Sam Finch and the Zombie Hybrid (Sam Finch Series Book 1)

by Bouchard, J. W.

  He hadn’t had the opportunity to talk with Sarah since then. While they hadn’t made any definite plans, they had agreed to meet up again during the holiday break. With only five days remaining before training resumed, Sam was beginning to wonder if that would be the case.

  “No plans,” Sam said. “We can do whatever you want.”

  “Good. Because there’s something I want to show you.”

  Despite it being late December, the last week had been unusually sunny, and much of the snow had melted. The ground was full of slush. Curtis led them down to the village, refusing to tell Sam where they were going.

  By the time they reached the outskirts of the village, Sam was positive they were heading toward the forest. Probably to collect more rocks for his slingshot, Sam thought.

  But instead of following the dirt road west, Curtis cut away to the right, trudging through the slush as they rounded the north side of the village, finally taking them east along the outside of the high stone wall that surrounded the castle.

  “Where are we going?” Sam asked for the fifth time.

  “I told you,” Curtis said. “You’ll see when we get there.”

  Continuing east, the castle disappearing behind them, the ground became even squishier. Instead of hitting forest, the terrain turned into murky marshland. There were shallow lakes all around. A low-lying mist came up to their waists. Sam saw small clusters of trees occasionally, looking gnarled and bare, far past their prime.

  “Not much farther now,” Curtis said.

  With each step, their boots made loud slurping sounds as they went in and out of the thick mud. The sound reminded him of Curtis’s musical night farts. The thought of that caused him to laugh out loud.

  “What’s so funny?”

  “Nothing.”

  They must have walked for at least two miles. Up ahead, Sam saw a stretch of dreary-looking Weeping Willows with sagging branches forming a half-circle on one side of an iced-over lake. It appeared as though a strong storm had once swept through the area because several smaller trees had been uprooted; some tottered madly to the right or left, and the rest had toppled over altogether.

  It was a dismal scene; with the mist, the soggy marsh, and the withered trees. Sam decided it would be a particularly bad place to visit at night.

  Curtis led them as far as the lake and then followed its edge to the left, toward the stretch of Weeping Willows. When they reached the trees, Curtis said, “Let’s see, where is it?”

  “What’re we looking for?”

  “Just give me a minute,” Curtis said impatiently as he searched under fallen branches and splintered trunks. “I know it’s around here somewhere.”

  “If you tell me what you’re looking for, maybe I could help you find it.”

  Curtis waved Sam off.

  “How’d you find this place anyway?”

  “Remember last week when you ditched me to go meet your girlfriend? Well, you didn’t think I’d just spend all day holed up by myself did you?”

  Curtis had paused his search long enough to look at Sam, but now he was looking past Sam, his eyes fixed on a tree that had snapped in half. The bottom half of the tree remained in the ground, thick and twisted roots snaking their way outward. The top half of the tree had fallen over to form a forty-five degree angle, held up by several strips of wood that clung to its lower half. “There,” he said, moving over to where the broken tree stood. He squatted down. “See?”

  At first, Sam didn’t see anything except moss-covered bark and a pile of dead leaves. But when he came closer, hunkering down next to Curtis, he noticed it: an ugly creature, still as a statue, stood next to the fallen tree. Its skin blended in with the moss on the bark, which was probably why Sam hadn’t seen it right away. It was no more than a foot tall, had a bald and wrinkled face, and two small teeth jutted up from its lower jaw. It was naked save for a ragged loincloth.

  “What is it?”

  “A wood imp.”

  “It looks like a statue,” Sam said, reaching out with his hand to touch it.

  “I wouldn’t do that,” Curtis said, but a second too late, because just as the tips of Sam’s fingers were about to touch the creature, it sprang forward, snapping at him. The imp’s little jaws, lined with spiky, misshapen teeth, missed taking his finger off by less than an inch. “You have to let him get to know you before he’ll let you touch him. Otherwise, he’s an ornery little guy. Likes it when you scratch him behind the ear.”

  Curtis demonstrated by reaching out and scratching the wood imp behind its right ear with his index finger. The wood imp tilted its head and grinned placidly, letting out a high-pitched chirping sound.

