by D. R. Martin
He had been daydreaming so hard, he hadn’t noticed Nina come in through the open bedroom door.
“Yeah, Sparks, what’s up?”
She had on her etheric goggles, and Johnny was surprised to realize that she was starting to look almost normal in them.
“Guess who stopped by?” Nina could hardly contain herself.
Curious, Johnny sat up on the edge of the bed. “No idea. Who?”
“Basil Hastings. He’s on his way to his new school, which is right here in Gilbeyshire. Evvie’s with him. And his dad, Lord Hurley, who really wants to meet you.”
“Well what are we waiting for?” Johnny hopped to his feet. Fretting about Percy Rathbone and the trip to Okkatek could wait. Right now Johnny intended to have some fun.
He and Nina raced out into the hallway and bounded down Wickenham’s grand staircase.
Epilog
Thursday, February 13, 1936
Okkatek Island
Percival Gorton Rathbone stood silently over the gaunt figure sleeping in the primitive jail cell, huddled beneath a ragged blanket. The prisoner—who had shaggy sandy hair, bushy beard, and freckles—dozed fitfully. Outside, an Okkatek blizzard howled like a mad demon, as it drove the biting snow through the bleak mountain valley.
Percy was well aware that, even for a ghost, he looked preposterous in his drenched parka, breeches, and mukluks. But he had, after all, tumbled into a frigid stream in the Okkatek wilderness and died quickly of hypothermia—basically soaked and chilled to death. Unfortunately, one was stuck with the clothing one died in. Better to be in winter gear, he supposed, than be some poor ghost who expired in the bathtub, and had to go through eternity dripping and naked.
The last time Percy had been inside a jail cell was back in Zenith, after the failure of the second etheric bomb. He had to waste a perfectly good body—albeit a dead body. Because escape had been impossible so long as he occupied it. So he surprised Burilgi by asking the Steppe Warrior to chop Percy’s zombie head off. That worked like a charm. Once again a ghost, he was able to accompany his friend and co-conspirator Pamela Worthington-Smythe home to the Royal Kingdom.
There, all the preparations had been made for the war of the bog zombies. The corpses had been liberated and animated by ghosts willing to fight for their rights. That represented quite a bit of bog to dig up, but it was worth it.
Percy had decided to test his force by having them attack the king at Castle Henry. If things went well there, he would order a second assault on the centers of government in Royalton.
That they were ultimately defeated at Castle Henry was disappointing. But one does not take on a powerful government and win every time.
One keeps trying.
One does not give up.
One has another plan up one’s sleeve—bigger even than the first two.
And what Percy intended to do tonight would set it all in motion.
Pamela had begged him not to. How could the effort go forward without Percy Rathbone personally at the helm? How could she lead those thousands of ghosts? How could she manage the secret, ghostly possession of hundreds of important men and women around the world?
Percy patiently explained that he had to go “under cover.” He assured Pamela that he would join her and the others soon enough. And staying hidden inside this man’s brain would give him plenty of time to ponder the mystery of the unnatural fog back in MacFreithshire. It was something he hadn’t expected, when he began his experiments.
Why had that strange, moistureless fog manifested itself when they made all those bog zombies? What did it mean? Was something happening in the ether? Percy had a scientific mind and he wanted to solve this puzzle. Perhaps the brain of the man lying before him could be useful in this task.
Percy was quite sure that Mummy had figured out his connection with Morbrec. His late night visit to Wickenham had been clumsy and stupid. But he hadn’t been able to resist.
Just this morning his ghost agents had informed him that Mummy was flying here to the island with those infernal Graphic brats. Very soon. So, the time had come.
Continuing to stare down on the sleeping prisoner, Percy chuckled.
He began to shrink in size—from the stature of a man to that of a boy to that of a baby to that of a mouse.
He elongated his ghostly body.
And he flowed like a tiny snake toward Will Graphic’s face.
- The End -
Acknowledgements
It would have been impossible to write Johnny Graphic and the Attack of the Zombies without the help of several very talented people. Once again, Marlo Garnsworthy provided a highly insightful editorial review that improved the book in many respects. Kate Collins came up with a number of good ideas that I have implemented. Marie Joseph offered the perspective of a book-loving teacher, and caught quite a few typos, as well. For a second time, Steve Thomas created a terrific book cover and map. And most important, Sue Wichmann—dispenser of commas and slayer of long paragraphs—was the disciplinarian and Johnny Graphic expert who kept this sequel on track.
If you haven’t read Johnny’s first adventure yet, be sure to check it out.
Johnny Graphic and the Etheric Bomb
All that Johnny Graphic ever wanted was to be a star news photographer. But the story that puts the twelve-year-old and his big sister on the front page could well come with a horrible headline: BOY LENSMAN MURDERED BY GHOSTS!
The year is 1935 and in Johnny’s world spooks are very, very real. Most wraiths are friendly to the living. Some of them even have jobs. But a few ancient ghost assassins are on the warpath, out to kill Johnny’s sister Melanie—for reasons the kids don’t even begin to understand.
The two siblings have to unravel a deadly ghost conspiracy that reaches around the globe and threatens the lives of millions. Or die trying!
If you enjoyed Johnny Graphic and the Attack of the Zombies, please consider reviewing the book. Even a few brief sentences would be very much appreciated.
You can post a review here, via your Amazon account.
Or here, at the popular web gathering place for book lovers, Goodreads.
