chapter sixteen

LEGENDARY HERO TRAINING. DAY 19.

Wherein I, Jack Sullivan, use the Squishy Mitten of Power to finally, at last, do some cool zombie manipulation!

OK, here goes. . . .

We’re back at the farm, but this time it’s gonna be different. I stare down three zombies. “You three better prepare for total domination. I’m comin’ for ya with my crazy Scrapken glove!”

I open and close my fingers. The tentacle flesh presses against my thumb.

I pull the Slicer free.

I’m gonna prove my worth.

And then, after all the worth proving, I’m gonna show my friends how super good I am at doing zombie-control stuff.

I swing the bat—

“DANCE, UNDEAD ONES! DANCE!” I shout, snapping the Slicer through the air like I’m conducting an orchestra or doing some Sorcerer’s Apprentice–style magic. 

I feel the magnetic connection and—

I stand there, in total disbelief. Then—

“YOU HAVE GOT TO BE KIDDING ME!” I scream. “Bardle, what the huh? The Squishy Mitten of Power didn’t work! The zombies just toppled!”

“Is that what you intend to call it?” Bardle says. “The Squishy Mitten of Power?”

“What? Um, NO. I was just trying it out . . .” I mumble. “Why, do you like it?

“It is horrendous.”

“Well, good, ’cause like I said, that’s NOT what I’m calling it.” I turn and stomp away. Big, heavy, child-tantrum footsteps. I feel the zombies watching me. “Look away, zombies,” I whisper angrily. “I don’t even wanna see you guys right now, that’s how mad I am at you.”

I can’t control them. I don’t know why I thought I could. I’m not Ghazt. I’m not a Cosmic Terror. I’m not even lousy Evie. . . .

Bardle steps toward me. He has a weird shimmer in his eyes like he’s about to conjure that horrible terror again.

“No, don’t show it to me again,” I say. “It’s horrible and awful and if I don’t do a better job, then everyone is done for. I get it.”

I think back to when the Monster Apocalypse began—when I created challenges for myself and earned Feats of Apocalyptic Success.

In those challenges, and in video games, too, when you fail, you can always start again. Even online, in a Battle Royale, if you bite it, you just hop into the next game. Easy!

But this—this here—this is like . . .

You fail and the controller melts in your hand—hits the ground, bursts into flames, burns a hole in the floor, and falls through to the netherworld. And while that’s happening, lest you thought, Oh, I’ll just go get another controller! your console spontaneously combusts and then the TV crashes to the floor and explodes in a raging inferno.

Oh yeah—Jack Sullivan. Big hero. I can see it now—my final feat. . . .

FEAT: Complete

FAIL ALL OF HUMANITY.

DISAPPOINT EVERYONE.

BE NOT A HERO.

Bardle interrupts my doomsday train of thought, “When you controlled the zombie in the bowling alley—what did you feel?”

“Fear,” I say. “I saw that undead eating machine zooming toward Quint, and I was scared.”

He nods.

His eyes flick up over my shoulder, and I spin around—expecting to see a zombie, but there’s nothing. Bardle just pulled a “made ya look.”

When I turn back, a split second later, he’s holding my walkie.

“Hey! How did you—?” I glance around. My backpack, which lies near the fence, is open.

Bardle lifts the walkie, but when his mouth opens, my voice comes out. Not, like, an impression of me . . .

My actual voice.

My chest is tight, like Bardle is ripping the words from my throat.

“June. Quint. Dirk. Come in,” he says. “It is I, your human companion Jack. I have exciting things to tell you. Out and over.”

OK, so he can do my voice—but he’s totally butchering my awesome lingo.

“Also, fisticuffs,” Bardle says.

Crud. He’s good.

“Meet me at the Burger Barn,” Bardle says.

A moment later, June replies, “Copy that!”

The Burger Barn is beyond the safety of the Zom-B-Gone torches. There are zombies there. Why would Bardle send my friends into danger?

Then, with horror, I realize . . .

“Bardle, what have you done?!” I glare at him—and then I’m racing toward Rover. I vault over the fence, into his saddle, and we’re off.

Rover dashes down the winding path, leaving the farm behind, then through an alleyway between the old baseball card shop and the sneaker store.

I’m speeding through town like a post-apocalyptic Paul Revere: THE ZOMBIES ARE COMING! THE ZOMBIES ARE COMING!

The Burger Barn comes into view.

Big Mama appears in the parking lot, slowing to a stop. The doors open. My friends step out.

In the shadows, behind them, I see yellow eyes glowing. The undead, inching closer. Impending doom.

Still galloping, I grab the Slicer. We speed into the lot. Rover stumbles and I flip over his head.

I swing the Slicer mid-fall and suddenly, I feel it. The glove, the handle of the blade, the hum of otherworldly energy.

A connection.

Between the bat and the zombies.

VRRRRRRUUUUUMMMMMMM!!!

One swing of the blade—a short arc, slicing across my vision, and the zombies are thrown to the ground—

And I land on my butt.

June and Quint stare wide-eyed at the zombies—now lying a couple of feet away. The zombies gaze deeply at the Slicer before rising and wobbling away.

“Jack, what—what was that? What did you do?” June asks.

“You controlled them!” Quint bursts out.

Before I can respond, I realize that Dirk is on the ground. He rubs his head. “Guys, uh—what just happened? I, um . . . collapsed.”

June looks at me. Then at the bat. Quint strokes his chin like a professor, which usually means the answer’s in his head somewhere, he’s just trying to fish it out. But there’s no time, because—

“YELP!”

I spin around—Rover! I didn’t see it when we rode over—but there’s a sinkhole in the ground, at the edge of the alley. Just like the one that was left behind when the Vine-Thingies grabbed the Hairy Eyeball Monster.

Rover is losing his balance, slipping down into the cracked and broken ground.

“Rover!” I cry out, and I’m racing toward him, grabbing his saddle, tugging. “Hang on, buddy!”

“Jack, you’ll fall in!” Quint shouts.

June and Quint grab Rover’s furry hide and tug. Rover takes slow, heavy steps back. Then, at once, he springs away from the hole.

But the sudden jerk causes me to tumble forward. I see Dirk’s meaty paw coming at me, grabbing my ankle, but I’m slipping back. And we’re both going over, into the sinkhole, under the earth.