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

by Bouchard, J. W.

  Sam sat up. The window next to his bed was open; Curtis always left it open a crack so Woody could get back into the living quarters after he finished whatever it was that he did every night. The wood imp had always been good about returning before sunrise.

  “What is it, Woody?”

  Woody pointed. Sam followed Woody’s gnarled finger and saw almost immediately what the wood imp was trying to tell him: Trevor’s and Malavant’s beds were both empty.

  Sam shot out of bed, nearly knocking Woody onto the floor.

  I knew it, Sam thought. I knew he was up to something!

  But what was he up to? How long had they been gone? Sam didn’t know, but he wasn’t about to wait around for them to return.

  He snuck over to Curtis’s bed and roused his friend from sleep. Curtis opened his eyes dazedly. “Huh?”

  Sam put a finger to his own lips, signaling for Curtis to be quiet. Curtis sat up and swung his feet out of bed. “What’s going on?” he whispered, but his eyes widened as he saw what Sam was pointing at. “Where are they?”

  “I don’t know, but I told you. Now do you believe me?”

  “It is…curious,” Curtis conceded. “But it doesn’t necessarily mean –”

  “I can feel it in my gut, Curtis,” Sam said, pulling on his clothes. “He’s up to something and it isn’t good. And he’s taken Malavant with him. Don’t you remember? Trevor was reading that book – How to Train a Zombie.”

  “Sure, but so what?”

  Sam was losing his patience. In his own mind, the puzzle pieces were all falling into place, but he couldn’t be angry with Curtis for not putting it together; Curtis didn’t have all the facts.

  “There isn’t time. I’ll explain it all later. Are you coming with me?”

  Curtis shook off the remaining remnants of sleep, got out of bed, and dressed hurriedly. “I hope you aren’t mental, Sam. I really do. ‘Cuz if Abeth catches us wandering around this late at night…it’s game over.”

  “Just trust me.”

  Woody was jumping up and down between their feet. Sam bent down and said, “Good work, Woody,” and patted him on the head.

  “Get back in your trunk,” Curtis said to Woody after he was finished getting dressed. “Before someone sees you.”

  Wearing a wounded expression, Woody climbed into the trunk. Curtis closed the lid after him. “So where are we going?” he asked.

  Sam shook his head. “I’m not sure yet. Grab your sword.”

  Curtis stared at him inquisitively.

  “Just in case,” Sam said.

  It was nothing short of a miracle that none of the other boys woke up as Sam and Curtis made their way out of the living quarters. With each step, the rickety old floorboards creaked and moaned under their weight, and to Sam the noise seemed as loud as a herd of wild horses thundering across the plains. Some of the other boys were light sleepers. A few of them stirred, and Victor actually spoke something aloud in his sleep, but they managed to get out without waking anyone.

  The air was cold on their faces as they closed the door behind them and walked to the square. There were still stars in the sky; daylight was hours away.

  They stopped when they reached the well that stood in the center of the square.

  “Where to now?” Curtis asked. “They could be anywhere.”

  Acting on a hunch, Sam cast his gaze toward the castle. “This way,” he said. Curtis followed closely behind him as they made their way for the castle, hurrying up the sloping path. When the front entrance was in sight, Sam knew immediately that something was wrong.

  “Where’re the guards?”

  Sam got his answer a moment later. The two guards were lying on the ground to the right of the entrance. They had been knocked out cold and their weapons were missing. The tall wooden doors stood open.

  “I’ll be – you were right,” Curtis said. “But Trevor is a shrimp. He couldn’t have done this.”

  “Malavant,” Sam said. “Trevor is controlling him. It all makes sense. That’s what the book was for.”

  Suddenly, they heard a scream off to their left. It ended abruptly, but Sam recognized it.

  Sarah!

  “It came from over there.”

  They ran toward the sound.

  “Maybe we should get help,” Curtis said, breathing hard as he tried to keep up with Sam.

  “No time.”

  They could hear the horses moving around erratically in their stable.

  In front of them, Sam saw a figure moving across the cobblestones. Both Sam and Curtis drew their swords. Sam said, “Stop! We have swords and we know how to use them!”

