First published in the United States of America by Viking,

an imprint of Penguin Random House LLC, 2015

This edition published in 2020

by Egmont Limited

2 Minster Court, London EC3R 7BB

Text copyright © 2019 Max Brallier

Illustrations copyright © 2019 Douglas Holgate

The moral rights of the author and illustrator have been asserted.

ISBN 978 0 7555 00048

eBook ISBN 978 0 7555 00055

www.egmont.co.uk

A CIP catalogue record for this title is available from the British Library

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For Alyse.

For Daniels.

For Pupper.

For Everything.

– M. B.

For the “MPW Lads.”

Stay savage for all time.

– D. H.

CONTENTS

Cover

Title Page

Copyright

Dedication

Map of Wakefield

chapter one

chapter two

chapter three

chapter four

chapter five

chapter six

chapter seven

chapter eight

chapter nine

chapter ten

chapter eleven

chapter twelve

chapter thirteen

chapter fourteen

chapter fifteen

chapter sixteen

chapter seventeen

chapter eighteen

chapter nineteen

chapter twenty

chapter twenty-one

chapter twenty-two

chapter twenty-three

chapter twenty-four

chapter twenty-five

chapter twenty-six

chapter twenty-seven

Acknowledgements

Back series promotional page

Last Kids on Earth and the Skeleton Road

About the Author

chapter one

Well, it happened. After all that time, they got us.

The zombies bit us.

We turned. We transformed.

Look at us – twisted undead faces, slumping undead posture.

We’re zombies. Absolute zombies.

Quint: zombie. Dirk: zombie. June: total, big-time zombie.

Things are different now . . .

Our adventures are a little slower: less darting around, more shambling. And our appetites have changed: less grilled donuts, more flesh burgers.

Y’know what – let me catch you up. Fill you in. Explain HOW we joined the ranks of the undead.

See, it’s been about a month since, uh, BIG STUFF HAPPENED. A month since we battled a new villain; a villain who was HUMAN . . .

This villain’s name is EVIE SNARK, and like me, she’s a super-mega-geek. But unlike me, she’s OUT OF HER EVER-LOVING MIND . . .

First, she stole my beloved Louisville Slicer, and I was like, nuh-uh, NOT OK.

Then, she caused Dirk to be bitten by a zombie!

It was all part of her big bad cosmic plan – she was going to perform this weirdo ritual and bring the Cosmic Terror, GHAZT, into our dimension.

See, Ghazt is “The General” and he has the ability to control zombies with his TAIL . . .

And that’s, like, bad.

But Quint, June and I swung in like the Three Compadres! We saved Dirk by feeding him an eyeball, lent to us by our monster buddy Warg. The eyeball had some kind of healing, anti-zombie elixir inside, and Dirk sucked down the contents glass of h gooey lemon (It was gross, yep.)

We got the Slicer back, too! But not before it connected with the monster dimension . .

And in the end, well – WE KINDA FAILED. Evie’s plan worked! Ghazt entered our dimension. But, because we interfered, things went a little sideways and Ghazt took the form of a RAT – a rat mixed with Evie’s action figure collection. So now he’s a half-plastic, half- rodent, zombie-controlling cosmic creep.

And they escaped! Evie and Ghazt: now at large, on the loose, concocting bad guy plans!

And that leads us to . . . this very morning.

And us, becoming zombies.

Me, Jack Sullivan – former Post-Apocalyptic Action Hero! Now, just a lousy Post-Apocalyptic ZOMBIE DUDE.

And June, Dirk and Quint. Also zombies. We’re just four, regular, normal zombies among hundreds. Things have taken a turn for the terrifying . . .

“Guys, being a zombie stinks!” June says. “Literally. It smells.”

“Don’t you dare bad-mouth the smell,” Quint says. “I spent weeks perfecting it!”

“Stop yappin’!” Dirk barks. “We’re zombies. Zombies don’t yap!”

OK, so . . . I lied. We’re just pretending to be zombies. We’re undercover. secret MISSION OPERATION: DEFEAT EVIE AND GHAZT!

We are currently staggering, zombie-style, towards the Wakefield Bowl-O-Drome, which is Evie and Ghazt’s villainous lair.

How do we know it’s their villainous lair?

