Zombie Halloween Read online

  The light from my flashlight twisted and jerked, like flashes of lightning in front of us. Over my hard, heavy breaths, I could hear the shuffling, bony feet of the zombies. Hear their hungry grunts, their animal groans.

  Were they catching up? I didn’t dare turn around to see.

  Our pounding shoes kicked up dirt. A gust of wind through the tunnel made it swirl around us. I choked on it. My eyes were burning and dripping tears.

  Ivy stopped and covered her face, coughing from the dirt.

  I pulled her toward the trapdoor. “Don’t stop. We’re almost there.”

  Our shoes pounded the tunnel floor. Finally, I could see a square of light above us.

  “The trapdoor,” I said, my voice a hoarse whisper. “Hurry.”

  My heart thudding in my chest, I grabbed the sides of the rope ladder. The ladder swung back and forth. But my foot found the bottom rung. I gripped the sides tightly and began to pull myself up to safety.

  “Nooooo!”

  A scream escaped my throat as the ladder broke off. It came loose at the top.

  I was still screaming as I hit the floor hard, and the ladder crumpled down on top of me.

  On my back on the floor, I thrashed my arms and legs, trying to untangle myself from the fallen ladder. Ivy and Anthony grabbed the ropes and tossed the thing aside.

  I jumped to my feet, gasping for breath. And stared up at the opening so far above our heads. Safety up there. And no way to get there.

  No way to escape the grunting, decayed bodies shuffling and staggering toward us.

  “Get back! Stay away!” Anthony screamed at them.

  But they just kept coming. Could they even hear us? I squinted into the dim light. Most of them had lost their ears.

  They’d lost whole patches of skin on their heads. Cheeks missing. Gray bone poking out from stretched, green skin. They grinned as they marched forward, toothless, lipless grins.

  The rancid odor of their decaying bodies poured over us. I gagged, struggling not to vomit.

  “Wh-what do we do?” Ivy asked in a tiny, trembling voice.

  I gazed up at the trapdoor. It seemed a mile above our heads.

  We had nowhere to run. No way to escape.

  I couldn’t answer Ivy. I could only stand there, my whole body shaking.

  Could only stand there and watch as the hideous figures, their toothless mouths bobbing up and down, surrounded us, grunting with excitement.

  A tall, hunched guy with half his face rotted away, one eye hanging from its socket, reached a bony hand forward — and grabbed me by the throat.

  I heard Ivy and Anthony scream in horror.

  A sharp cry escaped my mouth as the hideous, undead creature pulled me to him. And lowered his head to my shoulder to feed on my flesh.

  “No, please. No — please!”

  He ignored my choked cries. My knees sagged. My whole body went limp.

  I shut my eyes and prepared for the pain. He lifted me off the floor. Held me by the throat. His rotted brown teeth clicked several times and lowered to my shoulder.

  “Hey!” I uttered a confused cry as the creature tossed me away.

  He heaved me to the tunnel wall. My back slid down the dirt wall until I was sitting on the floor. Dazed and terrified, I gazed up at the tall, undead creature. He had turned away from me.

  He doesn’t want to feed on me. What does he want to do?

  Ivy and Anthony pressed their backs against the wall. Ivy covered her face with her hands. Anthony stood frozen, his eyes bulging, his shoulders trembling.

  The tall zombie bent over with a groan. His bony hands scrabbled on the floor. They grasped the fallen rope ladder.

  He wants to climb out of the tunnel, I realized.

  The zombie turned himself around, his dangling eyeball swinging in the air. Then he raised the ladder toward the square opening above. Two other zombies, their faces green with mold, their clothes in worm-eaten tatters, moved to help him.

  In the dim light, I saw three or four more undead creatures. They were hanging back in the shadows, grunting softly as they watched.

  The tall zombie climbed on another zombie’s back. He stretched his arms to hang the ladder back up. It took a long time because his hands fumbled and shook, and he kept dropping it back to the floor.

