The Zombie Chasers #4 Read online

  Dedication

  For my sisters,

  Sarah and Hannah

  —J. K.

  For Kathy and Alex

  —D. D.

  Contents

  Dedication

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Excerpt from Nothing Left to Ooze

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author and Illustrator

  Back Ad

  Credits

  Copyright

  About the Publisher

  A chill shivered up Zack Clarke’s legs as he walked barefoot down his deserted street, casting a nervous glance over his shoulder. Suddenly the shadows warped off the lawn and morphed into undead flesh-and-blood figures. Mom and Dad, Rice and Ozzie, Zoe and Madison, and even Twinkles surrounded Zack on all sides, snarling at him through jagged zombie teeth, hungry for brains.

  “Ack!” Zack yelled, and started to run.

  Beep-beep-beep!

  Zack shot straight up in bed, his heart racing. The hotel alarm clock blared in his ear. He reached over and hit the Off button. Just another nightmare, he thought, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes.

  It had been six months since Zack, Rice, Madison, Zoe, and Ozzie reversed the zombie outbreak and unzombified the nation, and for the most part things were finally getting back to normal. Except there was nothing normal about today. Zack and his friends were about to appear on the Good Morning Show for the opening of the new zombie exhibit at the Museum of Natural History.

  Zack looked around the hotel room, bleary-eyed. The television was on and Rice sat on the end of his bed, spooning a bowl of cereal into his mouth, hypnotized by an ancient Tom and Jerry cartoon.

  “What’s going on?” Zack asked, looking over at Ozzie’s cot, which was neatly made with a folded stack of green camouflage T-shirts on the end. “Where’s Ozzie?”

  “He’s already on set. He went with Madison and Zoe, like, twenty minutes ago.” Rice looked at the clock and turned to Zack. “You’d better get moving, man. Our car’s gonna be here in fifteen minutes.”

  Zack grumbled something under his breath, threw off the covers, then walked sluggishly to the bathroom and slammed the door. He had never been much of a morning person.

  The boys rode the elevator down and walked through the lobby out to the street, where a limo driver stood holding a sign: CLARKE & RICE.

  The driver opened the door, and the boys hopped in, sinking down into the cushy leather seats. The limo pulled away from the curb and merged into the honking New York City rush hour.

  “Yo,” Rice said. “How sweet is it that we get to be on TV?”

  “Pretty sweet, I guess.” Zack shrugged. “I don’t know. Did they have to schedule the interview during our school trip to New York City? Almost the entire seventh and eighth grades are going to be there, watching us.”

  “Exactly!” Rice said. “It’s your chance to show off some of that Zack Clarke charm I keep telling the Fearsome Foursome about.” The Fearsome Foursome was a clique of the four most popular girls in seventh grade. Gabby Kahn, Jamie Joran, Mandy Pitman, and Ayana Healy made up the ruthless crew of mini mean girls, and they were a force to be reckoned with.

  “Yeah, about them,” Zack said. “Not interested.”

  “But we’re national heroes now, dude. The old rules don’t apply to us anymore,” Rice said. “Do you know what hanging out with the Fearsome Foursome could do for our street cred? Not to mention, I heard from a fairly reliable source that last week during gym class Gabby said she kind of likes y—”

  “Rice!” Zack shushed his friend, pointing to the driver’s eyes peeking back at them in the rearview mirror. “Dude, we have bigger things to focus on right now,” Zack said. “Like not sounding stupid on live television. Or screwing up the museum exhibit opening.”

  Zack got nervous just giving a presentation in school, and now he was supposed to do a live interview in front of millions of people? Right after the outbreak, Zack and the gang had given a few local interviews back in Arizona, but this was different. This was the big time. He took a deep breath and exhaled slowly, gazing out the window at the crisp blue New York morning.

  The city blocks flew by, and before long the car pulled over to the curb.

  “Here you go, fellas,” said the driver. “The Museum of Natural History.”

  Rice peered over his flashy prescription sunglasses, glanced out the window, and frowned. “What’s this? Where’s the paparazzi? The red carpet?”