  The figure turned and headed toward them. Whoever it was, they were dressed in a robe with the hood shrouding their face. Sam raised Rusty in front of him. “That’s close enough. Identify yourself!”

  The hooded figure came closer, and in an instant there was a bright flash of light which illuminated everything in a ten foot radius. “Who are you kidding, Sam Finch?”

  “Lilah?” Sam said, incredulous. “What are you doing here?”

  The ball of light hovered in Lilah’s hand. “My quarters are right next to the stable. Something spooked the horses…and then I heard someone scream…”

  “It’s Trevor,” Sam said.

  “Who?”

  “There isn’t time,” Sam said. “They’ve got Sarah. Follow us.”

  There were more muffled noises. Sam led the way, Lilah and Curtis directly behind him. They reached the stables, and beside it they could just make out a row of wagons – the same kind that Sam would take to get back to Lesser Spriggleford if Sarah was kind enough to loan him money for the fare. Each wagon had two horses standing in front of it.

  The rustling noise became louder. Sam saw movement in the wagon farthest away from them.

  “There!” Sam said.

  Lilah closed her fingers around the ball of light, drew her arm back behind her head, and then chucked the ball with all her might. It whizzed through the air over the tops of the wagons, coming to rest at the final one.

  Whoever was in the back of the wagon gasped, and turned to look at them. Even from a distance, Sam could tell that it was Trevor.

  “You!” Trevor spat.

  Malavant was standing behind the wagon, carrying something in his arms. Whatever it was, it struggled wildly. Malavant lifted it up and dumped it into the back of the wagon, bringing it close enough to the radius of light provided by Lilah’s spell for them to see –

  “It’s Sarah!” Sam shouted.

  “Let’s go!” Trevor yelled. Malavant hauled himself into the wagon as Trevor jumped onto the front bench and took the reins.

  Sarah, hands and feet bound, continued to struggle violently.

  The wagon jerked forward as the horses began to move. Sam, Lilah, and Curtis had time to see Trevor glance in their direction, a triumphant smile on his face, before the ball of light faded out, leaving them shrouded in darkness again.

  “They’re getting away!” Curtis said.

  Sam darted forward, climbed into the nearest wagon, and grabbed hold of the reins. “Are you guys coming or what?”

  Lilah climbed in after him, followed by Curtis, who said, “Do you know how to drive one of these things?”

  “How hard can it be?”

  “Here, better let me,” Curtis said, taking the reins from him. Using the reins, he commanded the horses forward. The wagon leapt, Sam and Lilah held on for dear life. “Be easier if I could see.”

  “Allow me,” Lilah said. She stooped forward, conjured another ball of light, and gently pitched it forward. It rolled up the horse’s backside, up its neck, and came to a rest at the top of its head. “Better?”

  “Much,” Curtis said.

  “We have to catch up to them,” Sam said. “Can’t this thing go any faster?”

  “I’m trying.”

  The other wagon had a quarter mile lead; a large shadow racing down the dirt road.

  Lilah said so
mething, but Sam couldn’t hear it over the thunder of the wooden wheels bumping over the road. “I said,” Lilah shouted, “how could he have broken into the castle? How did he get past the guards?”

  “He didn’t,” Sam explained. “Malavant’s half zombie. Trevor’s controlling him somehow.”

  Both Lilah and Curtis stared at Sam, their mouths hanging agape. “Half zombie?”

  “Yeah, it’s a long story. Curtis, don’t you remember the book Trevor was reading? How to Train a Zombie. He wasn’t reading it for fun. He knew Malavant was part zombie. That must’ve been why we caught him talking to Malavant that day we came in to the quarters. He was practicing.”

  “But why on Earth would he want to kidnap Sarah?”

  Sam was a little surprised to hear Lilah refer to Sarah by name rather than derisively referring to her as “that girl.”

  “I haven’t figured that out yet,” Sam said.

  Curtis had the horses going at full gallop, but the other wagon was still far ahead, and in the darkness there was no way for Sam to tell if they were catching up.

  “Faster!” Sam yelled.

