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THE TRUTH ABOUT ELLIE’S CLIP

We planted cameras around the surf club,” Ellie said smugly to the crowd. “I just spent the last hour editing, and now the clip is waiting to be uploaded to my video channel. I just need to press one little button.” She paused dramatically and eyeballed the mob.

Ellie looked at Hatfield, who, it seemed, had assumed the role of leader of the (almost) zombie mob.

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“So what you have to ask yourself is: ‘Do I feel lucky?’ Well, do ya, punk?”

That’s a line from a movie, in case you didn’t know.

It turned out he wasn’t feeling very lucky after all.

And neither was the rest of the zombie mob. They lowered their pitchforks and flaming torches. Faced with a choice between getting their revenge on me (assuming they could get past the Mom of Steel) and facing global humiliation versus just backing down, the mob chose to back down. One by one they began to drift off into the rain-swept darkness.

Ellie stepped through the front door and shook the water from her dark hair.

“Were you really going to upload the clip?” I whispered.

Ellie lowered her phone and smiled. “What clip?”