  “Real funny, kid,” the driver said. “Now scram.”

  Zack and Rice hopped out of the car. Next to Zack, Rice stood out in shiny black jeans, brand-new high-tops, and a gold chain around his neck. He sported a warm-up jacket over a freshly ironed T-shirt with a red slash X-ing out a BurgerDog logo on the front. The whole outfit looked like something out of a rap video.

  “You look insane,” Zack said, smirking at his pal.

  “Don’t hate the player, Zacky,” Rice said, popping his collar. “Hate the game.” Rice adjusted his sunglasses and swaggered off.

  At the top of the steps, two cameras on tall black tripods faced the front of the museum. Over the entrance hung a large banner that read: NECROINFECTIOUS GENETIC PANDEMIC!

  Zack and Rice walked around the camera setup and found Madison and Zoe sitting under the makeup tent in director-style chairs, getting preshow manicures.

  “Looking good, ladies!” Rice said, stepping inside. He flexed his muscles in the full-length mirror.

  Zoe laughed out loud. “Rice, stop it. You’re so not diesel.”

  Rice ignored Zoe’s comment. “Nice outfit, Madison,” he said, admiring her spring dress and matching high-heeled shoes.

  “Thanks, Ricey-poo,” Madison said, puckering her lips at her own reflection. “You don’t look so bad yourself.”

  “Not so sure I can say the same for you, little bro,” Zoe said, looking her brother up and down.

  Zack glanced down at his plain white shirt and black dress pants. “What’s wrong with this?”

  “Ouch!” Madison let out a high-pitched yelp. “You cut me!” she said, pulling her hand back and glowering at the manicurist.

  “Well, don’t just stand there like an imbecile,” Zoe shouted, pronouncing the last syllable seal. “Go get her a Band-Aid! Now!” She ordered the makeup girl away but kept her eyes on Zack. “You’re going on national television representing your school, your family, and, most important, me, so you can’t be dressing like some lame-o. Madison, can you please back me up?”

  Madison pinched her cut finger and inspected Zack’s wardrobe choice. “Ee-you,” she said. “No offense, Zack, but it’s totally boring!”

  Zack looked Rice dead in the eye. “Dude, why didn’t you tell me my clothes looked totally boring back at the hotel?”

  “Don’t listen to these two,” said Rice. “We have to go to wardrobe anyway, so we’ll have time to give you a quick makeover.”

  Zack shuddered at the thought. No thanks to his sister and Madison, he had developed a slight phobia of people trying to make him look pretty.

  Rice put his arm around Zack’s shoulders and gave him a squeeze. “Don’t worry, buddy . . . no girls allowed this time.”

  They found their way to the wardrobe trailer across the street on Central Park West, but as Zack reache
d for the door, it flew open in his face.

  Wham!

  The door kicker struck a rigid pose and made a long, high-pitched shriek like a martial-arts master in a kung fu flick.

  Ozzie Briggs stood in the doorframe wearing a white karate gi with a black belt cinched around his waist.

  “Nice kick, Oz!” Rice said, in awe of his pal.

  “What’s up, Ozzie?” Zack said, slapping him five. “You scared the crud out of me.”

  “Sorry, man. Just getting warmed up for my little demonstration,” Ozzie replied, tightening his belt. “I’ve got to get ready backstage, guys. Check you on the flip side.” He grabbed his nunchakus and exited the trailer.

  A few minutes later Zack emerged from the dressing room in a pair of skinny blue jeans and a hip-looking button-down with extra buttons and pockets to make it look extra cool. According to Rice, there was a direct correlation between something’s coolness and the amount of pockets, loops, buttons, and straps it had. Zack checked himself out in the full-length mirror. Rice wasn’t such a bad stylist after all.

  As the boys stepped out of the trailer, some guy with a headpiece and microphone walked up to them and said, “Two-minute warning. They need you on standby.”

  As Zack and Rice followed the TV guy up the museum steps, they looked down and saw a mass of people assembled outside the red velvet ropes. In the crowd, three tween girls held up signs for each of the boys.

  I LOVE YOU, ZC!