  Curtis drove the horses harder. They shot forward. The wagon bounced precariously; Sam was amazed the rickety old thing hadn’t broken apart already.

  “Where do you think they’re going?”

  They passed into the forest. Ahead of them, the other wagon disappeared.

  “Wait. Where’d they go?”

  “Left,” Lilah said. “There’s another road up ahead that branches south – it’s the only way to get to Jahannamdire.”

  “Jahannamdire?”

  Lilah said, “It’s ruled by Demälikar.”

  Something wrenched itself inside Sam’s stomach. Of course, Sam thought. It all makes sense. That’s why King Leodan gave us that speech.

  King Leodan had asked them to remain vigilant; to keep their eyes open for anything out of the ordinary. Lilah had even told him that they suspected a spy among them. Sam cursed under his breath. Why hadn’t he reported Trevor?

  Because you were afraid they’d think you were just another crackpot.

  They were coming up on the intersection. The trees were tall and thick, and it was difficult to even tell that one could take a left turn there.

  “Which way are we turning?” Curtis called.

  “Left!” Sam and Lilah shouted at the same time.

  As they reached the intersection, Curtis tugged the reins to the left. The horses veered without slowing down. The wagon skidded and tilted, the wheels on the right of the wagon came off the ground, and for one sickening instant Sam was sure the wagon would flip over. Lilah slammed into him. Sam grabbed her shoulder with one hand and the back of the bench with his other, barely in time to prevent them both from tumbling off.

  Slowly but surely, they were closing the gap; they could see the other wagon up ahead, closer than it had been only moments ago.

  “If we don’t catch up to them before they get to the Funereal Swamps…” Lilah’s words trailed off.

  “What?”

  “The creatures that inhabit that place bear no good will for humans,” she finished.

  “Wonderful,” Curtis said.

  “We’re gaining on them,” Sam said. “Hurry!”

  Within minutes, they had cut the distance by half. The sky had gone from black to deep blue, and the first stars had started to fade out as sunrise approached.

  The sound of the horses’ hooves was deafening. In the back of the other wagon, Sam could see that Malavant had Sarah pinned down against the wooden planks.

  “Come on,” Sam uttered under his breath. He was seething with anger. All he could think of was saving Sarah and wrapping his hands around Trevor’s scrawny little throat.

  Lilah shouted, “Omnis Lux,” and launched the ball of light at the wagon in front of them. It lost momentum, dropped, and stuck to the one of the back wheels, spinning furiously with the wheel. “Crap.” She conjured another ball and threw it. This time it stuck to the tail gate. “That’s better.”

  They were close enough that Sam saw Trevor glance back at them, still smiling.

  Why’s he so happy? Sam wondered. We’re catching up with –

  Suddenly, two forms materialized in the back of the other wagon; vaguely humanlike in shape, but composed of semi-transparent coils of fiery blue light.

  “What are they?” Sam shouted.

  “Wraiths!” Lilah said. “Traditional weapons won’t have any effect on them.”

  Sam watched as balls of blue fire formed in the wraiths’ hands. Seconds later, the flaming balls came hurtling toward them. The first ball of frostfire went wide; another whizzed by, inches from Sam’s left ear.

  The wraiths continued to lob frostfire. Curtis did his best to swerve out of the way, dodging them, but Sam wondered how long they could avoid them as they drew closer to the other wagon.

  Next to him, Lilah rubbed the palms of her hands together, pulled them apart, and a bright orange fireball appeared between them. “Two can play at that game,” she said, tossing it at the wagon in front of them. The wraiths drifted apart as the fireball came down between them, exploding in a shower of flames. The back of the wagon caught fire.

  “Nice shot!” Curtis yelled, prodding the horses to move faster.

  But their small victory was short-lived as one of the wraiths moved over to the fire at the back of the wagon, bent down, and shot a frigid blast which immediately extinguished the flames.

  Frostfire streaked toward them. One struck the bench to the right of where Curtis sat and exploded, leaving a patch of wood looking as though it was suffering from a nasty case of frostbite.

  “How do we stop them?” Sam said, narrowly avoiding another ball of frostfire.

