“We’re talking about the new neighbors,” I said. “They’re a little weird and —”
“Zombies have moved right next door,” Grandpa Mo interrupted. “Right next door to us. And … people are going to start dying.”
Mom rolled her eyes. “Mo, you have got to stop trying to scare the kids. They’re having a hard enough time getting used to their new home. They don’t need you telling your crazy zombie stories day and night.”
Grandpa Mo turned back to the window. “All my life I’ve had nightmares about zombies,” he said.
“Then why do you want to give the kids nightmares?” Mom demanded. She started to pick up her briefcase. “I have a million test papers to grade tonight. I really don’t have time —”
“But your new neighbors are definitely strange, Mrs. Manzetti,” Alec said. “We met this kid. Trevor. And he acted like maybe he was just waking up from being dead a long time. And —”
“Oh, no,” Mom groaned. “Alec, does Grandpa Mo have you believing in zombies now?”
Alec shrugged. “Well …” His face turned red.
“So many nightmares,” Grandpa Mo mumbled, gazing out the window. “When I was a child, the dreams were so real, I woke up screaming. I can still picture those zombie dreams.”
Mom pointed a finger at him. “Mo, they were just dreams.”
Grandpa Mo shook his head. “I’m not so sure. I never wanted to come back to this house. But I had nowhere else to go.” He motioned to the window. “I don’t feel safe now. I think we should all keep our eyes open.”
He made his way out of the room, his arms crossed over his chest.
Mom sighed. “You kids have to understand. He’s very old and not well. I’m not saying he’s gone a little crazy, but —”
“Mom, there is something very strange about the new neighbors,” I interrupted. “We watched them move in. They have coffins. Three long wooden coffins.”
Mom set her briefcase back down in the chair. She brushed her hair back again. “Coffins? In their house?”
“In their living room,” Alec and I said at the same time.
Mom laughed. “You’re making that up.”
“No way,” Alec and I spoke together again.
“I saw them, too,” Tricia said. “It’s a little strange. But so what?”
“So maybe your grandfather isn’t crazy,” Alec told her.
Mom crossed to the window and peered out at the house next door. “Hey, look — they’re leaving.”
We all rushed to the window in time to see a long black car pull down the driveway. The windows were dark. I couldn’t see anyone inside.
Mom’s green eyes flashed. She grinned. “Do you really think zombies drive a car?” she asked.
“It’s possible,” Alec said. “Do you believe us about the coffins in the living room?”
“No, I don’t,” Mom said. “I think that’s one of Grandpa Mo’s ideas. You probably saw moving cartons.”
I grabbed Mom’s hand and tugged her to the front door. “The coffins are really coffins,” I said. “We didn’t make them up. Come on, we’ll show you.”
Mom pulled back. “You mean, go over there?”
“They just left,” I said. “We can peek in the living room window.”
“When you see the coffins, will you admit it’s totally strange?” Alec asked.
“Yes, I’ll admit it,” Mom said. “It’s totally weird to keep three coffins in your living room. But I don’t believe any of you for a minute.”
“You’ll see,” I said. “We’re not making it up. And we’re not crazy.”
I led the way out the front door and across the lawn to their driveway. The afternoon sun was lowering behind the trees of the graveyard. Long shadows stretched in front of us as we walked.
We passed the front stoop. The door was closed. A small cactus plant in a pot stood in a corner of the stoop.
We walked up to the living room window. It was long and low.
I stepped back and let Mom go first. “Go ahead. Look in the living room. You’ll see them. You’ll see we’re not crazy.”
Mom pressed her face to the window glass. She shielded her eyes with one hand. She gazed into the house for a long moment.
Then she staggered back with a loud gasp. “I … I don’t believe it!” she cried. “Yes. I see them. Three coffins. But … oh, no. Oh, noooo … There’s a human skull resting on one of them. And … I see … I see some kind of creature crawling out of a coffin!”
