Dawn of the Zombie Apocalypse

by Murray, Lee

  What?!

  Straddling my chest and with one hand on my neck, half-choking me, Ava thrust her face into mine. “Seb!”

  I pushed her off me, shuffling her sideways onto the couch. “What’s the matter?” I said. I sat up, the sofa throw slipping to the floor. Sun flooded through the windows.

  “Visitor,” said Ava.

  She followed me to the front door.

  “It’s me,” Darren’s voice called from the other side.

  I opened the door. He had his mother with him, and Talia too.

  “Um…hi,” I said, flattening my hair with my hand. He could’ve warned me he was bringing Talia, but I could guess why he hadn’t. Darren was more cautious than a kitten at a dog park. He wouldn’t have wanted to use the phone in case he got the virus, too.

  “So much for sleeping on it,” Darren said, pushing his way inside. “I hoped we might be lucky, that it might just be a short-term thing, but nothing’s changed. Mum’s been on her phone all night.”

  I stood back as Talia guided Darren’s mum—who was still texting—over the step, then closed the door before Ava could attempt an escape.

  Darren stopped in the middle of the lounge. Eyes wide, he glanced about. “What happened to your house?” he exclaimed.

  I followed his gaze, to the kitchen where greasy pots and plates were heaped by the sink, to Ava’s grubby clothes and the soggy tea towels in a heap on the floor, the swimming box in the middle of the lounge, a pair of goggles, a flipper and a plastic snorkel spewing over the side, the first aid kit on the bench, the big slops of water everywhere, and Dad and Jason still in a trance at the table.

  “I… I—”

  “Give him a break, Darren,” Talia cut in. She led Mrs Howard around the box of swimming stuff and settled her on the sofa. “You’ve only had one person to worry about. Poor Seb’s had to look after his whole family, including Ava.”

  Exactly. I couldn’t have said it better. Darren had no idea the level of responsibility I’d had to endure. There was Grandma, Dad, Jason, Ava, Mum…

  Mum!

  Oh no. I’d forgotten to take her up her dinner. It was still on a plate in the microwave where Grandma had left it. Cold liver and onions. I almost gagged thinking about it. But Mum might eat it. She hadn’t had anything in over a day.

  Talia was giving Cody a good scratch behind his ears. “And you had to be fed too, didn’t you, boy?” she said, screwing up her nose.

  Whoops.

  Happily, Cody’s tail thumped on the floor. I exhaled in relief. At least, I could count on Cody not to give anything away. I’d have to remember to feed him this morning.

  “Sorry, Seb,” said Darren, sinking onto the sofa beside his mum. “I wasn’t thinking.”

  Talia took Ava by the hand. “I think Ava needs changing,” she said to me. “I can do it if you like?”

  “That would… I can… I’ll need to show you where the changing table is.” I stumbled over the words.

  “That’s okay,” Talia said. “Ava can show me. Can’t you, Ava?” Ava nodded and they disappeared upstairs.

  I turned on Darren. “Why didn’t you tell me you were bringing Talia? You’re supposed to give a guy some warning before you bring the prettiest girl in school to his house.”

  “The prettiest? Talia? But Penny’s…” he mumbled, clearly struggling to come up with an excuse.

  I fumed into the kitchen, Darren trailing me.

  “Look, Seb, it’s not my fault she’s here,” he said. “I ran into her on the way and she insisted on coming. She’d been to Sunnynook to check on the residents.”

  “She must be really desperate to get that badge,” I said, scooping a cup of dog food into Cody’s bowl. Thankfully, Talia wasn’t here to see how ravenous he was. I handed Darren Cody’s water bowl.

  “She said she’d wanted to check something,” Darren said, using the shower hose attachment to fill the bowl. “Turns out the Sunnynook oldies—most of them anyway—haven’t been affected. Just the staff.”

  “How does that help us?” I said, stepping sideways to avoid the spray from the tap.

