Zombie Elementary (19 page)

“Scoot, young fella!” called out Granny. “Don’t let them varmints git yew, neither!” She flashed all her teeth at me.

Then the truck took off in a big donut across the parking lot, honking and flashing all its lights. It had a whole lot of lights. Just in case the zeds didn’t take the bait, Chucky wound down the window as the zombie horde pushed through the main doors and out onto the curb.

“Hey, y’all ugly, green-skinned brain chompers! Catch us if’n y’all can!”

I could tell they didn’t like to be teased. Nobody does.

Chucky had said there were, like
, thousands of zombies all headed for the school, but I guess he was exaggerating. Either that or they’d all gone into the school by now.

I wasn’t complaining, though. I was scared that the whole place would be surrounded by ghouls all jammed up against the windows like a Black Friday sale at Walmart, and I might not be able to get to my classroom. But the outside of the building was pretty much free of the undead when I ran around the building. There was a zombie in a wheelchair having a hard time getting over a speed bump and a couple whose legs had fallen off trying to drag themselves along. I ignored them.

I had to count the outside windows to find my classroom. They all looked the same. I made a mistake
and hauled myself up over the windowsill into Ms. Schuler’s room, which was next to Miss Scoffle’s. The window was busted out, which was a bad sign. Still, the desks were all pretty much lined up and there was no, uh, blood or guts or anything. I guess Ms. Schuler got her class out and up to the library. I looked over to the closet. Yep, they even took their jackets and bags. (I don’t think zombies would steal anyone’s book bag.)

I could walk through this room, out into the hallway, and into the classroom next door. Or I could go back out the window and in through the next one. I decided to go back out, but then I saw that Wheelchair Zombie had made it over the speedbump and was headed alongside the building. Better not. He’d only go all “
BRAIINNNSSS
!!!!” and “
NNGAARRRGGGHHH
!!!!” and alert the other zombies.

So I sneaked to the door, inched it open, and peeked out. The hallway looked empty. I pushed it a bit farther so I could see all the way down the hall. Clear. Other direction: also clear. I stepped out. I tiptoed to Miss Scoffle’s door and looked through the glass. It was dark in there, and quiet. Okay. I went in.

Not as neat in here. The desks and chairs were all over the floor. The window wasn’t broken, though. Maybe the kids just rushed out in a hurry. I walked over to the closet for my bag.

All the bags and coats were here. I guess Miss Scoffle didn’t think about telling the kids to take them. Anyway, I pulled the Louisville Slugger out of its case.

As I turned around, I spotted two feet sticking out from behind the teacher’s desk. Old lady shoes, fat ankles and those weird veins that Miss Scoffle always complains about.

Oh.

I was pretty darn scared. I mean, did the zombies eat the rest of Miss Scoffle? Or did she just get sick? Jackie Mellor’s grandpa had a sudden heart attack at the All-U-Can-Eat Buffet right after he sat down with a plate of fried chicken and waffles. His third.

I had to check. I mean, she was my teacher. It might go on my Permanent Record if I didn’t at least see if she was okay.

I tiptoed toward the desk. “Miss Scoffle,” I whispered. “Are you okay?”

I heard a scraping noise, and one of the old lady feet twitched a bit. And a voice came from behind the desk. It was real slow and scratchy.

“Is that you, Lonnie Mullins?”

Suddenly the desk toppled over with, like
, a real big crash. Miss Scoffle stood up and pointed at me. Just like she did every single day. Except this was different. Her eyes were blazing and her actions were jerky. Plus, she said, “
NNGAARRRGGGGHHH
!!!!”

Actually, she said, “
NNGAARRRGGGGHHH LARRY MULLET
!!!!” which was kind of a first for her.

I ran to the window and smashed the glass with my bat. One strike, two strikes—I was vandalizing school property
and
making a noise in homeroom. I could feel the outstretched wrinkly old-lady hands trying to grab me. Nuh-uh! I dove like I was headed into home plate. I closed my eyes and went straight through the broken window, not even worrying about the bits of glass.

Then I was racing toward the cafeteria, which was around the corner. I didn’t just run straight around the corner, though—I once slammed into the principal doing that and got in trouble. I reached the end of the wall and peeked around. I’m glad I did, because there were waaaay more zombies than just a few minutes ago. I guess all the zeds that had been inside the school were trying to get into the lunchroom. Plus, there were little groups of ghouls coming from all directions. I could see four or five coming over from the Valu-Rite, all pushing shopping carts. Wheelchair Zombie was trying to haul himself out of the chair and up to the cafeteria door. (They really need to get a ramp. It’s the law, I think.)

I had to figure this out.

But I didn’t have much time, because when I looked back, I saw Miss Scoffle hobbling toward me, all “
BRAIIINNNNSSS
!!!” and grabby arms. So I remembered what I saw in one of Jermaine’s DVDs, and pretended to be a zombie myself. Movies can be real educational. I staggered forward with my arms and my tongue stuck out. I don’t know how good it was. I’m not real good at impressions.

Then I saw the back door to the building open. It’s by the dumpsters, with a sign saying “Delivery Zone.” Kids don’t go in that way. The head lunch lady, Elsie, stuck her head out. Then the other lunch ladies followed, and Jeremy the lunch dude too. They ran to a parked van and took off real fast. All except Elsie, who waved and started to walk back inside.

“Hey!” I yelled. I started to run toward her. “Let me in the cafeteria!”

She stared at me. “You’re the boy who brought the message earlier, right? And you’re the kid who told everyone not to eat the cheeseburgers?”

“Yeah,” I replied. “My name is Larry Mullet, and I am not a zombie.”

“Good to know,” she said. “I guess you’d better come in.”

I gotta say
, Francine and Jermaine and Chainsaw Chucky and Granny did a real good job at getting the cafeteria all barracuda’d against the zombies getting in. Maybe the lunch crew had helped before they left, I dunno. They’d put two long tables against the doors, stacked one on top of the other. They’d turned other tables upright and put them over the windows. It was a great job.

“Ah figure this gives us five minutes!” said Chucky when he spotted me. “Glad to have yew back—and yew got the bat!”

“Five minutes?” I said.

“Maybe ten,” he allowed. “Hard to say.”

I heard the zombies banging against the doors and wailing. I heard them thumping on the windows.

Glass splintered and cracked. I thought five was probably right.