Zombie Bums from Uranus (18 page)

‘Well, don't worry about it because I'm not doing it and that's final,' said Zack's bum. ‘Tell him, Zack.'

‘He's right,' said Zack to the Forker. ‘It's too dangerous. There's got to be another way.'

‘It's the ONLY way!' said the Forker. ‘We know the zombie bums are impervious to forking, flicking and pinching. There's too many to melt and the smoke is too dangerous. But we might be able to get them to move if we can convince them that there's plenty of fresh hosts waiting for them in the Maggotorium. And the only way we can convince them of that is to send your bum out there and let them know about it.'

‘But I can't dance!' said Zack's bum, jumping up into Zack's arms for protection.

‘Anyone can learn to dance,' said the Forker. ‘It's just a matter of practice. And besides, this is a very simple dance. You can move your arm up and down—like so—I presume?' The Forker moved his arm up and down.

‘Yes,' said Zack's bum, ‘of course, but . . .'

‘You can turn around, can't you?' said the Forker, turning around. ‘Like this?'

Zack's bum nodded. ‘Yes, I can do all that, but . . .'

‘Then you can do the dance!' said the Forker.

‘You're forgetting one important thing, though,' said Zack's bum. ‘I don't look like a zombie bum anymore than you do! I'm pink and they're blue! I'm alive and they're dead!'

‘We can fix that with a little bumouflage,' said the Forker.

‘No!' said Zack's bum. ‘I won't do it. And that's final!'

‘You'll be a hero,' said the Flicker.

‘You'll save the world!' said Gran.

‘You could even be the first bum to be nominated for the Bum Hunters' Hall of Fame,' said the Forker.

‘On the other hand,' said Zack's bum, ‘I might get zombie-bummified!'

‘Not if you do exactly as I tell you,' said the Forker.

Zack's bum sighed heavily.

The bum-fighters reached for their clothespegs.

Zack could see the sense in the Forker's suggestion. He spoke quietly to his bum. ‘If you do this,' he said, ‘I'll give you your very own fluffy pink toilet seat cover.'

‘And extra soft toilet tissue?' said his bum.

‘
Extra
extra soft toilet tissue,' said Zack.

‘And no smacks ever again?'

Zack hesitated, then agreed. ‘No smacks.'

‘Ever?' said his bum.

‘Ever,' promised Zack.

‘And your fingers aren't crossed?' said his bum.

Zack held up his hand and wiggled his fingers.

‘Okay,' said his bum.

Zack looked at the others. ‘He'll do it,' he said.

‘Hang on,' said Eleanor. ‘How do we know that we can trust it to give the zombie bums the right information? Your bum might not be a zombie bum, but it
is
a bum. And not so long ago it was trying to take over the world. How do we know that it's not going to go out there and just tell them exactly where we are?'

Zack's bum looked hurt. ‘I guess you'll just have to trust me,' it said.

‘I'll never trust a bum as long as I live!' said Eleanor.

‘You're just saying that because you're jealous,' said Zack. ‘Just because you cut your own bum loose!'

‘Bum sympathiser!' said Eleanor, taking a swing at Zack.

‘Language
and
manners!' said Gran, sharply. ‘I don't like bums any more than you do, soldier, but let's not forget who the real enemy is here. And let's also not forget that you're a young lady.'

Eleanor glared at them all. ‘Fine,' she said. ‘So let me get this straight. Our plan pretty much consists of
relying on a bum-sympathising traitor who very recently tried to kill an entire team of bum-fighters, a load of mutated maggots who very recently were blocking our escape from the Maggotorium, and a megalomaniac bum who very recently tried to create a bumcano that would kill every human being on Earth. Am I correct?'

‘No,' said Zack's bum. ‘I didn't know the bumcano was going to kill everyone . . . that was the Great White Bum's idea . . . It told us that it would just put you out of action for a little while.'

