Dead (A Lot)

by Howard Odentz

  Another one grabbed at me, and I kicked her over. She went sprawling into a small pile of llama pellets, which was more than a little funny. I dropped another flaming square of paper towel on her then dashed between the two while lighting another piece on fire. Newfie was growling and drooling, but he had backed away from the little monsters.

  They stood in a tight group. I supposed torching one was as good as another. I chose a chubby, squat, red headed girl standing in the dead center of the group. Without waiting to watch her light up and pop, I grabbed Newfie’s big, red collar and pulled as hard as I could. That’s when I discovered that trying to move a hundred and fifty pound dog who didn’t want to be moved was about as easy as trying to get Prianka to smile.

  I tried a second time, grabbing on to his collar with both hands and heaving with everything I got. He came that time, a little too easily. Maybe he sensed they were going to blow. I don’t know. In any case, I got him a safe distance away just in time for the midget zombie to go up in a blaze of glory, pop, and wipe out her partners in crime.

  In less than a minute, all that was left were flaming piles of goo burning dirty smudge marks into the pasture. Newfie jumped up on me and thoroughly drenched my face with dog slobber.

  “Good boy, Newfie. Good boy,” I said as I scratched his massive head. I heard Jimmy whooping and hollering in the distance—my own personal cheering squad. After a few more huge licks, Newfie calmed down and went to sniff at the pools of black tar. A group of four or five llamas also came up and sniffed at what was left of Troop Dead.

  My eyes fell on the spot where the poxers had broken through the fence. There was a ten foot stretch between two poles knocked down into a pile of twisted wire.

  Jimmy had said that the llamas were a lot of meat on the hoof. I really hoped we would never have to resort to a llama-luau. Still, the last thing we needed was all of them taking a hike on us.

  Besides, Aunt Ella would flip a biscuit—if she was still alive.

  49

  THE SUN WAS sinking fast by the time Jimmy and I finished cobbling the fence back together. He was pretty handy with a hammer and nails, and together, we got the fence looking half way safe—but just barely.

  Trina and Prianka put dinner together. I can’t say their cooking was anything like Stella’s, but at least we had food.

  Dinner was peanut butter and honey sandwiches with potato chips and warm juice. Sanjay ate, so that was progress. He gripped his sandwich stiffly in his hands and silently chewed while the rest of us talked. Andrew sat on his shoulder and watched intently as Sanjay repeatedly lifted the sandwich to his mouth, took a bite, and brought it back to the table. When he was almost done, Sanjay stopped and let a little crust of bread sit between his fingers. After a moment, Andrew hopped down and delicately plucked the remaining bits from his hand.

  “Bird brain ate his sandwich,” I said as I popped a potato chip in my mouth.

  “Maybe he wanted him to,” said Prianka. “I just wish he’d say something. I’ve never seen him like this before.”

  “He’ll come around,” said Jimmy.

  My sister nodded in agreement. Prianka half-smiled, but I could tell she was worried. She stared at her brother with scared, lonely eyes.

  AFTER DINNER Prianka and I lit candles while Jimmy and Trina closed all the shades. I went outside and ran up to the top of the driveway and turned around. The house looked dark from the road, which was a good thing. We didn’t want to attract any more dead things.

  Newfie, who was stretched out in the entrance to the barn, silently watched me climb the porch steps on my way back inside.

  “You coming?” I asked. He just watched me with those big, dark eyes and his tongue lolling out of his mouth. “I’m only offering once.” Newfie put his head down on his paws and didn’t budge. “Your choice,” I said as I reached for the knob. I let myself inside and closed and locked the door behind me.

  I suppose I was a little more comfortable knowing he was out there. He could take care of a few poxers. He proved that with the girl scouts.

  I found Trina in the kitchen emptying trash from dinner into a big plastic bag.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Cleaning up. What does it look like I’m doing?”

  “I don’t know. It’s . . . well . . . I don’t think I’ve ever seen you do that before.”

