Zombie Dog

by Clare Hutton

  “Can we meet when it gets dark?” Becky whispered. She glanced at Jake, who was busy unfolding one of the paper footballs and seemingly not paying any attention to them. Her mom was looking in the refrigerator, and Becky hoped she couldn’t hear from where she was standing. “To … take care of the other thing.”

  Nate grimaced apologetically. “Once I get home, I don’t think I can get out again,” he whispered back. “I’ve got homework, and my parents are super alert. I’m pretty sure they’d catch me if I tried to sneak out. I don’t think you should do it alone, though,” he went on, frowning. “It’s not safe. Maybe later this week?”

  “Maybe,” Becky said. She was feeling resolved, though. Mimi was a danger to the whole neighborhood. Now that they had something that might work, might put her to rest, Becky knew that she had to try it right away. Her heart was hammering just at the idea of going alone, but she knew she would be anxious until it was over. She forced a smile onto her face. If Nate couldn’t come, there was no reason to make him worry about it all night. She’d be okay. Probably.

  After she saw him off, Becky grabbed the rubber gloves from the kitchen again and went up to her room. She found the baggie of dry ingredients that they had thankfully set aside before, and she went through the same procedure they had done the previous night: mushing the flower petals together with the cloves, poppy seeds, white flour, and bottled water. She painstakingly painted it onto ChiChi’s ball with the eraser of her pencil, careful not to spill any of the poisonous glop.

  It was all so familiar, but it felt weird without Nate beside her. Becky wished she wasn’t doing it alone — she wasn’t completely sure she could handle it.

  Everything was ready even before dark, and Becky waited through dinner, listening to the rain pounding at the windows, and picking at her food. Her parents were downstairs and she couldn’t sneak out — they would want to know where she was going in the middle of such a dreary night. So she brushed Bear’s fur and watched TV with her mother without really seeing what was on the screen, counting down the minutes until she could say she was going to bed.

  Finally, she said good night. Once she was upstairs, though, Becky sat on the edge of her bed in the dark and listened, jiggling her leg anxiously, waiting for her parents to go to bed. She looked out the window occasionally, half expecting to see a hunched shadow lurching painfully across the grass, eerie green eyes flashing up at her. But zombie Mimi didn’t appear. Becky closed her eyes and breathed deeply, telling herself, It will be all right.

  Once Becky thought that her parents must be asleep, she tiptoed down the stairs, tightly clutching the sandwich bag with ChiChi’s ball in it. As she stepped into the hall, a floorboard creaked loudly and Becky froze, waiting for someone to call down and ask what she was doing. But there was no noise from upstairs. No one had heard.

  There was a noise from the kitchen, though. Apparently Bear had heard her just fine. His tags jingled and he gave a short, eager huffing noise from inside his crate. She could hear him climbing to his feet, delighted that Becky had come down to see him. She went to the crate and petted him through the bars as his tail thrashed happily back and forth.

  “Good boy,” she whispered. “Shush, now. Shush.”

  Bear quieted, but as soon as she moved away from his crate, he gave a low bark, watching her attentively. Come back, he was obviously saying. Surely you’re not leaving so soon?

  “Shh, Bear,” Becky whispered. “It’s okay.” She moved toward the back door and gingerly put on her raincoat. Bear tensed. “Shh,” she said again, holding her hands up to him in a stay. She laid her hand on the doorknob and Bear barked sharply, louder this time.

  He didn’t want her to go. Becky knew Bear, and she was a hundred percent sure that, if she walked out the back door right then, he was going to howl and bark until her parents were up and looking for her, and then he wasn’t going to calm down until he had Becky back. Bear loved her, and he was stubborn, and he did not want her to go outside alone right then.

  “Oh, Bear,” she whispered, feeling close to tears. “I have to.” He went quiet and looked at her, his tail held low and wagging uncertainly. When she reached for the doorknob again, he barked again, once, louder still, his eyes on her.

  “Dumb dog,” Becky whispered fiercely, feeling intensely grateful. She walked over to Bear’s crate and crouched down close to him. “Do you want to come with me? Is that what you want?” she asked. “Wouldn’t you rather stay safe, Bear?”

