Chapter Fourteen

Meathook barrels into the Town Square.

I see something hanging from either side of him. Two huge boxes . . .

Squinting, I see they are massive blue metal Dumpsters. They dangle and scrape the side of the creature. A headlight shines from Meathook’s head.

I shield my eyes, squinting. The monster stops. The spotlight is now a searchlight. A moment later, with a loud KA-KLANG, the Dumpsters fall to the ground. Zombies come streaming out of them!

Two dozen zombies instantly fill the Town Square! Chaos comes with them. June snarls, “Getting tired of these guys. I’m taking the high ground. Meet me at the tree house.”

“And I’m going to try out some knuckle attacks,” Dirk says, flexing his wrist. “Courtesy of Evie Snark and her dork collection.”

The sound of monster battle cries rings out—snarling and barking and heavy growls. Some of our monster friends wield weapons from their dimension, while others simply hurl the zombies.

“DON’T BEAT ON THE ZOMBIES TOO BAD!” I shout. “It’s not their fault they’re zombies!”

Suddenly, Quint wheels toward me. “Jack! Remember our identical costume ideas from The Empire Strikes Back?!”

“Yes,” I say, and then I finish his thought, ’cause that’s what best buddies can do. “Of course! We’ll take out Evie and Meathook just like the rebels took out the Empire AT-ATs!”

“Rover!” Quint shouts out. “Come here, furry friend!”

An instant later, Rover is charging around the corner. I grab his hide and pull myself into his armored seat. And I stub my toe. It’s weird: end of the world, you don’t think stubbing your toe would be a thing anymore. But it is.

Rover’s butt plops into the snow, allowing Quint to scramble up onto the back.

“Reach into Rover’s saddlebag!” I say. “I’ve got my supercharged T-shirt blaster in there!”

Rover races past our Christmas tree. I reach out and snag a long string of lights. The bulbs tink and clink as they bang together.

“Quint!” I shout excitedly. “This is totally like The Empire Strikes Back! We’ve got snow and everything. I’m Luke, steering the ship. And you’re like Dak, firing the tow cable!”

Quint’s response is short and not-so-sweet. “Dak dies, Jack.”

Oh. Right. In that case . . .

Icy water mixes with sweat and pours down my face. This enemy is inside our town. I scowl and urge Rover on, charging full-throttle.

The monster’s legs are like an obstacle in a racing game—just need to thread the needle. I feel Quint bouncing in the seat, shaking the saddle. “Steady the harpoon!” I shout. “I’m making a pass!”

Rover runs harder, we’re bursting through Meathook’s legs, and I hear Quint fire. . . .

I glance back. I see the string of lights snapping in the air and then—THWACK!—the harpoon slams into Meathook’s scaly hide.

“Great shot, Quint!” I shout, and then I’m jerking on Rover’s reins, steering him around the rear of the huge monster. I smile, thinking, Wait until that evil geek Evie realizes she was defeated by Star Wars tactics!

Rover whoops. The string of lights circles and tightens. Meathook’s next step is an awkward lurch. Snow erupts as his hand thumps the street.

“The monster’s legs are totally tangled!” I shout. “It’s gonna fall!”

Everyone braces themselves.

But this isn’t Star Wars. This is just a dumb Jack Sullivan plan. Meathook simply steps through the string of lights, and—

POP! POP POP. The bulbs shatter, then—

RIP! Our bootleg harpoon cord tears.

“Foiled!” Quint yells. The T-shirt cannon is jerked from his hands. It flies past me. Then the string of lights circles around me. My butt’s jerked from the seat.

“Not good!” I shout as I spin and twirl.

My stomach flips as Meathook’s head jerks, whipping me around. I get a glimpse of snow, and then wood: the tree house ledge.

I’m swinging toward it. I reach out, hoping to grab it—because if I swing back, it’ll be directly into the monster’s mouth. And I sort of grab it, but mostly it’s June grabbing me. She’s up in the tree house—and her hand snags mine, catching me in mid-air.

“Get up here!” June barks, yanking me up onto the icy tree house deck. Meathook snarls. And that’s when I see it.

The Louisville Slicer. Evie’s carrying it. . . .

I don’t hesitate. “June, it’s Sled-Shot time.”

“We don’t have a sled anymore. That dude ate it!”

“I’M THE SLED NOW!” I shout. I climb into the Sled-Shot. June reluctantly wheels the massive launcher around, aiming me like some sort of human howitzer.

I see the Louisville Slicer, its sharp tip bobbing against the night sky. Evie’s fingers are tight around the handle.

I glance back at June, and I shout, “NOW!”

She fires the Sled-Shot—which contains only me, and—

I’m gonna land on top of that big monster. And then I bet it’ll be a cool thing where I’ll be standing and Evie’s standing and we’re maintaining perfect balance atop the monster while we shout cool lines back and forth.

But instead—

It does not go well.

I’m immediately slipping off the monster’s back. I’m on all fours, trying to hang on. I’m so terrified that I just beg. “Lady, give me back my blade!” I cry.

“Wish that I could, little buddy!” she says cheerfully. “But I’m afraid I have big plans for it. Villainous plans.”

“Don’t call me little buddy!” I growl. My boots are scraping and kicking Meathook’s hardened hide, looking for a foothold. My hand slips, fingers pawing the monster’s wet skin. “And we know you have big plans for the Louisville Slicer,” I say. “’Cause you’re a lunatic and you’re obsessed with a whole cabal of lunatics.”

Just then, I hear Dirk howl. And as he does, Evie’s ears sort of perk up. Like she’s happy my buddy might be hurt.

Evie grabs my coat and pulls me close. She whispers triumphantly: “In one moment, I’ll have all that I need. And then Ghazt will be here. As easy as A-B-C. . . .”

Just then, a pair of zombies soars past our heads. Like, airborne undead. We both pause—

Another zombie sails past us. Its pinwheeling arms nearly take Evie’s head off. Evie ducks, dropping me. A quick scream escapes my lungs—then I’m falling.

I see swirling white below, mixed with blurs and flashes of zombie action. My arms spin, tumbling, soaking-wet winter coat like a giant anchor, and—

SPLONK!

A mound of fresh, wet snow breaks my fall.

Sitting up, I see the source of the soaring zombies: the hammock I strung up on Kylnn’s spikes! It’s basically a giant ZOMBIE SLINGSHOT! Zombies are snagged in the massive mesh.

“COME HAVE ME!” Skaelka shouts, egging on the zombie horde from atop a snow mound. The ghastly mass charges toward my ax-wielding friend. Skaelka dodges, and the zombies tumble forward, into the slingshot—

“Again, Biggun!” Skaelka shouts. “LET FLY!”

Biggun pulls back the hammock bed, then—

TWANG!

The hammock hurls more zombies. They twist and spin and sail toward Evie.

Evie is nearly knocked from atop Meathook by a soaring zombie. But she hangs on—and the foul duo disappears into the swirling snow. . . .

It’s over. For now. I’m catching my breath, heaving, when I see it. Stuck to a broken, icy streetlamp, where Evie nearly fell.

A piece of paper clings to the cracked ice. I step closer—it’s the missing page from Interdimensional Terrors: A History of the Cabal of the Cosmic. . . .