  “He’s feisty, but he loves the attention,” Curtis said. “Can’t get enough of it.”

  “How’d you find him?”

  “By accident. I was messing around, and I heard something. I went to investigate. He blends in with the surroundings well enough, but he’s terrible at hiding. Just freezes up and doesn’t move, hoping nobody’ll see him. Go ahead, try touching him again. Pat his belly. He likes that too.”

  Sam reached his hand out again, ready to snatch it back quickly if the imp made any sudden moves. Gently, he patted its smooth belly. The imp giggled.

  “He’s not very pretty to look at, but he kinda grew on me. His name’s Woody. Because he’s a wood imp.”

  “Very original,” Sam said. “I didn’t know imps lived this far east.”

  “Me either. I haven’t seen any others, so I figured he might have escaped from one of the traveling caravans. They sell them as pets at all the big carnivals. Gypsies will sell anything if there’s a market for it.”

  Sam started to scratch the wood imp behind its other ear. It made soft cooing sounds as it stared up at him with its huge yellow eyes. “He’s actually pretty friendly.”

  “I thought about keeping him,” Curtis said.

  “Keeping him?” Sam asked, but saw that Curtis was dead serious. “You can’t keep him. Where would you put him?”

  Curtis’s eyes lit up. “I’ve thought it all out. See, he’s small enough I could hide him just about anywhere. Let him out at night when everyone is asleep. And if someone did see him, the way he freezes up, I could say he’s a doll or something.”

  Sam looked from Curtis to Woody, who appeared to be in wood imp heaven as Curtis went on scratching behind the imp’s ear. From what Sam could tell, Curtis was intent on bringing the imp back with him and was seeking Sam’s approval.

  “If it was me suggesting this, you’d be all over me,” Sam said. “Telling me how terrible an idea it was and how I’d get kicked out of the academy if I got caught.”

  “And that’s never stopped you,” Curtis said.

  There were a number of things Sam could have pointed out to prove that Curtis was making a bad choice, but he also thought his friend had a point. How many times had he accused Curtis of nagging him? Too many to count. And not once had Sam listened to him anyway. Now that the shoe was on the other foot, Sam felt like he was in an awkward position; torn between supporting his friend and being prudent.

  It doesn’t matter what you say, Sam thought. You can plainly see that his mind’s made up.

  “I mean, do you really think it would make a good pet?” Sam asked.

  “Not a pet,” Curtis said. “A companion. I need someone to keep me company while you’re off with your girlfriend or illegally learning magic. Two things, might I remind you, that I was completely against, but you saw fit to do anyway.”

  Curtis stopped scratching Woody behind the ear. The wood imp lifted his head and let out a scolding chirp. Curtis began petting it on its bald head.

  “This is different,” Sam said. “He’d be living with us. The odds of being caught with it…you said yourself he’s not very good at hiding.”

  Sam had expected Curtis to continue arguing, but all at once he seemed to give up on his crazy idea. “Fine,” he said. “Remember this, because it’s what a true friend does
. Listens.”

  “We should probably be heading back.”

  Curtis gave Woody a final pat on the head and said, “We’ve got to go. I’ll be back to check on you soon. Okay?”

  Curtis turned to leave. With amazing speed, Woody leapt forward, climbed up Curtis’s back, and perched itself on his shoulder. Sam had read that imps were distant cousins of ogres (or maybe it was trolls), but Woody’s lightning swiftness was uncharacteristic of either of those larger creatures.

  “Hey!” Curtis said, surprised at first until he realized it was Woody. He removed Woody from his shoulder and held him in both hands. “I know, little buddy. You wanna come with. But you can’t. Mean old Sammy doesn’t think it’s a good idea.”

  Sam watched as Curtis lowered Woody to the ground. Woody, head hung low, stared at his own gnarled toes. They started walking away again, but Woody followed after them. Curtis turned. “Woody, stay!” he said sternly.

  Woody let out a defiant chirp, sat down, arms folded across his chest, lower lip protruding.

  “I think he’s pouting,” Sam said.

