Attack of the Shark-Headed Zombie

by Bill Doyle

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Text copyright © 2011 by Bill Doyle

  Cover art and interior illustrations copyright © 2011 by Scott Altmann

  All rights reserved. Published in the United States by Random House Children’s Books, a division of Random House, Inc., New York.

  Random House and the colophon are registered trademarks and A Stepping Stone

  Book and the colophon are trademarks of Random House, Inc.

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  Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

  Doyle, Bill H.

  Attack of the shark-headed zombie / by Bill Doyle ; illustrated by Scott Altmann. — 1st ed.

  p. cm.

  “A Stepping Stone Book.”

  Summary: In order to earn money for new bicycles, nine-year-old cousins Keats and

  Henry take a job at a very strange house where doors disappear, carpets bite, and a

  zombie shark comes after them.

  eISBN: 978-0-375-89813-6

  [1. Magic—Fiction. 2. Zombies—Fiction. 3. Cousins—Fiction. 4. Moneymaking projects—Fiction.] I. Altmann, Scott, ill. II. Title.

  PZ7.D7725 Att 2011 [Fic]—dc22 2010022539

  Random House Children’s Books supports the First Amendment and celebrates the right to read.

  v3.1

  To RSII and KMB. Zap those zombies!

  —B.D.

  For Dylan and Addie

  —S.A.

  CONTENTS

  Cover

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Dedication

  1. STUNT KIDS

  2. 1313 HOUDINI WAY

  3. THE SHARK-HEADED ZOMBIE

  4. HALLWAY HOUSE

  5. THE KITCHEN SINK

  6. DETOUR!

  7. THE BOOKWORMS

  8. ESCAPE FROM THE LIBRARY

  9. KEATS’S SURPRISE

  10. THE BATTLE OF THE GARAGE

  11. MR. CIGAM

  About the Author

  “UGH!” KEATS GASPED. With one last shove, he pushed his bike to the top of Steep Cliff Hill. This was the highest spot around. He couldn’t believe he’d made it!

  As usual, his cousin Henry had climbed a lot faster. He sat waiting for Keats on a rock at the top.

  “Ready for the ride of your life?” Henry asked with a grin. He jumped to his feet.

  “Just a second,” Keats said. He carefully brushed a few specks of dirt off Webster. That was what he called his bike. Keats liked Webster to shine, especially on sunny summer afternoons like today.

  “Give your bike a bath later,” Henry said, laughing. “You’ve got to see this.” He pulled Keats over to look down the other side of the hill.

  “Whoa,” Keats said, and his stomach flip-flopped. The rocky slope ran straight down, almost like a wall. At the bottom, a cliff dropped into a deep lake.

  “You want to ride our bikes down that?” Keats squinted up at Henry. The cousins were both nine, but Henry was two inches taller.

  “You got it, cuz.” Henry slapped him on the back. “My World’s Greatest Plan is for us to be stunt kids in movies.”

  “Oh man,” Keats groaned. “Not another one of your World’s Greatest Plans! Remember when you said we should be snake dentists?”

  “This time is different,” Henry said. “If we spend the summer training to be stunt kids, we’ll be famous by fall.” He pointed down Steep Cliff Hill. “This will be our first mission. We just ride down and stop before the cliff.”

  Keats shook his head. “That’s so nuts you should sell peanut butter.”

  “Nuts?” Henry asked. “It’s totally safe.” Then he scratched his chin. Keats knew his cousin well. Scratching his chin was a sure sign that Henry was lying.

  Keats decided he would not ride down the scary side of Steep Cliff Hill. Sure, Henry would call him chicken for going back the easy way. But that was better than taking the chance that Webster might get scratched.

  Besides, it was a perfect afternoon for shooting hoops. From up here Keats could see the basketball court in the park. And there! He spotted his other favorite place in their small town, the library. Maybe he’d drop by to see if any new books had come in.