Because there are a bunch of old TVs mounted above the Bowl-O-Drome’s entrance, and Evie’s up there talking:

I lean over and whisper to my buddies, “Look at Evie, beckoning zombies from far and wide. She really embraced her bad side. Like full supervillain.”

“It appears the zombies are drawn by her voice,” Quint says.

June nods. “Yep, ’cause humans = food!”

See, we’ve been staking out the Bowl-O-Drome for a week, waiting for a big enough zombie horde to come along so we could slip in with them, unnoticed.

And finally they have . . .

So we got into character and joined the walking zombie club, but not before we did a final operation checklist – Zombie makeup: Check. Grey skin, green ooze draining from our mouths, just-woke-up hair.

Zombie odour: Check. We got THE STENCH. Quint bottled it. It’s awful and foul and I’ve got puke like three-quarters of the way up my throat – but it works.

And last but MOST IMPORTANT: the zombie walk, AKA the zombie shuffle, AKA the zombie shuffle, AKA the zombie zigzag. We knew our zombie walks had to be perfect if we wanted to blend in. We spent days practising – even doing it for Bardle to make sure we had it down pat.

It all better work, because we’re nearing the bowling alley entrance. There are zombies on either side of us, pressing against us . . .

I hope Evie’s ready, ’cause we’re coming – and we’re bringing payback! She stole my blade! Got my friend zombified! Did – just – a lot of stuff !

And in mere moments we’re gonna hit her with that payback. All four of us, together, like the freaking Avengers . . .

Heavy breathing – like panting – pulls me out of my superhero squad fantasy. I expect to see a zombie with a nasty cold, but it’s actually Dirk. And he does not look ready to get his Avenger on.

Which is fair. He went through some pretty serious stuff. I mean, he’s healed. But still – upstairs – he’s probably a little freaked out.

“Dirk, you OK?” I whisper.

Before he can answer, I feel a hand on mine. I look down. “June, you’re holding my hand!” I whisper excitedly.

“Not holding,” she says. “Squeezing.”

“A love squeeze?”

“NO! A hurt squeeze,” she growls through gritted teeth. “No more talking!”

June squeezes twice – extra-painful hard – and I look up as the bowling alley doors swing open.

I do my best zombie moan as we are all, together, funneled inside the villainous home base . . .

chapter two

As soon as we’re through the door, we start searching for cover. Quint silently points to a row of shelves filled with bowling shoes. Getting there is a claustrophobic nightmare – kinda feels like Best Buy on Black Friday. We’re forcefully pushing ourselves through the zombie horde, trying to reach our safe place.

But we’re lucky – the zombies leave us alone. The horde is morphing from a huge mushed-up mash to one organized line.

They are drawn by something we don’t see or hear – and they’re shuffling away from the entrance and towards the old arcade and snack bar room. When the last zombie has turned the corner, I realize that this whole place is emptier than I expected – by a lot. And most important – no sign of Evie or Ghazt.

Ghazt was scared of the Slicer last time, so all I gotta do is show it to him again – and he’ll vamoose! But first we gotta find him.

“Guys, it’s quiet,” I say. “Too quiet.”

Dirk shoots me a confused look. I see sweat pouring off his face in fat droplets.

Dirk frowns, getting sweatier, then quickly says, “Oh OK me neither just wanted to make sure.”

“Guys!” Quint says in a whisper. He’s using an old selfie stick with a mirror to peek around the corner. “The zombies all went into the arcade. But there are ZOMBIE GUARDS at the doors!”

I scooch over and glance in the mirror. I see four zombies, standing watch, wearing hooded robes . . .

Those robes – I realize they’re just like the ones we saw in Evie’s book. She’s drafting these zombies into her Cabal of the Cosmic!

OLD-TiMey MeMBeRs OF THe CABAL OF THe CosMic! WAY BACk iN THe DAY.

The Cabal of the Cosmic was a group of crazy- pants people from the olden days who were obsessed with bad dudes like Ŗeżżőcħ the Ancient, Destructor of Worlds. Evie found their old book, full of information and instructions. (It’s OK, though – we stole the book from her and now we have our own guide to Ŗeżżőcħ’s world of cosmic horror.)

“Guys,” I whisper, nodding towards the arcade snackbar, “I think that’s Ghazt’s real home base.”

“A villainous lair inside a villainous lair?” June asks. “How many villainous lairs does one interdimensional rat monster need?”