  RICE, WILL YOU MARRY ME?

  CALL ME, OZZIE! 867-5309—JENNY.

  Rice blew a little smooch to the girl holding up the marriage proposal, and she fainted into the arms of her two friends. Zack crinkled his eyebrows and kept moving, trying to ignore them. Another crew member rushed Zack and Rice to their spots next to Madison and Zoe.

  Zack felt the butterflies fluttering in his belly.

  “Five . . . four . . . three . . . two . . . one!” The cameras were rolling and they were live.

  The host turned and spoke directly to the camera.

  “Six months ago our world was turned into a nightmare of undead carnage. The whole country was on the brink of annihilation. And if not for the efforts of a few middle schoolers from Phoenix, Arizona, we all might still be zombified. Please welcome Zack and Zoe Clarke, Johnston Rice, and the one, the only Madison Miller.” The audience applauded as the four of them waved to the cheering crowd.

  Madison leaned over and grabbed the microphone from the host. “Don’t forget about Twinkles,” she said, and pulled the little Boggle puppy from her purse.

  “How could I have forgotten Twinkles?” The host smiled at Madison and continued. “Together these unlikely heroes transported the zombie antidote across the country to BurgerDog CEO and famed geneticist Thaddeus Duplessis, who helped them mass-produce the brain-flavored unzombifying popcorn antidote.” The TV host turned to them. “What were you all feeling when you confronted the person to blame for this utter catastrophe?”

  “Honestly,” Zoe piped up first, “I really wanted to make him pay for what he did. I mean, he was totally responsible for zombifying this.” She waved her hand in front of her face.

  “Tragic.” The host nodded thoughtfully, shuffling her note cards. “The next question is for Madison: What was going through your mind when you realized America’s only hope for survival was you?”

  “Um, it was pretty intense,” Madison said. “I mean, I was happy to do it. But once we made all that popcorn, it was nice to get a break from being the antidote.” She paused, flipping her hair to the side. “All I really know is, there’s no way I’d even be here right now if it weren’t for these guys watching my back.”

  “And neither would any of us,” said the host, and the crowd cheered. “Zack, how about you? What was it like to hold the fate of the world in your hands?”

  “Well,” said Zack, “it was scary, and there wasn’t a lot of time to think about what to do next. We just kind of reacted and went with our instincts and—”

  “Yeah,” Rice cut him off. “Take me, for instance. Like, one day I’m watching zombies get their butts kicked in some movie—can I say ‘butt’ on TV?”

  “Uh-huh.” The host nodded yes, and Rice continued.

  “And then the next day, I’m out there chasing actual zombies with my friends. It was awesome!”

  “So, Rice,” said the host as she cleared her throat. “Tell us what you’ve been up to now that your zombie-chasing days are over.”

  “Actually,” Rice said coyly, “I’m workshopping a musical comedy I wrote over the winter. It’s a Shake-spearean hip-hopera entitled Much Ado about Yo Mama.”

  The host cracked a smile. “That sounds wonderful, Rice. Now, everyone, please welcome Oswald Briggs!”

  The crowd clapped, but Ozzie was nowhere in sight. The cameraman panned across the platform. Then, as the camera swung back, Ozzie catapulted out from behind a pillar into a long series of backflip handsprings. He landed in crouching-tiger position, alert, gripping his nunchaku, ready for battle.

  The crowd gasped involuntarily and then cheered.

  All of a sudden a band of zombie stuntmen appeared from behind two curtained-off areas of the stage and staggered toward Ozzie.

  “Blargghlesgargles!” moaned the undead phonies.

  The crowd gasped again. With a combination of kicks, jabs, flips, and elbow chops, Ozzie took down the band of “undead” stuntmen one by one. He did a flying gymnastic cartwheel round-off combo to finish the routine, leaving the entire zombie stunt team conked out on the floor.

  The audience erupted as Ozzie took a bow and then trotted over to join his friends for the rest of the interview.

  “Ozzie,” the host said, “you are obviously a talented martial artist, but what are you doing now that you’re done saving the world from legions of the undead?”

