Dawn of the Zombie Apocalypse

by Murray, Lee

  Ava pulled at the front of my t-shirt. “Ava’s turn.”

  Her face was streaked with tears. None of this was her fault. I gave her the paper cups to play with instead.

  She sat on the floor and began pulling them off the stack. “One…two…free…”

  I relaxed. It was okay. She was okay. My baby sister wasn’t a zombie.

  “I think Seb was just worried about Ava catching the virus from the screen,” Talia said to Grandma. “Phones are smothered in germs. They’re highly infectious.”

  Grandma nodded. “That’s true. Still, I think I’ll make you all some nice sandwiches. Nobody’s at their best when they’re hungry.” She gave me a stern look.

  “Four…five…six…”

  “A sandwich would be great!” Darren said extra-cheerily.

  “Egg and lettuce? Cheese and pickle?” Grandma said.

  “Peanut butter and jelly?” Darren looked out from under his lashes. “A PB and J would definitely make me feel better.”

  “PB and J it is. Talia?”

  “Yes please, Mrs Mackay. Just cheese.”

  “Seven…eight…nine…”

  All this talking of food made me realise how hungry I was. I was ravenous. No wonder I felt so flat. All I’d had to eat today was a handful of honey puffs and a chocolate chip cookie. Maybe Grandma wasn’t completely useless, after all.

  “Seb?”

  “Sardines, please.”

  “Ten!”

  Talia and Darren shared a smile.

  “What? What’s wrong with sardines? They’re good for you.”

  “And it looks like your fresh air experiment is doing the world of good for our invalids.” Grandma nodded towards the window and the zombies outside. “If you ask me, they’re definitely perking up. Right, sandwiches…” She turned and went into the kitchen.

  “Eleventy-one…” chanted Ava.

  I looked down. There were paper cups all over the floor.

  CHAPTER 23

  Ava was having great fun. She put a cup over her mouth and made brumming noises, quickly lifting it to her ear to listen to herself. Cody came out from behind the toy box to investigate. Ava squished her cup over his ear. “Brum-brum,” she said.

  I started stacking the cups. Talia handed me one that had rolled close to her feet. “How’s it going outside?”

  Darren was back at the window, checking on his marv­ellous hose-fountain invention. “It’s awesome,” he said. “They’re using it. Maybe I should patent my idea. I could make millions.”

  Talia kept her eyes on the floor, picking up the cups, but I thought I saw her lips turn upwards.

  “Yeah, maybe,” I said.

  Grandma called me from the kitchen. “Seb, can you help me with the sandwiches, please?”

  Putting the cups down, I went through, coming back with the sandwiches and a ball of string. Dragging himself away from the window, Darren said, “What’s the string for?”

  Grandma handed out napkins. Darren took one, and a bite of his PB and J.

  “A present for Ava.”

  “Pwesent for me? Where’s a pwesent?” Ava threw herself at me.

  “Eat your sandwich first,” I said.

  When I’d finished my sandwich and was feeling better, I cut a piece of string about the length of a tennis court. “Can I borrow your pencil?” I asked Darren.

  Except for Grandma, we were sitting on the floor. Darren lifted his bum and rummaged in his pocket, passing me the pencil stub he’d used when we were brainstorming. I pushed the tip into the waxy cardboard, punching a hole in the bottom of two cups, and handed it back.

  “Thanks.”

  Next, I threaded each end of the string through the holes and tied them off with a knot. “Here. Hold this to your ear,” I told Ava. She grasped the cup in buttery hands, squashing it to her ear as I’d shown her.

  “Hold it tight.” I crawled to the other side of the living room. Whoops, the string was too long. I pulled the excess up inside the cup until the cord between us was taut.

  “Brum-brum!” I said into my end of the paper cup phone.

  Ava’s eyes widened. They were as round as bumper boats.

  “Brum-brum,” I said again. She couldn’t play with the cell phone, but she could pretend.