  “It proves whatever’s going on has something to do with the game software, doesn’t it? Or with the internet.” He turned off the tap and put the water bowl on the floor for Cody.

  “How do you figure that?”

  “Well, because old people aren’t really that connected to the Internet, are they? Not as much as everyone else. They’re too busy playing bridge, going to Zumba classes, knitting baby booties, going to book club. Keeping themselves busy.”

  “I suppose.” What he was saying made sense. Grandma didn’t do Zumba, but she was a member of the gardening club and she liked ballroom dancing. Move it or lose it was one of her favourite sayings.

  I tipped some Honey Puffs into two bowls—one for Dad and one for Jason—and slid the bowls onto the table. I gave the cereal packet a shake.

  “What about your mum?” I tilted my head towards Mrs Howard, who was texting on the sofa.

  Darren shook his head. “Nah, that’s okay. I already gave Mum some toast.” He leaned in to me and lowered his voice. “She ate it like a robot. Like that.” He pointed to Dad and Jason, who were scarfing their cereal.

  Before this happened, Dad would have gone off at me if he saw me eating like that.

  Before all this happened…

  I pulled my shoulders back. “We’re going to sort this,” I said.

  “But Seb,” Darren whispered, his lower lip quivering. “What if we don’t?”

  I didn’t get to reply because Talia came downstairs, Grand­ma and Ava with her. Wearing her Dora the Explorer t-shirt and a pair of leggings, Ava jumped the last step.

  “Jumpity-jump,” she said as she landed.

  “Good morning!” Grandma said cheerily to Mrs Howard. Darren’s mum didn’t reply. I’d never known her to be so quiet, or so rude.

  Grandma frowned.

  “Um… I’m sorry, Mrs MacKay,” Darren said, bustling over and resting a hand on his mum’s shoulder. “Mum isn’t herself today.”

  Grandma’s face softened into friendly wrinkles. “It’s this dreadful virus, isn’t it? Seb’s dad has exactly been the same. Blocked sinuses mucking with their hearing, I think. Good thing you three are all well.” She hugged Ava to her side. “And my wee Ava, of course.” Taking Ava’s hand, she swung her arm backwards and forwards a couple of times. “Speaking of which, hadn’t you three better get off to school?”

  Darren’s head snapped up. Talia threw me a wary look.

  “Um—”

  “Now, I know you’re all worried,” Grandma said firmly, “but you still need to go to school. It’s like the man said, education is your passport to the future.”

  “I have to get Ava and Mum their breakfast,” I said.

  “No, you don’t. I can look after things here. And keep an eye on your mum too, Darren.”

  Darren gripped the back of a chair. Talia bit her lip.

  “The thing is…the thing is…” I spluttered. The thing is what? That our teacher Mrs Pike was probably a zombie. That the coach Mr Davies was definitely a zombie. That the chances of school being open today were zilcho because every single adult we knew, maybe every adult on the planet—with the exception of some scattered-brained octogenarians—had been turned into zombies. School was the least of our worries. If something didn’t happen to reverse the effects of the virus soon, we might never have to go to school again. “The thing is…there’s a late start today,” I blurted.

  “Yes, that’s right, Mrs Mackay,” Darren chimed in quickly. “We don’t need to be there until late today. It’s a teacher-only morning. For teacher training.”

  I smirked. “And some of them really need it.”

  “Seb,” Grandma scolded.

  Grinning, I grabbed the Honey Puff b
ox and rolled my eyes, signalling to Darren and Talia to meet me outside on the deck.

  “Right then, let’s get you some toast, shall we, Ava?” Grandma said as I was closing the door. “What on earth is all this water on the floor?”

  CHAPTER 13

  On the deck, Darren perched on the orange computer chair we’d left there overnight, while Talia took a seat on the swing chair. Kicking the paddling pool carcass aside, I flopped on the deck, my back to a pillar. Then I plunged my hand into the box of Honey Puffs and pulled out a big fistful.

