Hey, my friend, don’t worry,
Life can sting sometimes.
Like juice gets in a hangnail,
When you squeeze ripe limes.
But if you take my haaaaaand
Life can be so graaaaaaaaand!
“Sorry,” said Liz. “The zombies made me feel musical.”
Jeff smiled a weak smile at her. “Thanks. It worked. I do feel better.” He looked up at the silver radar dish spinning on his roof two streets away. “My dad’s home. He’ll help us. Come on!”
They took the corner of Maple and Elm at full speed, and ran for Jeff’s house on Birch Street.
Liz looked around as she ran. In the distance, she saw the Plan Nine Drive-in. Mr. Vickers was moving the floodlights for tonight’s big premiere.
An image flashed into her mind. Last week’s opening night. Lights flooding the dark sky. To bring in out of towners to see the movie.
Something oozed in her mind. Out of towners? Maybe the lights did work. “Jeff. When did they find that spot on Mars?”
“A few dogs — I mean — a few days ago,” Jeff said.
Clouds drifted across the giant July sun. A breeze swept in. Suddenly Liz’s brain clicked.
“The Martians saw the lights! That’s why they’re here! And they surfed out of the lake — ”
Before she could finish, she heard something.
Tap-tappa-tap. Tappa-tappa-tap.
Bongo drums.
8
Alone!
“Zombies!” screeched Liz. “Ruuunnnn!”
The kids shot off as if they had rockets on their feet. A second later the street behind them was filled with a groaning band of Martian zombies!
“OHHHHHHH!” the zombies moaned. Leading them was knob-face, the tall creature with the pulsing forehead. He gestured once and the Martians grunted and charged after the kids.
“Uh-oh!” yelled Jeff. “They’re doing that commando thing again!”
Jeff and Liz tore off between two houses. All the while the zombies were gurgling really dumb words —
We don’t ride planes,
We don’t take trains,
We don’t need canes,
We have no veins,
We just eat brains!
That’s right, uh-huh,
We just eat braaaaaaains!
“Boy, where do they come up with those words?” Jeff huffed, running for a low hedge.
But Liz took a shortcut across the Sweeneys’ front corner. Their sprinkler was on.
“Hey, you!” Mr. Sweeney cried from the door as Liz trampled the grass. “My lawn! My lawn!”
But she couldn’t stop to explain. Not with zombies after her!
Suddenly, she slipped on the wet grass, and took a spill. Jeff leaped over the far hedge. Knob-face called out commands to the commandos and they split into two squads, one going after Jeff while the other shuffled after Liz.
“Run, Jeff!” Liz shouted as she tried to escape down Oak Lane. She ran panting to her front door, tumbled in, and slammed it behind her.
Still the zombies came. Liz leaped to a window. She saw knob-face motioning for his creatures to surround the entire house.
“Mom!” Liz screamed out. No answer.
She ran from room to room, shouting.
“Mom! Mom!”
No answer.
Of course! Her mother was at work. It was lunchtime. She owned a restaurant! Where else would she be? Outside, the horrible creatures began pounding on the windows.
“No!” Liz scrambled to the phone on the kitchen counter. The red light on the answering machine was blinking. Liz pressed the button.
Beep went the machine. “Hi, honey,” began her mother’s voice. “I’ll be at the Diner all day today waiting for cold cuts. Hope you’re having fun. Love you!” Beep.
Liz fumbled for the phone. She dialed the number. It began to ring.
Suddenly — boom! Boom! Boom! The zombies were hurling themselves at the doors.
“Mom!”
“Hi, dear,” her mother answered. “Did you -”
“Mom!” Liz yelled into the phone. “Outside the house! The living dead. Gray, flaky skin — ”
“Mrs. Krafnutter? Dear, she’s very old.”
“No, Mom!” Liz could hardly form the words.
Boom! Boom! The windows rattled. The front door shook on its hinges. They were getting in!
RRRRRR! came a loud sound from the phone.
“I’m sorry, dear,” her mother interrupted. “I can’t hear you! The truck from Santa Mira just pulled up here. I have to go. See you in a bit!”
