The Zero Degree Zombie Zone

by Patrik Henry Bass

“Okay, on three,” Keisha orders. For once I don’t mind letting her tell me what to do. I just close my eyes, squeeze the marble tight, and concentrate. “One,” she calls out. “Two. Three!”

  I hear her muttering, “Ring, ring, do your thing” like she did last time, but I’m busy with my own words. “Light, courage, power,” I remind the marble, thinking of Granddad and his wisdom, his comfort, but also his faith in this marble — and mine, too, especially after it brought us back here from Zenon’s frozen zombie zone.

  “Come on, marble, help me out here,” I whisper to it. “Lend me some of that power so we can make this place zombie-proof for good.”

  I feel the marble warming in my hand, and there’s a wash of something over me. It feels like … happiness. Peace. Protection. “I’ve got it going!” I say out loud.

  “So do I!” Keisha replies, and I blink. I hadn’t even realized I had my eyes shut. She’s right beside me, ring held high — and there’s a blue disk forming in front of us.

  “We’re trying to close them all down,” I remind her quickly, “not open new ones!”

  “I’m not doing that!” she shouts back. I don’t know why we’re shouting, except there’s a whooshing sound coming from the disk, like a fierce wind is blowing through it. Actually, there is a wind, and it’s bitterly cold — I can feel it biting through my T-shirt and jeans. Man! I don’t remember the disks doing this before! Then again, most of the time I was either being yanked through them or concentrating on not getting munched on, so I was probably a little distracted. Still, this can’t be good.

  “You’re not? Then who —” I don’t bother to finish that question. There’s no need. Not when a tall, pale-blue figure steps through the disk and turns toward us, growling as it reaches down with long, pale, frozen arms. Ice zombie!

  “Crap! Zenon must know what we’re up to!” Keisha yells. “He’s gonna try stopping us!” She shoves the ice zombie away with her free hand. “Well, nobody shuts Keisha Marie Owens down, you hear?”

  I like her tone for a change, and I agree that we’ve got to stand firm. That’s going to be tough to do, though, as a second ice zombie follows the first into our world. This hall’s starting to get mighty crowded.

  Then a familiar athletic figure leaps forward and tackles the first ice zombie around the knees, knocking him to the ground. “Go ahead and do what you gotta do,” Tariq tells us over his shoulder, leaping to his feet and charging the second zombie. “I got this.”

  “We got this,” a second voice corrects, and I almost drop the marble in surprise when I see Wardell barrel into the other ice zombie from behind. He uses his own bulk to stagger the frozen fiend, making the arctic ghoul go right into Tariq’s tackle. Nice one, Wardell!

  But that first one’s getting back to his feet — slowly, sure, like some aging grandpa, but getting there nonetheless. And he’s behind Tariq and Wardell now. I take a step forward. I’ve got to help them!

  A hand on my shoulder brings me back around. “We’ve got to keep going,” Keisha tells me, and she’s not mocking, not snubbing, not even sneering or playing. She’s serious as she adds, “This may be the only chance we’ve got.”

  I nod. She’s right. “Behind you!” I shout, letting Tariq and Wardell know to watch their backs. They both turn, and soon Wardell’s swinging his backpack like a hammer, beating the one zombie back while Tariq handles the other. I try to drown out the sound of them whaling on those ice zombies and focus on my marble again. The warm feeling never left, and now it’s ramping up further. I feel like my whole body should be glowing from it, but I’ve got my eyes shut again so I can’t tell for sure.

  I do hear more grunts and growls, and at one point something cold brushes past my arm like a snowman just pushed by me. Judging from all the noise, there’s a lot more than just two ice zombies here with us now. Zenon’s definitely onto us, and he’s pulling out all the stops, sending through as many of his frozen army as he can, trying to cut us off before we can finish.

  But I also hear shouts and grunts that are definitely plain old human, and that means Tariq and Wardell are holding their own. For now. I don’t know how much longer that’s gonna last, though, so I tune out the sounds of my best friend and my worst enemy fighting for all our lives and throw everything I have into what I’m doing instead. If Keisha and I can’t pull this off, they’re fighting in vain. This has got to work!

