The Zombie Chasers #5

by John Kloepfer

  Dedication

  For my niece,

  Livingston Pearl

  —J. K.

  To Mom and Dad

  —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

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  About the Author and Illustrator

  Back Ads

  Acknowledgments

  Credits

  Copyright

  About the Publisher

  A black mass of clouds churned over Lake Erie, brewing up another snowstorm as the vegan food truck sped along the frozen lakeshore toward Buffalo, New York. The entire region was still in the dead of winter despite the spring weather elsewhere. Sitting in the passenger seat, Zack Clarke watched the windshield wipers clack hypnotically back and forth. The snowflakes glittered in the weird half-light of dawn glowing behind the clouds.

  The headlights flashed on a bright orange detour sign, and Ozzie Briggs steered the truck off the expressway. Office buildings with shattered windows flanked the city streets, and through the jagged glass openings, Zack caught a glimpse of the ransacked cubicles and upturned desks inside.

  It had been almost eight hours since Zack and his best buddies, Rice and Ozzie; along with Zack’s sister, Zoe, her BFF Madison Miller, and Madison’s pup, Twinkles, escaped from New York City, which had rezombified along with the rest of the country after the original brain-flavored popcorn antidote suddenly wore off. Zack sighed loudly, completely exhausted, wishing for the zillionth time that he’d stopped Madison from eating that piece of pepperoni pizza on their school field trip so she could help them remake the antidote. But he knew that wishing wasn’t going to make any difference. Olivia’s our only hope, Zack thought.

  In the back of the truck, Madison swiveled on a stainless steel stool bolted to the floor, holding her cell phone pressed to her ear. She was trying to get in touch with her cousin Olivia Jenkins, the one person who might be able to help them formulate a new antidote, if they could just track her down. “It’s going straight to voice mail,” she said, making an exasperated face.

  “What about her house phone?” Zack asked.

  “It just keeps on ringing,” Madison said, ending the call, totally fed up.

  “At least we know her address,” Rice said from the far back, where he and Zoe stood in the food truck kitchen, whipping up some vegan cuisine. Twinkles sat at their feet, his puppy nose twitching as the smells of fried falafel balls and vegan veggie burgers wafted through the air. “You know,” said Rice, “if we started cooking up some brains, we could make a killing!”

  “And if we started cooking up you,” said Zoe, “we could have cornballs for a week.”

  Ozzie slowed the food truck at a blinking yellow traffic light. In front of them, the road turned into a roundabout with a large white obelisk jutting out of the center. To their left, city hall towered over Niagara Square.

  “Guys,” said Ozzie from the driver’s seat. “We’re running low on gas and I don’t see any gas stations. We need directions to the closest bridge.”

  “What street are we on?” Madison asked, tapping at her smart phone.

  “No idea,” Zack said, squinting through the windshield.

  The snow flurry had grown heavy and visibility was low. Zack felt like they were on the inside of a well-shaken snow globe. Ozzie drove through the light, steering around the traffic circle, then slowed the truck down again, trying to spot a street sign.

  Madison unpinched her fingers over the touch screen and a map zoomed in on their location. “I think if we go toward city hall and veer right, we can get to the Peace Bridge.”

  BAM! BOOM! THWAP!

  “Uh-oh!” Zack said as he glimpsed into the side view mirror. “I think we’ve got some company!”

  Two undead figures were latched tightly to the exterior panel of the truck, closer than they appeared. The zombies—one, a man wearing boxer shorts and a black puffy vest; the other, a woman in a bathrobe and pink bunny slippers— both looked as though they had rezombified in the middle of getting dressed. A mustache of snot rimed across the undead bathrobe lady’s upper lip, which curled back to show off her purplish, bloodstained teeth.

  “Buckle your seat belts!” Ozzie swerved the food truck side-to-side along the roadway, attempting to shake the undead joyriders loose.

  “Ozzie, chill!” Zoe shouted. “I’m trying to cook here!”