  Keats started to explain. “Henry, I’m going down—”

  “Great!” Henry interrupted. “I knew you wouldn’t let me ride alone. I’ll go first!”

  Before Keats could stop him, Henry hopped on his bike and zipped straight down Steep Cliff Hill. As if he’d done it a million times, he skidded to a halt right before the edge of the cliff.

  “Come on, Keats!” Henry shouted from way below. “It’s easy!”

  It did look easy, Keats told himself. And he didn’t want to let Henry down. Maybe he should just give it a try. He could always stop halfway if he got freaked out.

  Keats touched his lucky baseball cap under his helmet and gave his bike a pat. “Let’s go, Webster.”

  He started down the hill. Right away, Keats knew this was a huge mistake. The rocky ground made the wheels jitter and the handlebars shake. And Keats was going way too fast. He wanted to stop. He tried putting on the brakes—

  Oh no!

  His jeans were snagged in the gears. He couldn’t press the pedals back to brake. He was completely out of control … and he was heading for the cliff.

  “Henry!” Keats shouted. “I! Can’t! Stop!”

  In a flash, Henry dropped his own bike and ran a few feet up the hill. When Keats zoomed by, Henry yanked on his arm. Keats fell off the bike, his jeans tearing free. The boys tumbled onto the grass. But Webster kept going and smacked into Henry’s bike. Both bikes flew over the cliff and spun through the air end over end.

  Keploosh!

  The bikes splashed into the deep lake and sank. Keats looked from the edge of the cliff to his cousin, who grinned.

  “Why are you smiling?” Keats demanded. “Webster’s gone! So is your bike!”

  “I know,” Henry said, trying to cover his grin with his hand. “And I’m really sorry. But how cool was that? Just like real stunt kids!”

  Keats gave Henry’s arm a whack. “How are we going to get anywhere this summer? And what about now? It’s too far to walk home without bikes.”

  Henry shrugged. “No problem. Our moms are still at work. We’ll just meet them at the store. They can buy us new bikes on the drive home.”

  Keats wasn’t so sure. But Henry was already heading toward town. Keats rushed to catch up.

  It took ten minutes for the cousins to walk to the Purple Rabbit Market, where their moms were cashiers. Like Keats and Henry, their moms were best friends and did everything together. In fact, they looked like twins in their purple uniforms.

  Keats’s mom spotted the boys when they came into the store. She waved them over to her empty checkout aisle. “How’d you both get so dirty?” she asked.

  Henry’s mom finished with a customer and joined them. “What’s the terrible twosome done now?” she asked, folding her arms.

  “Let me do the talking, Keats,” Henry whispered. Then, scratching his chin, he started, “Mom and Aunt Marisol, our tale of thrills and chills all started back in—”

  Henry’s mom held up a hand to stop him. “You better tell us, Keats. We’re more likely to get an answer without all the hoopla.”


  So Keats told them about losing their bikes in the lake. At first their moms were angry. But then they laughed when the cousins asked for money for new bikes. They said the boys would have to find a way to earn the cash themselves.

  “But how?” Keats asked.

  “I don’t know,” Keats’s mom said sternly. “Now go outside until our shift is over. Without Webster, you’ll have to wait for me or Dad to drive you everywhere.”

  Shuffling his feet, Keats took his time following Henry out of the store. He missed Webster already. Summer was going to be pretty boring without bikes. When Keats got outside, Henry was standing next to the community message board. It was full of signs that people had pinned up about lost dogs and bake sales.

  Henry was smiling again.

  “I’ve solved our problem!” he shouted. He ripped an ad off the board and showed it to Keats. The ad said:

  HELP WANTED with ODD JOBS

  My house is a disaster!

  Looking for someone who can work real magic!

  Will pay big $$$!

  There was an address outside of town and a phone number to leave a message.

  “We’ll have money for new bikes in no time!” Henry said. “There’s a pay phone right there. I’ll call and say we’ll take the job. It’s my new World’s Greatest Plan!”

