“Here’s what I’m dying to know, so to speak,” Anna said. “How many dogs did it take to make Tread?”
“I lost count at four,” I answered.
“And when the bolt of lightning hit to charge up Tread, did you scream, ‘It’s alive!’”
“I did. Woke up Dad, who thanked me for using a natural electrical source rather than plugging into an outlet. He’s always happy when we do things that save energy.”
After I’d left Mr. Landrum, I texted Anna to meet me behind the cafetorium. It might have been the first time in undead history when a zombie needed a breather.
She arrived a few minutes later (four minutes and thirty-two seconds to be exact, a fast time since she had to duck out of class).
She looked perfect, as usual. Some might think the hoop earrings and lace at the bottom of the skirt would clash with the ripped tights and heavy black boots, but that’s what I liked most about her. She was strong, independent, and really cute. She’d smile if I held a door for her, but would shoot me a “I can take care of myself” look if we heard someone talking trash about her. She was as comfortable in her skin as anyone I knew. How could I not fall so deeply in like with Anna?
We plopped down in the cool shade cast by the cafetorium’s ugly block wall, far enough away from the Dumpster so the odor of salad-bar remnants tickled at our noses rather than slapped us in the face.
“Do I detect a bit of zucchini rot mixed with decaying kale?” Anna said.
“Yes, and if you smell closely, you will pick up the unmistakable bouquet of putrefied potato salad,” I said.
She inhaled deeply through her nose. “Ah, there it is. Brings it all together.”
While the trash bins always filled quickly with leftovers, this particular Dumpster was dominated by fruits and vegetables. Apparently, the government requires schools to have healthy menu items. And since there’s no corresponding law that students have to eat it, almost all of it winds up in the trash. A perfect example of wonderful intentions and terrible results.
Anna slid closer and took my hand. “It was pretty easy to tell by your text that you were upset. What’s wrong, Jed?”
My text might have been a bit overdramatic. Something about life crashing down around me, and begging Anna to meet me. There might have been five or six “please’s before “meet me.” You’d think someone who lacked a working heart wouldn’t be so transparent with emotions.
I told her about the “Franken-canine” leaflet, which seemed to accuse me of building a monster dog out of various dog parts. At least I was able to joke about it with her for a bit, but then I got to what really bothered me.
“Mr. Landrum collected some of my Ooze,” I said. “He scraped it off a test. Now he’s supposed to test it, put it under the microscope to see what it is and how it works. And I’m supposed to see Principal Buckley at some point.” I paused, overwhelmed. “But for now, I need some time to think. To calm down.”
“I’m not going to lie to you, none of this is very good,” Anna said. “But it’s not the end of the world either. You have to remember the obstacles you’ve already overcome. Like carrying on a conversation even though you don’t have the benefit of life signs.”
“Pretty good trick, eh?”
“Almost as good as having a Frankendog.”
I squeezed her hand. “What do you think is going to happen? What could Principal Buckley do to me that he hasn’t already—”
“What do we have here? Isn’t this a cozy little gathering in a quiet little out-of-the-way place. And during class, no less. Shame on you.”
We were so involved in our conversation, neither of us heard anyone approaching. But I didn’t have to look up to know who’d come around the corner and now stood over us. With my eyes still locked on Anna, I said, “Robbie.”
I turned my head, and there were Robbie’s signature black boots. Jeans. Polished metal belt buckle. Black T-shirt. All framed by a hint of smoke floating from the cigarette he held in his right hand.
I was surprised to see Ben and Joe behind him. Last semester the three were rarely apart, but I tried to remember if I’d seen them together at all this semester.
Up until the football game, I thought of Ben and Joe in simple terms. They were henchmen, the kind easily dispatched in action movies when the good guy fired over cover, mowing down six guys with six shots. Guys who disappeared so quickly, they weren’t even mentioned in the final credits.
But after the game each shook my hand, and it struck me that they were individuals. Just not very bright individuals for following Robbie everywhere, being his Thing 1 and Thing 2 when it came to picking on the weak.
“Get up, Zom-boy,” Robbie said, flicking his cigarette into my chest. It bounced off in a shower of sparks, landing between my legs. “You too, bride of the dead.”
“Robbie, not a good time,” I said, pressing my back against the cool block wall for leverage as I stood. “How does lunch tomorrow look? If the Wheel of Meat lands on unidentifiable beef parts, the trash will be way worse than it is now. More bang for your buck.”
I held my hand out to Anna and lifted her to her feet. “Head out,” I whispered. “I’ll catch up to you later.”
“What am I, some damsel that needs protection?” she whispered back. “I want to see where this goes.”
“Quit mumbling,” Robbie said.
“Yeah, quit mumbling,” said Ben or Joe. I couldn’t tell which one.
“Shut up, Ben,” Robbie said, keeping his eyes on me. “Or Joe. Whatever. Let me handle this.”
Robbie stuck his hand in his back right pocket. It came out holding a pack of cigarettes. He tapped it once, twice on his left palm, plucked one from the narrow opening and stuffed the pack into his jeans. He produced a lighter from his left front pocket, gave it a flick, and lit up, finishing with a huge cloud of smoke blown in my direction.
“Tell me about this Frankendog of yours,” he said. “How’d you make it?”
I looked at Anna, my eyes begging her to leave. Her stern stare told me she wasn’t going anywhere.
“I didn’t make it,” I said. “It’s just a dog.”
“Really? Just a dog, one that happens to carry around its own tail.”
“That was a fake photo.”
“I don’t think so. I know faked photos. Like Ben and Joe adding girlfriends to their Facebook shots.”
