by Kara LaReau
Open the gift that keeps on giving, it said. That was what the plaque said on the big framed photo Mr. Witt had in his workshop. The photo of the Witts Confectionery grand opening. It was probably some kind of anniversary reminder, I figured.
“Run along, kids,” said Officer Dave. “I’m going to let you go with a warning this time. But if I see you making trouble for the Yumms again, that’s going to be trouble for you two. Got it?”
“Got it,” Danny said. I was still looking down at the slip of paper when he nudged me.
“Yes, sir,” I added, shoving the note back in my pocket.
We got on our bikes and started pedaling, and Officer Dave followed us home.
The whole time, I didn’t say a word to Danny. I didn’t even look at him. I was feeling sad and hopeless before. Now I was feeling something else.
“Let’s go to my house,” I called to Danny. And then I started pedaling faster.
Once the limo arrived at Yumm Mansion, everyone went inside and got down to business. Kari and Greg brought the cat carrier into the Big Boss’s study.
“Well, that was annoying,” Kari said.
“Children often are,” said the Big Boss, taking a seat behind the desk.
“At least we don’t have to deal with those children anymore,” Kari said. “We got what we wanted.”
“Yes. We did,” said the Big Boss, patting the cat carrier.
“That was some nice improvising with that bit about the hazardous materials,” Greg said to Kari.
“I thought we should have a backup story, just in case,” Kari explained. “I drew up the paperwork this morning.”
“I knew you had a head for details,” the Big Boss said. Kari blushed.
“Is it okay in there?” Greg asked. He peered inside. “The cat looks pretty out of it.”
“It’s just the clipnosis collar,” Kari said.
“Clipnosis?” said Greg.
“You can render some animals immobile just by pinching the scruff of their neck. The collar is the Big Boss’s invention,” Kari explained. She reached in and unclipped it from Y-91.
The cat blinked and looked around. The Big Boss leaned down to the carrier and grinned.
“I’ve got big plans for you, Y-91. Huge.”
About an hour later, Danny and I were sitting at the picnic table in my backyard, and I was talking a mile a minute when Carl and Nina and Owen showed up.
“We made it to the campus,” Carl said.
“We looked all around, but we couldn’t find a way in,” Owen explained.
“That was when we got your text,” Nina said. “What happened?”
Danny and I looked at each other. We both took deep breaths and started explaining how we’d managed to stop the limo and call the police.
“The cop turned out to be friends with the Yumms, so he let them get away,” Danny said.
“Because they claim Bert is some kind of biohazard. Which I’m sure is another lie,” I added, rolling my eyes. “So the cop let them take him.”
“Bummer,” said Owen.
“Though you did take all those photos of them being stopped by the police,” Carl reminded me. “You could send them to the Lambert Gazette. The last thing the Yumms would want is bad publicity on their big Harvest Festival day.”
“I didn’t think of that!” I said. I scrolled through the photos on my phone. And scrolled. And scrolled.
“What’s wrong?” Danny asked.
“They’re . . . gone,” I said. I looked at Danny. “How about your video from today?”
Danny searched on his phone. “It’s not there, either,” he said. “Ugh. There goes our evidence and the new footage for my movie.”
I looked at my phone, then at Danny’s.
“Wait,” I said. “We both have YummPhones. Think that’s a coincidence?”
“Whoa. That’s like, cyber crime,” Owen said.
“You know what? It doesn’t matter. We’re not giving up that easily,” I informed them.
“We’re not?” Nina said.
“Nope,” I said. “And now we’ve got them right where we want them. Because we’re kids, they’ve underestimated us.”
“Big mistake,” Danny said.
“Huge,” I added, doing my best Stuart Yumm impression.
Carl’s stomach growled. “It’s just about dinnertime. I haven’t eaten all day, thanks to my mom,” he said. He patted the pocket of his blazer, and a little rat head popped out. “And I’ve fed Zoomer just about all of his rat pellets.”
