by Max Brallier
I had been living in the school with that Zombie Ball for MONTHS and it never came after me! It only tracked you if you stank like food. If you washed your hands and face every now and then, guess what? You’d be fine.
Clearly, nobody told these boys about washing their hands and faces.
I heard somebody shout something about “Indiana Jones!”
And then they were backed up against the doors. The Zombie Ball was going to crush and devour them!
Ugh. Those fools! Those dorky, reckless fools!
They had put me in a really dangerous position! I’d spent days reinforcing that door and over a month fortifying that wing of the school! And now it was ruined! All because of JACK SULLIVAN?!
REALLY?!
“I’m gonna regret this,” I growled, then—
YANK!
I quickly opened the door, and they crashed to the floor.
“GET BACK!” I shouted. The Zombie Ball was barreling toward us. At the last possible instant, I SLAMMED the door shut—
We were safe.
No thanks to the three boys who I did NOT want to see. I mean, really, world? I was just sitting there, thinking about all the things I had lost! My parents! My hopes! My dreams!
And what did life send me . . . ?
Three doofuses. . . .
Anger boiled up, building and building, until I slammed the spear against the floor and—
I was convinced that Jack, Dirk, and Quint were going to make things worse.
But here’s the thing: I was totally wrong.
Because these guys made each other laugh. And they started to make me laugh, too. And make me WANT to laugh. Within five minutes of finding me, Dirk and Quint were having a legit TICKLE FIGHT!
That night, on the rooftop, Jack and I tossed tennis balls at the zombie teacher down below. I didn’t admit it then, but it was better—better because I had someone else to do it with.
Jack and Quint and Dirk didn’t magically fix everything. They didn’t make me miss my parents any less and they couldn’t put my plans and dreams back on track. But, as Jack said, “Life during the Monster Apocalypse is a whole brick-load better with buddies.”
I knew my life wouldn’t ever be the same as it used to be.
But I learned it could still be good.
That it was still worth fighting for.
The memory twinkles away. And suddenly I’m sliding back to the present . . .
. . . in the mini golf course, a prisoner. I feel like I’ve traveled a long way, when in fact I haven’t moved an inch.
That wasn’t just a regular old memory.
That felt real.
That was Neon. . . .
chapter twenty-four
I’m so happy to see Neon, I try to hug him! But my arms are tied at my sides, so he nuzzles his snout into my armpit. If that’s how Wretches hug, I wholeheartedly approve.
“I thought you were dead!” I exclaim.
Neon huffs, as if to say, How dare you doubt me?
“But how did you find me?” I ask.
Just then, Johnny Steve walks through the door! “I suspected this particular band of Rifters used Putt-Putt on the High Seas as a hideout.”
“But, Neon . . . Neon, you were . . . done for! The Boss Rifter even told me!” I glance at Johnny Steve. “How is he . . . ?”
Neon turns, striding to Johnny Steve and nuzzling against him. I gasp—Neon’s left side is absolutely covered in bandages.
“It took a lot of Choco Taco wrappers,” Johnny Steve explains. He lowers his hood, and I see he’s plastered in napkin gauze and even has a waffle cone over one wounded eye. I have to choke back a laugh—it looks like a second beak.
Johnny Steve scratches Neon’s neck while he fills me in. “After you were taken, I didn’t know what to do. But I knew you were trying to save Neon. So I figured . . .” He suddenly looks very shy. “Well, I figured if that’s what humans do for their friends, then I should do the same. Because—”
“Because you’re a human expert,” I say, grinning.
He smiles the widest smile I’ve ever seen.
“Oh, you and I should also do hugs now!” he says as he hurries over to cut me free. His walking sword is splashed with Wretch goo.
I shake my head in stunned awe.
A moment after he cuts me loose, I hear a squeaky voice say, “HELLO!”
Just then, Neon slams into me so hard I practically flip over. I throw my arms around his neck, squeezing so tight that it hurts my bruised wrists. “Neon, I’m sorry,” I say. “I’m so, so sorry. I never should have taken you there. . . .”