  “Thanks for backing me up in there,” I said to Darren, stuffing sticky Honey Puffs into my mouth. “Grandma theems to think it’s a weal epidemic,” I said, accidentally spitting Honey Puffs onto the lawn. I handed Darren the cereal box.

  “It is a real epidemic,” Darren said, taking the box. “Just not the sort your grandma understands.” He jammed his hand in up to his elbow. The box was nearly empty.

  “It’s what I told the residents at Sunnynook,” Talia said. “I said the staff were infected by the epidemic so the centre had had to be quarantined, which meant the residents would have to look after themselves for a few days.”

  Darren rolled towards her, the castors thrumming on the boards of the deck. He offered her the Honey Puffs. “They believed you?”

  “They did, actually,” said Talia, putting her hand in the box and coming away with two measly puffs. She took the empty box from him and put it on the floor. “To be honest, I think they liked the idea of being more independent. They said it’d be like going to camp.”

  “Yeah,” said Darren. “I guess.”

  There was a pause while we crunched on our dry Honey Puffs. No one wanted to ask the next question.

  The 64-million dollar question.

  “They’re all fine by the way,” said Talia eventually. “The residents. Everyone at Sunnynook.”

  Darren kicked back the computer chair onto two castors, his hand on the wall for balance. “Well, they’re not exactly the target market for the Dawn of the Zombie Apocalypse.”

  “Then we agree it was the game that’s caused it?” Talia said.

  A wave of anger hit me. I stood up and folded my arms across my chest. “Okay, I admit it, I said. “I did it. I’m the Nasty Bad Person who let the game escape into the universe. What difference does it make how it happened? The thing is, how do we make it stop? How do we get back to normal?”

  Now it was Talia’s turn to fold her arms. “Of course, it matters how it happened, you goofball!” she said.

  Darren coughed. Talia clamped her lips in a thin line.

  “What Talia is trying to say,” said Darren, “is that knowing how it happened could be important to reversing the effects, or at least stopping the virus from spreading.”

  I dropped my arms. “It’s too late. It’ll be everywhere. I wouldn’t be surprised if aliens on distant planets have been listening to the Earth’s broadcasts and now they’re zombies, too.”

  “Well, at least you saved the world from that invasion,” Darren said, grinning.

  I cuffed him on the shoulder, nearly making him fall off the chair.

  “Come on, guys. Stop mucking around. We need to think. What are we going to do?” said Talia.

  “Talia’s right. We should brainstorm some ideas. We’ll write on this,” Darren said. Grabbing the cereal box, he yanked the empty plastic bag out, and ripping the cardboard, he turned it inside out. He fished a pencil stub from the pocket of his shorts. “Okay, give me your ideas. We’re brainstorming, so anything goes. Don’t hold back.”

  I launched in with the first suggestion. “We build a massive bonfire and destroy all the computers.”

  Talia arched an eyebrow, but Darren wrote it down. “Fire. Destroy computers. Got it.”

  “We go to LA and blow up Chaos’ Head Office,” I said.

  “Blow…up…head…office,” Darren said.

  Talia rolled her eyes.

  “What else?” Darren twirled the tip of his pencil into the cardboard.

  “We could go to Greenland,” I suggested.

  “Greenland?” Talia and Darren said together.

  “Yeah. It’s a big place with lots of forest. And it’s covered in ice. They might not have much Internet. We could hole up there and wait out the apocalypse.”

  “And just how are we going to get to Greenland, Seb?” Talia said, tapping her foot on the deck.

  “I don’t know, do I? We’re brainstorming.”

  “I’m not writing down Greenland, Seb, okay?” Darren said. “Not because it isn’t a good idea, but logistically I think it’s going to be too hard to achieve.”

  They both looked at me. I brushed the Honey Puff crumbs off my shorts and nodded. “Okay. Leave Greenland off.” I could look up ‘logistically’ in the dictionary later. “What say we develop a vampire game and include a subliminal over­drive to counter the zombies?”

  Talia leaned forward. “Do you know how to do that?” she asked.

  “No,” I said, “But someone might.”

