesting.

  A few minutes later, we heard the lock and the deadbolt on the apartment door, and it opened.

  “Honey, we’re home!” Ms. Hurley’s voice called out brightly.

  Danny took a deep breath. “How was the movie?” he asked.

  “So romantic,” Ms. Hurley said, sighing. “Didn’t you think so?”

  She turned to Greg, the new boyfriend.

  “Totally,” he said. He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a half-eaten bag of YummCo Fizzers. “Your mom said you’d want the rest of these, buddy.”

  “Thanks, but Mellie just brought me some candy,” Danny said. “If I eat any more I’ll get cavities.”

  “Since when are you worried about the dentist?” Ms. Hurley said.

  “I’ll eat one,” I said. Danny was right; the YummCo Fizzers really weren’t as good as the Witts’. “So . . . anything interesting happening at work?”

  In addition to being nice, Greg also happened to work in the research and development lab at YummCo, which sounded like it would be the most interesting job in the world. Well, the second-most interesting, compared to owning a candy company.

  “One project I’m working on is starting to show some real results,” Greg said, raising an eyebrow. “But you know I can’t talk about it.”

  “Because you signed a confidentiality agreement,” I said. “Right.”

  “How’s your cat?” Greg asked, sitting in the chair next to me. “What was its name? Bob?”

  “Bert. His name is Bert,” I said. “He’s good. I just wish I had more time to spend with him. I owe my parents for his vet bill, so I’ve been working to pay them back.”

  “Mellie’s been doing odd jobs around the neighborhood,” Ms. Hurley explained.

  “Huh,” Greg said. He pulled a flyer out of his jacket pocket and handed it to me. “Well, it just so happens I saw this at work and thought of you. Maybe it will help?”

  The flyer promoted the Lambert Harvest Festival, sponsored by YummCo.

  “Since when has our town had a Harvest Festival?” Danny asked.

  “I think it’s nice that YummCo always finds ways to give something to the community,” Ms. Hurley said. “They’re going to have games, rides, food, and even a parade.”

  “And check out this part.” Greg pointed to the bottom of the flyer. I read it and looked at Danny.

  “They’re holding a Best Pet Contest,” I said.

  “The winning pet and its owner will get to ride in the Harvest Parade on the YummCo Foods float with Mr. Yumm,” Ms. Hurley said. Mr. Yumm was the CEO of YummCo Foods, and Ms. Hurley the receptionist at their corporate headquarters here in Lambert.

  “And they’ll get two hundred dollars,” I said. “That will more than pay for Bert’s vet visit!”

  “Um . . . Bert is great and all. But do you think he’s really the ‘Best Pet’ in Lambert?” Danny asked.

  “Of course. Bert is super smart,” I reminded him. “He’s not like other pets. In the best way.”

  “Well, I know that, and you know that,” Danny said. “But how are you going to prove that to the contest judges? You know he’s awesome, and I know he’s awesome, but to anyone who doesn’t know him, Bert does seem . . . kind of weird.”

  “That’s exactly why we need to win,” I said. “It’s time we proved to everyone that weird is awesome!”

  “You’ll be a shoo-in if your cat is as great as you say it is,” Greg said. “Just make sure you’re registered before the deadline.”

  Oh, I’ll make sure we’re registered, I thought. And I’ll make sure that Bert and I win.

  I just received a promising report from Greg,” said the Big Boss, gazing out a window of the YummCo executive suite. “He’s told the Gore girl about the contest. He’s confident she’ll take the bait.”

  “Let’s hope we can trust Greg’s instincts,” Kari said, making notes on her YummPad. “Things are going smoothly with the Harvest Festival organizing. I ordered extra food, as you requested.”

  “Excellent,” said the Big Boss.

  “Are you sure you want everything to be free?” Kari asked. “We’re not going to turn a profit on this event at all.”

  The Big Boss smiled. “Trust me, let’s not worry ourselves about upfront costs or profits. This is a long-term investment. It’s about giving something special to Lambert.”

  “When you put it that way, it does make sense,” Kari said. She cleared her throat.

  “Is there something else?” the Big Boss asked.

  Kari was nervous to bring it up, but she knew she had to.

  “Y-92 is the only subject to survive our most recent round of testing,” she said. She slid her YummPad across the desk.

  “As I expected,” said the Big Boss, skimming the research notes. “You can’t make an omelet without breaking a few eggs.”

  “Eggs?” Kari said.

  “I hope you’re not letting your feelings get in the way of your work,” the Big Boss said, raising an eyebrow.

  “N-no, of course not,” Kari said.