Quint responds, “The answer, it seems, is two.”

“If we’re gonna sneak in and crash their evil party,” I say, “we need to blend in like undercover super spies.”

I lock eyes with June – and she gets it, right away. We gotta take out these guards, triple-ninja- style, and steal their uniforms.

June nudges Quint. He pulls a wiffle ball box from his action-geek bag. But inside is no ordinary wiffle ball. Inside is the –

“I’ll roll,” Quint says.

“And I’ll take ’em out,” June adds.

With that, it’s meatball away. Quint bowls it towards the arcade. It rolls past the blue-cloaked zombie guards . . .

They look around, sniffing, then a moment later –

The guards stagger after the ball, hunched over, bony fingers grabbing and scraping. One finally collapses on to the ball, like it’s trying to recover a fumble in the end zone. All four of them begin gnawing at the thing – sucking on the wiffle meatball.

Bingo. A very gross bingo.

June smiles. “I got this next part . . .” she says, and lifts her torn zombie sleeve to reveal the Gift. I got it for her this past Christmas, and it’s a total monster knockout device. Also good for temporary zombie takedowns . . .

She cranks a wheel on the side, and then –

WHAFK! WHAFK! WHAFK!

Four blasts.

Four blue-robed zombies hit the floor.

We shove the zombies into a storage closet and slip into their robes. We look pretty legit!

I eye the entrance to the arcade. With the guards gone, all we have to do is slip inside.

But I hesitate.

Because it’s finally happening. We’ve searched long and hard for this foul, formidable creature that wants to rule over our broken planet. It’s now or never.

I steel myself. “In we go,” I whisper. “And remember: best zombie impressions ever. It’s game time.”

Hearts pounding, we push the doors open – going for total 007-level inconspicuousness, we shuffle inside.

And – well – we find the zombies, that’s for sure. Hundreds of them . . .

I’m trying to do a zombie version of “fly casual” – my face twisted to look undead, while simultaneously trying to give off a whole “Hey-how-you-doing-nice-party-come-hereoften- we-totally-belong-here-and-if-you’recurious-yep-we’re-definitely-zombies-no-reasonto- look-closely” vibe.

But it’s hard to be casual – because what we see inside here is so bananas insane . . .

chapter three

This lair is huge and sprawling: a combined snack bar, arcade and bathroom.

Bits of light filter in through cracks and holes in the walls and ceiling. Vine-Thingies creep along the floor, glowing neon green and purple.

“Ghazt’s not looking so hot, huh?” June whispers.

Peering through the zombie horde, I see Ghazt.

June’s right – the general isn’t exactly awe-inspiring.

In fact, Ghazt now looks more like some sort of –

LAZY TUB-O-GOO CHEESE BEAST !

“He’s constructed a bed from nacho squeeze cheese,” Quint remarks. “How inventive.”

I’m so focused on Ghazt’s transformation that it takes me a moment to notice the weirdest weirdness going down.

The zombies inside this strange, dark base – they’re different.

“These robed zombies aren't just shambling about mindlessly,” I whisper. “They're, like, doing stuff.”

What we’re looking at, right now – it is mindblasting and world-alteringly new. These zombies aren’t just possessed – they’re productive . . .

At the movie theatre, we saw Ghazt move the zombies. And we saw the zombies carry him. But this is more than that – these are zombie servants. One’s even serenading Ghazt with bongo drums!

Honestly, it has the vibe of an almost cool but actually really awkward birthday party with a not-so-gracious host.

A few zombies shuffle to the side – and I spot it. The thing that we came for: Ghazt’s tail. The nasty, slithering source of his zombie-controlling power . . .

“Jack, we need to hide . . .” June whispers, tugging on my sleeve.

“This way!” Quint points to Dino Rampage – a vintage arcade game enclosed by a curtain.

We zombie-shuffle our way over – then quickly cram inside. Dino Rampage is built for two players, so the four of us are forced into an uncomfortable pile.

I feel heavy breathing on my neck – it’s Dirk, huffing and sweating with claustrophobia.

And I’m feeling the way Dirk looks. We’ve done dangerous junk many times – but this time we’re behind enemy lines, inside enemy robes! If we’re not careful – this will go south before you can say “zombie bowling league.”

Quint and I sneak a peek through the curtain.

And I see her. Evie.