  She groaned. “Not in the mood, Tripp.” She opened up the pantry door and found one bin that said recycling and another that said compost. “Not likely,” she muttered and dropped the bag on the floor and pushed the door closed. She stood with her back up against the wall and her arms folded over her chest. “I wish Mom and Dad were here,” she said.

  I sat down at the kitchen table and reached my hand into the bag of potato chips. My fingers came out covered in grease and salt. I wished my parents were here, too. Doing all this on our own was exhausting. Who knew surviving the apocalypse without adult supervision would be so hard. Besides, I missed them. There was an empty hole inside of me. They had always been there to fill it—and now they weren’t.

  “I’m sure they just got stuck,” I said reassuringly. I didn’t know if I really believed what I was saying, but the lame reassurance was what my sister needed to hear. “I mean, seriously. They were up at the lake house. It’s all highways from there to here, and you saw what the highways looked like. Mom and Dad are probably crawling their way through the back roads of Vermont to get here.”

  “Or they got eaten by poxers.”

  “Well that’s just lovely thinking.”

  Trina plopped herself down next to me and reached into the bag of chips. “I can’t help worrying,” she said.

  “Just think. It took us four days to get here. They’re probably finding travel as hard as we did. You can’t panic yet.”

  “I’m not panicking. I’m just worried is all, and I’m really, REALLY, sick of eating potato chips.”

  Prianka and Sanjay came into the kitchen followed by Jimmy. She was carrying the Ouija board we found earlier that day. “Your idea,” she said and tossed the box down on the kitchen table.

  Jimmy shook his head and laughed nervously. “I don’t like these things,” he said. “I was always told not to play around with stuff like that.”

  “Stuff like what?” asked Trina.

  “You know—the occult.”

  I spit out a mouth full of potato chips and almost choked. “I don’t think we can get any more ‘occult’ than we already are. In case you haven’t noticed, we’re living in Poxer World, and you have a pet crow. Maybe if we’re lucky, we’ll even contact the ghost of Edgar Allen Poe.”

  Jimmy shrugged. “I can’t argue with that. Okay. I’m game if you are.”

  Prianka sat Sanjay next to her. Jimmy pulled his wheelchair up to the table. I opened the box and pulled out the board. It was decorated with the alphabet and numbers one through ten, along with a big ‘yes’ and a big ‘no.’ Inside the box was a squat, plastic triangle on tiny supports with little, round, felt bottoms. According to the directions, the triangle was called a planchette. We were all supposed to put the planchette in the middle of the Ouija board, place our fingers lightly around the triangle, and ask questions.

  Supposedly, ghosts would spell out the answers for us.

  How hokey can you get?

  All of us, except Sanjay, balanced the tips of our fingers lightly on the planchette. “Okay,” I said to Prianka. “Ask away.”

  She stared at the board for a moment, lightly running her tongue along her teeth. “Okay, I know,” she said, “Is Necropoxy everywhere?”

  I knew she was thinking about her parents in India. My throat tightened as I imagined my parents on the other side of the world instead of possibly showing up any moment. What if the situation were reversed and my family was reduced to just me, and Trina was li
ke Sanjay? I would have probably cracked by now.

  Not Prianka. Whatever hard, competitive thing was inside of her that made her so freaking annoying was probably helping her cope. I admired her for that.

  “Good question,” I said and repeated her words to the board. “Is Necropoxy everywhere?”

  At first nothing happened.

  “This is stupid,” whispered Trina. Then she sucked her breath in. The planchette slowly started to glide across the surface of the board.

  “Come on, you guys,” laughed Jimmy. “Who’s moving?”

  “Not me,” I said because I wasn’t. Prianka and Trina said they weren’t either. The planchette began to pick up speed. Within seconds, our hands were being dragged around and around the board in a wide circle. Finally, the tip of the triangle landed on the word ‘yes’ and hovered there for a second before sliding to the word ‘no.’

  “Well that’s specific,” I said. “Yes and No? What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “It means he doesn’t know,” said Prianka, like she thought the Ouija was real.

  “Who?” I said. “Who doesn’t know?”

