Zack awoke with a gasp. His nostrils burned with the harsh tang of bleach. Someone was standing over him, waving a bottle of stuff under his nose.
“What is that?” Zack sat up, choking.
His eyes adjusted to the darkness, and a boy’s wiry figure gradually took shape. He wore a green long-sleeved T-shirt, camouflage pants, and a heavy-looking equipment pack strapped to his back.
“Smelling salts,” the boy responded. “Carried by doctors since the Middle Ages to revive flustered women after they’ve fainted. Also known as ammonia chloride.”
“I’m ammonia,” Madison stated matter-of-factly.
“Oh, hello, Ammonia,” NotGreg greeted her.
“No, Madison,” Rice corrected. “You’re immune.”
“That’s what I meant,” she said.
Zack glanced past the new kid to where the two zombie soldiers were sitting back-to-back, knocked unconscious and expertly hog-tied with twine. “You did that?” he asked.
“Affirmative.” The boy nodded. He had some kind of binoculars strapped to his head.
“Name’s Ozzie Briggs.”
“Zack, this dude’s got night vision. Check it out.” Rice pointed to the headpiece.
“Cool,” Zack mumbled, rubbing the bump on his head.
“And nunchucks!” Rice reached for the martial arts weapon attached to Ozzie’s pack.
“Hands off,” Ozzie said.
“The correct name for them is ‘nunchaku.’ They were a going-away present from my sensei in Okinawa.”
“You’re, like, a ninja turtle…,” Rice said, in awe of their new friend. He turned to Zack. “You should have seen it, man. This dude totally manhandled them! He came out of nowhere and was, like, BAP BAP BAP.…” Rice kicked his short little legs and tomahawked the air, miming the kung-fu zombie takedown.
“Yeah, and he almost killed us in the process,” Madison said. “Who jumps out in front of cars like that, anyway?”
“Sorry about that, babe. I just react sometimes. And you all looked like you needed help.”
Did he just call Madison ‘babe’? Zack furrowed his eyebrows together. “Well, thanks for the help….” He raised his arm for a handshake.
Ozzie ignored Zack’s outstretched palm.
I can’t believe this kid’s really gonna leave me hangin’, Zack thought. He dropped his hand and looked at his best friend quizzically, but Rice was still ninja-chopping away in the semidarkness of the tunnel.
“Can we go, you guys?” Madison asked. “My leg’s starting to really hurt.”
“She’s right. We gotta get moving,” Ozzie told them. “We’re not really supposed to be down here.”
“Wait, what about Zoe?” Madison asked.
“No way! My dad’s got orders to exterminate these things!” Ozzie shouted.
“But we brought her all the way from Phoenix,” said Rice.
“She’s my sister, dude,” Zack insisted. “We’re not just going to leave her here.”
“Yeah, babe,” Madison added. “Nobody messes with my BFF.” She pronounced the word “biff.”
“Fine…” Ozzie detached a neatly rolled blanket from his pack. “Bring her if you want, but if they see her, she’s gonna be one dead zombie.” Ozzie snapped the blanket open with a whip-crack, revealing a stretcher with two wooden handlebars at each end. Zack flinched. Rice punched his buddy’s shoulder twice.
“What was that for?”
“Two for flinching.” Rice smiled and skipped off next to Ozzie. He reached again for the nunchaku, but Ozzie batted his arm away.
Rice pulled out a flashlight from his backpack and lit the way as they shuffled down the dark concrete passage. Zack and NotGreg carried Zoe on the stretcher. Madison limped along with Twinkles tucked snugly in the crook of her arm.
“So how’d you guys end up down here?” Ozzie asked, marching along easily with his night-vision goggles.
Rice began from the very beginning. “It all started after Zack hung up on me. I was sitting on my couch eating pizza skins when the news came on. Then—BAM—zombies were like everywhere!”
Ozzie led them up some steps and through a door that opened to a dark tunnel.
Rice went on. “…then after I saved these guys, they picked me up and we went to the supermarket to get the ginkgo biloba, which I figured out can, like, slow down the zombification process or something.”
“It also zonks them out, which is why Zoe’s not moving and looks like a total creepo.” Madison pointed at Zoe. “Poor BFF.”
“Ahem.” Rice nudged Ozzie. “So then at the graveyard, after the Gregster bit Madison, it was completely obvious that she was immune, and like—”
“Wait, Rice. Shhhh.” Ozzie pressed his finger to his lips, and everyone paused. Up ahead, the sound of footsteps echoed through the tunnel. “Kill the flashlight,” he whispered.
Rice flicked it off, encasing them in total blackness.
“I can’t see anything,” Madison whined.
“Rice, stop touching me!” said Zack.
“Wasn’t me, dude,” Rice said.
“Shhhh!” Ozzie shushed.
“Freeze!” A deep voice boomed in the dark.
Zack heard his sister’s helmet clunk on the floor.
Just then, the ceiling lights buzzed and flickered, and the tunnel lit up. NotGreg was holding his hands in the air like a guilty felon.
A few yards in front of them, two soldiers stood in full camouflage. They wore big boots with shiny toes and carried automatic rifles slung over their shoulders. Their names were pinned on the breast pockets of their uniforms: MS PATRICK and PFC MICHAELS. Private Michaels had a crew cut and broad shoulders, and they both had very little in the way of a neck. Zack scooted himself in front of the stretcher to block Zoe from their line of sight.
“Ozzie?” Sergeant Patrick squinted. “What the heck are you doing inside my perimeter? Yer daddy’s been lookin’ all over for ya! Got ’im worried sick….”
Private Michaels clicked his walkie-talkie and spoke into the receiver. “Strategic Command, this is Sub-Level A requesting the colonel.”
A few seconds passed before a gruff, staticky voice crackled from the earpiece. “Briggs here.”
“Colonel, this is Private Michaels down here in Sub-Level A with Sergeant Patrick…. We found your kid, sir. He’s with some other kids, too, sir…. Don’t know, sir…. You want to speak with him?…Copy that, sir.”
Ozzie lifted his hand to take the walkie-talkie. Private Michaels clicked the button. “He’ll speak to you later.”
Just then, the stretcher started to twitch and snarl behind Zack’s feet, and the soldiers switched their attention to what lay beneath the wriggling blanket. The sergeant brushed Zack out of the way with a rock-solid forearm, while the private squatted down next to the stretcher and unveiled the hideous beast.
“Oh, sweet Murphy!” Private Michaels cursed.
Zombie Zoe growled in a wild rage behind her lacrosse mask. Her face was cheese white with patches of skin that looked like tortilla chips. A creamy beige blob dripped from one corner of her mouth, looking like butterscotch fudge. Zack’s stomach grumbled. He was hungrier than he thought.
“Put it out of its misery, Private,” Sergeant Patrick ordered.
Private Michaels reached for his holster.
“Stop!” Zack yelled, jumping between zombie Zoe and Private Michaels. “You can’t just kill her! That’s my sister….”
Zombie Zoe snorted and bucked, drooling as she snarled.
“Kid, that ain’t nobody’s sister—” Patrick gave her a sorry look.
“Boy, get out of the way!” yelled Michaels.
WHOOSH! At the end of the tunnel, a set of high-tech double doors shot open, and everyone froze.