  “He’s like a little kid, always having temper tantrums.”

  Curtis kept glancing back over his shoulder to make sure Woody wasn’t following after them. “Still would have been nice to bring him with us,” he said. “Maybe next year.”

  “Why would next year be any different?”

  “Different living quarters. The second year students get an upgrade. Separate rooms.”

  Sam thought next year couldn’t come too soon; it would be nice to enjoy a little privacy.

  They were nearing the castle when they heard a high-pitched chirp.

  Curtis looked all around. “Don’t tell me…”

  Sam pointed to a nearby tree. “It’s only a bird.” A sparrow paced back and forth on the branch of a dead tree, admonishing them with sharp chirping noises as they passed.

  “Oh good,” Curtis said. “For a second there, I could have sworn…”

  It was the middle of the night when a strange rustling noise roused Sam from a deep sleep. Sam opened his eyes and looked around the room. It was mostly deserted. Next to him, Curtis was snoring at record-breaking levels. Occasionally, he would let out a lady-like fart with a staccato beat; these were in stark contrast to his normal farts, which usually sounded like a lion roaring.

  Freezing rain pelted the window. Three beds over, Trevor was sleeping soundly. Sam was at a loss as to how the boy could stay asleep with all this racket going on. It was no wonder that Sam had been jolted awake.

  Sam laid his head down on his pillow. He closed his eyes, determined to ignore the commotion and find his way back to sleep.

  Prior to waking, he had been in the middle of a pleasant dream.

  In the dream, Sam had been in the castle having dinner with Sarah and King Leodan again. The only difference was that this time the blue-eyed lion had been seated across the table from him, using its teeth to rip apart a giant cooked turkey. Sarah had been laughing so uncontrollably that milk squirted out of her nose. This, in turn, had caused King Leodan to laugh so hard that he accidentally farted. The King’s smile had vanished at once, and he had said, “Excuse me,” before breaking into laughter again. Even Sam hadn’t been immune, and despite being aware on some conscious level that the scene was completely absurd, he had laughed right along with them.

  Trying to go back to sleep proved fruitless. Sam’s ears seemed acutely attuned to the various noises. And then he heard the rustling sound again.

  Sam turned onto his side so that he was facing Curtis’s bed. Curtis was asleep on his back. His mouth hung open and his blanket was pulled up to just below his chin. Near the foot of the bed, Sam noticed something moving. It was also the source of the rustling sound. At first, Sam thought Curtis was moving his feet in his sleep, but the blanket came up about a foot off the bed, and he watched as the shape crept along beneath the blanket, coming to a rest where Sam guessed Curtis’s stomach would be.

  The shape began to move again. Sam considered shutting his eyes and pretending like he hadn’t seen anything. What if it was a giant spider under there? Don’t be ridiculous, he thought. How would a giant spider get in here?

  Anything could have been under that blanket. As quietly as he could, Sam reached over and grabbed his scabbard. He pulled it onto the bed and grasped the handle of his sword.

  “Psst,” Sam said. “Hey, Curtis – wake up.” He said it as loud as he dared without risking waking Trevor. “Wake up.”

  Curtis stirred, but didn’t wake up.

  “Hey…wake up! There’s something crawling on you!”

  Curtis started awake, opened his eyes, and saw the shape on his chest. He let out a terrified yelp, and Sam unsheathed Rusty, ready to attack.

  In a panic, Curtis swatted the blanket off of himself. The blanket and whatever was under it tumbled to the floor between their beds. Sam leapt off his bed, sword raised. Curtis was clutching his chest. On the floor, the blanket was moving around.

  “It was on me,” Curtis said. The blanket moved in his direction and he jumped out of the way. “What if it’s a giant spider!”

  Sam almost had to suppress a laugh. His friend’s mind had gone to the same terrifying place that Sam’s had gone only a moment before. “I doubt it. Grab the corner of the blanket,” Sam whispered. “I’ll count to three. On three, you yank it off and I’ll clobber it.”

  Curtis bent down cautiously and picked up the edge of the blanket. He nodded at Sam.

  Sam’s heart was beating furiously in his chest.

  “One,” he said, raising his sword over his head.