  “The zombies aren’t coming off,” Zack said looking back. “They’re stuck!”

  “What do you mean they’re stuck?” Madison asked, now holding Twinkles on her lap and petting his head to try to calm him down.

  “I mean stuck,” Zack said. “Like that kid’s tongue that touched the flagpole in that Christmas movie kind of stuck.”

  “Ew,” Madison said, and then looked back at her BFF. “Zoe, cancel my order, girl. I’m not hungry anymore.”

  “Uh-oh,” Ozzie muttered. “Not good.”

  “What’s wrong now?” Zack turned his attention to Ozzie, who was pumping the brakes.

  “We’re not stopping!” Ozzie shouted as the vegan food truck slid wildly on a patch of black ice. “Hold on!”

  Ozzie spun the wheel and they swerved a hundred-and-eighty degrees, gliding toward the massive cement staircase at the foot of city hall. Zack stiffened in his seat as they jumped the curb with a loud thump. He could hear the two zombies detach from the side of the truck with a sound like Velcro ripping.

  “Ack!” Zoe screamed as her batch of falafel and grilled veggies flew off the grill and onto the front of her shirt. She slammed back into the wall as the truck fishtailed and collided with the wrought iron banister leading up the center steps of the building.

  “Everyone okay?” Ozzie called back.

  “Sort of . . .” Zoe sneered and raised her hands, indicating the food stain on the front of her shirt.

  “I’m okay,” Madison said.

  “Arf!” Twinkles was all good, too.

  “Not okay!” Rice yelled, pointing out the window.

  Outside, the undead couple rose to their feet and tottered back toward the truck. They pawed the air, their arms red and raw from where their skin had adhered to the freezing metal.

  “Time to get going, Oz!” Zack shouted.

  Ozzie pressed the accelerator and the engine revved, but the rear wheels just spun in place.

  WHAP! Another undead snow dweller slammed into the truck and smushed its frostbitten face against the window, fogging up the glass with its rank, hot breath.

  “Yuck!” Madison squealed. “This dude’s got a chicken wing stuck to his lip!”

  Ozzie floored the pedal again, but the truck still wouldn’t budge. “Come on.” He grunted, shifting into four-wheel drive.

  Madison peered out her window again, watching as more and more undead maniacs lumbered toward the truck. “Oz, if you need me to drive, just say so.”

  “Please,” Ozzie scoffed. “We’re just caught on something.” He looked at Zack then at Rice. “You two gotta go out there and get us unstuck.”

  “Fine,” Rice said. “But only if you let me use your nunchaku.”

  Ozzie grunted then grumbled, “You know I don’t like other people using them.”

  “Come on, man.” Rice interlocked all
ten fingers to make the universal sign for begging. “Just this once?”

  “Fine.” Ozzie sighed and gave up his prized possession. “But I swear, if you break them—”

  “Let’s go,” Zack said quickly, and grabbed one of the umbrellas he’d kept from New York City.

  Zack and Rice opened their doors and hopped out onto the icy steps of city hall. A gust of frigid wind blasted Zack in the face and stung his eyes. He could barely make out the zombie shapes surrounding the truck, but he could hear at least a dozen undead moans howling through the snow flurry.

  A traffic light tinting everything red suddenly flashed green and a plethora of gangrenous ghouls converged on city hall from the street.

  The undead congregation toddled through the storm, stumbling up the wide stone staircase toward the immobilized food truck.

  “Zack, look out!” Rice shouted as a rezombified teenager lurched from behind a stone pillar and made a grab for his buddy. Rice hollered a kamikaze battle cry and swung the nunchaku at the frostbitten freak, knocking the undead hooligan flat on his back. “Dude, did you see that?” Rice asked, mesmerized with himself. “I was like, ‘Whaa! Come get some! Whaa!’” Rice swung the nunchaku again, emitting a string of kung fu sound effects.

  “Ozzie would be proud.” Zack smiled. “Now let’s focus. We’ve got work to do.”

