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

by Bouchard, J. W.

  “It was wonderful,” Sarah said.

  “Yeah, really good, thanks,” Sam said. “Merry Christmas!”

  “Same to ya.”

  By the time they were preparing to leave the mess hall, it had stopped raining, but the sky was swarming with dark clouds. Curtis’s pockets were bulging outward. Sam didn’t need to ask why; he knew Curtis had snuck out a few dinner rolls to bring back to Woody.

  “What’s that in your pockets?” Sarah asked.

  “Saving some for later,” Curtis said, blushing.

  “I didn’t realize they starved you so badly that you had to sneak food.”

  “It’s not for him,” Sam said. “Curtis has a new pet. Er, should I say companion.”

  Curtis shot him the Evil Eye. “Traitor.” And to Sarah he said, “It’s no big deal…just a wood imp…named him Woody.”

  “You should come have a look,” Sam said.

  When they stepped outside, Sam noticed two armed guards waiting outside the mess hall entrance.

  “I can’t,” Sarah said. “It was difficult enough convincing them to let me out of the castle at all.”

  “They’re here for you?”

  Sarah nodded. “King Leodan decided that I should be under protective watch. Because of the accident.”

  “Wow, armed bodyguards. So they go everywhere with you?”

  “Pretty much. Anyway, I better get back before the King decides to send out a search party. Merry Christmas!”

  Sam and Curtis watched Sarah go, the guards flanking her. Curtis chuckled.

  “What’s so funny?”

  “I was thinking, you had a rough time spending time with her before – think about how tough it’ll be now with armed guards tailing her everywhere she goes.”

  Sam didn’t think it was funny at all. How was he going to deal with Sarah being under constant observation?

  “Come on,” Curtis said. “Let’s get back. I’ll bet Woody’s starving by now.”

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  THE KING’S WARNING

  Things were relatively normal again. The holiday had ended and training was in full swing. The majority of the snow had melted and spring was around the corner.

  There had been quite a bit of excitement when the other boys returned from break and discovered their test scores waiting for them; reactions ranged from shouts of triumph to moans of defeat. As it turned out, Curtis ended up having the third highest score. Sarah had received a ninety-seven.

  Although Sam had wanted to keep his perfect score under wraps, Curtis had no qualms with spreading the news far and wide. Sam had received several pats on the back, along with a fair share of dirty looks, especially from Cully Duke, who had scored in the high seventies. Whenever Cully looked at him, there was nothing but poisonous contempt in his eyes. Cully could often be overheard saying, “Little twerp is only alive because we didn’t get to finish our duel.”

  In the last several weeks, Sam hadn’t spoken to Sarah for more than a few minutes at a time. The armed guards were even present during training. They would stand off by themselves, stone-faced, becoming extra-vigilant whenever Sarah was in a practice duel.

  To Sam’s surprise, Curtis had managed to keep Woody a secret. He had cut two holes in the side of his trunk, which served two purposes: they supplied the wood imp with air, and they also allowed him to put his eyes up against them and see what was going on outside of the trunk. It seemed to Sam that Woody had also packed on a pound or two since he had come into Curtis’s care, probably due to the starchy dinner rolls (loaded with butter) that Curtis was always feeding him. At night, after the other boys were asleep, Curtis would let Woody out for some fresh air. Whenever Woody grew restless, Curtis would open the window and let him run around outside. “Gotta let him get out and stretch his legs once in a while,” is how Curtis explained it.

  But perhaps the biggest topic of gossip since their break had ended was in regard to Dartis Malavant’s return. Sam could still remember it clearly.

  It had been late in the evening, all of the other boys had gotten back and were busy unpacking and swapping stories about the things they had done over the holiday. The door had opened and Malavant had stepped in. Conversation ceased; everyone had gone completely quiet.

  Unlike the others, Sam had seen Malavant in the infirmary, and so wasn’t as shocked by Malavant’s condition. His skin had been the same deep gray color, decorated by even darker blotches. If anything, Sam thought Malavant looked worse than before. His eyes were still that murky translucent color like fog trapped in crystal.

