by MJ Ware
Super Zombie Juice Mega Bomb
By
M.J.A. Ware
Digital Edition v1.0 - Published By: CG Press LTD. at SmashWords
© 2011 – M.J.A. Ware, Cover © 2011 – R. Hawkings
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For Michelle. Sorry you had to wait so long.
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Table of Contents
Chapter 1 – Blizzards, Bites, and Zombies
Chapter 2 – Snookum's Last Stand
Chapter 3 – A Bridge to Nowhere
Chapter 4 – Zombie Snot
Chapter 5 – Zombie Juice, Now with the Killing Power of Lemonade
Chapter 6 - Class Dismissed
Chapter 7 – Walmart Security Gets Tough
Chapter 8 – Really Weird Science
Chapter 9 – When Life Give You Lemons, Kill Zombies
Chapter 10 – Uninvited Guests for Dinner
Chapter 11 – The Going Gets Tough
Chapter 12 – Kid to Work Day
Chapter 13 – There Goes the Cemetery
Chapter 14 – A Fieldtrip to the Firehouse
Chapter 15 – Sodium Bicarbonate Discharge Device
Chapter 16 – Super Zombie Juice Mega Bomb
Chapter 17 – Zombie Fowl Frenzy
Chapter 18 – Home Sweet Home
Acknowledgements
Bonus Story: Hobgoblin Horror
Bonus Story: Bloody Marcy
About the Author
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Chapter 1 – Blizzards, Bites, and Zombies
Ever have a really bad day? I'm not talking miss the bus, caught cheating on a test, bike gets stolen bad. I mean people dying and coming back from the dead to eat your brains bad.
This whole mess started one night when my best friend Misty messaged me, "DQ run now!"
I'm as down with Butterfinger Blizzards as anybody, but it was almost eleven p.m. Somehow, she talked me into it—I can never say no to her. I mean, I can say it once or twice, but after eight or nine times, I give in.
You might have guessed, we didn't exactly ask permission. Misty snuck out by climbing down a window above her garage and jumping into an overgrown bush. Maybe it was the three waffle sundaes she'd eaten, but to get back up it looked like she was going to need a boost.
"Ready?" I whispered, clasping my hands over my knee.
"I don't think so, Nate. I'm wearing a skirt." Even in the dim glow of the neighbor's porch light, I could see the wrinkles in her brow.
"Then how you going to get back up?"
"I can climb."
"In your skirt?" I stood back, folding my arms. Misty had always been more t-shirt and cutoff jeans. "Why'd you wear a skirt, anyway? Who sneaks out in a skirt?"
She ignored me and started pulling herself up the rain gutter. By the third try, I knew, skirt or not, I was going to have to help.
I stepped forward when from behind me came a deep grunt, like a yeti clearing its throat.
Turning around, Misty's dad towered over us, arms crossed, naked except for knit socks and shorts; his huge, hairy muffin-top forcing the band of his briefs into submission.
Even in his skivvies, he was an imposing figure. Picture Atlas, if all he ever held up were jelly donuts. I didn't know if I should laugh or run.
Normally Misty's dad is too nice, one of those big guys with an even bigger soft spot—especially when it came to his only daughter—but that night, boy, did he holler.
He grounded Misty for the whole summer. Not from her girlfriends, just from me—even canceled our camping trip. Our families go every year, so that made it a tradition or something.
Almost three weeks passed before I heard a peep from Misty. I wasn't sure if her dad really came down on her or if she was just too busy to bother with me.
Finally, she called. "Guess I should feel honored."
"Hey, Nate, ready to go camping?"
"Who's this? I think you may have dialed the wrong number."
"Nathan!" she screamed. "Dad's keeping me under house arrest. Even confiscated my cell. It's so humiliating." The echo told me she was probably hiding out in her dad's workshop. "So, you up for camping or not?"
Apparently, no one had bothered to tell her the trip was off. I tried to break the news gently. "Where've you been? Your dad put the smackdown on camping."
There wasn't much to do in our tiny mountain town, so this trip was the highlight of our summer: fishing, ghost stories, eating s'mores until you puke.
"Just because our parents are being stupid doesn't mean we can't go."
I don't normally do crazy things like run away from home. Which is probably why we weren’t prepared. We lasted all of one night. Who knew a jumbo box of Little Betty Brownie Bites could go so fast?
On our way back, we knew we were in trouble, but had no idea just how much.
"Maybe running away wasn't such a good idea," I said, scanning the lifeless town. The sun crawled over the horizon, casting long shadows like bony fingers reaching down to clutch the empty streets.
"You think?" Misty said with an edge to her voice.
We'd been walking around for over an hour and hadn't seen anyone. "How'd I know everyone would..."
"Vanish." She finished my sentence. "They're all gone, Nathan. They can't all be out looking for us, not every single person in the whole entire town." She shook her head.
"Calm down. Let's think this out." I listened for familiar sounds, people, cars…even the trees were silent.
"Think what out? Nobody's here. I can't even get a single bar." Misty stood on the side of the road, brandishing her phone like a weapon.
"Updating your online status is the least of our problems," I shot back.
"This isn't a joke, Nate. We're in deep here. Deep, deep, deep!" She paused—probably winded from carrying on so much—then pointed across the street. "Look, someone's there."
From across the road, Mayor Frank waddled towards us. "Just our luck, only person in town and it has to be him?"
"Geez, a little early to be wasted," I said. Besides mayor, he was also the town drunk.
"Mayor Frank, over here," Misty yelled.
"Now you've done it. He's headed this way." I wiped my palms on my jeans; something wasn't right.
"Nate, shut up. We could use a little help."
He almost fell over three times while crossing the street. His clothes looked like they'd spent more time in the gutter than on his back. His eyes, swollen and cloudy—he looked sick. I'd never seen eyes like that.
The mayor didn't say a word, just reached out his two pasty arms. I thought he might shake our hands. He was one of those phony politicians. Instead, he grabbed Misty and went in for a big, open-mouth kiss.
I'm not sure what came over me. I'd
never hit anyone—except Misty's older brothers—and then only in a desperate act of self-defense. But I wasn't about to let this creep kiss her.
I cocked my arm back and with everything I had, socked the mayor in the face.
He folded, flat to the floor.
Grabbing my hand, I winced in pain. Misty screamed, her long hair whipping around as she jumped back.
My mind raced. Oh, no. I just punched the mayor. I took a step toward him. "Mr. Mayor, I'm sorry. I thought you—"
I looked down at my hand as I spoke, thinking maybe I busted a knuckle. It throbbed so bad I didn't notice the mayor roll over and grab my foot until it was too late; he sank his teeth into my lower leg.
"Ouch," I yelled as I tried to wiggle free. He wouldn't let go. What was I supposed to do? Ever been bitten by your little sister? Try a three-hundred pound drunk politician.
I just started kicking. After the third kick, my hiking boot flew off, still dangling from his mouth.
"Nate, you kicked the mayor in the face!" Misty's hands covered her mouth, but did little to mask her expression of horror.
We took off running, our backpacks clanking behind us.
"Those are Gore-tex boots, they're over two hundred bucks," I said, running lopsided down the street. If my dad found out, he'd kill me.
I looked at Misty. Her wide, hazel eyes scanned the deserted roads, flashing with alarm. Standing tall, California Firs blocked our view more than a couple blocks. I couldn't help but feel responsible for this mess. I should have tried to talk her out of running away.
Maybe Misty's dad was right; I was a bad influence.