  As I watched helplessly, my mind whirred with frightening thoughts. This tunnel stretched from their graves. The zombies used the tunnel to be safe, safe from humans who would hunt them down.

  But now they were climbing into the world of the living.

  I watched helplessly as the creature hung the ladder back in place. And the zombies were climbing, climbing up to my basement. Into my house.

  And that’s when I heard a sound that sent a shock of fear down my body. My mother’s voice. My mother, calling from the hall upstairs. “Mario? Anthony? Where are you? Are you in the basement?”

  Panic made my throat tighten until I choked.

  The zombies will see her.

  Will the zombies eat her first?

  “Mom!” I screamed. “Get out of the house! Run! Get out of the house — now!”

  I had to do something. The first zombie was nearly to the top of the ladder, about to climb into my basement.

  “Mom!” I screamed. “Can you hear me? Run! Get out of the house!”

  “Mario, is that you?” she called from upstairs. “What are you saying? I can’t hear you.”

  I pushed myself off the wall. I knew I had to act. I couldn’t let these deadly creatures devour my mother.

  I took a deep breath — and leaped at the zombie on the ladder. I grabbed him around the waist — and heaved him to the floor.

  He groaned and collapsed against the wall. I could hear his bones cracking. His dangling eyeball swung in front of his head.

  My fear gave me strength I didn’t know I had. With a loud cry, I hoisted up another zombie — and threw him into the tunnel. He crashed into the wall, and his head split open.

  I swung around to face the rest of the zombies. They stepped back, chattering, preparing another attack.

  I didn’t give them the chance. I grabbed the sides of the rope ladder and pulled myself up to the basement. Anthony came climbing right behind me.

  When we were both safely in the basement, we slammed the trapdoor shut behind us.

  Over my panting breaths and the drumbeats of my heart, I could still hear the chattering of the ugly creatures down below.

  I spun away from them and ran up the basement steps, taking them two at a time.

  “Mom!” I gasped, racing down the hall to the kitchen. “Mom! Zombies! Under the house! There are zombies under our house!”

  She turned slowly from the kitchen sink. “I know,” she said.

  “Huh?” I leaned on the counter, struggling to catch my breath.

  Anthony dropped onto a tall kitchen stool. I could see he was still shaking in fear.

  “You — you know about the zombies?” I stammered.

  Mom squeezed the water out of a sponge and tossed it in the sink. She is dark, like Anthony and me, with wavy black hair and olive eyes. Mom is short and very thin. I’m twelve and I’m almost as tall as she is.

  She used to be the cheerful one in the family. But since Dad went away to the war, she doesn’t smile as much as she used to. I guess working two jobs makes her too tired to be her old enthusiastic self.

  She sighed. “I heard the stories about this house. But they sounded so crazy.”

  “Huh? What do you mean?” I asked.

  “The real estate agent warned me,” Mom said. “She said 324 North Ardmore was a house of the dead. Who could believe that? Besides, I had no choice. It was all I could afford.”

  I wiped sweat off my forehead with the back of my hand. “You mean, you knew when you bought this house —”

  Mom bit her bottom lip. Her hands were trembling. “Where did you see them? Are they locked up?”

  “I’ll show you,” I said. I turned to my broth
er. “Do you want to stay up here?”

  He shook his head. “No. I’ll come, too.”

  “They’re in the basement?” Mom asked.

  “They’re under the basement,” I said. I led the way. Our shoes clunked loudly on the wooden basement steps.

  I led Mom to the trapdoor in the floor. It was silent in the basement and silent down below. Mom’s hands were squeezed into tight fists.

  She bent down and lifted the trapdoor.

  We all screamed as a creature roared up from below.

  Ivy!

  Ivy. But her eyes were blank. Her green sweater was in shreds. Her hair fell in wet tangles. And her nose … her cute, pointed elf nose — it was gone! Just a hole in her face.

  She gaped at me with those dead, dead eyes. “Mario …” she groaned.

  “Ivy! Oh, noooo!” I wailed. “We forgot you! We forgot you. We left you down there! What did they do to you?”