She stands at Ghazt’s side. We can faintly hear her speaking into his shrivelly rat ear.

Evie nods. “Of course, but the sooner we release these zombies – the sooner they can DO BAD!” she says, her voice cracking. “There are human settlements to crush – and monsters to enslave. We could start in Wakefield.”

I gulp. Wakefield. Our home.

And human settlements. That could mean the people on the radio at the Statue of Liberty. That could mean every last survivor, everywhere.

Quick pause for a backtrack! For a long time, we thought we might be the only survivors of the apocalypse. But then, a few months ago, we found a radio and heard LIVE HUMAN VOICES and we were like, “Oh-Em-Gee-Whiz!”

There was a broadcast from an entire colony of humans hunkered down in the Big Apple! It was major . . .

But then winter set in, and we couldn’t go to NYC – and we haven’t heard anything from the radio since. Quint and June are jazzed because there’s a possibility their parents are still alive – but we can’t leave Wakefield, because Evie and Ghazt are here doing bad stuff.

Still – Quint and June want to at least know if their parents might be OK . . .

OK, un-pause the backtrack!

June leans in close. “If Ghazt ever stops being a complete lazy butt – we’re all in trouble. Not just us – everyone . . . everywhere.”

At that very moment, Dirk’s claustrophobia goes from bad to ultra-bad. “I can’t take that whispering, moaning sound any more!” he says, grabbing his head, plugging his ears.

“Put a sock in it, dude!” June says.

Quint, being quite literal, removes his shoe, yanks off his sock, and stuffs it into Dirk’s mouth. Toe jam flies. It’s odd.

Dirk just about barfs up the sock. The next instant, he’s tumbling through the curtain, bursting out from our hiding place.

“Dirk!” I cry, trying to stop him. “No!”

But it’s too late.

Dirk’s eyes are locked on a nearby claw-grab game – and the pair of headphones inside. They’re huge headphones, like hip DJs and air traffic controllers wear.

In a split second, our super-spy Mission Operation surveillance turns into what my old third-grade teacher would’ve called “a ruckus.”

“I CAN’T TAKE THESE ZOMBIE MOANS!” Dirk cries out.

He grips the claw-grab machine. Then, with one mighty heave, brings it crashing to the ground.

SMASH!!! The Plexiglas case shatters – Dirk grabs the headphones and jams them on to his head.

The entire lair goes quiet. The old “could hear a pin drop” moment.

Then . . .

“Ahem.” It’s Evie.

Evie is staring at us.

Ghazt’s staring at us, too.

And so is his army of the undead.

“Bring the dorky human ones before me,” Ghazt says. His tail lifts and points at us, and then the zombies approach, arms raised, to drag us before their master.

chapter four

So now here we stand, in front of Ghazt and Evie. Captured prisoners! It kinda feels like we got caught texting in class and now we gotta face the principal. But we’re not just staring down a few days of detention – our dimension is at stake!

Ghazt’s massive form leans forward. His mouth opens, and I think he’s about to eat us – but instead he just burps. Evie looks embarrassed. Ghazt readjusts, getting a grip on his whole bellygas- burp situation.

“Argh – you!” he snarls, showering us with bits of cheesy spittle. “I should have taken my army and DESTROYED your little town when I had the chance.”

I lean over to June and whisper, “Time for Mission Operation: Project Maximum Jack Confidence.”

“Dude,” June snarls. “If you say mission operation one more time –”

“So here’s the deal, bad dudes,” I say, taking a relaxed step forward, channelling my inner coolguy Kurt Russell. “Right now, this entire joint is surrounded by monster warriors. So, either you release us – or I give the signal. And you don’t want that, ’cause our monster buddies have itchy . . . um . . . itchy, uh . . . what’s the –”

“Itchy backs?” Quint asks.

“No. Not itchy backs. Itchy, uh – itchy trigger fingers! That’s it!”

“They mostly use swords and axes,” June whispers. “Swords and axes don’t have triggers.”

“Fine! Itchy axe fingers! Whatever! Bottom line – Evie, Ghazt – release us, now, or I’m calling in the monster cavalry.”

Wow, I really nailed that. That lie was so good that I almost believed it. Evie and Ghazt will never know it’s a –

“BLUFF!” Evie shouts. “That’s a bluff !” She leans towards Ghazt and whispers, “He’s bluffing. Classic bluff. Kid’s got bluff all over his face.”