“Do you bring that thing everywhere with you?” Nina asked.
“Don’t tell the other rats, but he’s my favorite,” Carl said.
“I haven’t eaten, either. All that free food, and I didn’t eat a single bite,” Danny said, glaring at me.
“What?” I said. “We agreed we wouldn’t eat at the Harvest Festival so we’d have more time to practice with Bert.”
“I’m hungry, too. But I don’t know what we’re eating tonight at my house,” Owen said. “My mom started coming down with something after lunch.”
“My dad’s sick, too, and my brother,” Nina said. “Something must be going around.”
“It’s probably the cold my brothers have. I think my parents are coming down with it, too,” I said, remembering how tired they looked at the festival.
Danny tossed Owen his phone. “Tell your parents we’re having dinner here — to celebrate Mellie’s big win. We can order pizza while we figure out our plan.”
“That is, if you’re still with us,” I said. I looked at Carl, then at Owen and Nina.
“If anyone wants out, now is the time,” Danny said. “You can go home and forget about all of this.”
Carl fidgeted a bit, but no one moved. Danny looked at me and smiled.
“Okay,” I said, leaning forward.
Just as I was about to tell them my plan, the back door of my house swung open, and Mrs. Witt came running out.
“Mellie — something is wrong!” she said breathlessly. “With your parents!”
“I’ll be right back,” I told everyone. I followed Mrs. Witt inside.
My dad was standing in front of the open freezer, his face buried in a gallon of YummCo mint chocolate chip ice cream. The ice cream was dribbling down his beard and the front of his shirt.
“Dad?” I asked.
When he turned to look at me, I could see his eyes were wide and blank.
“Gaaah!” I screamed, backing up to the kitchen counter.
“When they first came home from the festival, they told me they weren’t feeling well,” Mrs. Witt explained. “They said they were going to lie down, so I went upstairs to check on the twins. When I came back down, this is what I found.”
“Dad, what happened to you? What’s wrong?”
“It’s . . . so good,” he said, between bites of ice cream. “So. Good.”
As I tried to process what was happening, I had a thought: Emmett and Ezra.
“Are the twins okay?” I asked Mrs. Witt. “They were sick yesterday and this morning.”
“They’re fine. No more fevers and no sniffles. And they don’t . . . look different, like this,” she said, motioning to my dad. “They’re taking a nap upstairs.”
“Where’s my mom?” I asked Mrs. Witt. She gestured toward the dining room.
Mom was at the dining room table, her back to me. All her credit cards were fanned out in front of her, and her fingers were tapping frantically at the keyboard of her YummBook. The television in the living room was blaring.
“Mom, what are you doing?” I asked.
“There are so many things we need,” she said. “So. Many.”
I looked over her shoulder at the laptop screen. She was on the YummCo website, ordering thousands of dollars of merchandise: camera equipment, electronics, clothes and toys for Emmett and Ezra. A laboratory-grade microscope for me. I thought about how much I wanted that microscope . . . just not this way.
“Mom, we
can’t afford all this stuff!” I shouted.
She whipped around to face me. Her eyes were wide and blank, and she was salivating.
“We can’t affort not to have it!” she shouted. “I won’t allow this family to go without!”
“Mom?” I said, shaking. But she didn’t look like my mom anymore. She looked like an animal.
Just then, a YummCo commercial appeared on the television. It was a new one I’d never seen before. Stuart Yumm was front and center, grinning from ear to ear.
“People of Lambert, head on down to Super YummCo today!” the voiceover announcer said. “We’ve got something huge in store for you — fresh, new products for the whole family! You just can’t live without them!”
Then Mr. Yumm gave his trademark thumbs-up as the YummCo jingle started playing.
YummCo brings the fun-co!
The fun has just begun-co!
Be smart, not dumb-dumb-dumb-co!
And fill your day with YummCo!