  When they rounded the back of the truck, Zack saw that the black iron banister they had crashed into was half ripped out of the concrete staircase and the metal handrail had hooked the rear fender, lifting the back wheels a few inches off the ground.

  Zack grabbed the metal bar with both hands and tugged hard, but it wouldn’t budge.

  “You need help, Zack?” asked Rice, flipping the nunchaku under his arm and catching it on the other side.

  “No, I think I can get it,” said Zack, hooking the railing with the umbrella handle. “Just watch my back.”

  Rice turned toward the gathering horde of abominable snow zombies. “Ya’ll best back up!” he warned. “Or you’re gonna get messed up!” Rice flexed the nunchaku defensively so the chain was taut. He was ready for battle.

  Ozzie poked his head out the driver’s-side window and looked back, scanning the zombie crowd. “What’s the deal?”

  “Let’s give it a try!” Zack shouted up to Ozzie. “Hit the gas!”

  With all his strength, Zack yanked back on the umbrella and pried the handrail off the fender. The engine roared, and the food truck shot down the steps and into the street, sending the brain-hungry truck vandals flying splat onto the sidewalk.

  “Whoa!” The umbrella ripped out of Zack’s hands and he fell back hard, clunking his head on the stone steps.

  Rice backpedaled toward his fallen pal, never turning his back on the zombies in front of them. “Dude, you all right?”

  “Yep,” Zack lied, rising to his feet. A fat goose egg was already swelling on the back of his noggin. “I’ll be okay.”

  Down in the street, Zoe threw open the truck’s side door and leaned out. “Hurry up, dorkbrains! We got cousins to find!”

  Zack jumped to his feet as two more zombie mutants marched toward them out of the flock of flesh-guzzling Buffalonians. The rezombified duo twisted their faces up in twin grimaces of brain-craving insanity and let out a rabid double yowl.

  “Snargle blarghle—glargh!”

  “Rice, get ’em!” Zack yelled.

  Rice whirled around and unleashed two hard-smacking blows with Ozzie’s nunchaku. WHAP! WHAP! The rezombified savages froze in place and then crumpled limply to the ground.

  “Nice,” Zack said stepping around the fallen brutes. “Now let’s get out of here!” He grabbed his wannabe-ninja buddy by the strap of his backpack and pulled him toward the truck, away from the undead swarm.

  “Go, go, go!” Zoe shouted as Zack and Rice piled inside. She slammed the sliding door.

  VROOM! The food truck skidded into motion again, the back tires spraying up icy slush into the zombie faces behind them.

  A few minutes later, they were driving high above Lake Erie, crossing the Peace Bridge into Canada. On the other side of the bridge, the row of customs booths was completely barricaded. The only way through was a single booth in the middle.

  Ozzie put down the driver’s-side window as they rolled to a stop at the border patrol. A speed bump with sharp tire-piercing spikes pointed directly at the front fender from behind the barrier arm. To the left, a no-nonsense customs official stood in the booth sporting a black Homeland Security uniform with his name embroidered above a silver badge: T. MORAN.

  “What do we do?” Rice asked nervously from the back.

  Ozzie looked back. “Just answer his questions and tell the truth. These guys can tell if someone’s lying. It’s part of their training.”

  Zack took a deep breath as the border official leaned out of the booth, gazing into the car from behind his dark-tinted sunglasses. “Citizenship?” he asked matter-of-factly.

  “United States,” the kids all said in unison.

  “Of America?” Rice added for good measure.

  “What’s the purpose of your trip?”

  Madison leaned forward, sticking her head in the front between Zack and Ozzie. “We’re trying to find my cousin Olivia. She lives in Niagara Falls, Ontario.”

  “Have any of you been personally zombified, rezombified, or been accused of trying to zombify or rezombify another person previously zombified or otherwise?”

  “Umm . . .” The kids looked around at one another and started to point fingers.

  “She was a zombie,” Zack said, pointing at his sister.

  “Yeah, and so were you!” Zoe snapped back defensively.

