Fifth-Grade Zombies

by R. L. Stine

  As they rumbled past, I read the labels on the cans: CANNED MEAT.

  “Huh?” Why did that name seem familiar?

  Where were they taking it?

  I poked my head out from behind the locker door to get a better look.

  They didn’t go far. They stopped in front of Room 5-Z.

  The man at the front of the cart knocked on the door. He didn’t wait for an answer. He pushed open the door.

  The voices inside the room stopped. Then I heard soft applause. A few cheers.

  The men rolled the cart into the classroom and shut the door behind them. I could hear voices again inside the room and people moving around.

  I stepped away from my locker and stared at Room 5-Z. All those tins of canned meat … delivered right to that room.

  Now I knew what was in that room. I knew the zombie kids were in there. The kids that had arrived on that disgusting bus my first morning.

  The zombie kids are in Room 5-Z, and they bring them canned meat. That’s what they eat instead of human flesh!

  Yes, I had it all figured out. But was I right?

  I had to make sure.

  By now, Miss Opperman probably knew I had left the classroom. Maybe she was out looking for me. Maybe she had reported me to Mrs. Bane, and they were both looking for me. But I didn’t care.

  I had to see for myself what was on the other side of that door.

  I pressed my back against the wall and waited for the men to leave. I tensed when I heard footsteps far down the hall. But they grew fainter and then disappeared.

  I stared at the door to Room 5-Z. Hurry up, guys.

  A few minutes later, the door swung open. The two men pushed the empty cart out of the room and rolled it to the school entrance.

  I watched them push it outside. Then I made my move.

  * * *

  I forced myself away from the wall and took a few quick steps toward Room 5-Z. I stopped at the door. I could hear voices inside.

  My hand trembled as I grabbed the doorknob. My whole body gave a hard shudder. I pulled my hand back.

  Am I really doing this?

  I knew I didn’t have a choice.

  I wrapped my hand around the knob again—and shoved the door open.

  My stomach lurched. Just as I had guessed. The zombie kids were in there, hunched around low wooden tables.

  Zombie kids … Zombie kids … Real zombie kids.

  And sitting across from each other at a table near the back … I saw Mila and Shameka.

  “Oh noooo!”

  A scream burst from my throat.

  The zombie kids all swung around to the door. Mila’s eyes went wide. She scrambled to her feet. Her chair went crashing to the floor.

  Shameka jumped up, too. Her mouth dropped open. Staring at me, she began to shake her head, as if warning me I shouldn’t be there.

  I knew I shouldn’t be there. But here I was. And there was no way I could unsee what I was seeing.

  My legs trembled. I realized I was still squeezing the doorknob.

  I had guessed right. The zombie kids were all in Room 5-Z.

  But what were Shameka and Mila doing in here?

  The teacher was not a zombie. He was a tall, bald-headed guy, big as a football left tackle. He wore a baggy gray sweatshirt and black sweatpants.

  He was at the back of the room. When he saw me, he screamed, “Get out!” Then he came charging at me, head lowered like a bull.

  I uttered another cry and whirled away.

  My shoes hammered the floor as I ran. I shoved my arms in front of me—and banged open the front entrance door. And kept going.

  Down the stairs and across the grass in front of the school. I ran full speed toward the road.

  I didn’t slow when I heard shouts behind me. But I glanced back and saw Mila and Shameka chasing me.

  “Todd—wait!”

  “Todd—stop! We can explain!”

  Explain what?

  Explain why you’re in the zombie classroom?

  “Todd—listen to us!”

  “Wait up!”

  Tall grass ran along the side of the road. I tried to leap over it. Missed. Lost my balance.

  While I struggled to stay on my feet, Mila dove at me. She wrapped her hands around my legs from behind and tackled me to the ground.

  I landed hard on my side and felt a stab of pain as the air whooshed out of me. I lay there in the grass, struggling to get my breath.

  Mila held on to my legs and Shameka bent over me, grabbed my shoulders, and held me in place.

  “L-let go!” I gasped when I could finally breathe again. “Let go of me!”