Neon slips out of my arms, then he looks at the floor.
“Hey, buddy—hey,” I say softly, tilting my head so I can see him better. “Why did the Wretches attack you like that?”
Neon then pushes his head forward, so our nostrils are nearly touching. His eyes lock on to mine, and I feel his gaze creating bubbles in the back parts of my brain.
But I don’t look away.
“It’s okay,” I say. “Show me.”
Neon peers closer—so close that our faces touch. Looking through me. I hear a faraway BOOM, and then I’m not at the mini golf course anymore.
I’m not anywhere.
I don’t see a vision of the future and I don’t see a memory of the past. Instead, this time I see—
Neon.
He’s a baby, even younger than he is today. But he doesn’t look the same, and it’s not just because he’s smaller. He’s happier.
He has his wings!
He’s soaring through the sky, dipping and twirling and tumbling. He zooms around other baby Wretches and they play-wrestle in the sky. Everything looks different—the sky is pink and speckled, the ground seems to float, and water hangs in the air, unmoving.
I realize I’m seeing Neon in the other dimension. His dimension.
Then, suddenly—Neon’s dimension seems to explode! The sky is sliced open and beams of light erupt from everywhere! Huge glowing holes appear: portals! I’m seeing portals, just like I saw that day at school—the day the Monster Apocalypse began. . . . Monsters, creatures, objects—everything is being sucked into the hole! It’s like someone just flushed a cosmic toilet.
And Neon gets sucked in, too.
This is day number one of the Monster Apocalypse, and I’m seeing it up close—from Neon’s point of view. It is an insane, swirling void—ablaze with color!
I realize now just how horrifying it all must have been for the monsters.
Neon howls and shrieks as he is dragged through the air, into the portal! It is twisting, shrinking—and Neon screams toward it. And then—
Neon passes through, into our dimension. Just as the portal is closing. He makes it.
But his wings don’t. . . .
I hear him scream as his wings are clipped, and I feel—really feel—the pain he felt.
Neon crash-lands in this dimension.
He is hurting and he is scared. He hobbles across our changing world, alone. And then, at last, he finds a horde of Winged Wretches.
I feel the relief that he felt.
And then I feel the horror.
They reject him. The scaly beasts hiss and snarl and snap their teeth and pin him to the ground. Without his wings, this baby Wretch is no longer welcome with the rest of his pack. . . .
Everything shifts and changes and turns again.
I’m seeing my memories. My own life.
A flood of moments—the happy times, the good times, after I left the middle school for the tree house. Monster hangouts, sugar-fueled stakeouts, and Ping-Pong tournaments—
It is a giddy blur of happiness.
Happiness with friends.
And then, the visio
ns and memories stop. . . .
I’m back at the mini golf course. And Neon is there.
And I get it.
We were both victims of this apocalypse. We were both lost and alone in a strange new world.
Earlier, when I saw a partial vision of Neon flying with the other Wretches, he wasn’t trying to tell me that he wanted to go back to them. He was telling me that he wanted to belong.
We both lost everything—but I had friends to help me through it, and he didn’t.
Neon is me, when I was in the school hallway, looking at my Certificate of Merit, crying over how useless it all was.
He’s waiting for friends to come tumbling through his locked doors.
“Neon,” I say. “Even without your wings, you’re still whole and wonderful and awesome. And you deserve to be happy. Neon, buddy, I am your—”
“FRIEND!” Johnny Steve says, totally jumping in and stealing my dramatic thunder. “I will be your BEST friend and we will travel THE WORLD together and learn all there is to know about this small, goofy land!”
“Ahem—” I say, giving Johnny Steve a little poke. “Neon, I am also your—”
“BUDDY!!!” Globlet squeals. “We’re definitely buddies and for sure BESTIES!”
I smile and sigh. “Okay, okay, we’re all your friends.”