  “The loss of a handful of expendable subjects is far outweighed by the significance of our progress on the formula. We’re not creating a new ice cream flavor or trying to make our Cheezy YummCo Blasts even cheesier,” the Big Boss said. “With the development of Yummconium, we’re hoping to improve the human race by making it stronger, fa
ster, smarter, healthier. For YummCo, and for the world.”

  The Big Boss was right again, of course. Kari never liked to lose any subjects, but their research could change everything. She couldn’t wait until she could finally tell her parents about her role in YummCo’s research. Finally, they’d see that she wasn’t just some little lab assistant. Her sister might be a heart surgeon and her brother might be a civil rights lawyer, but Kari was on the team that would introduce Yummconium to the world. Of course, that couldn’t happen until it was ready. And to be ready, the formula had to be perfect.

  “Well, Y-92 has shown some of the results we’d hoped for with our previous version of the Yummconium formula: a sharp decline in vital statistics, followed by rapid regeneration, keen senses, physical prowess, enhanced memory and cognitive function, appetite only for fresh-caught prey,” Kari said. “But its appetite is . . . concerning. Y-92 seems ravenous beyond anything we’ve seen before — we can barely sate its appetite before it’s hungry again.”

  “Ravenous?” the Big Boss said, raising an eyebrow. “Now that is . . . concerning.”

  “Even more concerning: its hunger is paired with extremely aggressive behaviors,” Kari added. “We keep increasing the amount of sedatives we need to use in order to handle the animal.”

  “That’s certainly worth further examination,” the Big Boss said.

  “Maybe we should halt our research until we can get Y-91 back,” Kari said. “As I’ve said before, I think we’ve gone too far with this round. We need to study Y-91 and see where we can make the Yummconium formula less volatile.”

  “We’re too close to a breakthrough to stop now,” the Big Boss said. “Increase your order from YummCo Animal Pals. Feel free to double or even triple the number of animals they’ve been sending you for our research: dogs, cats, rabbits, rats, mice . . . whatever they have. Use some of them for another round of testing and the rest to satisfy Y-92’s . . . appetites.”

  Kari hesitated. But the Big Boss was right; a breakthrough was just around the corner. She’d request a new shipment from the animal shelter right away.

  “Hopefully we can get Y-91 back into the lab soon so we can do further testing,” she said. “We want our consumers to eat products made with Yummconium and feel like better versions of themselves — not slaves to their appetites.”

  “Of course,” the Big Boss said, closing the YummPad and sliding it across the desk.

  After Kari went back to the lab, the Big Boss went to the window, which looked out onto the YummCo factory and the cemetery. The weather had been windier than usual this fall, so most of the leaves had already fallen from the trees, providing a clearer view beyond, into the town of Lambert.

  The Big Boss pressed an outstretched palm against the glass and smiled. Everything was going according to plan.

  Are you sure this is going to work?” Danny asked.

  “Ms. Michiko said that this was the best book on cat training,” I said. Ms. Michiko was the children’s librarian at the YummCo Memorial Library, and she was never wrong. The book was called Clickety-Clack: Training for Cats, and it showed you how to use a special clicker to reinforce behavior. Unfortunately, the clicker didn’t come with the book, so I had to buy it at the pet store with some of the money I’d already earned from helping Mrs. Witt.

  “The book says I’m supposed to give Bert a treat when he exhibits the right behavior,” I said, flipping through the pages. “Something he really enjoys eating.”

  “Uhh . . . animal heads?” Danny asked.

  “Hmm,” I said.

  I went into my house. When I came out a few minutes later, Danny raised his eyebrows.

  “Is that who I think it is?” he said.

  “It is,” I said.

  I held out what was left of Mr. Peepers, my favorite childhood stuffed animal. Bert had beheaded the fuzzy yellow chick on the first night he spent in my room. Since then, it had become his favorite chew toy.

  “Mr. Peepers has decided to donate his body to science,” I explained. “Or at least, his head.”

  “Mrow,” Bert said, licking his lips.

  “Sounds like you’re ready. Let’s get to work,” I said. “We’re going to do three things: get you to touch a YummCo sticker with your nose, jump over something, and open a drawer.”

  I consulted Clickety-Clack. The author, Karen Clackerson, made it all sound so easy; she even trained dolphins with her method. It must work because she’s now retired and living in Hawaii.

  “I thought cats were supposed to be independent,” Danny said.

  “The book says that the cat is supposed to be treated like an equal training partner,” I said. “If you want to get them to touch something, you hold the target in front of it first.”

  I held my hand in front of Bert. Right away, he rubbed his nose against it, so I clicked the clicker and gave him Mr. Peepers’s head to gnaw on for a few seconds. When he was done, he looked up at me expectantly.