‘Oh, that's right,' said Eleanor. ‘My mistake. You just wanted to put a bum on the head of every human being on the planet and put their heads where their bums should be.'

‘I said I was sorry,' said Zack's bum. ‘So did the Kisser.'

‘Oh, silly me!' said Eleanor, striking her head with the palm of her hand. ‘I forgot. You said “sorry”! Well that makes it all right then, doesn't it? Gee! What a good plan! Sounds absolutely foolproof. Wish I'd thought of it myself!'

‘Mind your sarcasm!' said Gran. ‘It may not be the greatest plan in the world but it's better than nothing. Another cup of tea, anyone?'

Exactly one hour later, Eleanor flew the bum-mobile towards the centre of Mabeltown. Normally she would have done all she could to conceal their arrival,
but this time she flew low and revved the engines loudly to make sure they were well noticed.

‘Oh no,' said Zack as he looked out of the window at the scene below them.

‘What is it?' said Zack's bum, jumping up onto his lap.

‘Look,' said Zack.

The normally quiet shopping strip was filled with zombies. Zombies staggering around with enormous bums. Huge bums. They were at least three times as big as the bums that had originally landed. Zack was amazed that the zombies could walk at all, and in fact, as he looked closer, he discovered that many of them had simply collapsed face-first under their own weight. Others were sitting up against shop windows holding their stomachs as if they'd eaten too much Christmas dinner. Those that could still stagger appeared to be intent on eating non-stop. They were filling their faces with food—or whatever they could get their hands on. A crowd of zombies were fighting over the contents of a rubbish bin. Others—clearly even more desperate—were on their knees licking the road.

‘This is terrible,' said the Forker, standing behind Zack.

‘There's nothing left,' said the Flicker.

‘But they can't stop eating,' said Gran. ‘Not while the bums are attached.'

When Eleanor was sure that every scrounging zombie and zombie bum in the vicinity was aware that they were there, she landed. There was a soft bump as the bum-mobile came to rest. Zack was
nervously applying his bum's bumoflauge with blue eyeshadow and mascara.

‘Watch out for my eye!' said his bum. ‘That stuff stings!'

‘Sorry,' said Zack. ‘But you keep moving!'

‘I'm only doing what the Forker is telling me to do!' said Zack's bum.

‘Okay, let's go over it one more time,' said the Forker.

‘I KNOW it already!' said Zack's bum.

‘Humour me,' said the Forker.

Zack's bum sighed and repeated what the Forker had taught him. ‘I let them know there's a huge supply of maggot-hosts, so I wriggle like a maggot.'

‘Shouldn't be too hard,' said Eleanor under her breath.

‘What did you say?' said Zack's bum.

‘Nothing,' said Eleanor.

‘Ignore her,' said the Forker. ‘Do the maggot!'

Zack's bum self-consciously put its arms in the air and wriggled and swayed like a belly dancer.

Zack tried to stifle a nervous laugh.

‘Shut up!' said his bum. ‘I'd like to see you do better.'

Zack shook his head. ‘I couldn't,' he said. He wasn't lying, either. Not only had he failed his Junior Bum-fighters' League entrance exam three times, he'd also embarrassed himself at school dance classes. It wasn't that he didn't
want
to dance, it's that he just had no idea
how
to dance. He knew that the girls in the class dreaded being his partner. He would step too fast, or too slow, or simply step on their toes.
He'd drop them when he was supposed to catch them. When it came to dancing he was a one-man walking disaster area. Except for the hokey pokey. He was very good at the hokey pokey. But then, that wasn't saying much. A two-year-old could dance the hokey pokey.

Zack's bum finished its impression of a maggot.

‘Good!' said the Forker. ‘Now, where is the Maggotorium? Show me the direction.'

‘It's north-east of the town, so I point this way,' said Zack's bum, extending its arm towards the back of the bum-mobile.

‘No!' said the Forker. ‘That's south-west! Come on! We've been over and over this!'