  She growled at me, an animal growl from deep in her throat. “I’ll get you, Mario. You’ll never escape me. Never!”

  The buildings were dark. The long, narrow street was empty. The wind whistled through the town, one shrill, steady note that hurt my ears.

  In the distance, I saw a black cat scuttle across the street. It vanished into an alley behind a darkened store. A trash can rolled on its side, pushed by the streaming wind.

  I stepped off the curb. My eyes darted from side to side. I knew the emptiness wasn’t real. I knew the silence wouldn’t last.

  I was being watched.

  I walked slowly down the middle of the street. I glanced into parked cars. I kept turning my head and looking behind me. I could feel the tension in my chest, feel it in my tightened fists.

  The rushing wind blew dead leaves at my feet. I jumped over them. I kept my eyes ahead of me.

  Another trash can rolled silently down the empty sidewalk. I crossed into the next block, dark stores stretching on both sides. I stared into the narrow spaces between the buildings. Watching. Waiting. Alert.

  Ready.

  At least, I thought I was ready.

  But when the creature attacked, I cried out in surprise.

  He was twice my size, hulking and huge, with a shadow that covered me in heavy darkness. His eyes bulged like glassy billiard balls. His chin had been torn away. Only his long, top teeth remained, poking down over a lipless gap of a mouth.

  The creature’s stringy hair hung limply at the sides of his pale green face. I could see fat black insects trapped in the tangles.

  He raised huge fists as he leaped on me, his hands swollen like overripe melons. He uttered a low animal grunt and tried to wrap me up in his enormous arms, pull me into the decayed flesh of his belly.

  “No way, zombie!” I screamed. “No way!”

  I ducked my head under his enormous chest — and shot forward. A powerful head-butt that made him grunt. He doubled over, drool pouring down his half-missing face.

  I smashed both fists into his belly, which collapsed like a deflating balloon. He grunted again and toppled backward onto the sidewalk.

  Squeezing my fists, I stepped over him. I took two more steps and saw a pack of zombies scramble out from between the buildings. They glanced up and down the street. It didn’t take them long to see me.

  Groaning, rubbing their bellies through their tattered clothes, they staggered toward me. Their bulging eyes revealed their hunger. They bleated like sheep as they came at me.

  I could feel them tugging at my mind…. Some kind of mind control power. Holding me in place … trying to keep me helpless, unable to move.

  I shut my eyes — and tried the head-butting trick again. Against a frail-looking zombie, thin as a potato chip. But this time, I missed his chest, my head hitting air.

  Two other creatures leaped on my back. I swung my arms and struggled to keep my feet. But they were surprisingly strong.

  They had me on my back.

  And then they all swarmed at once.

  Bony hands pawed at me. The grunts and groans rang in my ears.

  I screamed as their sharp fingers punctured my chest — and ripped it open.

  I kept screaming as they lowered their ugly heads and began to feed.

  “I died again!” I screamed.

  My friend Alec Schwartzman shook his head. “Bad news, Kenny. You should have run. You don’t have the weapons to fight them.”

  I slammed the controller on the floor. “I’m never going to get beyond Level One.”

  Alec and I were playing the new version of The Walking Zombies.

  “You can probably fight them one at a time,” he said. “But when a pack of them appears, you have to turn and go down another street.”

  Alec had a lot of advice. But he was just as bad at the game as I was.

  We’d been playing for an hour, and I still hadn’t stayed alive to the other end of town. That’s kind of annoying, right?

  I turned to my twin sister, Tricia, and snapped at her. “Why are you staring at us? Go away. You’re a jinx.”

  I knew why Tricia was hanging around. She has a major league crush on Alec.

  “I’m not a jinx,” she said, shoving me into the couch. “You’re just a klutz, Kenny.”

  Alec laughed at that. I don’t know why. Maybe he has a crush on Tricia.

  My name is Kenny Manzetti. Tricia and I are twelve. But we look older than our age. I mean, Alec is twelve, too. But he looks like a little, red-haired kid next to us.