I scowl at Evie. She smiles in the most annoying way.

Ghazt’s tail slithers up and tickles his lip in thought. “Hmm. Bluff. Bluffing. Bluffin. Muffin.” Ghazt’s stomach grumbles, then he says, “Evie, do we have any more of those little mini muffins I like? The blueberry ones?”

Evie clenches her jaw. Bites back a sigh. “No, sir.”

I steal a quick glance to the side. Dirk’s got his hands to his head, mashing the headphones hard against his skull.

No question – we need to make our move now.

Evie and Ghazt don’t seem to be on the same page. Maybe we can use that against them.

June picks up what I’m mentally throwing down – because she tilts her head and says, “Hey, Ghazt, if you’re this big, bad, zombie-controlling general, how come Evie does all the talking while you just sit there on a big cheese throne?”

In response, Ghazt slurps cheese from a hollowed-out bowling ball.

Ghazt doesn’t like that. He snarls, then his tail snaps through the air. I hear a hollow thunderclap sound – the sound of Ghazt exercising his control over the zombies . . .

Sure enough, the zombies begin to circle around us.

Evie approaches. “Jack,” she says. “You are unarmed. Bad move. I’m surprised you would show up without your precious blade . . .”

I smile. “Y’know, Evie . . .”

I whip the blade around, pointing it at Evie and Ghazt. Evie frowns. “You hid your Little League sword in your trousers?”

“You bet I did,” I say proudly.

“That’s weird, kid.”

“I’ll tell you what’s weird – you, ya weirdo, calling me weird! You’re the weird one doing the weird worshipping! Now I hereby DEMAND you guys open a portal and LEAVE. Outta this dimension, post-haste! Whatever post-haste means . . .”

Ghazt’s tail snaps again – and the zombies inch even closer. June coughs into her hand, then says, very loudly, “WELL, JACK – IT APPEARS YOUR PLAN HAS FAILED.”

“OK, geez, June – aggressive,” I murmur.

June, again, louder: “I SAID, JACK, IT APPEARS YOUR PLAN HAS FAILED.”

“Look, June,” I whisper, “I know this is a big life-and-death moment – but you don’t gotta be mean about it! It’s not like –”

And that’s when I hear a sound like cannon fire erupting. The building shakes. The zombies stagger. Evie grabs Ghazt to steady herself.

I look up, just in time to see the ceiling practically evaporate as something like a meteor comes smashing through . . .

chapter five

“June!” Quint happily exclaims. “You had backup waiting?!”

June grins. “Sure did.”

I frown. “Was your backup plan code word ‘JACK, IT APPEARS YOUR PLAN HAS FAILED?’ ”

June shrugs. “It worked, didn’t it?”

“That is so messed up. But also I’m good with it ’cause it means I was not bluffing. YOU HEAR THAT, EVIE? I wasn’t bluffing!”

Evie just glares and leaps back. A thin layer of water is trickling up through the floor. Biggun’s meteor-like landing weakened the ground.

Ghazt descends from his disgusting throne. Bits of hardened cheese and melted chocolate stick to his fur. He snarls, “Seize them!” and his tail WHIP-CRACKS in the air. Instantly, the blue-robed zombies close in!

“Dudes,” I say. “I’m going for the tail! You keep the zombies busy!”

“Happily!” Skaelka says.

Biggun just grunts and begins hurling zombies right and left. June and Quint are back-to-back, battling the Cabal of the Cosmic.

Crack!

Ghazt’s tail smacks me, and I’m hurled across the room. I land against a half-inflated pile of bowling lane bumpers.

Ghazt strides towards me, wading through his battling zombie horde. He darts forward and slashes his fat claw in my direction.

“Yikes!”

I dodge the attack by ungracefully flopping to the floor. His gnarled nails slice open big blue bumpers. There’s a loud hiss, then an angry snarl as Ghazt claws his way through shredded rubber.

I jab the Slicer, and Ghazt inches back. His whiskers twitch. His nose wrinkles. And a smile crosses his hideous face . . .

“You know, Jack, during the horribly botched transference that brought me to your dimension, I adopted some of the rat’s qualities. Including smell; and I smell the fear on you now, boy.”

Just then, his beady eyes dart to the side – and his tail snaps. His powers seize a nearby zombie, and it’s suddenly zipping across the room.