  “And I got zombified twice,” said Rice, puffing out his chest. “Or rather zombified once and then rezombified the other time. But it’s all good. We’re fine now.”

  They all pointed to Madison. “And she used to be able to unzombify everything but not anymore,” said Zoe, batting her eyelashes for no good reason.

  “That’s why we need to find my cousin,” Madison said.

  The border official looked them up and down for a prolonged moment then shook his head. “You can’t cross the border if you’ve been contaminated.”

  “But, sir,” Zack said, trying to reason with the officer.

  “No buts, sonny-boy,” the officer said. “Rules are rules.”

  Then he pulled a walkie-talkie off his belt and mumbled something about a boot to his boss on the other end. A few seconds later, another voice crackled on his walkie-talkie. “Roger that.” The officer turned back to the food truck. “Okay, kids. I’m going to need you to turn off the engine and step out of the vehicle.”

  Zack didn’t like the sound of that. Not one bit.

  Officer Moran stepped out of the customs booth and grabbed the driver’s-side door handle. Ozzie hit the auto-lock button and the officer glared sneeringly through the window. “You have until the count of three to open up. One—”

  “I can’t do that, sir,” Ozzie said, and shifted the truck into reverse. “We’re on an important mission.”

  “Two—”

  “Yeah, mister,” said Madison. “We, like, totally have to save the world again.”

  “Now, don’t make me repeat myself,” Officer Moran said.

  “I’m really sorry, sir,” Rice said, peeping between the headrests, “but my mom taught me never to open the door for strangers.”

  “Three—ahhh!”

  A ravenous abominable snow zombie lumbered out from behind the tollbooth and chomped its toothy mug down hard on the meat between the officer’s neck and shoulder. “Splarghf!”

  The snowy wind howled as Officer Moran wheeled around and swatted the zombie to the ground, then sank to one knee, grabbing his shoulder in agony.

  “Come on,” said Rice. “Let’s get out of here before he zombifies and tries to get us, too!”

  Ozzie pulled a backward three-point turn, and they burned rubber back to the American
side of the bridge.

  They drove down the snow-covered streets, chugging south alongside the waterfront. They could see the frozen lake to the west as they moved away from the city in search of another bridge into Canada.

  Madison looked down at her smartphone. “We’re going in the wrong direction, Oz.”

  “Yeah, sorry,” said Ozzie, squinting down the snow-swept streets. “I think I made a wrong turn.”

  As he slowed down and started to pull a U-turn, the engine screeched and Ozzie stiffened his grip, unable to control the wheel as the food truck sputtered and died.

  “You can’t be serious,” Madison complained from the way back, starting a new batch of vegan eats.

  “Did we just run out of gas?” Rice asked. “Are we stranded in a zombie snowstorm?”

  “No,” Ozzie said to the first question, “we still have some left, but I think the engine gave out. So, yeah . . . we’re stranded,” he said, shifting the gears into park.

  Zack felt a shiver trickle down his backbone. He peered through the window at the frozen lake next to them. “You guys,” he said. “Why don’t we just walk across?”

  “Walk across Lake Erie? Yeah, maybe if you live in the fictional land of Moronica!” Zoe squawked.

  “I’m with Zoe on this one, guys,” said Madison. “What if the ice breaks? I’m not trying to get hypodermia.”

  “Umm,” said Zack. “I’m pretty sure it’s hypothermia. . . .”

  “Whatever, Zack,” Madison said. “To-may-to, to-mah-toe.”

  Ozzie stepped out of the truck and scanned the lake through his binoculars. “Good news,” he said, sticking his head back inside the truck. “I just spotted a few zombies on the lake, so it’ll definitely be strong enough to hold us.”

  “Great! Zombies on the lake,” Zoe said, rolling her eyes. “Now I feel so much better.”

  “Come on,” Zack said to the girls. “We’re right here. Everyone except Ozzie and Madison has been a zombie before. Border Patrol is not going to let us in, and we have to find Olivia before it’s too late!”