Nnnnnnnn. Her mother had hung up.
“No!” Liz cried out to the empty house. She threw the phone down and ran upstairs, tripping three times before finally reaching the landing.
CRASH! The sound of glass shattering!
“You won’t get me!” she screeched, leaping for her bedroom door and slamming it behind her. She turned the bolt.
Suddenly — KKKRREEUNNCH!
The door blew off its hinges! Liz tumbled to the floor. A huge gray creature shuffled in!
Its skin was flaking off like ash on a burnt log. Its forehead bulged and breathed like a lung.
It smelled like something dead.
Flump! A piece of its cheek fell to the floor and shattered into dust.
It was something dead!
“Brains!” gurgled the horrible voice.
A flaky finger shot up at her forehead. Liz swooned. Her breakfast tumbled in her stomach and lurched up her throat.
The creature dived at her.
Everything went dark.
9
One of — Them!
Boom-boom-boom!
It sounded like the whole house was under attack. The front door was being pounded and knocked and kicked!
Liz felt herself trying to run away.
But something was holding her down! Something cold and lifeless. She felt it across her face.
She opened her eyes.
It was — a hand!
It was — her own hand!
She lay sprawled on her bedroom floor amid all the scraps of wood that were once the door.
Then she noticed the light coming from the window. It was different. The sun was nearly down. It was almost nighttime.
Boom-boom-boom!
“They’re still after me!” Liz bolted to her feet, looking for somewhere to hide. Then she caught a glimpse of her face in the mirror on her wall. She stared into it, lifting her bangs off her forehead. “Please, no …” She held her breath.
No spot!
She breathed out again.
Boom-boom-boom!
“Liz! Liz! Open the door!” cried a voice. “Please!”
What? Martian zombies aren’t usually so polite! Liz rushed downstairs and pulled the front door open. Jeff tumbled in.
“We’ve gotta hurry!” he gasped. “It’s really late and I can’t find Holly anywhere! She’s not home. She’s out there!” He pointed to downtown Grover’s Mill.
Liz stared at Jeff’s face. It was all wrinkled up in a frown that Liz knew was Jeff’s way of showing fear. “No time for a song, pal. Let’s go!”
They ran out the door and down the street toward the center of town.
Jeff huffed to keep up. “I told my dad everything, and he said there was no such thing as zombies. Then he disappeared into his little room and I heard buzzing and beeping.”
“We’ll have to get into that room someday, Jeff,” Liz said. “But for now, we need to run!”
They flew full speed to the end of Oak Lane, then up Birch Street. The shadows were getting longer, spookier. The sun was dipping behind the purple mountains to the west.
Liz turned to Jeff. She was trembling all over. “Jeff, a zombie attacked me in my house.”
“Did he get your forehead?” Jeff asked.
“No,” she said. “I’m okay. But I don’t really know why he didn’t get me. I guess I fainted. When I woke up, he was go
ne.”
“Maybe Martian zombies are picky about what they eat.” Jeff turned the corner toward Main Street. “Maybe they like their brains weird or something.”
“Then Grover’s Mill will be All-You-Can-Eat!” Suddenly, Liz stopped running. The scene before her was a nightmare.
Hundreds of zombie surf commandos from Mars were pouring out from every alley, lane, road, and street in Grover’s Mill. They charged over every square inch of downtown!
Stomping, scraping, shuffling, groaning, moaning, and whining filled the air.
Everyone ran wildly to escape. They cried out in terror! They tried to run! But everywhere ugly zombies were tapping foreheads!
Rob and Bob, the Double Dunk twins shrieked and scrambled inside the Donut Den.
Principal Bell, still trailing a slip of bathroom tissue from his sandal, tumbled away from a band of growling attackers.
“Whoa!” shouted Jeff, “I’m going to make like a tree and — leave!” He took off down the street.
“No!” shouted Liz. She grabbed his arm, zigzagged through a line of parked cars, and ducked into the registration gill of the fish-shaped Baits Motel. “Jeff, I’m going to say something to you that they say in every junky movie I’ve ever seen.”