  Cully and Braxton O’Connell had gone to their friend immediately, patting him on the back, demanding to hear the full story despite having heard it from Sam two weeks prior.

  Malavant appeared to be in good spirits. He was able to talk normally, but frequently lost his train of thought when he was saying something. Often times, he would sit on his bed and stare at the wall for hours, cocking his head occasionally as though he were listening to a voice only he could hear. Trevor’s bed was next to Malavant’s, and he didn’t seem to think it odd at all that his neighbor would spend long periods of time staring into nothingness. If it had been Sam, he would have watched Malavant very closely at all times, but maybe that was because he was the only one that knew what Malavant was.

  What Sam had found most surprising was the way Cully reacted to the situation. He was fiercely protective of his friend. It was normal for the other boys to stare or whisper amongst themselves when Malavant was having what Victor had recently dubbed “his out-of-body experiences.” But Cully wouldn’t have it. He would yell at anyone he saw staring, and if he overheard anyone gossiping about it, he would challenge them to a duel on the spot.

  Sam was impressed by Cully’s loyalty. Although it didn’t justify Sam liking him any better, at least it made him seem more human; maybe he wasn’t entirely evil. It also turned out to be good luck for Sam because it meant Cully had other people to direct his anger toward for the time being.

  It was a brisk Tuesday morning on the second day of February that Sam was walking back to the living quarters with Curtis after breakfast in order to slip Woody some food before they hurried off to training. Curtis’s pockets were bulging with salted crackers. Sam had snuck out a piece of corn bread to give to the wood imp.

  There was an uncharacteristically strong wind that morning, and when Sam opened the door to the living quarters, the wind rushed in after them, sending parchments and books flying off the beds.

  “Close it quick,” Curtis said. “Before it blows everything away.”

  Sam slammed the door closed, and turned around just in time to see Trevor scrambling away from Malavant, who appeared to be having another of his frequent out-of-body experiences.

  “What were you doing?” Sam asked.

  “Nothing,” Trevor said defensively. “Thought I’d check on him. What are you two doing?”

  “I forgot my sword,” Curtis said (he had purposely left it on his bed so he would have a handy excuse ready for just such an occasion as this). “Wouldn’t look very good if I showed up to training without it now, would it?”

  Sam moved over to Trevor’s bed, bending down to pick up the fallen books in order to keep his attention while Curtis surreptitiously opened his trunk and slipped the dinner rolls to Woody.

  “I can get those,” Trevor said, scrambling for one of the fallen books, but Sam got it first. He glanced at the cover. The title of the book was How to Train a Zombie by Matthias Despedo. There was an illustration of a zombie on the tattered and ancient cover, but it was nowhere near as grotesque as the one they had seen in the cathedral courtyard.

  “Interesting reading,” Sam said, flipping through the pages; it was filled with numerous illustrations and instructions. “Where’d you get it?”

  “Give that back,” Trevor said, snatching it from Sam’s hands.

  Curtis, who had finished feeding Woody, came over to see what all the commotion was about. “What’s up?”


  “Trevor’s reading a book about training zombies,” Sam said.

  “So what?” Trevor said. “Is that a crime?”

  “What would you want with a book like that?” Curtis asked, trying to snag the book from Trevor’s hand, but Trevor stepped out of reach.

  “It’s none of your business,” Trevor said, opening his trunk. He tossed How to Train a Zombie into it and picked up the other book that had fallen off his bed, throwing it into the trunk before Sam had a chance to see the title. “After Instructor Conrad’s demonstration in the courtyard, I was interested. That’s all.”

  Sam didn’t quite buy Trevor’s explanation. It should have been a good enough reason; after all, he was currently reading the spell book Lilah had given him.

  But there’s a difference, Sam thought. Sam was studying the book in order to learn spells he could practice with her later on. He was putting what he learned in the book to good use (albeit illegally). While Trevor could be reading the book out of simple curiosity, Sam suspected that Trevor was hiding something.