Neon blinks quickly.
“We’ll always be there for you,” I tell him. “No matter what. Just like Jack, Dirk, and Quint have been there for me. And like I’ve been there for them.”
Neon’s happy, but I see a hint of hesitation. Something in his eyes that I can’t quite place . . .
He winces and curls his tail up beneath him. The makeshift bandages are peeling off his back, and I glance down to see the wounds where his wings had been are reopened. The Winged Wretches targeted them.
I pull my broken shield armor from my backpack. Tugging, twisting, I manage to pull off one large, curved piece of metal.
I set it over Neon’s back, draping it over his wounds.
“Nope. Not yet, Globlet.”
“Say what now?” Globlet asks.
“Still one thing to do,” I say. “I need Boss to tell me where Thrull is. We have a chance now, to get the information we need to stop Thrull and the Tower. And, while we’re at it, make sure these Rifters never bother any of us again. Are you guys with me?”
“Yupper!” says Globlet.
“I’m supportive like a human buddy!” says Johnny Steve.
And Neon just purrs.
“Good,” I say. “’Cause I have an idea . . .”
Then I crane my neck, toward the driving range, and call out, “FLUNK! CAN YOU COME HERE A SEC, PLEASE?”
chapter twenty-five
In less than a second, we’ve tackled Flunk to the ground. The second after that, Flunk’s practically sobbing.
“PLEASE!” Flunk cries. “TAKE ME ALIVE!”
“Well, obviously,” Globlet says. “We’re not sickos.”
“We’re just going to borrow your armor,” Johnny Steve tells him.
“See, here’s the deal,” I say. “I’m gonna be you for a little while. Hope you don’t mind. . . .”
Soon, we’ve removed his armor—and we discover a problem. Flunk is long! He’s built like an other-dimensional grasshopper. There’s no way I’ll fit.
I glance around quickly, then, “Johnny Steve, grab me two putters! And a bunch of that tape that goes on the golf club handles. I’ve got an idea. . . .”
“Holy stromboli, that actually worked!” Globlet exclaims.
“And I think I can actually walk, too,” I say as I take a wobbly step forward. The armor is heavy, but the suit does half the work: all the joints are motor-powered. I manage to tramp all the way to the clubhouse mirror.
Flunk, who we’ve tied to the anchor, watches us unhappily. I hear him murmur, “I look the coolest in it. The Boss told me so.”
“Hush, you!” Globlet says.
Neon smiles as I stride past him. Each step is easier than the last. I’m walking like a real-deal Rifter by the time I reach the clubhouse door.
Slowly, carefully, I open it.
“Wait, wait! Lemme see! Lemme see!” Globlet says. She hops up the armor and slips beneath my shoulder guard. She peeks out from underneath, and we both peer outside.
First, I see the Ogres—they’re in the parking lot, tied to old cars like horses in one of those old western movies Dirk loves so much.
Meanwhile, the Rifters are having a weird, celebratory party at the eighteenth hole. Rifters are chomping on raw meat and chugging very spoiled milk. One swigs from a carton—and I see it’s curdled and thick and I can smell it all the way from the clubhouse.
“There he is!” Globlet says.
A cave sits behind the eighteenth hole and a waterfall splashes down. On top of the cave is the Boss Rifter. He sits on a giant plastic crocodile like it’s some sort of throne, watching his Rifters down below like he’s judging a contest.
“It’s time to move,” I say. “We need to do this while the Boss Rifter is up there in his crocodile seat.”
“I am quite ready!” Johnny Steve announces from across the clubhouse. He’s cradling a karaoke machine we found in the birthday party room. “I will put all my human knowledge to use!”
I give him a thumbs-up. He doesn’t have thumbs, so he grins. “See you shortly,” he says, and he scurries out the back. I think, He’s got a big part to play in this plan. I hope he’s up for it.
“Let’s goooo!” Globlet whines. “Enough dilly-dallying!”