But not towards me.

Towards Quint.

The zombie’s feet skim the ground and its outstretched arms thrash. Its broken jaw snaps menacingly. “Murrrr!”

“Quint!” I call out, but it’s too late for any warning cries. The zombie is nearly upon my best buddy.

A horrifying bolt of cold fear explodes inside my brain: the image of Quint being bitten, being zombified.

I don’t think.

I simply act.

I swing the Louisville Slicer towards the zombie, leaving a dark streak of energy in the air. And then –

I feel the Slicer catch – like the blade and the zombie are connected by some strange magnetism.

And all around, it’s like someone hit the PAUSE button on this battle. Everyone’s looking at me. My arms are unsteady and there’s a zombie, frozen, braced to pounce . . .

I feel Ghazt’s power tugging at the zombie, trying to push it towards Quint.

“No . . . you . . . DON’T!” I cry out, forcing the Slicer downward.

The hovering zombie is thrust down, too. Its knees buckle and it crumples to the floor in a drooling, groaning heap.

From the corner of my eye, I spot Skaelka sneaking up behind Ghazt. I need to keep him busy for one more moment.

Ghazt’s icy rat eyes peer at me. Then the Slicer.

“Impressive,” he laughs. “But it will not be enough to defeat me.”

I shrug. “That’s cool. I don’t have to defeat you. I just have to distract you.”

Ghazt grunts, “Uh?”

And Skaelka swings . . .

Skaelka’s razor-sharp blade slices through Ghazt’s tail! The creature SHRIEKS. His eyes go wide and his face contorts into a “oh no now my tail is just a nub” face.

Instantly, every zombie STOPS. Their arms fall to their sides, stiff, like they’re awaiting orders. They moan quietly. Drool falls.

Suddenly, water sloshes at our feet – it’s old, grimy, and smells like someone forgot to flush. I realize Skaelka’s axe must have split the floor, too.

Ghazt wobbles back and forth. Without his tail, he’s off balance. He lurches to the side, then crashes heavily to the floor.

It cracks open even further.

I see a crisscrossing maze of pipes beneath the floor – and one massive sewer pipe, as wide as a train. The wood begins to crumble completely – like jigsaw puzzle pieces, falling away.

Ghazt’s paws slap, his gnarled nails scrape the floor – but that only makes it worse. Water rushes up around him.

He lashes out, grabbing Evie.

Her eyes lock on to mine. She’s stuck – and she knows it. She’s scared. But more than that – I can tell she looks mad. She forces a never-admit-defeat smile. And then they are pulled under . . .

And like that – Evie and Ghazt are swept up in the rushing sewer water . . . gone.

“Whoa,” I say. “Did we just beat the bad dudes? Already?”

“We beat these bad dudes – yeah,” June says. “The threat is over – at least for a while.”

I grin. “Rad. Mission Operation: COMPLETE.”

Quint approaches the severed tail. “Most important, we’ve removed Ghazt’s ability to control zombies.”

I glance around. Quint’s right. The zombies don’t move. They just stare at the tail. Eyes dull.

All of a sudden, Bardle comes sweeping into the room, stepping over the rubble.

chapter six

Bardle doesn’t seem to be enjoying this. He’s not fist-bumping. He’s not feeling the awesome.

“Bardle?” I ask. “Why aren’t you feeling the awesome?”

“Yeah,” June says. “We crushed that!”

“Exactly!” I say as I give Bardle a big ol’ slap on the back. Which, I discover, is a bad idea, just awful, ’cause in a flash . . .

“Nope!” I say. “Totally not what I desire. In this dimension, a slap on the back just means, like, ‘Hey, cool, good times, buddy – friendly back slaps!’”

Bardle’s confused. “You slap for friendliness?”

“I mean – we don’t say ‘slap for friendliness’ because that sounds deranged. It’s just a – um –”

I’m trying to figure out how to explain when I realize – hoo boy – my hand stings.

It stings way worse than it should after a regular ol’ friendly back slap. It feels like I jammed my hand into a flaming bonfire or grabbed a handful of red-hot coals.

“Argh,”I moan, shaking my hand back and forth. Thankfully, Rover bounds over and showers my palm with cold slobber. The pain subsides some. “Thanks pal, needed that.”