  She shrugged. “I don’t know. Let’s ask.” She straightened her back and cleared her throat. “Is anybody there?” Again the planchette sat for a moment before slowly coming to life and sliding over to the word ‘yes.’

  “This is creepy,” said Trina and pulled her hands away. We all did. “I don’t like this.”

  “It’s just a game,” I said. “Come on. There’s nothing good on TV.”

  Jimmy leaned over and gave her a quick peck on the cheek. She smirked.

  “Fine,” she said. “Whatever.”

  We all put our hands back on the planchette. The candles flickered as Andrew swept into the room and landed on Sanjay’s head. His glazed expression didn’t falter.

  “Okay. Let’s try this again,” said Prianka. “Is anybody there?”

  When the loud knock assaulted the front door I think we all screamed.

  50

  “IT’S MOM AND DAD,” exclaimed Trina and toppled her chair over as she dashed out of the kitchen and down the hallway to the front door.

  “TRINA,” yelled Jimmy after her, but she was already gone.

  Prianka and I were too stunned to say anything. It all happened so fast. My heart was still pounding because of the stupid Ouija board. Prianka folded herself around her brother.

  “Is it your parents?” she whispered.

  “I don’t know,” I gasped. “Newfie’s outside. He didn’t even bark.”

  Jimmy wiped sweat from his brow, wheeled his chair around, and went after my sister.

  “Damn,” I hissed as I got up and went after them, too.

  Trina easily got to the door before the rest of us. She turned the lock and swung the heavy wood open on its hinges. The moon was near full, so light spilled into the hallway.

  “You!” she exclaimed.

  “You!” said an unfamiliar voice.

  “Now that’s a twist,” said Jimmy when he saw who was there.

  I stood in the doorway with my sister. Prianka came up behind Jimmy. Her eyes flew open. “No way,” she said.

  “I . . . I . . .” stammered our visitor.

  “Chill,” I said. “We’re cool—really.”

  Standing in the doorway was bow and arrow boy. How he found us was a complete mystery. Two days and twenty miles ago we watched him sprint off into the woods with his crotch soaking wet and his pride probably more than a little hurt.

  “I . . . I . . .” he babbled again. Then he started to cry—and not just a little bit. His face screwed up into a knot and a flood poured out of him. Trina didn’t know what to do at first. Frankly, none of us did. Finally, my sister stepped forward and tentatively put her arms around him. He buried his sobbing face into her shoulder and hugged her fiercely. That’s when his legs turned to jelly, and he almost collapsed right there on the porch.

  Newfie suddenly appeared, climbing the steps to stand next to him like a furry, rigid support.

  “Everyone’s gone,” he sobbed. “Everyone—everywhere. My mom, my dad, my little sisters, the baby—they’re all just gone.” Trina turned to look at me, both our faces a mask of confusion. “My dad did it,” he cried. “I don’t know why. We were all okay except for him. I saw what he did to them—what he did to baby Katie. She didn’t . . . she didn’t even cry.”

  Jimmy wheeled forward and put a hand on the boy’s shoulder. He was younger than us—maybe twelve or thirteen at most. He had his bow slung over his shoulder, the kind with an attached battery of arrows that serious hunters use to go after deer. He also had a backpack.

  After what seemed like a decade, the boy pulled free from my sister and wiped the tears from eyes.

  “I didn’t run away,” he said. “Back when I first met you, I didn’t run away. I followed you. You weren’t driving that fast, and I had my mom’s Vespa scooter hidden in the woods.” He dropped his bow from his shoulder. His backpack slipped to the ground. “I saw you get attacked in Greenfield and run into the bookstore. I ended up down the street in a pizza shop.”

  “You were there the whole time?” Trina gasped.

  “I couldn’t get out. There were dead people everywhere. I got attacked by a big, fat guy in the pizza place, but I managed to lock him in the freezer. Besides,” he said, pointing at Prianka. “She threatened me with a gun.”

  “You had a bow and arrow pointed at us,” she snipped. “What did you expect us to do?”

  He looked so helpless and innocent. I could tell as soon as Prianka said what she did, she felt bad. She bit her lip and stared at me like I should take over the conversation.