  “You have to listen to us, Todd,” Mila said. “You have to let us explain.”

  “Explain what?” I cried. I shoved Shameka’s hands away. “Explain why you’ve never told me the truth? Why you lied to me since I arrived? Explain why you wanted me to think I was going crazy?”

  “Todd, please—” Mila started.

  “Why were you two in that classroom?” I screamed. “Why were you both in the zombie classroom?”

  Shameka laughed, a bitter, cold laugh. “Can’t you guess?”

  A blue SUV rumbled past us on the road. I wanted to signal to it, to wave and cry out for help. I suddenly realized I was afraid of the two girls.

  “Will you just stop screaming and let us explain?” Mila said.

  “Do I have a choice?” I muttered.

  A scrawny gray squirrel started across the road. It stopped in the middle and watched us for a moment. Then it ran into the tall grass on the other side.

  Mila swept back her hair. “Listen,” she said. “We did tell you the truth. We told you the truth the other day at Shameka’s farm.”

  “The school bus story is true,” Shameka said. “The kids from Michigan stopped at Mila’s cornfield, and something happened to them. Somehow, they died in the cornfield. They died, but they didn’t go away. They became the living dead.”

  “How?” I demanded. “How did they die?”

  “We don’t know,” Mila said. “We don’t have a clue, Todd. We only know it happened. When they finally came out of the cornfield, they were zombies.”

  “The kids in Room 5-Z are the zombies from the cornfield,” Shameka continued the story. “The school has to take them. The law here says all kids have to go to school. They come to school on their bus, and the school feeds them.”

  “Canned meat,” I said.

  They both nodded. “Canned meat. So they don’t have to eat human flesh,” Shameka said.

  They both studied me. I knew they were watching to see if I believed them.

  I believed them.

  “So why did you two lie to me?” I demanded. “Mila, why did your whole family lie to me?”

  “You just arrived here,” she said. “We didn’t want you to be afraid of staying with us. Also …”

  “The town doesn’t want word to get out,” Shameka finished Mila’s sentence. “If people find out about the zombie kids, Moose Hollow will be ruined.”

  “People will flood the town,” Mila said, “coming to see the zombies. Reporters will come … TV people … Our town would never be the same. So we try to keep it quiet.”

  They went silent again, watching me.

  “Okay,” I said. “I believe you. But you still haven’t explained one thing … one big thing.”

  “What big thing?” Mila asked.

  I took a breath. “Why were you two in the class with the zombies? You weren’t on that school bus from Michigan. Why were you in that room with all the zombies?”

  Mila kicked a clump of dirt. She didn’t raise her eyes.

  Shameka crossed her arms in front of her. She made a sour face and didn’t answer my question.

  “Well? Go ahead,” I said. “You told me part of it. You have to tell me the rest!”

  “Okay, okay,” Mila muttered. “We’re … we’re zombies, too.”

  “Huh?” I gasped. “That’s crazy. You d
on’t look like zombies. You don’t live in the cornfield.”

  “Believe us,” Shameka said softly. “They made us zombies, too.”

  “If you leave them alone, they won’t bother you,” Mila said. “But—”

  “That’s what Owen told me in school,” I said.

  “Owen was right,” Mila said. “But Shameka and I … we went after the zombies in the cornfield. We followed them and spied on them. And they caught us snooping. They …” Her voice trailed off.

  “They dragged us into the cornfield,” Shameka said, shaking her head. “We couldn’t escape them.”

  “We died, too,” Mila said, her voice trembling. “We don’t even remember how. All we remember is, we weren’t alive anymore. When we walked back out of the cornfield, we were the living dead.”

  A chill shook my whole body.

  The trees began to shake overhead, as if reacting to what the girls had told me. The rustle of leaves didn’t drown out my horrified thoughts.

  “So you two …” I couldn’t finish my sentence.

  They both nodded.

  “But … but …” I sputtered. “You don’t look like zombies. And you both live at home with your parents.”