Bardle grabs my wrist. Rover saliva splashes the ground as Bardle turns my hand over, examining it. He blinks quickly. “I suspect that using your blade to manipulate the undead causes it to become hot,” he says. “So hot that wielding it becomes near impossible.”

June stops walking. She cocks her head. Looks me up and down. Then she brings up the ninety-pound Dozer in the room. “Yeah . . .” she says slowly. “We should probably talk about the craziness that went down back there.”

Quint’s eyes are wide. “Jack,” he says. “You controlled a zombie . . .”

I kind of hoped no one would mention it, honestly. I feel a little numb. There’s this feeling like yay, that was rad, but also kind of like yah, this is scary?

“I, uh . . . I guess I did,” I say with a weird little shrug.

Quint, Dirk, and June surround me. Like I’m a specimen at a laboratory. Like I’m some new Jack. Some different Jack.

Then, all together, they explode –

“Wait, wait, hold up,” I stammer. “I feel like there’s a bunch of undeserved credit here. I didn’t do anything! The Slicer did! And the Slicer just happens to be mine! I mean, it’s just a Little League bat!”

Warmth creeps up my neck, across my cheeks.

“Aww, he’s blushing!” Quint says.

June sees that I’m a big bit uncomfortable. Our eyes catch, then June winks at me. Super quickly, she says, “Yeah, but Jack will probably be lousy at the whole ‘Slicer powers’ thing anyway!”

Which is, like, a jab at me. But also a way of removing everyone’s feeling that wow, that was big. The teasing – it makes it all feel normal again. And I appreciate the crud out of June for it.

“Look,” I say. “I – uh – I felt the Slicer burn like that once before. With Ghazt, at the movie theatre. But I didn’t know it could do that . . .”

My friends nod. Bardle’s fingers trace his beard. It’s quiet, and then –

Zombie moans. Loud.

“OK, enough raving about Jack’s strange zombie-controlling ability. We must discuss them,” Quint says, pointing behind us.

June sighs. “We cut off Ghazt’s tail so that he couldn’t control zombies any more. But the zombies weren’t supposed to follow us!”

Quint’s hand shoots up like Hermione Granger in Potions class. “I will study the tail! I will uncover its secrets.”

Bardle looks at Quint – like he’s sizing him up. “Find a weakness in the tail,” Bardle advises. “It may provide insight into weaknesses of other Cosmic Terrors.”

Quint nods. “Wow. Using science to discover the vulnerabilities of interdimensional terrors . . . I will not let you down!”

“But what do we do with these undead bozos?” I wonder aloud.

Skaelka pokes her head in with a scary solution to that problem . . .

Bardle tugs at his rucksack as he thinks. “I suggest, strongly, that you keep them,” he says. “Who knows what is to come . . . ?”

I shrug. “Fair enough. But where are we going to put four hundred zombies?”

“When my hamster died,” Quint says, “my parents told me she went to live on a hamster farm.”

“Your parents sound most deceptive!” Skaelka says happily. “A fine quality in a parental figure!”

June chuckles – she knows what Quint was getting at. “We can ask her,” she says. “But she’s not gonna be happy. . . .”

chapter seven

“She’s not on the can . . .” June says, sighing and pushing through us. “Warg, it’s June! We’re here to give you – um – a really overdue thank-you.”

Oh crud! I realize we never thanked Warg for the whole “saving our buddy from turning into a zombie” thing.

I mean, if your weird aunt sends you a bad book for Christmas – you have to write a literal, physical thank-you note! Warg gave us one of her EYEBALLS to save Dirk – yeah . . . that definitely deserves some gratitude . . .

After a long moment, the door opens. It’s not Warg – it’s one of Warg’s eyeballs, using its body to nudge open the door.

“You first,” I whisper.

“No way,” June says.

“I will go either second or third,” Quint says. “Not first, not last.”

“Aww, geez,” Dirk groans, and he finally just shoves us all inside.

We’re not greeted with a warm welcome.

I flash a grin. “Ahh, you’re just saying that, Wargy. We’re buds! And we owed you a major league thanks for saving Dirk!”

Warg glares. With every eyeball.

“Sooooo, we got you a thank-you gift!” I say.

“What is this gift?” Warg asks, brooding.