‘Okay, okay,' said Zack's bum pointing towards the front of the bum-mobile. ‘North-east! There . . . How's that?'

‘Better,' said the Forker, biting his lip. ‘And how far?'

‘It's two kilometres from the centre of town to the Maggotorium,' said Zack's bum, pumping its right arm in the air, ‘so I shake my arm twice.'

The Forker nodded uncertainly. ‘Okay,' he said. ‘Do you want to go through it one more time?'

‘NO!' said Zack's bum, jumping up from its seat and pushing Zack's hand away. ‘And no more makeup either. I don't want to look like a cissy.'

‘Uh-oh,' said Eleanor. ‘Looks like we've got company.'

Zack looked out the window.

Although they'd only been stationary for a few minutes the bum-mobile was completely surrounded—as
far as they could see—by zombies and zombie bums.

‘I sure hope this works,' said Eleanor.

‘Me too,' said Zack's bum, gulping, as it prepared to leave the bum-mobile.

Gran saluted Zack's bum. ‘It's a brave thing you're doing, soldier!' she said.

Zack shook his bum's hand. ‘Good luck,' he said. ‘May your bum be with you.'

‘I
am
a bum, you idiot,' said Zack's bum, climbing the hatch ladder.

‘Don't forget that it's north-east!' called out the Forker. ‘Not south-west.'

‘No worries!' said Zack's bum. ‘Not south-west . . . It's north-east!' It pointed to the south-west again.

‘NO!' yelled the Forker. ‘It's—'

‘Just kidding,' said Zack's bum and it disappeared out of the hatch.

Zack watched nervously through the windscreen as his bum climbed out onto the nose of the bum-mobile.

The zombies and zombie bums surged in closer.

Zack's bum started to do the moves the Forker had taught it.

It wriggled.

It pointed.

It shook its right arm twice.

The zombies and zombie bums watched it closely, without moving, while Zack's bum did the moves over and over and over again.

And then they attacked.

Zombie bums flew through the air, knocking Zack's bum over. It grabbed onto the side of the
bum-mobile and held on tightly as the zombies tried to pull it down into the crowd.

‘I should have known this would happen!' screamed Eleanor, desperately trying to power up the bum-mobile.

‘I can't understand it,' said the Forker. ‘He did it exactly like I taught him . . .'

Zack looked at his bum. All the colour had drained from it. It was terrified.

‘I have to go and save my bum!' yelled Zack.

‘Have you got methane madness?' said Eleanor. ‘You'll be zombie-bummified for sure!'

Zack stopped. How was he going to save his bum?

He hadn't learnt the dance. And it didn't work anyway. And even if he
had
learnt it—which he hadn't—and even if it
did
work—which it didn't—he couldn't dance. Except for the hokey pokey, of course . . .

But that was it!

The Blind Bum-feeler had told him to do the hokey pokey, and that he would know when to do it. And if there was any time to do the hokey pokey, it was right now.

‘I'm going to do the hokey pokey!' said Zack.

‘You definitely
have
got methane madness,' said Eleanor.

But Zack was already halfway out of the bum-mobile.

Outside the air was rancid with zombie bum stench. It was almost as bad as the black smoke. Zack could hardly breathe.

‘Zack,' called his bum. ‘Help me!'

‘Okay!' he said to his bum. ‘But you have to do exactly what I tell you to!'

‘You're the boss,' said his shaking bum.

‘Put your left foot in,' said Zack, putting his left foot in.

His bum followed.

‘Now put your left foot out,' said Zack, putting his left foot out.

Zack watched as his bum copied. He also noted that quite a few of the zombies were copying as well.

‘Now put your left foot in and shake it all about,' said Zack.

But then his bum stopped. ‘What's this all about?' it said.

‘Just look out there,' said Zack, ‘and you'll see!'

Zack and his bum looked, and to their amazement, they saw that every single zombie bum had abandoned its human host and was doing the hokey pokey. The dance had a strange hypnotic power over them.