  “Grandma talk!” Ava shrieked. I handed my end to Grandma and when they’d got the string taut again, the pair of them had a conversation, which went something like:

  Grandma: Brum-brum.

  Ava: Brum-brum.

  Grandma: Brum-brum to you, brum-brum-be doo.

  I left them to it, turning to Talia and Darren. “So, any idea how we’re going to get the music to all the zombies in town?”

  Balling up her napkin, Talia stretched her legs out in front of her and leaned back against the sofa. “Even if we could find a bigger box, we can’t make the music any louder. Too much noise can cause permanent deafness.”

  Darren nodded. “And even if we had a hundred CD players, we’d still have to spread them around town.”

  “It’s a pity we don’t own an ice-cream van.” I’d said it not really thinking, but Talia drew in her breath quickly.

  What? What did that drawn-in breath mean?

  Then I had an idea. I jumped up, avoiding Cody who was playing nose soccer with a paper cup, and went into the kitchen. I grabbed the keys to Dad’s ute from the hook by the door.

  “What are you doing? You can’t drive,” Darren hissed when he saw the keys in my hand.

  “No, but Grandma can.”

  Grandma lowered her paper cup. “Oh no, I can’t drive, dear. My driver licence expired.”

  “When?”

  “Now, let me think…it was a couple of years ago…just after Jason was born. No, that’s not right, it was after you were born.”

  My heart sank. My maths was bad, but for once I didn’t need Darren to tell me the answer. Gran’s licence expired over a decade ago. “But you still know how to drive, right Grandma?”

  “Oh yes. It’s like riding a bike. Once you’ve learned, you don’t forget. I was about your age when I had my first lesson. It was in the back paddock of my parents’ farm—”

  “Let’s try it anyway,” I blurted. In that instant I realised that not only were there no grown-ups to tell us what to do, there were no grown-ups to tell us what not to do. I felt a rush, like I’d just eaten an entire packet of gummy bears.

  We could do whatever we liked!

  “What’s that, dear?”

  “Would you drive us to school please, Grandma? I need to drop some books in the library chute. They’re overdue.”

  Talia rolled her eyes. I know it was lame, but it was the first thing to pop into my head.

  “Can’t you drop them off when you go to school tomor­row?” Grandma said.

  “I promised Mum and Dad I’d be more responsible.”

  “But sweetheart, I’ve already told you, I don’t have a licence.”

  “Just this once. Please Grandma. No one will know.” I hung my head and pretended to be sad. I really didn’t expect it to work, but I was running short of ideas. Peeking, I nearly fainted from shock.

  Grandma was smiling, tiny wrinkles crowding at the corner of her eyes. She looked just like Ava did when she was about to do something naughty. For a split second, I wondered if Grandma had hated baths as a baby too, and if she’d done the screaming iron girder thing.

  “Just once, huh?” Grandma said. “You know what, Seb? I think that’d be fun. Okay, as long as you kids promise not to say anything, I’ll do it. Just give me a tick to put my shoes on.” She whizzed up the stairs.

  Darren started in on me as soon as she’d left. “But Seb—”

  I cut him off. “Come on. Take a look outside. When did you last see a car on the road—not counting the one
that crashed?”

  Darren banged his head against the wall. Sometimes my best mate could be a bit of a drama queen. “Not since Tuesday,” he said.

  “Right. Not since Tuesday.”

  Talia wasn’t keen either. “You know it’s against the law, don’t you?”

  “Have you seen any police about lately? Unless you guys have a better idea?”

  They didn’t get a chance to answer because at that moment Grandma came gliding down the stairs like a movie star. “Shall we go, then?”

  We followed her outside. Ava’s paper cup phone bounced along behind her and Cody, a few steps further back, was trying to pounce on it. I shooed Cody back inside and closed the door.

  Dad’s ute was parked beside the house. While Grandma, Ava and Talia got in the cab, Darren and I lifted the CD-amplifier onto the flatbed. We secured the amplifier with the bungees Dad kept in a canvas bag.

  Grandma wound down the window and shouted, “Are you getting in, Seb?”