  “Yes, they let us live at home,” Shameka replied. “As long as we keep their secret. They know we’re not part of their group—”

  “We can’t explain why we haven’t changed,” Mila said. “Why do we still look like ourselves? It’s all a horrible mystery. But it really doesn’t matter. Because we are not …” Her voice caught in her throat. “We are not alive, like you.”

  A small white van roared past us on the road. The driver gave us two short honks of the horn.

  I could see the sadness on both girls’ faces. I struggled to think of something to say. But I was stumped.

  And then their expressions changed. Their eyes went cold. Their mouths tightened into straight lines.

  “You snooped, too, Todd,” Shameka said. “You spied on the kids. You trespassed on their bus.”

  “You should have stayed away,” Mila said. “We tried to keep you away from the truth. But … you didn’t listen. You saw too much.”

  Mila grabbed my arm. “Come with us, Todd,” she said.

  “Huh? Come where?”

  She tightened her grip. “Into the woods. Come on. It won’t hurt for long.”

  “Whoa! Wait a minute!” I tried to swipe my arm away. But she held on with surprising strength.

  I tried to run, but Shameka blocked my path.

  “We told you everything,” she said in a low voice from deep in her throat. “Everything. Now you have to come with us.”

  “You saw too much, Todd,” Mila said. “Don’t blame us. We have no choice.”

  “No. Wait. Please—” I pleaded.

  Mila’s hand tightened even more. My whole arm began to throb. I ducked and twisted. But I couldn’t free myself from her steel grip.

  “Todd, don’t try to resist. Join us,” she whispered. I could barely hear her over the rush of the wind. “Just think how awesome it will be. You will be with us forever.”

  “N-no!” I stammered.

  “Of course you want to do it,” Shameka said. Her voice lowered to a growl. “You do, Todd. You do.”

  “No! Let go of me!” I screamed.

  But Mila dragged me forward, onto the road. I tightened my leg muscles and dug in my heels. Tried to hold back. But she was dragging me, dragging me to the trees on the other side.

  “Don’t be afraid. It doesn’t hurt for long,” Mila said. “And then you will be immortal, too.” She gave a hard tug that nearly pulled me off my feet.

  We had crossed the road. The shadows of the tall trees rolled over me. As if night was falling.

  “You will be like us, Todd,” Mila said, her hand digging into my skin as she forced me into the woods. “We will live forever.”

  “Nooooo!” I screamed. “Noooo. Let gooooo!”

  “Forever,” Mila repeated. “Don’t be afraid.”

  Shameka grabbed my other arm. The two of them pulled me off the road into the deep shadow of the trees. “Please …” I whispered. “Please …”

  All three of us stopped when we heard a shout.

  I took advantage of the girls’ surprise to jerk my arms free. I spun around—and saw the bike rolling toward us. Squinting hard, I recognized Skipper on his electric bike, coming on fast.

  “Skipper—go away!” Mila cried. “I mean it! Go away!”

  She made a grab for me and missed.

  I lurched back onto the road.

  Skipper stopped in front of me. “Quick! Jump on!” he shouted, slapping the seat right behind him.

  I didn’t need a second invitation. I leaped onto the bike.

  He shot the bike forward before I was seated. I grabbed his sides from behind and held on tight as we zoomed away.

  “Skipper to the rescue!” he shouted over the rush of wind in our faces.

  I twisted around and saw Mila and Shameka standing in the middle of the road, hands on their waists, watching as I escaped.

  We whirred away, bumping over the rutted country road. In a few seconds, the two girls were far in the distance.

  Standing on the pedals, Skipper leaned over the handlebars, and we picked up speed. Bouncing on the seat, I gripped the sides of his denim jacket and struggled to hold on.

  How did I feel? Relieved, of course. And happy to get away from my zombie cousin and her zombie friend. But my brain swirled with questions. Where were we going? Where was Skipper taking me?

  I didn’t have to wait long to find out.

  The road twisted through shadowy woods. And then the thick clumps of trees gave way to empty brown fields.