  Something about the help-wanted ad struck Keats as weird. He couldn’t put his finger on it. “I’ve got a bad feeling about this,” he said.

  But, of course, it was too late to stop Henry. He was already dialing the phone.

  THWACK! A BRANCH snapped back and smacked Keats in the face.

  “Blech,” he said, wiping a slimy leaf off his cheek. He couldn’t believe he was following Henry on one of his shortcuts. Again.

  It was the morning after their bikes had gone into the lake. The cousins were squishing around the swampy woods looking for 1313 Houdini Way. That was the address on the ad.

  “Admit it, Henry,” Keats said as his sneaker splashed into a pool of muck. “Your shortcut is a longcut. We are so lost. We never should have left the road.”

  “I know exactly where we are,” Henry said. He was scratching his chin, so Keats knew he wasn’t telling the truth.

  “Okay, where are we?” Keats challenged.

  Just then Keats’s foot caught on something. He fell forward, his hands scraping on pavement. It was the road! When he looked up, he saw a massive iron gate on the other side. The address on the gate said 1313 Houdini Way.

  “We’re here!” Henry shouted. He pulled Keats back onto his feet. “See? No problem.”

  Keats had to smile. Sometimes Henry’s plans did actually work out.

  Past the gate, a long gravel driveway curved around dead trees. A gray house with dark windows squatted on top of the hill. It looked like a haunted house in a horror movie.

  Keats took a step back. “Are you kidding?” he said.

  “Come on,” Henry said. “Do you want to make money for new bikes or not?”

  Tugging Keats along, Henry led the way to the house. They climbed the rickety old steps of the front porch and pressed the doorbell. Instead of a ding-dong, there was a buzzing noise. It sounded like runawayrunaway. The boys waited. But no one came.

  Keats spotted a note taped next to the door. He plucked the note free and read it out loud:

  Dear Keats and Henry,

  Welcome to Hallway House. Thank you for taking the job. Here are your tasks for today:

  Weed the garden.

  Bring the box of lightbulbs down from the attic.

  Battle and defeat the shark-headed zombie.

  Sweep the garage.

  When you’re done with everything, I’ll return to pay you and take you home.

  Sincerely,

  Archibald Cigam

  P.S. If you need an extra wand, I think there’s an old one in the kitchen sink.

  “Shark-headed zombie?” Henry said.

  “Extra wand?” Keats said.

  Henry laughed, and then Keats did, too.

  “Well,” Henry said, “at least Mr. Cigam knows how to joke around. Come on. Let’s start at the top of the list. Weed the garden.”

  “I didn’t see a garden,” Keats said, putting Mr. Cigam’s note in his pocket. “Did you?”

  They looked around. After a couple of minutes they found the “garden.” It was a big patch of weeds next to the house.

  “Let’s get to work,” Henry said.

  Under the blazing summer sun, the boys started yanking out weeds. They were the really prickly kind with deep roots. They took two hands—or even four—to tug out of the dirt.

  With each weed they pulled out, Keats felt the ground shake a little. The first few times he stopped to look around. But after a while he decided the shaking must be his imagination.

  Finally the cousins uprooted the last weed. Henry wiped the sweat off his face. “That’s done,” he said. “What’s the next job?”

  Keats took out the to-do list to check. Then he froze. A black line was running through the words weed the garden. It was as if an invisible pen was crossing it off the list.

  “Whoa,” Keats said. “Henry, look at this.”

  But Henry was staring past Keats’s shoulder. Keats turned to look, too. About fifty yards away, he spotted a dark triangle sticking up from the ground. It was as high as his knees and moving through the grass.

  “What is that?” Keats asked.

  “If I didn’t know better,” Henry said, “I’d say it’s a fin.”

  It did look like a fin gliding through the ground.

  For a second the fin was all Keats could see. Then a huge mouth popped up out of the grass. Long, sharp teeth crunched down on twigs and rocks.

  Some sort of strange creature was swimming through the ground.

  It was gobbling up everything in its path. And it was heading straight for the boys!