  “How did you find us?” I asked. “We’re like miles away from Greenfield.”

  He wiped his face again. Tears still dribbled down his checks. “Stella sent me,” he said.

  We were all speechless.

  “After you left Greenfield this morning, she hung a sheet out her window that said ‘Survivor.’ You burned up most of the dead people, so I went into the street and beeped the horn on the scooter. She saw me and let me in.”

  “No way,” said Jimmy.

  “Uh huh,” said the boy, and he pulled a piece of paper from his pocket. It was a duplicate of the directions that Sanjay had given us right before we left. He held it out like an admission ticket to the movies. Trina didn’t take it. Neither did Jimmy. He offered the paper to Prianka and me, too, but we didn’t move, either. “She said I could help you.”

  Help us? What was she thinking? The kid piddled under pressure.

  Newfie woofed as if to say, ‘I’m outta here.’ He turned, trotted down the stairs and back over to his lookout spot in the entrance to the barn.

  “Well, I’m not quite sure how you can help us, but any friend of Stella Rathbone’s is a friend of ours,” said Jimmy. “Come on in. Let’s get you something to eat.”

  “Thanks,” said bow and arrow boy. He grabbed his backpack and bow and stepped inside. Trina stuck her head out into the night, did a quick look around, and closed and locked the door behind him. He leaned his backpack up against the wall but was hesitant about dropping his weapon.

  “You can leave that here,” Prianka said. “I won’t shoot.”

  He gave her a wary glance, so she did her best to smile back at him. She didn’t get a smile in response, but at least there weren’t any waterworks—from his eyes or any place else that might leak.

  “I’m Prianka,” she said. “What’s your name?”

  “Ryan,” he mumbled as he tentatively rested the mega-bow next to his backpack. “But no one ever calls me that.”

  “What do they call you?”

  He eyed the bow lovingly. “I started bow hunting with my dad when I was seven,” he explained. �
��Ever since then, everyone just calls me Bullseye.”

  51

  SITTING AROUND THE table in the candlelit kitchen, we got the down and dirty version of what happened to our new guest since last Friday night.

  Ryan “Bullseye” McCormick was a sixth grader at Deer Meadow Elementary School. This was supposed to be his last year there. I think he thought we needed to know he was going to be in middle school next year and not a little kid anymore.

  No dice, Bro—still an ankle biter.

  Anyway, his father was overtaken by Necropoxy at some point during a dinner of Chinese takeout. At first, his mom thought his dad was having some sort of fit and tried to calm him down. He ended up biting her on the arm. His sisters, ages nine and seven, were also bitten in all the confusion.

  The baby wasn’t so lucky. Neither was Bullseye as he witnessed the worst before grabbing his mother’s scooter keys and leaving for help.

  Unfortunately, there was no help to be found—only dead people. That first night was the hardest for him. He hid in a tree house that he and his friend, Gunther Davidson, had built over the summer. I gathered he was high off the ground but not very comfy-cozy. He was scared out of his mind and freezing.

  The next morning, he did what any red-blooded American kid would do. He went to the Deer Meadow Police Department where Officer McPoxer Pants and Deputy Dead tried to eat him.

  I guess that idea bit the dust.

  For the rest of that day, he was chased, attacked, cornered, and generally freaked by anything that moved. That second night he holed up in a sporting goods store with another survivor—an old guy named Mr. Choy.

  Mr. Choy had the same idea as Ryan for going to the sporting goods store—to get something to defend himself. They hid in the back storage room that night where Mr. Choy proceeded to go bonkers. He kept yelling at Ryan in Korean and calling him Lion instead of Ryan because the guy had a really thick accent and had a hard time with his Rs.

  When Ryan woke up the next morning, he found Mr. Choy in the sports equipment section. He had hung himself with a jump rope underneath a basketball hoop. He was stone cold dead, but Bullseye was so freaked that Mr. Choy was going to come back as a zombie, he got up the nerve and shot him in the head with a handgun he found on display in the hunting section near the fishing poles and tackle.