Chapter 10 ALTERNATING CURRENTS

No one was buying any treats at the Zombake sale. No one even knew about it, except for Twyla. Still, two Zomboyz were manning the table as if a crowd might show up at any minute, only there was no reason why anyone should. They weren’t advertising it, that was for sure. Another Zomboy appeared—only he wasn’t bringing another tray of brownies or cookies; he was carrying a huge bundle of wires over his head.

The other two Zomboyz looked from side to side to check that the coast was clear. When they were sure that no one else was around, they gave each other the thumbs-up.

Carefully, they pulled back the bake sale table—and hidden underneath it was a trapdoor! They lifted the door, and the Zomboy with the wires disappeared underground. They put the table back in place. They were hiding a secret entrance. But where did it lead?

Twyla was watching everything from behind a tree. She had to find a way to get a look inside that trapdoor. But how?

Off in the distance, she heard a slurping, burping noise. It was Gob! Maybe he’d heard about the baked goods or smelled them, and he couldn’t resist. Twyla whistled to get his attention. He stopped, and she waved him over. She needed his help with a plan! She whispered a set of directions in his ear. He nodded, making little gurgling noises.

Grinning, Gob ambled over to the table of treats. His googly eyes darted back and forth. He started pointing at the baked goods—the cupcakes, the turnovers, the muffins—as if it were really hard to make a decision about what to buy. Then, strangely, Gob pointed at the school and began burbling a stream of nonsense. He was making all kinds of weird noises and waving his hands. Whatever it was, it sounded really important! It sounded like an emergency.

The Zomboyz glanced toward the school, just for a second. But that’s when Gob sprang into action. He grabbed all the goodies into his arms—and ran away surprisingly fast, headed back to Monster High. Both the Zomboyz instantly took chase. And that was Twyla’s plan. They left the entrance to the secret passageway unguarded.

Twyla waited until they were far away and slunk over to the table. Where did this secret passage lead? Using all her strength, she pushed away the heavy table and lifted the trapdoor. She gulped. The underground tunnel looked really, really deep. Carefully, she descended a metal ladder into the darkness. Dim lanterns were hung along the dirt walls. Her footsteps echoed in the passageway. It was creepy, but Twyla was determined. She wanted to help her new friends.

Tracks led along the tunnel, and the ground was strewn with shovels and wire cables. After she had gone a long way, the walls were no longer dirt but a strange crystal. They shimmered in the darkness. She could hear clanging and digging up ahead. Somewhere in the distance, Zomboyz were muttering to one another as they walked.

Twyla hugged the shadows as she came around the corner. She didn’t want anyone to see or hear her. Two Zomboyz, wearing hard hats and carrying pickaxes, strode past her. She held her breath. That was close—but they hadn’t noticed her. Phew!

But just ahead were two more Zomboyz guarding an entryway. They held crossed shovels in front of themselves like spears. How could she get them to leave? She had an idea. But could it really be that easy? Would it work? It was worth a try—after all, they weren’t very smart. Doing her best to imitate the low, faltering voice of a Zomboy, she called out, “Hey guys! The Creepeteria has brains for lunch today!”

“Brains?”

“Brains!” exclaimed both the Zomboyz, jumping up and down with excitement. In an instant, they dropped their shovels and raced down the tunnel toward the exit. They didn’t see Twyla blending into the wall.

Twyla peeked into the chamber they had been guarding. It was filled with Zomboyz digging with shovels and pickaxes. The walls were iridescent and glowing. One of the Zomboyz was piling glowing stones into a wheelbarrow. Twyla also noticed electrical equipment everywhere—coils and wires and batteries. Her eyes widened when she saw Frankie’s science project. What was it doing here?

Across the chamber, she spotted Moanica with her hands on her hips. She was directing all this activity. “Get back to work,” she was telling one of the Zomboyz. “You can sleep when you’re dead. Or…well, you know what I mean. No more breaks until all the electricity up there is in there!” She pointed from the ceiling to Frankie’s tiny project!

What was she going to do with Frankie’s project?

Twyla took a ton of photos with her iCoffin—of generators, electrical sockets, and the wires hooked up to the battery. She stayed in the shadows, but every time the camera flashed, she risked getting caught. Luckily, Moanica thought it was just Zomboyz making electrical mistakes.

As soon as she had thoroughly documented the strange chamber, Twyla hurried back through the tunnel as fast as she could. She had to tell Frankie what she’d seen. She burst out the trapdoor—and ran right into two Zomboyz!

Meanwhile, in the power station, Cleo was busy turning an old factory into a high-fashion salon. Clawdeen’s little brothers were scampering back and forth with equipment and tools. One werekid was hammering a wall panel into place while another was screwing lightbulbs into a beautiful bone chandelier.

Cleo marched among the chaos, happy to be in charge. “Come on, ghouls!” she encouraged them. She answered her iCoffin, nodding as she listened. “I don’t care what your boss said, Rene,” she answered, “that price is outrageous for cuticle scrapers!”

A few werekids dashed by, an outstretched mummy in their arms.

“Hey, be careful with that!” shouted Cleo. “Aunt Nephythis hates to be woken up.”

Cleo turned back to the conversation on her iCoffin. “Rene, I wasn’t born yesterday. I was born six thousand years ago.” She paused, listening. “Don’t worry about how that’s possible—worry about my cuticles!”

Lagoona came into the factory with a box of styling equipment. “Hey, mate, where do these go?” she asked Cleo.

“Oh, just over by the hair dryers for now,” said Cleo. She glanced across the room and her eyes landed on a couple of the werekids messing around with the dryers. “Hey, hey, heel!” she ordered the pups. “That is not a toy.”

The pup lifted up the dome of the dryer. He’d given his brother a Mohawk!

Frankie was over in the corner by herself. She’d been calling Twyla again and again, but all she got was her voice mail. Hi, this is Twyla. Please leave a message.

“Come on, Twyla, why aren’t you answering?” Frankie was worried about her. What had she found out?

Frankie twitched. Some leftover electricity from the old generator behind her had flowed into her. She rubbed her neck bolt. It tingled. But other than that, all she noticed was that she felt a little more energetic. She had to find Twyla!

“Hey, Cleo,” she said to her friend. “I’m sorry. I know we have a lot going on here, but I have to step out for a few.”

“Everything all right, Frankie?” worried Cleo. She handed one of the werekids a paint roller.

Frankie shrugged. “It’s nothing I can’t handle on my own. I just need to check on somebody.” Zap! Tingle! Zap! Another jolt of electricity had found her.

“Do whatever you need to do,” Cleo reassured her distractedly. Messages were pouring into her iCoffin. There were so many last-minute details to take care of before the opening of the salon. “Lagoona and I will be fine over here. We have everything under control.”

A werekid hanging on to some decorations on the ceiling swung past Cleo.

“Excuse me.” Cleo took off after him.

Frankie shuddered. More electricity was pouring into her. It was everywhere in the old power station. Her eyes widened and she twitched again. Where was Twyla?