  Henry grabbed Keats’s arm and shouted, “Run!”

  KEATS DIDN’T MOVE. His eyes wide, he stared at the toothy jaws slicing through the grass and weeds. Keats had never seen anything like this.

  It can’t be real, Keats thought. Meanwhile, the thing was getting closer.

  “Come on!” Henry yanked Keats’s arm again. Keats finally snapped out of it. The boys darted across the lawn. They sprinted up the steps of the front porch. Keats almost tripped on the last step. But Henry grabbed him and held him up.

  Their hands reached for the front door at the same time. It was locked! The boys pounded on the door and rang the doorbell. But there was no answer.

  “I don’t get it!” Keats said. “Mr. Cigam gave us jobs to do inside. Why is the door locked?”

  “He must have forgotten to leave it open,” Henry said. “I think we have bigger problems to deal with than Mr. Cigam’s bad memory.”

  The cousins turned back toward the yard. The creature had followed them! It was half-way between the garden and porch, chewing up all the dirt and stones in its way.

  Suddenly the creature stopped. It let out a huge, long burp.

  BLLLUURRRP!

  “Yuck,” Keats said.

  Then the thing kept coming. In an instant it was at the porch steps.

  “We should have run for the road!” Henry said. “Now we’re stuck here!”

  The creature took an enormous bite out of the bottom porch step. The wooden step was thick, but it cracked like a toothpick. The boys pressed back against the locked door.

  “What is that thing?” Keats shouted.

  Henry said, “It looks like some kind of shark. But how can a shark swim in grass?”

  Shark. That word reminded Keats of the note.

  “I bet it’s the shark-headed zombie,” he said. “Mr. Cigam wasn’t kidding!”

  When the creature had chewed through the bottom porch step, it stopped again to burp. Then it started crunching on the second step.

  Chomp! Crack! Chomp!

  Henry jiggled the knob of the locked door. It still wouldn’t budge.


  The zombie chewed faster as it got closer to the boys. It gnawed on the third step. Just a few feet were left between the cousins and the zombie.

  Keats looked around the porch. His mind was racing. “According to The Big Book of Locks, three—”

  “Oh man! This isn’t the library, Keats!” Henry said. “We don’t have time for a report on a boring book you just read!”

  Keats ignored him. “According to The Big Book of Locks, three out of five people leave their keys under the doormat.”

  Henry rolled his eyes. Keats lifted the doormat. A shiny ring of about ten keys glittered there in the sun.

  “Woohoo!” Henry cheered. He slapped Keats on the back. “I promise never to doubt you again. It’s my new World’s Greatest Plan.”

  “Yeah, right,” Keats said. But he was smiling, too. Keats picked up the keys and tried one in the lock. The key didn’t fit. He tried another.

  Henry kept poking him and saying, “Come on! Come on!”

  “You’re not helping, Henry,” Keats muttered. “Just—”

  Craaassh! The shark-headed zombie’s jagged teeth chomped down on the top step. Its head poked over the edge of the porch. The smell of old fish came from its mouth.

  “Hurry!” Henry shouted.

  “I’m trying!” Keats chose another key. It didn’t fit. Then he tried the last key. It went in smoothly. The door opened with a click. In a rush, Henry and Keats pushed into the house and fell sprawling onto a musty carpet.

  Glancing back, Keats saw the shark-headed zombie jump into the air. It was like watching a fish leap out of the water. It did a half-twist and landed on the porch with a thud.

  The creature flopped around for a second. Then it got its tail underneath its body and stood up. It looked unsteady, like a seal doing a new trick at the zoo.

  The zombie was twice as tall as Keats, and it didn’t have just a shark’s head. It had flippers for arms, a tail, and black eyes. The thing’s skin was smooth and silver like a shark’s.

  It took a single hop toward the boys.

  Keats didn’t want to see any more. He slammed the wooden door shut. But Keats knew it wouldn’t keep the shark-headed zombie out for long.