  Curtis pulled on the reins and the wagon veered sharply to the right, dodging another volley of frostfire. “Somebody think of something,” Curtis said in a panic. “I can’t keep this up all day!”

  “Did you bring your slingshot?” Lilah asked.

  “Yeah. Why?”

  “Give me your rocks.”

  Curtis took the reins in one hand and dug into his pocket with other, fumbling out a handful of the smooth round stones. He handed them to Lilah. She cupped her hands around the stones, uttered several words, and there was a momentary flash of bright white light before she handed them back to Curtis. “You’re a better shot than I am,” she said. “So – don’t miss.”

  Frostfire shot toward them again. One of them blasted the bench in front of Lilah, sending splinters of ice and frost shooting outward. Lilah cried out in pain, clutching her right hand. One of the splinters had lodged itself in the back of her hand, right below her middle knuckle. The skin around it went blue to white to a hideous black, spreading outward.

  Sam jumped to her aid, pinching the splinter between his thumb and forefinger and plucking it out. Within seconds, he could feel his own fingers start to go numb. He flung the splinter away and said, “Are you all right?”

  Lilah nodded, her face twisted in pain. Through clenched teeth she said, “I won’t be able to use it for a while.”

  Despite Trevor’s attempts to thwart them, they were gaining on the other wagon. Sam turned to Curtis and said, “Can you get up alongside that wagon?”

  “I’ll try. Why?”

  “Because I’m going to jump into it.”

  “Do you have a deathwish?” Curtis asked unbelievingly.

  “Do you have a better idea?”

  Lilah tore a piece of cloth from the bottom of her robe and wrapped it tightly around her wounded right hand. “Sam, don’t be foolish. You’re outmatched. Your sword won’t do anything against them.”

  Sam drew Rusty from its scabbard. “Maybe. Maybe not. It’s surprised us before.”

  Curtis steered them to the left, prompting the horses to go faster as he tried to get them alongside the other wagon.

  “Do you smell that?”

  Sam’s nostrils were invaded by a foul stench like raw sewa
ge.

  “It’s the swamps,” Lilah said. “We’re getting close.”

  Sam stood at the side of their wagon, as close to edge as he could, one foot up on the side panel, waiting for the perfect moment. He ducked as another frosty missile sailed over his head.

  Trevor turned to look at them. His smile had vanished; he looked genuinely worried now.

  More missiles flew at Sam’s head.

  “Give me the reins,” Lilah said to Curtis.

  “But you only have one good hand.”

  “I’ll manage. We need to take care of those wraiths.”

  Curtis switched spots with Lilah, handing her the reins. They crept up alongside the other wagon, almost neck-and-neck now. Curtis unsheathed his sword, leaned over, and took a swing at one of the wraiths. The blade sliced through the blue smoke – but nothing happened.

  “Use the stones!” Lilah called.

  Curtis removed his slingshot and the handful of stones. He placed a stone on the sling, pulled back and took careful aim, squinting one eye closed. He sucked in his breath and held it.

  Curtis fired. The stone whistled through the darkness and struck one of the wraiths in the head. It let out a screech of pain and seemed to crumple into itself before it vanished completely.

  Curtis smiled, fist-pumped the air. “I never miss,” he said ecstatically.

  Sam had one foot in the wagon and the other on the side panel, trying to keep his balance. They were right alongside the other wagon, a two foot gap between them. The remaining wraith was getting ready to fire off another ice missile when Sam leaped into the air, raised his sword, and sliced downward as his feet landed in the other wagon. The blade clove the wraith down the middle.

  At first, Sam didn’t think his strike had had any effect on the wraith, that the attack had been useless just as Lilah had predicted it would be, but then the wraith arched backward, screeched loudly, and vanished.

  Only Malavant stood between Sam and Sarah. She was conscious, gagged, and her hands and feet were bound together with rope. Malavant spun around and took a step toward Sam, his milky eyes vacant.

  “Dartis, listen to me,” Sam said. “You’re not yourself. Trevor is controlling you.”

  From the corner of his eye, Sam could see that Curtis and Lilah were keeping pace in the other wagon. Curtis had his slingshot raised, ready to fire another stone.