  “Well,” Ozzie began, “after me and my dad moved to Phoenix and I started school with these guys, my dad and I created a charity with Rice’s dad, who makes prosthetic robotic limbs for a living. The charity sponsors people who lost an arm or a leg during the BurgerDog outbreak, but can’t afford the procedure. So far we’ve supplied over one thousand less fortunate people with new limbs.”

  “Give it up for the Zombie Chasers, everyone. America’s heroes!” the host said. “And now, we are proud to have a very special guest. Please welcome the mayor of New York City!”

  The mayor sauntered onstage, leaned over the podium, and spoke into the microphone. “On behalf of the five boroughs, I present to you exceptional young men and women the key to the city of New York. Thank you for your fine display of teamwork and perseverance in our country’s desperate time of need.”

  Zack walked over first and shook the mayor’s hand. Then all five of them posed for a picture and accepted their keys to the city.

  With the crowd cheering, Madison snipped the ribbon hung across the entrance, and the museum doors opened.

  Zack took a long deep breath and sighed, thankful that the hard part of the trip was over.

  Zack, Rice, and Ozzie strolled through the high-ceilinged foyer of the museum. A few feet inside the exhibit stood three life-size wax statues illustrating the different stages of zombie decomposition. The third and most grotesque zombie replica slouched with a hunch in the shoulders, its arms drooping below the knee. Large areas of skin were melted away, revealing slick, glossy patches of red meat beneath the flesh. Farther down, a massive stuffed zombie cow-pig from the BurgerDog cattle ranch stared down on them from a large pedestal, with a placard that read: BOVINE HOG. It was almost more revolting now than when it was alive.

  “Check it out,” Rice said, pointing toward a big aquarium on the other side of the room. The boys raced over and peered at the live jellyfish specimen treading water in the middle of the tank.

  “That’s what zombified the BurgerDog virus,” Rice said.

  “Come on, dork brains,” Madison said, strolling through the museum gallery. “They’re about to show a movie about u
s.”

  “Yes,” Zoe said in a motherly tone. “There will be plenty of time to be complete losers later on.”

  The girls skipped off and vanished to the front of the line gathering outside the screening room.

  A few minutes later, the boys took their reserved seats in front. The theater was a blank white room equipped with a projector and a few rows of seats on each side.

  The lights dimmed and the screen lit up.

  The documentary began with a series of clips from the news footage during the outbreak, followed by a brief history of Thaddeus Duplessis, the creator of BurgerDog. Next there were interviews with their parents, Colonel Briggs, Greg Bansal-Jones, Sergeant Patrick, and Private Michaels. There was also authentic security camera footage from their trek across the country, their pit stop at the Mall of America, and their journey to the BurgerDog cattle ranch way out in Montana.

  All of a sudden the projector cut out and another scene interrupted the documentary.

  Zack watched in disbelief as black-and-white spy-cam footage of his bedroom flashed on the big screen, and a techno dance beat thumped in the background. Zack knew the song immediately. It was his favorite song to geek out to when he was alone in his room. Zack jumped into the frame wearing a white T-shirt and plaid pajama pants before trying out a series of embarrassing dance moves in front of the mirror.

  The audience started to laugh. Zack turned around and looked behind him. The Fearsome Foursome giggled in the back row. Above them, Zack caught a glimpse of two silhouettes up in the projection booth: Madison and Zoe, doubled over with laughter. When they saw Zack watching them, they both smiled at him and gave a little wave.

  Rice looked at Zack. “You want to get them back for this?”

  Zack took a deep breath. “Absolutely.”

  “Good,” said Rice. “I’ve got just the thing. We have to wait until the timing is perfect, though.” He patted the contents of his trusty backpack and the documentary came back on.

  The film concluded with a newsreel chronicle of Operation: Scatterbrains where dozens of fire planes dumped loads of brain-flavored, antidote-covered popcorn across the continent. As the lights turned back on, the crowd applauded. Some of his classmates were still snickering, but Zack couldn’t help but smile. They had saved the world—no matter how many times his sister could embarrass him—and that never stopped being the coolest thing ever.