“Oh you’re gonna love it! It’s a – um – massive HORDE OF ZOMBIES! All yours! They’re outside! Don’t know where you wanna put them, but we thought maybe the Christmas tree farm? And that way they can’t get out and bite us good folks and also you could maybe look after them? Again – this is a GIFT and you are SO, SO WELCOME.”

“Jack’s just rambling,” Dirk interrupts.

“Am not!” I exclaim. “This is a wonderful gesture I’m doing. It’s the gift that keeps on, uh, decaying!”

Dirk sighs. “Warg, I do wanna say thanks. They told me what you did. And I should, uh, return this.”

Dirk reaches into his bag and pulls out – oh no. The eyeball. It’s flattened and deflated – but it is most definitely the eyeball . . .

I whisper, “Dude, you’ve been carrying that around this whole time?!”

“So cool . . .” Quint says.

The eyeball is gnarly. A month in a backpack can gnarly-fy anything. But a deflated eyeball? Massive nasty.

Warg silently takes it from Dirk and sets it on the ground. Dozens of eyeballs roll off her body, surrounding and inspecting the flattened one.

Thankfully, Bardle appears in the doorway, interrupting this slow-dance-level-awkward moment.

“Quint, June, Dirk – please, bring the zombies inside the farm’s fence,” Bardle says. “Jack stays.”

Quint gives me a look, like I’ve been invited to do something special – and he hasn’t. But then he flashes me a happy thumbs-up, because he’s a bud like that.

Once everyone’s gone, Bardle wastes no time. “Jack, tell Warg what happened. With your blade . . .”

“Uh, well,” I say – and I realize I’m embarrassed and self-conscious. But I tell her everything.

When I’ve finished, all of Warg’s eyes slowly inflate and deflate at the same time. I think it’s the Warg version of, like, a deep sigh. Then she holds out her hand – palm open.

She wants the Slicer. I hesitate. I lost it once – and I won’t let it happen again. But Bardle’s neck gills flex and a rough-sounding grunt comes out.

I hand it over.

Warg runs her hand down the length of the Slicer. “Ghazt . . .” she says softly.

“Correct,” Bardle says. “The power within that blade – it appeared when Ghazt’s energy ripped into this dimension . . .”

Just then, Warg’s eyeballs return to her body. Dirk’s deflated eyeball is gone. Eaten – absorbed, I guess – by the other eyeballs. They look almost restored now that they’re back to their home base.

It’s weird.

Warg rocks forward and says, “I do not want to see this world destroyed, like our home.”

Bardle nods. “And that is why the power within this blade must become known.”

Warg and Bardle exchange a long look. So long, in fact, that I say –

Warg looks at both Bardle and me. “You may keep the zombies here,” she says reluctantly. Her mouth is a hard, stern line. “But – there is one condition.”

“I don’t have to watch you guys make out, do I?” Bardle shoots me a look that says, “Don’t embarrass me in front of the eyeball lady.”

“Wait, are you guys talking some training stuff?” I ask. “Am I about to get trained?”

Suddenly, the weirdness I felt about the zombies is gone because I am NUTSO PSYCHED that we’re talking about training! I give Bardle a probably creepy smile.

Bardle shoots me a “who, me?” look, but I bet he’s secretly fired up to be in on this, because whether he knows it or not, we’re about to do a hardcore training montage. And literally ALL I HAVE EVER WANTED IS A HARDCORE TRAINING MONTAGE!

“YES!” I exclaim. “This is gonna be . . .”

Just then, June calls from outside. “Jack! Get out here! IT’S A PHOTO OP!”

Bardle and Warg follow me outside. My friends are hoisting Ghazt’s tail on to the roof of an old hot cocoa stand.

“This is bigger than the biggest fish my ol’ man ever caught,” Dirk says, impressed.

I can see Dirk feels lousy. But he’s fighting through it. Like when you have a birthday party or something, but then you get the flu but you DON’T WANT to miss it, so you force yourself to try to enjoy it even though you wanna collapse and maybe cry. Dirk’s a trooper.

“Bardle, get in the pic!” June calls. “You too, Rover!”

We all gather close and smile our cheesiest smiles.

Just before Warg snaps the photo, I get this feeling. It’s kinda like that feeling at the end of summer vacation when you see one of those stupid back-to-school sale signs, and it brings the whole perfect summer to a screeching halt; it hits you: these good times end soon.

Things are good now, but they might not be again for a long time . . .

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