The Zombie Chasers #4 (3 page)

Rice glanced up at their Spanish teacher, gave her his best aw-shucks face, and then passed her the remote control.

Zoe stood up and walked over. “Thanks, Mrs. G,” she said, handing their chaperone the other half of the mischievous gadget, shaking her head. “Kids today.” Zoe then turned to the boys as their teacher walked away. “I'm glad you three had your little fun.” She scowled. “Because for the rest of this trip you all better sleep with one eye open.”

“Yeah, yeah, Zoe,” Ozzie said under his breath as Zoe turned away. “We're real scared.”

“Okay, everyone!” Ms. Merriweather raised her voice above all their conversations. “Please throw away your plates and form a single-file line over there.” She pointed to the black entry gate leading in and out of the park, where two bright red double-decker tour buses had just pulled up to the curb.

“I call front seat on the top level!” yelled Zack as he dumped his trash and took off running.

“Last one there is a rotten zombie!” Rice's voice trailed off as they hustled for the buses.

Z
ack, Rice, and Ozzie peered off the observation deck at the top of the Empire State Building as the sun lowered on the horizon. The sky blazed bright red-orange with streaks of pink clouds. The boys gazed out across the panoramic view of the big city. From the hundred and second floor of the skyscraper, the New Yorkers below looked tinier than ants, more like the size of ticks, hustling and bustling by the thousands upon thousands all over the concrete island of Manhattan.

“Check it out,” Ozzie said, pointing south toward Liberty Island. “That's where we just were.”

From that height they could see all the places they had gone throughout the day. First they had visited Ellis Island and the Statue of Liberty, the 9/11 Memorial, then up through SoHo and over to Greenwich Village. While the girls had gone shopping, the boys stopped at a street food cart and had a contest to see who could eat the most falafel balls. Rice won that contest hands down, with Zack coming in a close second.

It was a pretty fun trip, but Zack was dying to get back to the hotel. His feet were killing him.

Ms. Merriweather looked at her watch and raised her hand, getting everyone's attention. “Everybody line up!”

Zack jumped in line behind Madison, and the students began to shuffle back inside single-file.

“Psst!” Rice grabbed Zack by the shirt collar and yanked him around the corner of the observation deck. They waited there until the coast was clear.

“What the heck, man?” Zack said, massaging his neck. “That's gonna leave a mark.” Rice ignored him, dropping to one knee and opening up his trusty backpack. “Dude, what are you doing?” asked Zack.

“I'm going to reenact the finale scene from
King Kong
real quick. . . .” Rice rummaged around in his pack and produced a gorilla mask, a Barbie doll, and a model airplane strung to a wooden stick.

“Fine. Just hurry up.” Zack chuckled to himself. “I don't want to get in trouble with Mrs. G.” Zack took Rice's smartphone and clicked the camera icon.

“Okay,” Rice said, pulling the mask over his head. “Let's do this.” He stood in front of the New York skyline and began to make some startlingly realistic monkey noises. In one hand he held the Barbie; in the other, he dangled the model airplane strung to the stick so that it dive-bombed in front of his face.

Zack clicked a few different pictures and then scrolled through them. “I think we got it,” he said. “Can we go now?”

Rice took off the King Kong mask. He was sweating bullets. “Whew! This thing is hot as heck!” He took a deep breath and exhaled slowly.

“You okay, man?” Zack pocketed the smartphone and raised an eyebrow at his friend. “You don't look so great.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, I'm good. I'm good. . . .” Then, all of a sudden, Rice fell to his knees and flopped to one side on the ground. He clutched his stomach and let out a painful groan, coughing and squawking as a wave of spasms rippled through his spine.

“Dude, give it a rest!” Zack said. “I told you, like, three months ago I'm not falling for any more of your stupid zombie fakeouts.”

Down on the ground, Rice clutched his throat and gagged melodramatically before his body went completely limp. His head lolled to the side, and his tongue hung out of his mouth.

“I swear, if you're messing with me . . .” Zack knelt down next to Rice. Something was wrong. He grabbed Rice's wrist but couldn't find his pulse. Rice wasn't breathing either! Zack's heart started beating wildly as his best friend's slumped body started to wriggle and convulse again uncontrollably.

“Somebody help!” Zack called out. But no one heard him. They were all alone out on the observation deck. He laid his friend's head down on the ground and ran for the door. Behind him Rice shot up with a jolt, growling like a zombie.

Zack spun around as the boy who cried zombie hauled himself up and wobbled in place with his arms out in front of him. “Ha ha, real funny!” Zack shouted.But this was no joke.

