Chapter One

So, we are about to be astro-blasted. Catapulted and launched. Propelled off the roof of our tree house by something called the Sled-Shot.

Why? Why load ourselves into a massive slingshot and blast ourselves off the roof?

Why did some old guy climb Mount Everest?

BECAUSE IT’S THERE!!!

Actually, that’s not the reason at all. The Sled-Shot was of course not just “there.” My best friend, Quint Baker, built it.

“Quint, are you sure this is safe?” I ask.

He thinks for a moment, then says, “No. But I’m not not sure.”

“What’s the matter? A little nervous, Jack?”

That’s my buddy-crush, June Del Toro. I know she’s teasing me, but I actually do feel kind of queasy. Usually, I’m super gung-ho about all things action, no matter the danger. But not this.

I give the Sled-Shot a final look before I slide in. “Quint, this looks like a weapon for medieval siege warfare! Or for defending a castle against an army of orcs! Or for storming a castle with an army of orcs! This would be helpful if we were under siege, but we’re very much not under siege.”

June grins. “We are under snow.”

“Not the same,” I say. “Not even kind of sort of the same.”

“But they think it is,” June says.

They are the monsters who are our friends. The dozen or so monsters up here with us in the tree house, helping us prepare for blastoff. And the many other monsters down below, in Wakefield Town Square.

And it’s true. The monsters are probably more worried about the snow than they would be about an army of orcs. They are not inspiring confidence. . . .

Hey! No one’s got dibs on my monster buddy Rover and definitely no one is sleeping in my bed! I glare at Skaelka. She’s the one with the big ax.

My big buddy Dirk Savage—the final member of our foursome of friends—says, “Enough talk! We’re going. Equip helmets.”

“Helmets equipped!” we respond.

“Equip inflatable donut rafts!” Quint shouts.

“Equipped!” my buddies say.

“Equipped!” I say. But that’s only partly true. See, Quint designed instant-inflate donut rafts. They’re basically airbags for your body. But I’m Jack Sullivan! I don’t need that! Quint’s a worrier, though, so I agreed to wear it.

What I didn’t tell him is that I filled mine with delicious snacks! I mean, honestly—what are the odds I’m going to need an instant-inflate raft? Not high. But the odds I’m gonna want delicious snacks? WAY HIGH. Plus, I get to walk around looking less lame than my buds—see?

“You may fire when ready!” Quint says to the monsters. There’s a big grin on his face. It is the grin of someone who has always wanted to say “you may fire when ready” and just finally got his chance.

Skaelka cocks back the sled. The tree house rattles. I hear whirring, I hear clanking, I hear gears turning. This is happening and there’s no stopping it. And then . . .

My stomach doesn’t just flip. My stomach does a jackknife, a cannonball, and follows it with an atomic belly flop. We fly through the air for so long I feel like E.T. And . . .

SMASH!

We crash through the roof of a Chinese takeout joint, barrel through Wendy’s, explode through the Blue Point Diner. A total sled rampage.

Ahead of us is a truck, tilted on its side, covered in ice. It looks like something out of a racing game.

And I see something else just past the truck.

A monster.

A monster, standing massive in the swirling snow, waiting for us. A single, giant fist rests on the ground. The monster leans forward. It snarls, and—

Actually—y’know what. HOLD UP!

Now is a good time to explain a few things. Like, y’know—WHY we are sailing through the sky in a death sled. In fact, it’s time for a real-deal recap. . . .

PREVIOUSLY ON . . . THE LAST KIDS ON EARTH:

It all started seven months ago—with the Monster Apocalypse. Interdimensional portal doors opened above the earth—like this . . .

Those portals flung crazy stuff into our world: massive monsters, creepy creatures, and slimy shrieking strangeness. Plus—and this is big—the horrible zombie plague that turned most of humanity undead.

There are good monsters and there are bad monsters. The good monsters are now our buddies! They live in our little ’burb—Wakefield—in the Town Square.

The bad monsters are bad. They worship the diabolical ultra-villain Ŗeżżőcħ the Ancient, Destructor of Worlds. But, good news . . .

Ŗeżżőcħ is still stuck in the other dimension! He tried to come to our world to do bad stuff ’cause that’s what inter-dimensional villains do. But we shut down his plan!

For a while, life was great! Me and my buddies and our monster pals battled evil and had fun. But a month back, everything changed. . . .

We found a RADIO.

And that radio picked up a broadcast from OTHER HUMANS. . . .

So, just last week, we were like: ROAD TRIP! Destination: NYC. We packed up our monster-battling truck, Big Mama, and we were about to start our journey. But then . . .

A snowstorm hit. A snowfall so strong it might have been sent by the ice lords themselves!

This nasty nor’easter trapped us and put our journey on hold. That didn’t actually bother me at all, ’cause I felt bad leaving our monster buddies, anyway. See, the concept of snow was totally new to the monsters.

And it freaked them out.

Big time.

So, we were TRAPPED and the monsters were FREAKED.

And I mean—Earth is my dimension. My world. And I didn’t like the monsters being afraid of the snow—I felt like a bad host!

So I was like, “I will PROVE that snow is nothing to be afraid of! I’ll prove it in the most death-defying and dramatic way possible! We’ll attack the snow head-on—by sledding! INSANE sledding—like ROCKETING OURSELVES FROM THE TREE HOUSE IN A SLED!”

First, we winterized the tree house. Take a peek. . . .

The biggest winter addition was the Sled-Shot. See, the first rule of life after the Monster Apocalypse is that there are zero rules, so you can and should do everything in a totally ridiculous fashion!

Actually, I lied—the first rule is don’t get bitten by a zombie and also don’t get eaten by a monster—but after that, it’s the rule about over-the-top ridiculousness.

So, we climbed into the Sled-Shot, our monster buddies flung us, we went sailing way too far and way too fast, and now . . .

“Dudes!” June cries out. “We are on a direct collision course with that one-armed monster’s mouth!”

“I know it, I know it!” I say.

Rapid-fire, I analyze the situation, seeing every possible maneuver and attack. I think it’s a skill I picked up from watching too many movies, reading too many graphic novels, and playing too many video games. . . .

So as we sail toward the great monster’s maw, I realize the courageous, valiant, lion-hearted action that must be taken. . . .

“OVERBOARD!” I scream. “FLEE! EMBRACE YOUR INNER COWARD, BUDDIES!”

“But my vehicle, Jack!” Quint cries out.

Quint’s brain is not an action hero brain. It’s a different, awesome brain. But he simply cannot process abandoning something he’s worked so hard on. He doesn’t worry about the imminent death.

So I have to worry about it for him. I grip his sweater and—