“Like what? We’re going to die here?” said Jeff, peering from the gill to see old Mr. Usher flinging pancakes at zombies charging his restaurant.
“No.” Liz shook her head. She took a breath. Terror stampeded through her kathumping heart as she spoke. “Jeff, it’s all up to us!”
“Yeah, right,” he snorted, almost laughing. Then he looked into her face. “You’re serious! You mean it? Us?”
Liz pointed at the incredible scene before them. Zombies shuffled over every inch of Grover’s Mill. People were screaming and running. “The zombies want brains. They’ll stop at nothing.”
Jeff paused for a moment. “I guess you’re right. We can’t let them take over.”
“Oh, it wouldn’t be so bad,” a voice droned behind them. “Why not let the zombies get you?”
Jeff whirled around and stared into the shadows of the Baits Motel. He grabbed Liz with one hand while he cupped his mouth with the other, trying to keep his breakfast in. All that mustard.
If he had a third hand, he would have pointed it at what he saw. He didn’t, so he just nodded.
Liz turned. “No!” she gasped.
“Become one of us!” the voice groaned from the shadows.
Liz felt sick when she saw the eyes roll around so dull and blank.
The figure stretched out its arms and shuffled toward them, leaving little gray sneaker prints behind it on the floor.
“Holly!” Liz gasped. “You’re a zombie!”
10
Kid Brains
Holly Vickers shuffled closer, her fingers pointing at the two wrinkling foreheads in front of her. “Mmmm. Brains!”
A shock of pain pierced Liz. Her best friend in the world had gone creepy. Liz felt even more alone. She stepped back. “Stop!” she shouted. “This is stupid! You’re Holly Vickers. You’re not a zombie! At least not yet.”
Holly stopped and wobbled. Her skin wasn’t flaky yet, but it was turning gray and the spot on her head was bigger. Her eyeballs were dry and staring. Her arms stuck out stiff in front of her.
The slapping and tapping of the zombie bongo drums was like a war chant filling Liz’s ears. She remembered the words of the creepy beach song.
Fresh brains are good for what ails us,
Until the mother ship sails us!
Suddenly — JRIZZZZ! — an idea sparked in Liz’s mind. Everything fell into place like marbles on a Chinese checkers game. She brightened like a lightbulb in an oven when you click the switch.
“Yes!” she said.
“What is it?” asked Jeff.
Liz craned her neck and looked down the street. “The Donut says it’s almost eight o’clock. We have to hurry!”
Jeff stared at her. “What? Are you hungry?”
“Yeah, for popcorn. We’re going to the movies! Now grab Holly and follow me,” Liz said.
Jeff pulled back. “No way. She’s not gonna eat my brain!”
The screams from the street sounded horrible.
“Holly doesn’t want your brain, Jeff. At least not yet. And if we act fast, she never will.”
He frowned. “What’s wrong with my brain?”
“Jeff!” cried Liz. “Work with me here!”
Jeff swallowed hard and grabbed Holly’s outstretched arms. “Oh, all right, come on.”
“O … kay …” zombie Holly droned.
The three kids crept along the sidewalk, keeping close to the buildings. Night was falling quickly. The streetlights cast eerie shadows on the pavement.
“Why are we going to the movies?” Jeff asked.
“I’m starting to figure some things out,” said Liz.
“Good, because I’m not,” said Jeff, darting looks everywhere.
“Okay,” Liz began. “Martians are flying by Grover’s Mill, right? I mean, of course they are. This is the UFO landing center of the universe. Anyway, they see the flood-lights from last week’s movie. But something happens and they crash in Lake Lake.”
“Martians crash,” Jeff repeated thoughtfully. “Uh-huh, go on.”
“But the minute they hit Earth’s atmosphere — blam! — they start flaking apart! And they attack us because they’re way hungry and need brains to keep them from drying out.”
“Wow, when you say it, it sounds so simple!” Jeff said.
“But I think I know how to get rid of them,” said Liz.
“You do?” asked Jeff.
Liz nodded, took a deep breath, and told Jeff her amazing plan. Every single detail about how it was supposed to work. When she was done, she said, “And that’s how we do it!”