“Dude!” Ben or Joe said. Maybe both.
“That was not a fake photo,” Robbie said. “And I’ll tell you something else. That was no Frankendog. That was a zombie dog. That concerns me.”
“There’s no such dog,” I said. “All that was made up. You know that. For all I know, you’re behind all this NZN crap.”
Robbie took another deep pull from his cigarette and blew, my head smothered by another nicotine cloud. “We talked about that, Zom-boy. And the latest bit of news about Frankendog makes it pretty clear they don’t know what they’re talking about. What’s zombie dog’s name?”
“There is no zombie dog.”
“I’m disappointed to hear you say that. I really am. I thought we could work this out peacefully. But if we can’t, that’s cool too. I enjoy non-peaceful resolutions. Ben, Joe, please keep an eye on the girlfriend.”
I had to be honest, “girlfriend” sounded good, even coming out of Robbie’s mouth.
But there was no way in hell I was going to let Ben and Joe touch Anna. I stepped in front of her, bracing for impact from Ben and/or Joe.
Instead, the impact came from behind me. Anna shoved me to the side. “Seriously? I know you’re just trying to be gallant, which is nice and all, but I’ve got this.”
“A girl after my own heart,” Robbie said, taking another drag. “Text me when you dump Zom-boy. We’ll hang out.”
“I hang out with the undead, not the unintelligent,” Anna said.
“Dang, check out the smart mouth on the girl. Fine. Now Jed.” Robbie looked at me. “The dog. I know it exists. There was a public sighting not too long ago at Burger Bucket. Even played a game of ‘Fetch the zombie part,’ something that could entertain me for hours. And I wouldn’t care if he brought the part back or not. But I sure would like to meet zombie dog.”
“Tread,” Anna said.
“What?”
“Zombie dog has a name. Tread.”
“Dead Tread? Really?” Robbie looked at me. “That’s the best you can do? Do you have an undead mouse named Zed? And undead hamster named Fred? Is your favorite zombie rock group Dead Led Zeppelin? You are predictable, that’s for sure.”
Robbie inhaled deeply, the cigarette burning close to the filter. He tossed it on the ground and let it smolder.
“Here’s what’s going to happen,” he said. “You are going to tell me how zombie dog—sorry, Tread—came to be. Then you are going to let me, um, borrow him, so I can see what makes him tick. I know for a fact you can’t turn people into zombies.”
“You do, don’t you?” Anna said. “How’d that work out for you?”
The thought of Robbie screaming as he was doused with fake zombie blood once again warmed my cold heart.
“You need to keep your little girlfriend quiet,” Robbie said, probably wondering why I was smiling. “Or it’s going to go worse for you. Now as I was saying, I know you can’t turn people into zombies.”
He shot a look at Anna, daring her to speak.
“But I never considered what you could do with dead things,” Robbie continued. “This is a topic worth further exploration. So the four of us—not your girlfriend—are going to take a little stroll to your house and—”
I’m not sure what I noticed first, the blood spurting from Robbie’s nose, or the fist that caused it. As Robbie’s hands went right to his face, Anna followed with a quick punch to Robbie’s unprotected gut, doubling him over.
Ben stepped forward, “OK, you just—”
Anna thrust her left boot into Ben’s chest, knocking him five steps backward and onto the turn. It was like something out of Karate Kid. I also noted one of the benefits of wearing a skirt, besides looking cute. It gave you freedom of movement.
Joe stood there, unsure of what to do. I cocked my fist and stepped toward him, causing him to flinch.
“Jed, we proved our point, time to go,” Anna said. She grabbed my hand and we raced around the corner of the cafetorium and into the crowd of students now going to the next class. I didn’t even hear the bell.
We blended in easily, but I glanced over my shoulder to make sure.
No Robbie. He was probably still trying to catch his breath—or whatever was left of it after smoking a couple of cigs.
“Where did you learn that stuff?” I asked Anna. “That was awesome.”
“My dad is big into the self-defense stuff, and he wants us to be able to take care of ourselves,” Anna said. “Because sooner or later, we’re all going to run into our own Robbie.”
I stopped, forcing kids to walk around us (and if you ever wonder how many cuss words middle school kids know, get in their way when they’re trying to get to class).
“I’m heading home, just in case Robbie gets any bright ideas,” I said. “You’ve got English, right?”
“Yes, but it’s the last thing on my mind,” Anna said. She let go of my hand, leaned in, and kissed my cheek. “It’ll be fine. Robbie’s a blowhard. And dognapping’s a crime. I don’t even think Robbie is that stupid.”
“Never underestimate Robbie when it comes to stupidity.”
“True. Well, I’ve got to get to class, and then I have to help my dad with stuff after school. But I’ll see you tomorrow, right?”
“Of course.”
“And Jed, don’t sweat the small stuff. Robbie is small stuff. We have to keep focused on those NZN guys. That Frankendog stuff is scary.”
It was scary. I was frightened as hell. But I wasn’t going to tell Anna that.
“As long as I have you in my corner, I’m going to be OK.”
“I’m definitely in your corner and not going anywhere. Except to English. Now. See ya.”
“Bye.”
I watched until she disappeared among middle schoolers who had no idea how lucky they were.
Then it hit me. The SD card. I wanted to ask Anna if she found anything. She’d had it for more than a week.
But I had others things to do first. Get home and check on Tread. Catch up on homework. Get to the bottom of the NZN Network propaganda. Figure out what I was going to tell Principal Buckley about my alleged Frankendog.
Too many worries, too little time.