  For one thing, Tricia and I are taller than most kids our age. And we have kind of serious faces — dark eyes, straight dark hair.

  Mom says we’re “old souls.” I don’t really know what that’s supposed to mean. It’s not like we act much like adults. Tricia and I like to hang out with kids and have fun.

  At least, we did at our old school. We haven’t met too many kids to hang out with at our new school. In fact, Alec is the only friend I’ve made here in Franklin Village.

  If you want to know the truth, Tricia and I are trying to be good sports. But we really don’t like our new house. For one thing, I hate living across the street from a graveyard. It gives me a lot of bad dreams. Seriously.

  Alec elbowed me. “Boot the game up. Let’s try again.”

  We were sitting side by side on the den floor in front of the TV. Tricia hunched on the edge of the couch behind us. “I don’t get the whole zombie thing,” she said.

  “Then why don’t you go away?” I asked.

  “I mean, why is everyone at school obsessed with zombies?” she kept on. “Is it because of that TV show your game is based on? The Walking Zombies?”

  “Like duh,” I said.

  “It’s an awesome show,” Alec said. “Are you watching season three?”

  “I’m only up to season two,” I said. “Don’t tell me what happens in the next season.”

  Tricia laughed. “What happens in the next season? I’ll tell you. A bunch of zombies stagger around eating people. Zombies are so way boring.”

  “Why don’t you go up to your room and play with your American Girl dolls?” I said. “You’re annoying.”

  She bonked the top of my head. “I don’t play with dolls, dumb head. I collect them. My collection is worth a lot of money.”

  Alec reached into his jeans pocket and pulled out a pack of Zombie Goop Loops. He popped one in his mouth, then offered them to Tricia and me. Naturally, she said, “Bleh. How disgusting.”

  She’s wrong. It’s a pretty good candy. Comes in a lot of flavors. All the kids at our new school are into them.

  I started the game again.

  “Do you want to change the difficulty level?” Alec asked. “I think there’s a Baby level.”

  “Haha,” I said. “How funny are you?”

  I saw movement outside the living room window. I squinted across the street. I saw two people in dark raincoats walking through the graveyard. Every once in a while, they stopped to read a gravestone.

  Did I mention that I don’t like gra
veyards?

  I’m not superstitious or anything. I don’t believe zombies can rise up from their graves and go after people. I just think it’s creepy to have all those dead people lying there across the street from you.

  My dad told me about this superstition. He said a lot of people hold their breath till they get past a graveyard. But I can’t do that. I’d have to hold my breath from morning till night!

  The dark, empty town appeared on the screen. Alec took the controller and prepared to face the zombies.

  But he turned away from the screen and gasped as a tall, frail figure floated into the living room. Wide-eyed, staggering, he came toward us, his pale eyes darting from Alec to me.

  Alec dropped the controller. “A … a zombie!” he cried.

  The pale old man laughed. His laugh came out dry, like a cough. “A zombie? That’s what I feel like these days!” he exclaimed.

  Alec was still gazing openmouthed at him.

  “Alec, this is my grandfather,” I said. “Everyone calls him Grandpa Mo.”

  Alec swallowed and seemed to go back to normal. “Hi,” he said. He gave Grandpa Mo a little wave.

  My grandfather waved back. He made his way slowly to the couch and dropped down next to Tricia. He has a bad limp. His right knee is totally worn-out. But he refuses to use a cane.

  He’s not very strong, and he coughs a lot. He says everything on his body hurts, even his hair. He has a full head of thick, wavy white hair, which he carefully brushes. Sometimes he stands at the mirror for more than ten minutes.

  His skin is tight on his narrow face, and almost as white as his hair. His eyes are so pale, sometimes they look entirely white, no pupils at all.

  Don’t get the wrong idea. He’s a tough old dude.

  Tricia and I haven’t seen him since we were five. It’s kind of a long story.

  I’ll try to make it short. He’s my dad’s dad, see. But somehow, my parents lost track of him. No one saw him or heard from him for a lot of years. The old guy just disappeared.