All three of us stared openmouthed at her. Alec was the first to speak. “I knew it! Your grandfather was right!”
Mom burst out laughing. She has a booming laugh. When she laughs, her whole body shakes. “Look at you. I can’t believe your faces!” she exclaimed. “You actually believed me — didn’t you!”
“No way,” Tricia said. “I didn’t believe it. But Kenny and Alec did.”
My heart was still beating a little fast. “Good joke, Mom,” I said. “You got me with that one.”
“But the coffins …” Alec said. “Mrs. Manzetti, what about the coffins?”
Mom swept her hand to the window. “Take a look.”
We stepped up to the window and peered into the dimly lit living room. No coffins. The coffins were gone.
“They must have moved them,” Alec said.
“Alec, give it a rest,” Mom told him. “You had your joke and I had mine.” We started back to our house.
My head was spinning. I didn’t really know what to think.
I don’t believe in zombies or ghosts or anything like that. So why did I get so creeped out about the weird new neighbors and their coffins? It had to be because of Grandpa Mo’s stories.
We made our way back into the house. “Do you want to stay for dinner?” Mom asked Alec. “Sal is bringing home takeout chicken and French fries.”
“Definitely!” Alec exclaimed. Then he added, “I’d better text my mother.”
* * *
After dinner, we were in the den with the TV on in the background. Alec and I wanted to go back to our Walking Zombies game. But Tricia came in with something else on her mind. The Halloween party.
She dropped down on the floor with her back against the couch. “I thought you guys were going to help me get this party together,” she said.
“No problem,” I said. “What do you want us to do?”
“Everything,” she said. “We haven’t started. We have no plan. We don’t know what we’re doing.”
“I thought we decided it’s going to be a zombie party,” Alec said.
“No, we didn’t,” Tricia replied. “But tell you what …”
“What?”
“I’ll agree to a zombie party if you two agree to do all the invitations.”
Alec and I looked at each other. “Who are we going to invite?” I asked.
“Everyone in our class and the other seventh-grade class,” Tricia said. “I mean, that’s the whole reason for the party, remember? To make new friends from school?”
“I guess Alec and I can do the inviting,” I said.
“If you agree it’s an all-zombie party,” Alec added.
Before Tricia could answer, something on TV caught my eye. It was a bunch of high school kids. They were standing with a reporter who was holding a microphone up to them. It was a news show.
“Hey, check this out,” I said. I turned up the volume. “Why do those teenagers look so frightened?”
We turned to the TV and watched the news report. It didn’t take long to find out why those kids were so scared.
“Was it a prank? Or was it something a lot more frightening?” the news reporter asked. He was a good-looking young guy with curly blond hair and a nice suntan. He wore a pale blue dress shirt open at the neck and straight-legged jeans.
He continued: “With Halloween approaching, these students from Franklin Village High tell a story that could make for the scariest Halloween ever.”
They cut to one of the girls,
dark hair tied back in a ponytail, her face excited. “We were passing the graveyard on Ardmore …,” she said. “That’s where we saw them. We thought they were homeless people camping out in the cemetery.”
The news reporter nodded. The girl continued. “But then they started to come after us. And … and we saw their faces. I started to scream.”
The reporter turned to the camera. “These shaken teenagers say they were chased by a small horde of staggering, rotting zombies that climbed out of the Ardmore Road Cemetery.”
The screen filled with a picture of the cemetery — the one right across from us. The reporter continued:
“Two of these kids are honor students. None of them has ever been in any trouble before.”
One of the boys, a big overweight kid with short black hair and a silver ring in one ear, began to speak. “The zombies were grunting and groaning … reaching for us. They looked so hungry.”
Back to the girl with the ponytail: “Just like zombies on TV. Only they were real. Their skin … it was falling off. Some of them had no eyes. It … it was like a horror show.”
Back to the reporter: “The kids say they ran for their lives. When they were safe, they called 911. Local police are not happy about this. They say they have enough real problems on their hands without having to deal with Halloween pranks.