  Skipper swerved the bike sharply as a long gray SUV roared toward us. As it passed, I saw three or four kids in the backseats, all staring out at us.

  Clouds moved away from the sun, and the fields brightened to gold. I squinted against the sharp blue of the sky.

  When my eyes adjusted to the new light, I saw a cornfield up ahead. Skipper slowed the bike as we came near it. Then he turned and guided the bike along the side of the tall brown stalks.

  “Hey—!” I tapped Skipper’s sides with both hands. “Hey—is this your cornfield? Are we back at your farm?”

  He didn’t answer. I’m not sure he could hear me.

  At the back end of the field, he made a sharp right turn.

  I gasped as I saw the bus up ahead. The battered gray bus parked once again at the back of the field, tilting to one side.

  “No!” I shouted. “What are we doing here? I don’t want to be here. Skipper—turn around!”

  He turned his head to face me. I gasped when I saw the cold expression in his eyes. “Todd, did you think I was alive? Did I fool a city kid like you? Did you really think Mila and Shameka were the only ones chasing zombies in the cornfield? I spied on them, too. And they caught me snooping …”

  My breath caught in my throat. I couldn’t answer.

  The bike stopped short with a screech. The tires sank into the soft dirt at the edge of the field.

  I brushed my hair down with both hands. Rubbed my eyes. And saw the kids step out from the cornstalks.

  The zombie kids. Gray-skinned, blank eyes rolling in their heads, mouths hanging open hungrily … The zombie kids dragging themselves from the field.

  How did they get here so quickly? Here they were, waiting for me.

  Skipper twisted around again and gave me the same cold, blank stare. “Last stop,” he said.

  Skipper gave me a soft push, and I slid off the bike and landed on my feet.

  “Wait—!” I cried. But he leaned forward and kicked the pedals. His bike tires sent up a cloud of dirt as he sped away.

  The zombie kids didn’t hang back this time. They moved quickly to surround me.

  They grunted excitedly, their jaws swung up and down, and their eyes rolled in their heads.

  “Please—” I choked out.

&nbs
p; But two tall zombie boys bumped up against me. One slid his hand around my waist. The other grabbed my shoulder.

  “Let go! Please—let go!” My voice came out high and shrill.

  I tried to pull free. But they were too strong.

  Their soft grunts rose up all around me. “Hunh hunh hunh …” A chant from deep in their throats. “Hunh hunh hunh …”

  The stalks brushed against me, poking me, scratching me, as they pulled me deeper into the field. The two zombie boys shoved me forward. I saw a bare spot up ahead. A small circle. A break in the rows of dry brown stalks.

  They pushed me into the opening. And two others stepped out to greet me. Mila and Shameka.

  I opened my mouth to plead with them, to beg them to let me go. But the words choked in my throat. I couldn’t make a sound.

  Their faces were cold, their jaws set hard, eyes frozen on me as they stepped up to me. “It only hurts for a little while,” Shameka whispered.

  The zombie kids grunted as if answering her.

  “A few seconds,” Mila said, “and then you will be with us forever, Todd.”

  I twisted my whole body and tried to squirm free. But the two tall zombie boys didn’t loosen their grip.

  “Please … Please …” I finally found my voice. “I won’t tell anyone about you,” I said. “I promise. I’ll never mention this to anyone.”

  “Hunh hunh hunh …” came the growling chant, rising over the tall corn.

  “A few seconds,” Mila repeated. Her eyes were as cold and dead as the other zombies. “A few seconds, Todd.”

  Doomed.

  The word flashed into my mind, for the first time ever.

  I’m doomed.

  And then, my heart seemed to skip a beat.

  I had a desperate, last-second idea.

  “Hunnnh hunh hunnnh …”

  The zombie kids moved their circle tighter. The sour smell rose up from their bodies and washed over me. I struggled to not choke on the odor.

  I lowered a hand to my jeans pocket. I could feel the harmonica in there. Wrong pocket. The other pocket held my plastic lighter. The lighter my grandfather had given me for good luck.

  Good luck.