  “Yep, coming,” I yelled.

  Darren wedged himself between the amplifier and the side of the truck. “We’re going to need her to drive slowly. The zombies have to be able to keep up.”

  I grinned. “You don’t want to fall out at the lights, you mean!”

  Grandma revved the engine. “Seb!”

  I jumped down and got in the ute. Luckily, we were able to squeeze across the bench seat: Grandma on the driver side, Ava in her car seat in the middle, and Talia and me sharing a seat belt on the passenger side.

  Grandma giggled. “I hope there are no policemen about.”

  There wasn’t a single car.

  She reversed out into the street. I glanced through the back window of the cab. Darren’s face was twisted in fear. I wasn’t surprised. Driving less than the length of the house, Grandma had almost taken out two zombies, and a rubbish bin that no one had bothered to take in since Tuesday.

  Grandma had two goes putting the stick into DRIVE. The ute lurched forward over the curb. “Whoopsie-daisy,” she said.

  “Mrs Mackay?” Talia’s elbow jabbed into my ribs. Her fingers gripped my hand. “When you used to drive, did you wear glasses by any chance?”

  “You know, I think I did.”

  Grandma must have thought she was getting the hang of it because she punched the accelerator and we zoomed forward.

  Too fast. At this rate, the zombies would be left behind. Without the music, they’d go home.

  “Um…could we go a bit slower?” Talia said.

  I scooched down in my seat and, stretching across, eased my foot onto the brake. I couldn’t see over the dashboard, but I knew it was working when I felt the ute slow.

  But Talia leaned sideways, reaching over Ava, and grabbed for the steering wheel.

  The ute swerved to the left. Had she overcorrected? Run us up the curb on the other side of the street?

  “Talia, what’s happening?”

  “A shopping cart. Ava, put the cup down…oh no, we’re going to hit a tree!”

  I jammed my foot on the brake, bracing my back against the seat. Over Martha’s wailing, there was the sickening scrape of branches. I hoped Darren had been smart enough to keep his head down.

  Grandma still had her foot on the accelerator. The ute plundered forward, then banked and jolted. Thrown forward, I slipped underneath the seatbelt and into the footwell.

  The side of the ute crumpled in a scream of tearing metal, but we kept going.

  Talia gasped. “We have to slow down!”

  “It’s fine, dear. There’s plenty of room,” Grandma said, brightly. “Although, this clutch is quite heavy.”

  I grunted. There was no clutch. It was an automatic.

  “Seb!” Talia gasped.

  Using my foot, I hooked Grandma’s foot off the accelerator, then used my other foot to press down on the brake. I was twisted on a funny angle, but I gave it everything.

  “Rubbish bins. Six of them.” Talia’s voice was deadly calm.

  “Hold your line,” I shrieked.

  Talia kept her hand on the steering wheel and didn’t waver. “Brace yourself,” she warned.

  The ute stormed through the line of bins, which bounced off the roll bars one after the other like a bunch of skittles.

  Suddenly, there was quiet.

  I looked up. Talia’s face was white, her eyes fixed road. “What should we to do?” she whispered.

  “Take a left at Snodgrass and drive around the block. Get us back home,” I said.

  “Go home? Already? What about your library books, dear?”

  “I forgot to bring them, Grandma.”

  It was the longest trip around the block ever. My arms and legs burned. Finally, the ute stopped.

  “There we go,” Grandma announced.

  Talia thanked her for the ride as I punched open the door and we tumbled out. Ava launched herself into my arms, clinging to me like a baby spider, trailing its thread of silk.

  Darren climbed down from the back. “Well, that was fun, wasn’t it?” he said. I had a feeling that might have been sarcasm because Darren’s hands were shaking as if he’d just got off the Gravitron ride. The good news was that Martha was still singing her lungs out, and it looked like we’d collected some new zombies in our trip around the block.

  “What now?” I said.

  Talia put her hands on her hips. “We’re going to walk. Carry the amplifier.”

  “Probably best,” Darren said.