“One sec,” I say, and I glance at Neon. He bounds over. “Neon,” I say. “I want you to swing around the back and just wait. Do nothing. You’ve been through enough. But if things get bad, then I need you to run. You understand? Run far and fast and don’t look back.”
I’m still not totally sure what Neon understands and what he doesn’t, but when I say, “run” he wags his tail. Close enough.
“Then I’ll see you when this is over,” I say.
With that, Neon hurries out the back, and Globlet and I go back to watching the party on the eighteenth green.
Soon, it happens.
A small figure comes waddling across a wooden drawbridge from the seventeenth hole.
It’s Johnny Steve. And, just like we planned, he’s wearing the Mr. Shivers “brain freeze” headpiece. He actually did manage to take it from the ice cream truck!
He strides past and beneath Rifters, waving and hollering. “Hello! Hello! I have just wandered in off the wasteland and I’d love some warm liquid and a high five!”
“How does he see out of that thing?” I wonder aloud. Then I get my answer—he doesn’t. At least not well. Because next he trips, his walking sword gets hooked in the railing, he somersaults over the bridge, crashes onto the green, and then the karaoke machine smashes his foot—
The Rifters erupt in laughter. I watch the Boss Rifter—it takes him a moment longer, but finally he laughs, too. Johnny Steve begins serenading the Rifters with human “facts.”
“. . . and that’s not all you need to know about humans! Here’s something: they drink water. WATER! Think about that! And they have fingernails. Now, raise your hand if you’ve ever eaten a fingernail. . . .”
Johnny Steve has the Rifters rapt!
“C’mon, Globlet,” I say. “Now’s the time.”
We move around the rear of the course. The armor disguise is working—none of the Rifters even turn to look at me. Their eyes are glued to the Johnny Steve One-Man (Monster?) Show.
Coming around the back of the waterfall cave, I see the alligator’s tail. The Boss Rifter’s massive shoulder armor glimmers in the sunlight. I carefully walk up the sloping, green felted hill. When I get close to his throne, I gather my courage, lean forward, and break out my most villa
inous growl. “Hey, uh, Boss. Good show, eh?”
The Boss Rifter glances back and looks at me—at Flunk—right in the face armor.
I hear Globlet in my ear. “June, he’s got Blasty!” she whispers. “I’m stealing it back. . . .”
I feel Globlet sliding down my armor, but keep my attention on the Boss Rifter.
“This guy,” Boss says, gesturing toward Johnny Steve. “This guy makes me laugh.”
I nod, thinking, Great, he loves the show. Big fan of bad comedy. He’s nice and distracted—now I just have to get him to talk.
“Hey, Boss,” I say, keeping my voice at a growl. “I got an idea—we should throw that little ice cream head guy in a burlap sack, bring him with us for the journey!”
The Boss Rifter chuckles. Then giggles. Then it’s a full-on belly laugh! “I love it,” the Boss Rifter says, smacking me on the shoulder. “We will do that, Flunk! We will throw him in a burlap sack! WHO HAS A BURLAP SACK?!”
Every Rifter instantly goes silent. They all nervously look up at the Boss Rifter. It appears that none of them has a burlap sack.
“I’ll get one!” I say, smiling. Now I have the in I need. “We’re gonna need entertainment on this long journey, right? SUCH a long journey. Hey, remind me—just, like, how long, exactly?”
The Boss Rifter catches his breath. “Halfway across this massive land. Maybe more.”
Useful information, I think. Making progress.
“All that trekkin’ and we don’t even get to see Thrull,” he says with a sigh. “Just the Outpost. Then we find out where Thrull is.”
I gulp. WHAT?
My mind is speeding. The Boss Rifter doesn’t even know where Thrull is!
Globlet whispers, “C’mon—let’s BEAT IT while we still can! What else do you need?”
No, I think. I’ve come this far. And the reporter in me is not totally satisfied. This interview is NOT over. I need to know more about this Outpost.