“But the kids will not be charged. These five teens are convinced it was not a prank. They all believe this is the beginning of the zombie apocalypse we hear so much about. But I’m not so sure I believe their story — not this close to Halloween.”
The girl with the ponytail frowned at him. “I know what I saw,” she said. “They are here!”
The three of us stared in silence at the TV for a long while. The news show continued, but I didn’t hear a word they were saying.
Finally, I clicked it off and turned to Tricia and Alec. “That is totally awesome!” I said.
Alec’s mouth dropped open. “Huh? Why?”
“Those high school kids,” I said. “They got themselves on TV.”
Tricia was squeezing a couch pillow between her hands. She squinted at me. “You think it was a joke?”
“Definitely,” I said. “Of course it was a joke.”
“No way,” Alec said. “Did you see how scared they looked?”
“They’re probably all in drama class,” I said. “They were totally acting. It was a class project.”
Alec jumped up and began pacing back and forth. He looked tense, his hands balled into tight fists. “It wasn’t a joke, Kenny,” he said. “One of the kids would have smiled or winked or something. But you saw their faces. They were terrified.”
“But, Alec —”
“And it happened right across the street. It was just like what your grandfather has been telling us. And it happened right across the street.”
“Whoa. Easy, Alec,” Tricia said. “You’re going to bust a blood vessel.”
I laughed. “And then Alec would become a zombie.”
He let out a hoarse cry. “I … I don’t understand why you two are just sitting there acting calm like nothing happened. I believe what they said. Those teenagers saw real zombies right across the street.”
I shook my head. I started to answer. But an idea flashed into my mind.
It was probably a bad idea. Tricia would think it was totally stupid. But I knew Alec would like it.
“Do you want to be on TV?” I asked.
Alec stopped pacing. “Maybe …”
“I’ve got an awesome idea,” I said. “How about we get a bunch of kids together, and we start a zombie patrol.”
Tricia burst out laughing. “You could wear big Zs on your shirts. And maybe wear a cape and red tights.”
“Ha-ha. You’re so funny,” I said sarcastically.
“What would the zombie patrol do?” Alec asked. His voice cracked. I could see he was scared.
“Well, we’d patrol Franklin Village,” I said. “And search for the zombies that scared those high school kids.”
Alec shook his head. “I don’t know, Kenny. If the zombies really are here …” His voice trailed off.
Tricia jumped up from the couch and went racing upstairs.
“Where are you going?” I shouted.
“You’ll see. Be right back.”
A few seconds later, she returned to the den carrying the butterfly net she’d used for a science project. “Here, Kenny.” She handed it to me.
“What’s this for?” I asked.
She grinned. “It’s a zombie catcher. You just swing the net over the zombie’s head.” She laughed again.
I tossed it to the floor. “Did anyone ever tell you how funny you are?” I snapped.
“Yes,” she said.
“They were wrong,” I said. I turned back to Alec. “So? What do you think of my idea? After that news story, our patrol is sure to get us on TV. And in the newspaper, and everywhere. It’ll go viral. You’ll see.”
“You just think it’s a big joke,” Alec said. “But I don’t.”
“But we could have fun,” I protested. “We’ll say we want to protect our town. Everyone will know us. We’ll be famous!”
Tricia picked up the butterfly net. “Kenny, why do you want to do this crazy thing?” she demanded. “It’s not like you at all.”
“Give me a break. It’s Halloween,” I said. “Why not have some fun?”
“Well … maybe,” Alec said finally.
And that’s how the zombie patrol got started. It was fun for one week — until we found our first real zombies.
Then, we knew we were in terrible danger.
“I’m not really hungry tonight,” Grandpa Mo said.
“Don’t you like your hamburger?” Mom asked, studying him from across the dinner table. “Should I make you something else?”
“Aren’t you feeling well, Pops?” my dad asked, still chewing his burger.