Rice's face was twisted in a horrible grimace. His eyes were dull and pallid, and his complexion was rapidly turning a grayish green. The veins around his eyes spiderwebbed suddenly, as if they had been pumped full of dark green ink. Rice's left eye was focused slightly off center, while the right eyeball looked directly at Zack.

Zombie Rice hobbled across the deck and launched himself at Zack.
“Blaaargh!”

“Dude!” Zack screamed, backing away quickly. “Chill!”

Rice lunged at Zack again, screeching like a savage hyena. He swiped his arms wildly, his hands whizzing by an inch in front of Zack's nose.

Zack backpedaled and tripped on an orange-and-white cone, falling back into a sectioned-off corner of the deck where the guardrail was undergoing construction. Zombie Rice kept after him, thrashing through the construction area. He waddled slowly forward with twin fangs of saliva drooling from his mouth. Zack reached over quickly and picked up a metal pipe, then hopped to his feet and raised it defensively. “Rice, if you don't stop trying to eat my brains, I will be forced to hit you with this really freaking hard. Do you understand?”

Rice sneered at Zack with a blank-eyed stare and a mischievous half smile.
“Gibble-gabble-glarghle!”
he blabbered, and charged forward once again.

Zack raised the pipe like a batter bunting a fastball and deflected his rezombified friend's attack, sending Rice flying into the broken guardrail.

“Rice!” Zack called, rushing to the spot as his best friend flipped clean over the side of the Empire State Building. Peering over the ledge, Zack gasped in horror. The steel bars creaked as zombie Rice dangled one hundred and two stories above the ground, hanging with both hands from the bent metal guardrail.

Zack felt a surge of panic rushing through his chest and stretched his arm as far as it would go. “Come on, buddy,” he urged, finally coiling his fingers around Rice's wrist.

Zombie Rice abandoned the guardrail and instead grabbed Zack's forearm with both zombified hands. Zack strained with every ounce of strength he had, but he couldn't lift Rice to save his life. Zack didn't know how much longer he could hold on.

“Ow, dude!” Zack yelled, almost losing his grip as zombie Rice gnawed at Zack's finger joints. “No, no, no! Bad zombie!” He grimaced, tightening his grasp despite the pain of being Rice's knuckle sandwich.

“Here, Rice,” Zack said, bowing his head. “I got brains, right here . . . all you can eat! Come and get 'em.”

Immediately, Zack's voice caught his undead friend's attention, and with his newfound target in sight, zombie Rice scaled the side of the building using Zack's arm for leverage and his delicious brain-filled cranium as motivation. As Rice reached the top, Zack gave one final heave, pulling with all his might. Rice tumbled over the ledge and landed face-first on top of the observation deck. Zack toppled backward and landed on the ground in crab-walk position, completely out of breath.

Zombie Rice rose mechanically off the ground and lumbered relentlessly toward Zack like a demonic windup robot. Rice's jaw hung wide-open, and he let forth a ferocious howl that shook the little punching bag thingy dangling at the back of his throat.

“Dude, what the heck?” Zack backed up on the heels of his palms, huffing and puffing. He scrambled to his feet and sprinted away from Rice to the outdoor storage closet on the deck. Rice approached him, biting the air savagely in front of him as if he were bobbing for apples.

Zack baited himself in front of the door, waiting for Rice to waddle over. “Come on, slowpoke,” he said, scrutinizing his friend's zombie walk.

Rice had a pretty good shuffle and a first-rate snarl. Way better than any of his phony zombie impressions. As his rezombified friend neared the closet, Zack leaped swiftly out of the way, shoved Rice inside, and slammed the door shut.

“Phew.” Zack sighed and stood for a moment in the semidarkness of the twilit sky. He clapped the dirt off his palms, then bolted inside the skyscraper, hustling to find the others.

At the end of the hallway, Zoe, Madison, and Ozzie were waiting for the elevator.

“You guys.” Zack panted, slow to catch his breath. “Come quick. You gotta see this. Rice just—”

“Yo, little bro,” Zoe cut him off. “Ms. M and Mrs. G are going to be so ticked off at you guys. You're really late.” A big smile stretched across her face. “They'll probably call Mom and Dad on you.” Zoe exhaled a self-satisfied sigh. “You're going to be in so much trouble.”

“Hate to break it to you,” Zack said. “But we're all in trouble.”

“Not me,” Madison said. “I never get in trouble.”

“Yeah, dork brains. We didn't do anything,” Zoe said. “You're the one who's gonna get grounded by the parental units.”

“Maybe,” Zack said. “If Mom and Dad aren't rezombified already.”

“Did you just say rezombified?” Ozzie asked.

“Yes, I did, Ozzie,” Zack snapped at them all. “It's a word I just had to make up when my best friend turned back into a flesh-eating mutant and tried to kill me.”