  I feel the moment when it does, too. There’s almost a click in my head, and the warmth shifts, somehow. It’s still there, still wrapped around me like a cozy blanket, but now it’s extending outward, enveloping something else as well. Something right nearby, bigger than I am, and really cold. The door! The marble’s magic has got the door in its grip, the first door, the one that symbolizes every passage between this world and Zenon’s! I feel the cold wind stop, the air settling, and there’s no new monster sounds emerging beside me. We’re doing it!

  “I’ve got it shut tight!” I tell Keisha, my eyes still closed. I can feel that I’m right, though. I’m holding the door shut for her. “Time to break the key off in the lock!”

  “On it!” she replies, a strain in her voice I haven’t heard before. I know she’s putting everything into this, too. And one thing you’ve gotta say about Keisha Marie Owens, the girl doesn’t like to lose. I know she’s not going to quit until we get this done.

  Again there’s a feeling, this one a little different. I can already sense the marble holding the door shut. Now I feel the extra pressure that’s coming from Keisha and that ring — the ring that was made to open the door and is now being used to close it. And lock it. For good.

  There’s a loud click — more like a snap, really — and something in the air changes again. The wind had already vanished, and most of the cold, but now it’s actually getting warm around us instead, a general heat I can feel right through the ring’s protection.

  And then I hear moaning. Ice zombie moaning. Not the scary, “I’m gonna eat your face” kind, though. No, this moaning sounds … scared.

  I open my eyes again and blink. The disk is still there, but it’s visibly shrinking. “We did it!” I shout, turning and grabbing Keisha in a hug before I even realize what I’m doing. “We did it!”

  She hugs me back, just for a second before she gently pushes me away. “Yeah,” she agrees, grinning as big as I’ve ever seen her. “We sure did, didn’t we?”

  Then there’s a rushing sound. It’s coming from the disk, which is pulling the ice zombies back toward it.

  Unfortunately, we’re between them and the disk, and it starts tugging on us, too.

  Uh-oh.

  Get out of the way!” I shout, moving Keisha to one side and diving to the other. Just in time, too. One of the ice zombies goes sliding past, scrabbling on the floor with its long, sharp, frozen fingers as it’s dragged kicking and screaming — flailing and moaning — back through the disk. Another one almost hooks my ankle with one hand but I kick him in the arm instead, and as he yanks back his arm he sails past me. Two down, however many to go.

  This won’t be easy. I still feel something tugging me. Either the disk isn’t too picky, the ring and the marble make us fair game, or we’re just too close for it to care.

  “Hold on to something!” Keisha yells, grabbing a locker handle with both hands and clinging on for dear life. I do the same on the other side. Another ice zombie careens past us, shooting between us and into the disk, which is now about my height but hanging a few feet off the ground.

  The wind’s still whistling into it — in this time, not out — and a quick peek around shows more ice zombies starting to slide its way. Just how many did Zenon send through, anyway? And how did Tariq and Wardell manage to hold all of them off for so long?

  For that matter, where are Tariq and Wardell? I don’t see either of them. With my grip on the locker handle barely secure, I don’t dare twist around too much. Another ice zombie zooms by, wailing, and disappears through the disk. Then another. Is it me, or are they
picking up speed?

  Then I hear a squeak just below me. I glance down. My sneakers are starting to slide, slowly, across the floor.

  Toward that disk!

  I try dragging them back, but it’s no good. The pull is stronger than I am.

  Soon my body’s stretched out, hands still clutching the locker, feet straining toward the opening.

  Another second and both feet leave the ground completely. Now I’m sideways, and holding on desperately.

  And my fingers, all sweaty from fear and excitement and probably dripping from melted ice as well, are starting to lose their grip.

  “I’m slipping!” I call out.

  “Me, too!” Keisha replies, and I glance over. Sure enough, she’s about as bad off as I am. We’re both hanging like flags in a stiff wind. The disk is down to the size of a Hula-Hoop now, but that’s still plenty big enough to swallow both of us whole.

  And with the key broken off, if we sail through that disk now, we’ll be trapped in Zenon’s Zero Degree Zombie Zone forever.

  Though I have a feeling Zenon wouldn’t exactly let us alone for that long.

