by MJ Ware
Chapter 18 – Home Sweet Home
The government didn't abuse us too badly. They put us in a special containment ward. Grilled us for hours when all we wanted to do was sleep. Seems they couldn't believe that three kids could defeat an army of the undead, when they couldn't even blow up a lousy cemetery without mucking it up.
A lot of their questions centered around Kali. I think they figured he was the brains behind the whole thing (and they weren't too far off).
"Did Kali try mixing any additives to the zombie juice?"
"For the umpteenth time, no."
"Did Kali do any kind of experiments on the reanimated humans?"
"Gross, no way."
Finally, after holding us for three days, they said our quarantine was over, thanked us, and released us to our parents. I think they just finally got tired of asking us the same questions over and over—God knows I was sick of it.
Our parents, along with the rest of the town, had been evacuated. In the case of our dads, by force. They refused to leave while we were missing. I guess it took the better part of a squad to drag them out. Misty's dad even lost a tooth in the scuffle.
Our reunion was exactly like the funeral scene from Tom Sawyer. Our parents cried, and hugged, and smothered us. Except it lasted for all of five minutes—then they grounded us and ordered us never to talk to each other again.
Fortunately, that didn't last long. Our families had to stay in the same roadside motel (everything else was full, because of the evacuation) for a few days while the government cleaned up the mess. Plus, we were heroes. News crews came from everywhere to interview us—together.
Being on TV might have been fun, if we weren't talking about being trapped in town with a horde of killer zombies. Our parents said we didn't have to do any interviews, but we felt like we owed it to Kali.
"Kali was the brains; it was his plan that saved the town and his life that spared ours," we'd say at the end of each one.
I couldn't stop thinking about what had happened. But sometimes, when I was laying in bed unable to sleep, I'd get so ticked at Kali. He had promised me he'd stay in the truck. I was in charge. I should have been the one to set off the bomb. I know it's stupid. I mean, he saved our lives, but sometimes I couldn't help myself.
A local committee met to create a memorial to honor Kali. We met with them and with his parents.
That was the hardest part. Misty had to tell them how I plowed the truck into the crowd of zombies and Kali saved us. I couldn't bring myself to do it. They weren't angry. In fact, they were thankful for all the praise we had given him.
Even though we were no longer fighting for our lives, we'd gone through a rough few days. When I wasn't sleeping, I spent most of my time zoning out on the bed; my body ached for like a week.
"Honey, it's the Secretary of State." Mom put her hands over the phone. "She wants to know if she can talk to Nate."
I didn't pay much attention. I was just trying to find something decent on the hotel TV. Lately, someone self-important was always calling me; usually someone more important than a government secretary.
"No," Dad said without looking up from his work.
"I'm sorry. He's not available...We explained to your assistant, Nate will not be attending."
I glanced over at Mom. Her face scrunched all up as if she was in pain—she wanted to hang up the phone.
"Yes, I understand. I agree Kali deserves the Presidential Medal of Freedom. It's just that...No, but..."
My Dad looked up, frowned, and then picked up the phone on the desk.
"Madam Secretary, this is Nathan's father..." Dad shook his head. "The honor is mine. But I must insist that your office stop calling...These incessant calls are becoming slightly harassing..."
My dad gently hit the phone receiver against his forehead. He wasn't even listening. "I understand. But what I can't seem to get through to your staff is that Nathan is a boy, not an opportunity for political gain..."
Bored, I turned the TV off.
"No, no, I'm sure you didn't. Now that you understand our feelings on the matter, I trust this will be the last call we'll receive from your office. Good day." He slammed down the receiver.
Hanging around the hotel got old fast. So many reporters camped out front we couldn't even sneak out if we wanted to leave. We ate so much Dominos I actually got sick of pizza.
It took several days before they let us back into town. The military types wanted to keep us out longer, but no one in Indian Springs, Greenburg, or Quincy would hear of it. Small town folks don't put up with the government keeping them out of their homes (even with a reason like the possibility of deadly zombies lurking about). They were going back, regardless of what the officials said.
Mom read the paper as we drove. "It quotes an anonymous government official as saying they've confirmed that the paper plant had been dumping chemicals for years. The scientific consensus is that the toxic soup from more than a century of pollution really fouled up the environment."
"Yeah, to the point where it started fighting back—with an army of the undead," I said. I could see them both eye me through the rear view mirror. They got all uptight whenever I mentioned the zombies. Like if we didn't talk about them, they never existed.
After a few seconds of silence, Dad asked, "Did it say anything else?"
Mom hesitated, then continued, "Just that it was inevitable that the river would carry it to Greenberg and Quincy."
"So Kali was right all along," I said.
"You can bet they're going to close the paper plant," Dad added.
"I guess Misty's dad's out of a job."
"I'm afraid so, honey." Mom folded up the paper and stuck it under her seat, putting it completely out of sight.
There was a temporary bridge and a checkpoint setup to get into town. "May I see your IDs, sir?" asked a military guy, who looked even younger than Misty's oldest brother.
My dad held out his driver’s license.
"I'll need IDs for your two passengers, as well. Required procedure. I'm sure you understand..." He looked down at Dad's license. "Mr...Lewis? Is that Nathan Lewis? No need for IDs, sir. But could I ask Nathan for his autograph?"
My dad just started driving. The gate thing wasn't even up. We raced toward it like we were going to smash right through it. One of the military guys flopped down on the handle, sending the gate flying up just in time.
That was the only time someone asked for my autograph. I was kinda disappointed. I wanted to sign it, 'Nathan Lewis, Master Zombie Slayer'.
Being back in town felt strange. We passed the intersection where Kali saved us. No sign of what happened remained, not even a single chicken feather. In the streets, no zombies, only other families returning home. The strangest part? I wasn't driving with Misty sitting next to me, and, of course, Kali wasn't poking his head out between us.
Dad pulled the car into the driveway. I jumped out before the car rolled to a stop and started running for the door.
"What's the hurry?" Mom asked, slightly alarmed.
I'd become so used to having to dash inside it'd become habit. I didn't tell my parents. They were already freaked out about what I'd been through, insisting I talk to a therapist and stuff.
Inside I headed straight to the clothes hamper. Even in quarantine, they'd given us this really scratchy paper hospital underwear—it was high time to get into my own skivvies.
Sure, these technically weren't clean, but compared to what I'd been wearing they were just fine. I grabbed a cleanish-looking pair as I heard my cell ring with a text message. I'd dumped it out of my backpack when we'd stopped by the house that first day. I fished it out of a pile of camping stuff.
There were two huge messages. Exactly the same, just a bunch of ones and zeroes:
0110001101101011011010100110101001101111011011100010000001101011011000110100000100100000011010100111011001101010001101110010110000100000011011000110111001110100011011000111010000100000001101110011011000101110001100100011001100110010001011100011
0000001011100011000100111001001100100010000001100101011000100110101001110000
I deleted them and threw my phone down. I'd have to get it checked; I figured it got zombie snot on it or something.
I headed to the bathroom. As I closed the door, I heard a scream.
For a second, I thought Dad stumbled upon an overlooked zombie; then I realized it was much more serious.
"Nathan, where's the Mustang!"