  Before he could dwell on this further, Malavant snapped out of his trance. He looked at them dazedly, as if he had been jolted awake and was confused by his surroundings. “Did I oversleep?” he asked.

  “Yeah,” Curtis said. “And we all better get going before we’re late.”

  Trevor didn’t linger. He hurried out the door and disappeared.

  Malavant went out next, and Sam and Curtis followed several feet behind him, talking in whispers.

  “I don’t believe him,” Sam said.

  “He’s a little strange,” Curtis said, “but harmless, I think. Seemed okay when he went to the Christmas feast with us. A bit of a bookworm – kind’ve reminds me of you, actually.”

  “I don’t know…there’s something off about him. He’s hiding something.”

  “Come off it. You’re only saying that because he kept ogling your girlfriend.”

  “I’m serious,” Sam said.

  “So am I. You’re being paranoid. And even if he isn’t legit, it’s not our problem.”

  “That book –”

  But as they entered the arena, Sam saw something that stopped him in his tracks.

  “What do you think he’s doing here?” Curtis asked as they took their place in line.

  It had come as something of a shock that rather than being greeted by Alsted when they entered the arena, it was King Leodan himself that stood before them.

  The King wasn’t wearing his usual formal attire today, but instead was decked out in full battle gear. He was wearing chain mail and a silver breastplate which glinted in the sunlight. His long cape had been traded for a shorter one that hung down to the back of his knees, and his sword was sheathed at his side; Sam could see the way the bejeweled hilt sparkled and flashed as Leodan paced in front of them, his face solemn.

  The King glanced over his shoulder to where Alsted and Felgorn stood. Alsted nodded and said, “That’s all of ‘em.”

  Leodan turned to the boys and said, “Before I start, let me begin by saying that what I’m about to tell you is not meant to cause panic or wild speculation. As far as any of you are concerned, life will continue as usual. But I would be doing you a grave disservice by not stressing the importance of being vigilant. In light of recent events and news delivered from the south, I would ask you to all be on the lookout for anything out of the ordinary.”

  Sam glanced over to his left and saw Sarah farther down the line, her two bodyguards nearby. Her attention, like all the others, was focused on the King.

  “Keep a watchful eye. If you see anything strange or unusual, I would encourage you to report it. I tell you this not to cause you concern or to excite your overactive imaginations, but as an additional step in guaranteeing not only your safety, but the safety of the kingdom as well.”

  This has to be because of what happened to Malavant, Sam thought. They must know something more.

  Malavant stood in line next to Trevor. Curtis stood to Trevor’s right, and then Sam to Curtis’s right. Other than his blotchy gray skin, Malavant was acting normal, watching as the King moved back and forth in front of them. Sam wondered what Malavant remembered about what had happened. He had told the other boys he didn’t recall anything, but Sam wondered if that was true. Whatever he had seen in his death throes, Malavant had shouted, “DON’T LET THEM TAKE ME!” Those words still made the hairs on the back of Sam’s neck stand on end; what on Earth could Malavant have seen to cause him so much fear?

  “Please don’t be alarmed. Just remember – observe and report.”

  Victor raised his hand and Leodan nodded to him. “Yes?”

  “My Lord,” Victor said, “can ya be any more specific? Or give us a better idea of what we’re lookin’ fer? It seems as though ‘out of the ordinary’ isn’t much ter go on.”

  King Leodan stopped pacing and appeared to weigh Victor’s question heavily. After some time, he said, “I came here with every intention of being honest and forthright with you, so that is what I’m going to do.

  “Honestly, we don’t know. That is why I am asking you to use your best judgment in the matter. Obviously, a stranger on the castle grounds would bear reporting. Someone acting odd or not their usual selves would be another. Use common sense.”

  Many eyes were drawn to Malavant after Leodan said this. Sam felt sorry for him; it hadn’t been his fault, it had been the luck (or lack thereof) of the draw that he had been paired with Sarah, and that someone had poisoned her sword. Sam’s head reeled with all the possible variables. It all seemed too random, too coincidental that things had played out the way they had. Even taking into account the fact that someone had had to tamper with Sarah’s sword, it would have amounted to nothing if Malavant had managed to avoid being injured. Poison or no poison, the mysterious mastermind’s plans would have been thwarted by something as simple as that.