  I shift my grip, almost getting pulled loose in the process, but I manage to get a slightly better hold as a result. Whew!

  And then the last zombie zooms by and rams into me with its hard, icy shoulder.

  “NO!” My shout emerges at the exact second my fingers are torn away from the locker by the impact, but there’s nothing I can do. I scrape my fingers across the locker door as I go sliding past it, but there’s nothing else to grab onto, and I’m already too far away to try again.

  Across the hall I hear an echoing scream, and look up from my own predicament to see that Keisha’s come loose, too. I don’t know if the ice zombie bumped her as well or if she just couldn’t hold on, but it doesn’t really matter.

  All that matters is that both of us are rapidly approaching that glowing blue disk, and a horrible frozen fate.

  My feet pass through the disk, and I can feel the cold at once, working its way up my legs and numbing me to the bone. I gulp, closing my eyes so I don’t have to watch my own doom.

  Suddenly, a hand latches onto my flailing arm, gripping me tight and stopping me from going any farther.

  Wardell? I glance up, expecting to see him.

  Instead I see a winning smile combined with a kind of grimace. His concentration is complete as he hauls me back away from the disk by sheer strength, his other arm linked solidly through a rope that’s tied around the nearby water fountain.

  Tariq!

  Keisha’s scream cuts off, and I’m afraid I’ll see her hurtling past me. There’s no one left to save her since her cousin grabbed me instead. I risk a peek, and I see she’s been caught, too! Her rescuer is wrapped in the other end of the same rope, with its cords stretched tight across his wide body.

  Wardell!

  “Don’t let go!” Tariq warns me, shouting to be heard over the noise the disk is making. It’s like the sound of water rushing down a drain, only a hundred times louder.

  “Don’t worry, I won’t!” I reply. I catch Wardell’s eye, and he grins at me. Keisha’s holding tight to his arm, which is around her in a bear hug. His bulk is good for this — she’s not going anywhere.

  The disk is down to the size of a large pizza. Now it’s the size of a Frisbee. Now a DVD. Now a quarter. And then — pop! — it’s gone. My feet hit the ground again. The rushing sound has diminished with it, and now it fades to nothing, leaving the hall quiet and still. No cold, no heat, no wind, no ice zombies. Nothing but the four of us and a rope.

  We did it!

  “It’s over,” I say softly, pulling free from Tariq and shaking off the last of the shivers and the cold. “Door’s closed for good.”

  “Not just yet,” Keisha corrects me, pushing her way out of Wardell’s embrace and joining me in the middle of the hall. She holds up the ice ring, then drops it to the floor — and stomps on it. With each stomp her bejeweled high-top smashes it to tiny pieces. Each time the remnants flicker and then melt, leaving only a few stray droplets here and there. “Now it’s over,” she says, dusting off her hands. “Didn’t want anybody trying that key again.”

  “No, we definitely don’t,” I agree. I turn to Tariq. “Thanks for the save, Tariq.”

  “No worries. We said we got this.” He raises his fist, and I bump it with my own. Then he turns to Wardell and offers the same gesture. “Nice moves, dude.”

  Wardell’s grin just gets wider. “Thanks. You, too.” They bump fists, and I do believe Wardell stands straighter. He turns to look at Keisha, and she sighs, then shrugs.

  “Yeah, whatever,” she says finally. “Thanks for saving me and all.” She doesn’t offer her hand, but Wardell doesn’t look too upset. Honestly, a thank-you from Keisha was probably a lot more than he or anyone was expecting.

  “No problem,” he says as casually as he can manage. He leans over and grabs his backpack from the floor. It looks like someone sprayed water on it. “We should probably get back.”

  Oh, right. Class. School. Normal stuff. I almost forgot. I follow Wardell as he retraces our steps toward the library. “Hey, where’d that rope come from?” I ask as we walk. “That was smart, tying it around the water fountain.”

  “Wardell’s idea,” Tariq tells me, nodding at my friend. “When the disk started pulling zombies back in, he figured you might need something to hold on to. We found it in the janitor’s closet.”

  “Smart.” I pat Wardell on the back. “Knew you had my back, Wardell.”

  “Always,” he replies.