  “Oh for goodness sake,” Talia said. Leaning back again, she folded her arms and rocked the swing chair back and forth. She was annoyed. I could tell. Probably because I was the one coming up with all the good ideas.

  “What if we disable the school server?” she said.

  I already knew that wouldn’t work. The virus had spread further than a bunch of polystyrene balls leaking out of a beanbag. Just look at how many people had been affected. But I didn’t want to upset her, so I didn’t say anything. Darren didn’t either, carefully adding Talia’s suggestion to the list.

  “Can you read out what we’ve got so far?” Talia said

  Darren read out the ideas. “Any other suggestions?”

  I had heaps. I was just getting started. “We blindfold everyone, so they can’t use their computers,” I said. “Send an SOS to the White House, put the zombies on a cruise ship and—”

  “Seb! Not so fast,” groaned Darren.

  “It doesn’t matter. They’ll never work!” Talia wailed.

  “Well, what about—we just turn off the power?”

  Darren stopped writing. Talia sat up, staring at me.

  CHAPTER 14

  “That’s brilliant, Seb!” Darren jumped up. “It’s so simple. We turn off the power, people’s computers and phones go flat and they snap out of it. Voilà, zombies-be-gone.”

  Talia stood up too, the swing chair rocking gently behind her. “Just Seb’s place, though, right?” she said.

  “Why just my place?” I asked. “Why not the town power? Bridgetown’s Power Hub isn’t that far away. It’s over by Riverview Park. We could bike there.”

  “And just how do you propose shutting down the power once we get there?” Talia said, tapping her foot on the deck again. At this rate, she was going to wear out her trainers.

  “There’ll be a big switch somewhere obvious,” I replied. “Most likely a big black one.”

  Talia sighed. “We can’t,” she said.

  “Why not? Darren thinks it’s a good idea. It’s two against one.”

  Talia looked at me like I was dog poo stuck to her shoe. “Because, goofball, there might be people on respirators or tiny babies in incubators, that’s why. Those people need electricity to stay alive. We can’t just go turning off the power willy-nilly.”

  “Then we rig up bikes to the equipment, use mechanical power. Get our friends to help—”

  Talia put her hands on her hips. “Honestly, Seb, do you really think—”

  Darren stepped between us, like a referee. “Guys, let’s just start with this house. See if it works first, okay?”

  I looked at Talia. Her eyes were welling up with tears, making them all glossy. I forgot girls can be emotional. Mum and Ava were often emotional. Dad used to say we boys ju
st had to roll with it. Anything for an easy life, he said.

  Right now, I could really do with an easier life.

  “Okay, sure,” I said, giving Talia a goofy grin, ’cause I thought she needed cheering up. “The plug board is this way.”

  I led my friends through the kitchen to the laundry. The push­chair was still out from yesterday, so it was a squeeze to get us all into the tiny space. I stepped into the basket of dirty washing and opened the plug box. Inside was a checker­board of black and white switches.

  With one hand on Darren’s shoulder, Talia peered into the box. “Which one is it?” she asked.

  “It’ll be the big black one,” I said, feeling smug. I was pretty sure I’d seen Dad flick that one the last time all the fuses blew. At least, I think I did.

  “You sure?” Darren said.

  “Yes.”

  “Seb—” Talia warned.

  I jumped up and flicked it. I hadn’t even landed back in the washing basket before Dad’s beer fridge stopped its humming, and the lights blinked out on the washing machine.

  “I guess it’s the right one,” Darren said.

  “Let’s see if it worked,” said Talia.

  We crept around the corner, almost too scared to look.

  So far nothing had happened. Dad and Jason were tapping away as usual. Their computers were still working.

  In the kitchen, an empty teacup in her hand, Grandma was switching the kettle on and off. She shook her head and made that tsk-tsk sound that old people make when they’re not happy about something. “Oh dear. Seb, I think your mum’s kettle has finally given up the ghost,” she said.

  Ava lifted her juice box to Grandma.