Grandpa Mo had a faraway look in his eyes. I’d noticed it as soon as we sat down to dinner. His white hair, usually perfectly brushed back, stood up in clumps. His face seemed even paler than usual, pale and powdery.
“I’ve been having the zombie dreams again,” he said, shaking his head. “They keep me up at night.”
Dad dabbed a paper napkin at his mouth. “You have to keep reminding yourself they are just dreams, Pops,” he said.
“They seem more than dreams, Sal,” Grandpa Mo told him. “They seem like real life.”
“I remember how vivid your dreams were, even when I was a kid,” Dad said.
Grandpa Mo kept his eyes on the window. It looked out to the graveyard across the street. “The zombies … They want me,” he said softly, as if he was talking to himself. “They are desperate to get me. Sometimes in my dream … Sometimes I can feel their hands wrap around my wrists and try to pull me from my bed.”
“Uh … Pops?” Dad tried to get his attention. But Grandpa Mo’s mind had drifted far away.
“Their hands are so hard,” he said. “Hard and brittle and cold … They grab me. They try to pull me with them.”
“Just dreams,” Mom said.
Dad climbed to his feet and walked around the table to Grandpa Mo. “Here. Let me help you up,” he said. “Why don’t you take a rest? I’ll wake you up for some ice cream later.”
Grandpa Mo nodded. He let Dad guide him out of the dining room.
Shaking her head, Mom went into the kitchen for some more salad.
Tricia and Alec sat across from me. Alec was staying for dinner for the third night in a row. He said his parents were vegetarians, and he never got anything good to eat at home.
“Grandpa Mo is having one of his bad days,” Tricia said.
Alec swallowed a chunk of hamburger. “Kenny, do you think we should tell him about our zombie patrol? Might cheer him up or something.”
“Sshhh.” I put a finger to my mouth. “No way,” I whispered. “And I’m not telling Mom and Dad, either. You know what they’ll say. They’ll say
it’s too dangerous.”
“And stupid,” Tricia chimed in.
I threw an onion ring at her. Missed, and it dropped to the floor.
“Dad already keeps telling me to spend less time on zombie nonsense and more time on my homework,” I whispered to Alec. “We have to keep the patrol a secret.”
“What’s a secret?” Mom asked, walking back into the room with the salad bowl in her hands.
“I can’t tell you,” I said. “It’s a secret.”
She laughed. “You don’t have secrets from your parents — do you, Kenny?”
“Of course not,” I said.
* * *
After dinner, Tricia, Alec, and I went down to the basement. We moved some of the cartons and old furniture to the wall and started to plan the decorations for our Halloween party.
Tricia was excited. She liked parties. But Alec and I had other things on our minds.
Late that night, I couldn’t fall asleep. I kept thinking about the zombie patrol.
So far, Alec and I had four other guys who wanted to be in the group. We planned to meet for our first patrol tomorrow night after dinner.
The others all believed that there might be real zombies in Franklin Village. I was the only one who didn’t think so.
I promised them we’d get on the TV news. Now as I lay there, gazing up at the shadows on my ceiling, I kept thinking: What if they’re right and I’m wrong? Is this zombie patrol idea of mine totally dangerous?
I was finally starting to feel sleepy at two in the morning when I heard a low moan outside my bedroom window.
At first, I thought it was a dog. But the second moan sounded like a human cry.
I sat straight up, wide awake now. And listened. It was a warm night for October, and my bedroom window was open.
Was the cry coming from the graveyard?
A chill rolled down my back.
Another cry. This one sounded like, “Help meeeee.”
I jumped from my bed. My feet tangled in the covers, and I fell to the floor. The sound of the cry from outside stayed in my ears.
I pulled myself up and stumbled to the window.
“Help meeee.”
I pushed the curtains aside and poked my head out of the window. The air felt warm and damp. A bright half-moon sent silvery light washing over the graveyard across the street. The tombstones appeared to gleam in the light.