  Bear met her eyes, waiting, and Becky opened his crate. He came out and licked her quickly on the cheek, but still seemed anxious. He went past her, stopping to wait for her by the back door.

  “Oh, good dog,” she whispered fervently, realizing how glad she was not to have to go alone.

  One hand on Bear’s collar and one hand laid protectively over the lump of ChiChi’s ball in her jacket pocket, Becky led Bear down the porch steps and across the lawn. The wind had picked up, and she blinked away the rain blowing into her face. As they approached the loose board in the fence, Bear began to slow, tugging against Becky’s grasp on his collar. Just like the last time she had taken this journey, thunder boomed overhead. This was turning into a real storm. Bear growled low in his throat.

  “I’m sorry, boy, but we have to,” Becky said softly.

  To her surprise, Bear stopped tugging away from her and nosed forward.

  “Good boy,” she said, and pushed the loose board aside. She and Bear wriggled through, gave their eyes a moment to adjust to the darkness, and headed around the side of the McNally house. Bushes rustled beside them, and Becky sucked in her breath. It’s just the wind, she told herself, and the rain on the branches. But she didn’t really believe it.

  They reached the driveway without seeing anything, and Becky quickly laid the ball down in the center of the drive and backed carefully away. The rain was even harder now, and Becky’s hair was getting plastered across her forehead and shoulders. Raindrops ran into her eyes and mouth.

  “Mimi!” she called, the name feeling strange in her mouth. She peered toward the dark shape that was the house in front of her. She tried to speak loudly over the wind and rain. “This is ChiChi’s ball. I’m sorry, we don’t have yours anymore. But it’s your sister’s, and your owner sent it with us. Please, I hope it’s enough for you.”

  From behind her came a wet, throbbing snarl.

  Becky whipped around just as lightning flashed. The dog was right behind her. It was right there, closer than she’d ever been to it. Its teeth were bared in a growl, and its eyes were glowing savagely at her. She could see the skin curling back dryly from its hanging ear. Becky backed away, a whimper catching in her throat.

  Zombie Mimi looked angry. She wasn’t even looking at the ball. The horrible smell, which Becky had gotten so used to over the past couple of days that she hadn’t even really noticed it tonight, washed over her, and she almost gagged.

  “No,” Becky whispered. She was shaking so hard that everything around her seemed to be moving gently. Her eyes met the zombie’s, and she saw how angry and confused it was, saw its eyes shift to her neck and imagined it leaping for her throat. I don’t want to be a zombie, she thought desperately. Her mind raced, trying to figure out what would be the best exit strategy.

  Then Bear barked, one loud, commanding bark.

  The zombie dog’s eyes shifted to him, and she growled again. Bear, businesslike, turned around and walked to the ball behind him, dropped his head, and nosed it carefully toward the other dog. Becky wanted to grab Bear and pull him away, but she couldn’t make herself move.

  The zombie Chihuahua — Mimi, Becky thought — stopped growling and watched Bear, her head cocked to one side, her eyes flashing green. Bear barked again, once. After a moment, the zombie dog whined, a questioning whine with an unnatural little waver in it, as if it was being pulled from a throat that didn’t quite work right anymore. Then she came forward less aggressively, limping slowly. Her tail was drooping, and she du
cked her head as she got closer to Bear, looking smaller and less fearsome. Becky felt a sudden stab of sympathy for her: She seemed so lonely.

  Bear backed away as Mimi came toward him, his tail held high over his back, his eyes fixed on her. Mimi lowered her head to the ball, nudged it, and carefully picked it up. Her ragged tail wagged once, slowly. Then, without looking at them again, Mimi walked toward the house, disappearing into the darkness, her sister ChiChi’s ball in her mouth. Bear stood still and watched her go, and then turned toward Becky, his tail wagging.

  The rain stopped as suddenly as if someone had turned off a faucet. Becky, dripping, looked up to see a clear sky full of stars.