  I fended off Ava’s paper cup in my face. “Okay.”

  Only I couldn’t carry Ava and the amplifier, and there was no way she could walk by herself. It was too far. Leaving Darren to mind Ava, I slipped round the side of the house to get my trusty orange computer chair off the deck.

  I wrestled it off the deck, only banging my shin once, and rolled it around to the front of the house. When I got there, Talia was carrying Ava’s folded pushchair down to the road. Putting in down on the footpath, she bent over and fiddled with something on the side of the frame. There was a click and the pushchair folded out, fully assembled. Ava tore herself away from Darren and climbed in, twisting around so she was facing the front. Talia clipped the safety straps together near her belly button.

  “How did you—?”

  “The pushchair? Oh, I saw it in your laundry room when we tried turning off the power,” Talia said, not waiting for me to finish.

  Darren gave me a look. I shot him one back. Neither of us said a thing.

  Talia pointed back at the house, where Cody had his paws on the windowsill, his muzzle making slobby smudges on the glass. “What about Cody?”

  “We’d better bring him,” I said. “We don’t know how long this will take.”

  CHAPTER 24

  I set my jaw, hoisted the hatbox and strode forward, my best friend on one side of me and The Prettiest Girl in School on the other. By the time we’d circled the town and passed the burned out hatchback a second time, it seemed the whole town was behind us:

  Mum, Dad, and Mrs Howard.

  Mrs Pike, Mr Davies, and the kids from school.

  Bruce and Dave, Jason’s bandmates from the Argonauts.

  Grandma, pushing Ava in the pushchair.

  Cody, tagging along behind the pushchair, his leash wrapped over the handles.

  Talia’s caregiver, Julia.

  Everyone.

  Even Mrs Wentworth and a few of Grandma’s friends from Sunnynook had joined in, probably thinking it was some kind of holiday parade.

  And there was something else. When I’d looked back, Mrs Pike frowned at me. It was as if she remembered the library books I’d been meaning to give her, and the maths test she’d meant to give me. Then Jason gave me a wink like he’d seen it, too. It wasn’t much—just hints of the people they’d used to be—but those tiny s
igns of life gave me hope. A little more time in the sun and the zombies might snap out of it.

  So I led them onwards to Founders Park at the edge of town. I was Bastion Axestone, marching through the rubble of the apocalypse, a horde of jostling, jiving, zombies in my wake.

  CHAPTER 25

  Founders Park was the sunniest spot in Bridgetown. There were a couple of swings and some flower beds, but mostly it was just a big sunny patch of grass. A great place to ride a bike, kick a ball or just hang out. Not today. Today, a solid black line of paratroopers in blocky Kevlar vests and carrying assault rifles were strung out across the park.

  We slowed. The horde behind us shuffled to a stop.

  The military. The Government. They know about us! They know about the zombies. They’ve come to save the town.

  A man, clearly the platoon leader, stepped forward and lifted a plastic loudspeaker. “People of Bridgetown.” His voice was raspy like Darth Vader’s. “My name is Captain Jay Kirkham. Your town has been quarantined due to a virus. In order to prevent its spread, you are required to stay within the town perimeter. Please return to your homes and stay indoors until the virus has run its course.”

  Talia leaned in close, her lips near my cheek. “We can’t do that. Not now,” she shouted over Martha’s singing. “If everyone goes back home, how will we get them to de-zombify?”

  At that moment, the music sputtered. Dust on the CD? A scratch? We’d been jiggling the box enough. I held my breath and felt the gloom close in…

  Suddenly, Martha was back, singing up a storm. But those few seconds had been enough to confuse people. A few of our classmates must have thought we’d switched it off on purpose, because they turned for home. Some of the zombies had turned back, too.

  “Please move in an orderly fashion back to your homes,” Kirkham droned into the loudspeaker. “My men are here to protect you. Move quickly and quietly. If everyone does as they’re told, no one needs to get hurt.”

  No one needs to get hurt?

  I had to talk to Kirkham. I had to explain. I ran forward.