  Several minutes later, Leodan finished his speech. “Any questions?” When no one else raised their hand, he said, “Very well. I appreciate your time.”

  King Leodan strode away, a company of guards falling into step behind him.

  Curtis leaned over to Sam and whispered, “That sounded ominous. Wonder what it was all about?”

  “I don’t know,” Sam lied.

  “He was talking about Malavant,” Curtis said, sure of himself. “All that stuff about someone not acting like their usual selves – who else could he mean?”

  Sam looked to his left. “Let’s just keep our eyes open,” he said, but it wasn’t Malavant he was looking at when he said it. It was Trevor.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  THE FINAL LESSON

  In late March they experienced the last snow of the season, and winter went out like a lamb. By April, the snow had melted, and after several mild storms, the grass had grown green again. Now that spring had arrived, Dashelmore village bustled with activity.

  Alsted had worked them hard ever since the holiday, and they had been learning more complicated techniques and maneuvers, but Sam had managed to hold his own. Most days he trudged back to their living quarters exhausted and ready for bed.

  King Leodan’s request for vigilance hadn’t gone unheeded. If anything, people had jumped at the chance to be the first to deliver news that might prove useful. Gossip and rumors abounded, trickling down to them on a daily basis.

  At first, much of it had focused on Malavant, but once Cully caught wind of it, he vowed to knock the teeth out of anyone he found out was reporting news about his friend. During a profanity-riddled speech one evening, in addition to threatening bodily harm, he had said, “You filthy scum need to find somebody else to spy on. I’m telling you right now, if I find out any of you opened your traps, you better pray that your parents know a good dentist.”

  It came as no surprise to Sam that the majority of the boys had targeted Malavant as the prime suspect, but Sam suspected someone else: Trevor. He had been watching the nervous-looking boy like a hawk.

&nb
sp; “It’s an act,” Sam told Curtis. “He’s only pretending to be sheepish. You saw how he reacted when we confronted him about that book. Looked like he wanted to murder me.”

  Curtis had other things on his mind. Between training and taking care of Woody, he was running himself ragged. It was miraculous that no one had figured out that a wood imp was living among them.

  Two weeks ago, they had had their first close call. It had been late, and Curtis had let Woody out of his trunk, thinking everyone was asleep. He had tiptoed over to the window to let Woody outside, when the boy on the bed opposite them sat up quickly and said, “What are you doing?”

  Curtis had nearly died of a heart attack in that moment. Woody had frozen, still as a statue. The boy had gotten out of bed and walked over to Curtis and Woody, glancing down to inspect the wood imp. “What’s this here?”

  “N-nothing. My m-ma got it for m-me,” Curtis had stuttered. “J-just an action f-figure she p-picked up in Ashenvale.”

  “Ugly thing, isn’t it?” the boy said. “You should put it away. You’ll be laughed straight out of the academy if people find out you still play with dolls.”

  “Right.”

  “Better yet, get rid of the wretched thing.”

  “I m-might d-do that.”

  Curtis had picked up the still frozen Woody from the floor and placed him back in the trunk. After that incident, Curtis had made extra sure everyone else was asleep before letting Woody out.

  With the arrival of spring, Sam had been anxious to start training with Lilah again. She had been hesitant when he brought it up, especially because people were watching more closely these days, but Sam had talked her into it.

  Training had ended for the day. Sam passed through the village. A canvas satchel hung from a strap he had thrown over his shoulder; the satchel bounced against his hip as he walked. The streets were filled with more foot traffic than he had seen in several months. He had invited Curtis, but Curtis had become less and less interested in after-training excursions, and more interested in getting back to the living quarters to make sure Woody was behaving himself. Although Sam hadn’t mentioned it yet, he feared that the wood imp was becoming a full-time job. Curtis often complained about Woody’s increasing neediness, and he had threatened to return the wood imp to the marsh on several occasions, but Sam knew the truth: the two of them had become inseparable.