  “Good job, Bert!” I said. I took away Mr. Peepers and held out my hand. “Let’s try again!”

  Bert did it again on the second try. Click. Gnaw.

  He did it again on the third try. Click. Gnaw.

  “Wow, Mellie. He really is smart,” said Danny.

  “Mrow!” Bert said, as if he agreed.

  “I told you,” I said, fishing around in my pocket for the YummCo sticker. “Now let’s keep going.”

  But as soon as I put the sticker on my hand and held it out, Bert meowed and lay down on the grass.

  “Come on, Bert. Just one more try. We’re so close,” I said.

  He closed his eyes. It was like he wasn’t listening to me at all.

  “Don’t you want to show the world how awesome you are?” I asked.

  “You can’t expect to train him in one day,” Danny said.

  “The Harvest Festival is next weekend,” I reminded him. “We don’t have much time.”

  “Remember, the book said the cat is an equal partner,” Danny said.

  I looked down at Bert. My “equal partner” had already fallen asleep. His legs were twitching. I hoped, at least, that he was having a good dream.

  The first human word he’d understood was the name the girl had given him: Bert.

  Every day, it seemed his brain was expanding and making connections, allowing him to understand more of the world. It was a great gift, to suddenly know so much, to feel a hunger for knowledge as much as a hunger for food. But it was frustrating not to be able to convey his knowledge to the humans.

  Today, something clicked and he finally understood: the girl’s name was Mellie. The boy’s name was Danny.

  He went along with Mellie and what she called their “training” because he trusted her, and because he owed her his life. But he could not stay focused, not when he had his own plans to think about.

  He thought about the other animals, still in their cages back in the Cold Place. When he escaped, he promised he’d come back for them. He needed to save them, the way he hadn’t managed to save his siblings.

  He remembered his sister; she’d been the smallest of the three in their litter, but her mews had always been the loudest. She’d been all gray like him, but with white paws. She was so terrified when they were first placed in their cages, she hadn’t made a sound. He’d tried to call to her, to soothe her, but the sounds of the other animals had drowned him out. Within days, she was gone.

  He remembered his brother, whimpering in his cage, so weak, so sick, from whatever the Rough Hands had given him. He knew his brother was dying, and yet there was nothing he could do. And then, in the middle of the night, the Rough Hands had taken his brother away. That was the last time they’d seen each other. It was then that Bert decided to escape, and it was then that he’d vowed revenge.

  The sun coming through the window was warm on his fur, and the blankets on Mellie’s bed were soft and smelled like her. He took a deep breath and allowed himself to fall asleep. He needed to rest so he’d have the energy t
o do what he needed to do. He dreamed of the Rough Hands and what he would do to them when he saw them again.

  What’s with all the cereal?” I asked. We’d been finding half-eaten boxes of YummCo Nutty Clusters and spoons and empty bowls all over Mr. Witt’s workshop.

  “It was Walter’s favorite thing to eat while he was working,” Mrs. Witt said, laughing. “He’d order it from Super YummCo by the case. The man did love his cereal.”

  “And he loved notebooks,” I said, handing Mrs. Witt another stack of them. Mr. Witt had numbered each of their spines so he could keep track of them. I liked knowing he was so organized, like me.

  “I wish Walter had lived to see all of his ideas come to life,” Mrs. Witt said. “Or at least the last project he was working on; he said it was going to change everything.”

  “Did he like working for YummCo? I mean, before he got fired?” I asked.

  “At first, he did.” Mrs. Witt put the notebooks in a cardboard box. “He said everything in the research and development department was state-of-the-art. And that the new products they were designing were cutting-edge. He loved discovering new ways to make people’s lives easier and better, though he couldn’t tell me any specific details, of course.”

  “The confidentiality agreement,” I said. “I’ve heard about that.”

  “Walter was really strict about it. That made it hard when things started to change. When he came home from work, he looked sad, and when I’d ask him about it, he’d just shake his head. Then, finally, he said he was going to do something about it. That was the day they fired him.”

  “Why?” I asked.

  “They said he stole something that belonged to the company. They call it IP, or intellectual property,” she said. “Investigators came and took Walter’s computer. They rifled through his research. And right after that he got sick, so I don’t know if they ever found what they were looking for.”

  “That sounds awful,” I said. I remembered what it was like when everyone thought that Bert had done something to Carl Weems’s rat, but it turned out she’d just gone off to hide to have her babies. I couldn’t imagine being accused of something even more serious and knowing you were innocent. Not to mention having someone come in and mess with your stuff, and even take some of it away from you.