  “Oh, Bear,” she whispered. Her heart was pounding. Somehow, though, she didn’t think they were in danger now. She wiped Bear’s nose carefully with a wet leaf, to get all of the poisonous paste off. “Come on,” she said, and Bear went with her back around the house and through the hole in the fence to her own yard.

  Once they were inside the house, she couldn’t stop petting Bear, sinking her hands into his thick damp fur and laying her face against his head. She felt like crying out of sheer relief. It was over. Wasn’t it? Mimi had taken the ball. The rain had stopped. The smell was dissipating. She got Bear a treat from his special treat jar. He wasn’t supposed to get them all the time, but he definitely deserved one tonight.

  Was it over? Was Mimi at rest now? Becky thought so, but how could she know?

  At last, Bear sleepily got up, licked her on the cheek, and walked calmly to his crate. He shifted around on his pillow, making himself comfortable, and then settled down, rested his head on his paws, and gave a blissful sigh. Becky smiled. He’d been so agitated, and now he was fine. He knew, she was sure, that Mimi was at rest again.

  Her cell phone was on the counter and she picked it up to text Nate. He was probably asleep, but he would get the message in the morning.

  MIMI’S GONE, she texted. BEAR SAVED ME.

  Becky called Mrs. McNally the next morning before school, from her room. She thought Mrs. McNally deserved to know as soon as possible that her beloved Mimi was at rest again.

  “She took the ball,” she told her, “and went back inside. The rain stopped. Mimi looked … happier.”

  There was a little pause before Mrs. McNally answered her. “Thank you, Becky,” the older lady said quietly. “We … my husband and I made a mistake when we tried to bring Mimi back. It was painful to think that she was a zombie again, and I am glad you were able to give her peace.”

  When Becky pressed the END button on her phone, there were tears in her eyes. Not sad tears, but sympathetic ones. She loved Bear so much and she could imagine wanting to bring him back no matter what — but she could also imagine the pain of realizing that bringing him back had led to his suffering. Now that Mimi was at rest, Mrs. McNally could feel happier, too.

  “I still can’t believe you went without me,” Nate said as they headed through the halls at the end of the school day. “What if something had happened?”

  Becky smiled. “Bear was looking out for me,” she said. “And, you know, I think his behavior’s already getting better. Without Mimi around to scare him, I’m sure he’ll be the perfect dog.”

  Nate raised an eyebrow at her, and she shrugged. “I had a good idea, though. I suggested to my parents that I could take Bear to obedience classes at the community center. He could probably stand some better training. And the idea made my dad feel a lot better about keeping him.”

  They were almost to the doors when she saw Charlotte ahead of them and hurried to catch up with her. It had been a while since she’d thought about Charlotte — the zombie trouble had taken up all of her energy.

  “Hey, Charlotte,” she said impulsively. “Can I talk to you for a second?”

  Charlotte stopped and turned, and gave her a tentative smile. “Of course you can,” she said softly.

  Becky glanced out the doors. They had a few minutes before the buses would leave, and she was supposed to meet Tonya first. They’d decided to try to make their own tempera paints for art club tomorrow. But Tonya wasn’t outside yet: She had a moment.

  “Are we still friends, Charlotte?” she asked. “We haven’t hung out lately, and I know you’ve made new friends in chorus. I’m sorry I got mad at you for thinking my neighborhood was creepy.”

  “I’m sorry, too,” Charlotte said in a rush. “I definitely still want to be friends. I should have been on your side when you were upset about the stories everyone was telling. It wasn’t nice for me to say what I did.” She was fiddling nervously with her watchband, and looked sad.

  “It’s okay,” Becky said. “But the stories about the McNally house really aren’t true. There’s nothing scary there.” She was pretty sure she could say that now: Mimi the zombie dog was definitely gone, Bear’s behavior had indicated that, and the smell that had hung over the neighborhood had been gone when she woke up that morning. For the first time in days, Becky had been able to breathe clean fresh air, and that had felt wonderful.

  And Becky was also pretty sure that the other rumors — the witch covens and vampires and were-wolves — had never been true.

