33

I can’t really say what happened next.

First off, Chucky was wielding his chainsaw like this was the best day of his life. He was laughing. He was hollering. He swore he was gonna spray zombie parts all across the parking lot. If he caught any, there’d be a lot of unhappy shoppers coming back to their cars. But he wasn’t having any luck, since they kept running away. Well, not running. You know.

Second, Francine still had a crowd of zeds surrounding the hatchback, and she was cutting down the numbers pretty darn good. Thwack!

And then there was me.

I had a baseball bat, a weak stomach and a patch of tarmac with white parking spaces painted over it. Not good.

So I jumped onto a parked car—it was a sedan, so shoot me. It was not like I had time to choose a better one, what with the three zombies coming right at me all “NYAARRRGGG!” and “BRAIIIINNNSSS!!” The one in front was a lady in a church hat, you know, pink and flouncy, which went with her mostly green face. She grabbed at me as I leaped up, moaning something like “Not so faaaaassstttt yung mannnnnnn!!”

Okay, I might have been imagining that part.

I half turned and caught her with the bat. Oof! She swung her purse at me as she fell over. Then I was up on the hood, taking up my batter’s stance, and swung as a guy in a gray suit with blood all down the front pounced at me. He had big white teeth and wanted to use ’em on me. I connected real hard, and his head went flying across the lot.

I didn’t feel bad about him. I wasn’t going to fetch his head and match it with his body.

The church lady was up and shaking her fist at me. Suddenly her whole arm came loose and just slid out of her sleeve and plopped on the pavement. Dang! While I was watching her, the third zombie came up and—oh—grabbed my bat. Guess I got distracted.

I tried to yank it back. The zed was strong. He was wearing a tank top with the name of some gym on it. I guess he was a member. Used to be a member.

I was in trouble now.

I did something I’d never normally do. I dropped the bat and took off.

The zombie didn’t follow right away—maybe he was trying to figure out how come I wasn’t on the other end of the bat anymore—but Church Lady Zombie did. She was waaay faster than I expected. Only had one arm to grab at me now, though, which was good, I guess.

I was scared. I was running. I couldn’t feel my legs.

Suddenly a truck pulled out and came straight at me. I dove to my left, cussing like my dad does when Mom’s out and the Orioles are losing on TV. Big Baltimore fan, my dad. But that’s not the point. I slammed into the side of a parked car.

Church Lady Zombie didn’t get out of the way. The truck went right over her and kept going. I could see her legs poking out from underneath. No, it was just one leg. The rest of her was being dragged under the truck. That couldn’t be good for her.

The truck stopped. The driver wound down the window. It was Jermaine. The truck was Chucky’s. I didn’t make the connection, what with—

“Get in!” he yelled. I ran and jumped into the bed of the truck. He gunned the motor again and drove right into a mass of zombies, just mowing them down. Arms and legs were flying all around. I stayed as low as I could get. The truck ran over some speed bumps. (Maybe they weren’t speed bumps.) Then it slowed, like it couldn’t get traction. The pavement was slippery. The engine whined. The truck lurched to a stop. I heard Jermaine clashing through the gears, looking for reverse. I guess it’s not like the go-karts at the county fair. We jerked backward and stopped again.

I heard a noise like a “BUZZZZZZZ,” and then it cut out. Something big landed beside me. Two things. Landing on their feet.

I figured I was dead.

I was undead, or I would be in a minute. Please, I thought, let them just eat my brains. I don’t wanna be a zombie. Better to just be a zombie’s lunch.

But it wasn’t zombies at all. It was two live people.

“Hey, Larry!” yelled Chucky. “Long time, no see!” He was laughing.

“Hey, Larry!” shouted Francine. “You guys arrived just in time! I was getting worried!”

Jermaine found his gear and put pedal to the metal again, and the truck leaped forward. I looked up. Behind us, the zombies were chasing the truck. I guessed there were maybe ten or twenty of them left. They didn’t give up. I recognized Alex Bates and the ambulance driver, Mr. Phalen, among them. Plus the coach of the Pirates and a couple of kids in team uniform. And Luke and Jonathan Torres from my school, with their dad carrying shopping bags.

The truck fishtailed as it went faster. I guess Jermaine wasn’t thinking about getting a ticket for speeding, or not having a license, or being ten years old.

About a mile down the road, he pulled over.

“Good driving, kid!” shouted Chainsaw Chucky. “Yew done good!”