  “Two.”

  Curtis had backed away as far as he could, ready to leap onto his bed if need be.

  “Three!”

  Curtis yanked the blanket away. They both saw what was hiding beneath it at the same time.

  “Woody?” Curtis said in disbelief.

  Woody gazed up at them with his large yellow eyes and let out a long chirp. He hopped up and down excitedly.

  Sam lowered his sword. “He must have followed us back without us knowing.”

  “I hear imps have an excellent sense of smell,” Curtis said. “Once they catch your scent…”

  “What are we going to do with him?” Sam sheathed his sword and stood it next to his bed.

  “I’ve got to keep him now, don’t I? What good would it be to take him back to his home? He’d probably follow us back again.”

  “What’s going on?”

  Sam glanced over his shoulder. Trevor was awake, propped up on his elbow, bleary-eyed.

  “Nothing,” Sam said. “Curtis had a spider crawling on him. Go back to sleep.”

  “Try to keep it down, would you?”

  They waited until Trevor had fallen back to sleep, and then Curtis scooped Woody up into his lap. “You’re a naughty little guy, you know that?” Curtis said. “But smart. I think what I’ll do is keep you in my trunk during the day so no one will see you.”

  “Doesn’t sound very humane,” Sam said.

  “What do you mean? You saw where he was living before this. My trunk has more room in it than that hollowed out log. My extra clothes will make a soft bed.”

  “Okay, but how’re you going to feed him? Do you even know what he eats?”

  “I can sneak him back dinner rolls and stuff. I’m sure it doesn’t take much to keep him well fed.”

  After the late night scare, Sam didn’t see any point in trying to go back to sleep. It was still dark outside, but the sky seemed a shade lighter despite the storm clouds and rain smacking the window.

  “I just realized something,” Sam said.

  “What?” Curtis asked. Woody continued to chirp excitedly, but quietly now, as though aware Trevor was asleep several beds over.

  “It’s after midnight. Merry Christmas!”

  On Christmas morning, there was a large feast in the mess hall. Large, at least, when compared to any of the other meals they’d had since arrivi
ng at Dashelmore (though nowhere near as spectacular as the dinner Sam had had in the castle).

  It was also very quiet. Sam, Curtis, and Trevor all went together. Sarah showed up soon after, which came as an unexpected surprise.

  “I thought you’d eat at the castle,” Sam said.

  “I will. Later. I thought I’d come down to see you since it’s Christmas and all. Honestly, I was going a little stir crazy.”

  Trevor was silent while they ate, but Sam noticed how he kept stealing glances at Sarah, which wasn’t unnatural considering that she was both beautiful and the subject of much gossip with the other boys. Only it wasn’t awe that Sam saw in Trevor’s eyes. What was it exactly? If he hadn’t known better, he would have sworn it was disdain.

  “Careful, your eyes might pop out,” Sam said.

  “What?” Trevor asked. “Oh. Sorry, I was just…”

  “Better be careful, Trev” Curtis said, “she’s already spoken for. Isn’t that right, Sam?”

  “Shut it,” Sam said, going red in the face.

  The cooks had never shown the capacity for culinary talent, but today they had outdone themselves. They had an entire cooked turkey (which reminded Sam of the turkey in his dream the previous night) to split between the four of them. Surprisingly, it was not the usual dry and overcooked meat they had grown accustomed to; this was so juicy that they had to keep wiping their chins as juice squirted out of their mouths as they ate.

  There was stuffing, mashed sweet potatoes, plates of quivering cranberry sauce, and corn on the cob that glistened with a heavy coat of melted butter.

  After they had stuffed themselves, they still managed to find room in their stomachs to finish off a large plate of cheesecake drenched in blueberry topping.

  When they were finished, Trevor excused himself by saying, “Think I’ll go finish the book I’m reading. Just now getting to the good part.”

  Sam, Curtis, and Sarah helped clear the table, carrying all the dirty plates over to the portly lunch lady who appeared to be in better spirits than usual. “Toss ‘em in ‘ere,” she said, indicating a large metal tub. “Hope yewts enjoyed the meal.”