  Charlotte bit her lip. “I know,” she said slowly. “I haven’t known how to talk to you about it, but I really wanted to apologize. I also was kind of using that as an excuse for not hanging out as much. I wanted to do more stuff with Lila and the kids from chorus, and I didn’t know how to tell you.” Becky’s heart sank a little — Charlotte had pretended to be scared of Becky’s neighborhood just so she didn’t have to feel guilty about ditching Becky to hang out with her friends from chorus? That was weird, and not something a good friend should do.

  Charlotte rushed into her speech again. “I’m still your friend, Becky,” she said. “I’ll always be your friend, if you want me. It’s just that last year we spent all our time with just each other, and I guess” — she ducked her head and looked up at Becky nervously — “I handled making other friends really badly. But I don’t want to not be friends with you. I really don’t.”

  Becky looked out the windows toward the buses and saw Tonya standing with Nate and Paul and Nate’s other friend Noah. They were all laughing about something, and she realized that if Charlotte hadn’t turned away from her for a while, she never would have had Nate for a study partner or invited Tonya over to her house — she would have been just doing stuff with Charlotte. Becky might never have had the possibilities of these other new friends, people who she might like even better than Charlotte.

  “I think you were right, Charlotte,” she said. “We should hang out with other people.”

  Charlotte’s face fell for a moment, and Becky reached out and hugged her quickly. After all, Charlotte was the first friend she’d made here, and even if they were both changing, she still liked her. “But we can still be friends, too,” she reassured her. “It doesn’t have to be one or the other.”

  Charlotte smiled. “I’m glad,” she said. “Do you want to go to the movies with me and Lila this weekend?”

  “Maybe,” Becky said. “Call me and let me know when.” They pushed out through the doors into the afternoon sunshine together and then headed in different directions. Becky caught up with Tonya and Nate and the other guys just before they got on the bus, and they all sat together.

  Paul had his pictures of the zombie dog, and Becky grabbed them. In the photographs, she could barely see the outline of Mimi’s body against the shadows, but her eyes glowed eerily, glaring out of the darkness.

  “I can’t wait to see what it’s going to look like by Halloween,” Paul said eagerly, and Nate and Becky exchanged a glance.

  “I don’t know if that’s going to happen,” Becky said slowly.

  “Yeah,” Nate said. “We ran into a little snag with the design.”

  “Oh, too bad,” Tonya said. “Maybe we can make something else, though. They have this cool glow-in-the-dark paint at the art store near the mall.”

  As they
came up the street from the bus stop, they were making plans for different Halloween decorations and costumes. Becky invited everyone over to come up with designs. Noah, it turned out, thought he could fiddle with the engine from a remote-control car to make a ghost swoop forward when trick-or-treaters came toward the front steps.

  “We should definitely do it at your house, Becky,” Noah said. “Because everyone’s already freaked out by all the ghost stories people tell about the house next door to you.”

  It doesn’t matter, Becky realized. Now that she’d faced the real zombie dog and laid it to rest, all the other stories people told about the McNally house just seemed silly, the way Nate had always thought. It would be fun to give the trick-or-treaters a harmless little thrill.

  “Maybe we could make, like, a cauldron of witch’s brew and have dry ice or something making steam,” she said. “We should decorate the whole house so it’s really scary.”

  Everyone started talking at once, shooting out suggestions, but Becky didn’t really hear them. She had noticed what was happening on her lawn.

  Bear was standing on the grass, his head lowered and his tail wagging uncertainly. At the corner of the fence, the loose board shook hard and then, slowly, deliberately, pushed away from the rest of the fence, leaving an opening.

  Becky froze. Was there another zombie animal? Something was coming through the fence, something pale and furry. It can’t be the Chihuahua! she thought. It just can’t. It’s over.

  A small, ragged kitten popped through the hole and out into the yard. Becky breathed a little easier for a second, and then she thought: Hadn’t Dr. McNally done other experiments? What if other zombies were waking up?

  If the kitten attacked Bear now, there would be no way to stop it. Becky was too far away.

  She watched as Bear lowered his head, nosing unsurely at the kitten, who reared back a little. Oh, Bear, she thought. Why didn’t he run away?