  We get back to the library just as the bell rings. Maybe now everything can go back to normal!

  Oh. Right.

  Mrs. Crump calls for lines, we trek back to class, and what’s the first thing she does once we’re all in our seats? She pulls a piece of paper off the bulletin board. A sign-up sheet, to be precise — one with only two names on it.

  Gulp.

  “Now, class,” she announces, “as you know, each school year every grade gets to elect a hall monitor at Thurgood Cleavon Wilson Elementary. The job is open to any student who wants to apply for it. It’s an important responsibility — the hall monitor makes sure no one is running or being loud or littering or bothering other students. The monitor makes sure no one gets lost, escorts visitors, and generally keeps our halls nice and clear and clean.” She beams at Tariq, who smiles back but without his usual earth-shattering charm for a change. Almost like his heart’s not in it this time.

  “Your classmate Tariq has been hall monitor every year since first grade,” Mrs. Crump continues, “and I hear he has done an excellent job of it.” Keisha starts clapping, and the whole class follows suit. The thing is, Tariq really has been a good hall monitor. He likes being the center of attention. He wants everyone to look up to him. But I have to admit he doesn’t mind doing the work to earn that kind of respect, either.

  “This year, we have two students applying for the job!” Mrs. Crump sounds all excited about this. I’m pretty sure she’s the only one. “We have Tariq, of course, but we have another of your classmates, Bakari Katari Johnson!” Ugh, right now hearing my full name like that just reminds me of Zenon. It gives me the shivers, though part of that might be just from remembering how cold his world was. Brrrr.

  Mrs. Crump is still talking. “Since we have two candidates, I’m going to ask each of them to tell you a little about himself and why he’d make a good hall monitor. Then we’ll put it to a vote. The student with the most votes gets the job. Does that sound fair?” Everyone nods.

  This is my chance, and my hand shoots up before she can say anything else. “Mrs. Crump,” I call out, “I’d really like to speak first, if that’s all right.”

  The way she’s looking at me, you’d think I’d grown a second set of arms. I haven’t, have I? The way today’s been going, I wouldn’t be all that surprised. I guess it’s unusual for me to volunteer to speak in front of the class.

  I�
�ve never been comfortable talking in public. I nearly threw up in second grade when I had to deliver a line in our school play! But somehow, after ice zombies and everything else, it just doesn’t seem all that scary anymore.

  “Of course, Bakari,” she tells me. “Go right ahead.” That’s what I like about Mrs. Crump. She tries to be fair to everybody.

  I get up and walk to the front of the room. Everybody’s watching me. Nobody’s whispering or giggling or glaring. Not even Keisha. She’s just sitting there quietly with the rest, waiting to hear what I have to say.

  Too bad I have absolutely no idea.

  “Thank you,” I start out. That sounds like a good beginning. “I’m really glad to have this opportunity to apply for the job of hall monitor.” Not too bad. I sound very businesslike. “The thing of it is —”

  And that’s where I draw a complete blank.

  What do I want to tell them? I think desperately. I’m supposed to explain why I’d be a good hall monitor. Well, why would I? More importantly, why would I be a better hall monitor than Tariq?

  Would I?

  Then, in a flash, I know exactly what to say.

  “The thing of it is,” I continue, trying to act like I had this planned all along, “I don’t think you should pick me as your hall monitor.” There are a few gasps around the room. Some of the other kids sit up and look around like they fell asleep and are wondering if they’re still dreaming. Keisha’s frowning like she thinks this is some kind of trick. Wardell looks confused, but when my eyes meet his, he smiles and gives me a thumbs-up. At least I know I’d have gotten one vote.

  But the truth is, it would’ve been the only one.

  Even I would’ve voted for Tariq over me. He’s just the better kid for the job.

  And that’s exactly what I tell them. “I’d like to be your hall monitor,” I say, “but I got to watch Tariq in action today and he’s really something. He’s really there when you need him. He’s exactly what a hall monitor should be. I don’t think I could do the job half as well as he does, and Thurgood Cleavon Wilson Elementary’s fourth-grade class deserves the best hall monitor it can have. That hall monitor is our own classmate, Tariq Thomas!”