“That’s it?” Jeff screwed up his face as if he were sucking on one of those limes she sang about. “But you’d need incredible split-second timing. No way. It’s too weird. Too dumb. Too impossible!”
Liz smiled. “Sure — anywhere else in the universe. But this is — ”
“The Weird Zone?” Jeff offered.
“Exactly!” Liz gazed up and down the street. She had her eye on the Plan Nine Drive-in. It was almost eight o’clock. She didn’t want to miss that movie. “This alley behind us looks safe. If we follow the back street, then shoot straight for the gates of the Drive-in, we should make it.”
They started down the alley. The glow from a yellow streetlight cast deep shadows on the walls. A truck was parked at the end of the alley.
“Ohhhh!” A groan.
Something moved in the shadows.
“Who — who — who’s there?” Jeff asked.
A large shape emerged into the yellow glow of the streetlight.
“Principal Bell!” cried Liz, running up to him. “Boy are we glad to see you. We need to get to the Drive-in, fast! Can you help us find a way to — ”
But, Principal Bell wasn’t the same somehow.
His skin was as gray as the linoleum in the main hallway of school, only it wasn’t shiny like that floor. It was dusty like the floor gets when Mr. Sweeney the janitor puts that green stuff down after a kid throws up.
The look from Mr. Bell’s eyes was dead. There was a big dark spot on his forehead. And as he lurched forward, he tilted from side to side like a kid on a bike with training wheels.
“Um … Principal Bell?”
“Ohhhh!” he groaned as he lunged for them.
“We’re studying very hard!” Liz blurted out.
Mr. Bell stopped.
“Um … yeah!” Jeff added. “We’re sticking to the summer reading program. Ten books so far. Fat ones!”
“Books,” the man droned. “Summer reading.”
This seemed to make a difference to the zombie Mr. Bell. “Gooood,” he groaned, nodding. He pointed to the end of the alley. “Truck. Drive.”
“Hurray!” shouted Jeff. “He’s like H
olly. He’s not a total zombie yet. He’s still human!”
“Well, let’s not get carried away,” Liz whispered under her breath.
A moment later, Principal Bell was at the wheel of the old truck. Liz, Jeff, and Holly were crammed into the seat beside him.
“To the end of the street!” shouted Liz.
“Street,” Mr. Bell droned, jamming his socked and sandaled half-zombie foot to the floor.
They rounded the corner from the alley and ran right into the Martian commandos.
RRRRRRRRR! went the truck.
Beep! Beep! went the horn.
“Ohhhhh!” went the zombies.
Principal Bell cranked the wheel and spun the truck around as dozens of zombies charged.
A Martian lunged for the truck and grabbed the door. Mr. Bell veered sharply again, and the Martian fell off. Well, most of him did. A flaky gray hand dangled from the door handle.
“They want us!” cried Jeff. “We’ve got the only living brains in a hundred miles that are good enough to eat.”
Liz knew he was right. Kid brains were the best. It was all that reading for Mr. Bell’s program. Mr. Bell — if he was ever Mr. Bell again — would be proud.
The zombies abandoned the truck and charged once again at the helpless townspeople.
Poor Zoners, thought Liz. Even they deserve to live! She glanced back at the giant donut. Two minutes left! And only the most impossible luck would keep her incredibly complicated plan from falling apart like day-old zombie skin!
KRRRRAACKKKK!
Principal Bell burst through the giant gates of the Drive-in and screeched to a stop at exactly one minute before eight. “Movie!” he droned.
Jeff jumped out and shut the iron gates.
Liz jumped out and opened them again.
“Hey,” Jeff yelled back. “Close those! The ugly dudes will get in.”
“That’s the idea!” Liz called out.
11
Zombie Fighters!
Liz grabbed Holly and ran straight for the old wooden ticket booth just inside the gate. Holly’s father, Mr. Vickers, was inside. He screamed when he saw his zombie daughter, then reached for his video camera. “Holly, don’t move.”
Jeff tumbled into the booth. “Mr. Vickers! We’ve got good news and bad news. The good news is you’ll get a lot of people at your movie tonight. The bad news is — they’re dead!”