“YummCo brings the fun-co,” my mom repeated in a voice that made her sound like a sleepy robot. “The fun has just begun-co.”
She stood, knocking over the dining room chair. Then she grabbed her credit cards and started to walk toward the back door, her eyes wide and glassy, saliva pooling in the corners of her mouth. When she passed my dad in the kitchen, he finally stopped eating.
“Be smart, not dumb-dumb-dumb-co,” he said in the same sleepy robot voice. “And fill your day with YummCo.”
He dropped the ice cream and followed her. The gallon of YummCo mint chocolate chip landed on our kitchen floor with a bright green-and-brown SPLAT.
Mrs. Witt looked at me. We both blinked for a few seconds, taking it all in.
“I think . . . the twins should stay with you for a little while,” I said finally, trying to stay calm. “And don’t let them eat any YummCo products.” Mrs. Witt nodded.
Danny ran into the kitchen. “You’ve got to come out and see this,” he said.
Mrs. Witt and I followed him outside. We joined Owen and Nina and Carl in my driveway, watching all our neighbors, young and old, chanting the YummCo jingle and shambling down the street like they were sleepwalking. They were all salivating, and they had the same glassy expression as my parents. And they were all headed in the same direction. Toward Super YummCo.
“They’re like . . . real zombies,” Danny said. For the first time, he seemed too freaked out to film anything.
“We saw your mom and dad headed there, too,” Owen told me.
“And we couldn’t get any of our parents on the phone,” Nina said.
“What is going on?” Carl asked.
“There’s only one way to find out,” I said.
“What?” asked Danny.
I pointed. “Follow that horde.”
Owen and Nina started after the shambling, drooling YummCo zombies, with Carl and Danny close behind.
I looked at Mrs. Witt.
“I’ll be here,” she said, putting a hand on my shoulder. “Be careful.”
As I followed my friends, I reached into my lab coat pocket and felt Mr. Witt’s note. Open the gift that keeps on giving. It was just an anniversary reminder . . . or was it? Absolutely nothing made sense right now. All I could do was hope we weren’t headed in the wrong direction.
“Wait for me!” I called to Danny and the others, running to catch up.
He felt himself being carried, down stairs and dark, winding hallways. All the while, he thought of Mellie. He wished he could have said goodbye to her. He thought he’d heard her calling his name, though things had been so foggy until now.
He knew he was back in the Cold Place when he saw and heard the code being pressed on the security keypad. The heavy door opened, with its familiar whoosh, and then closed behind them. Immediately, the harsh smells hit his nose, including the smell of blood. Someone had tried to wash it away, but he could still smell it: the blood, and the fear.
They put him back in the lab cage marked Y-91, the Rough Hands grabbing him, pushing him in, then locking the door. The door on the cage was new, he noticed, and this time, there would be no escape from it. The other animals soon began whimpering, some even wailing, and it was as if he had never left. Almost. As he looked around, he realized all the animals were different. Where were the others, the ones he’d promised to rescue?
He tried not to panic. After all, this was part of his plan. All this time, he’d tried to find a way to get back inside, and here he was, exactly where he needed to be. What he needed now was patience and focus, and hope that he could handle whatever happened next. He would keep going, as his mother had told him in his dream.
“You’ve gained weight,” a low voice said.
The voice was in his own tongue, and it was fam-iliar. In the darkened lab, he looked to the cage on his left marked Y-92, at the yellow eyes staring back at him, so similar to his own. It couldn’t be. And yet, it was.
“Hello, Brother,” he replied.
KARA LaREAU is the author of many books for young readers, including Rise of ZomBert as well as the Theodor Seuss Geisel Honor Book The Infamous Ratsos and its sequels. She is also the author of the Unintentional Adventures of the Bland Sisters series of middle-grade novels. Kara LaReau lives in Providence, Rhode Island.
RYAN ANDREWS is a comics artist and illus-trator. He is the illustrator of Rise of ZomBert by Kara LaReau and The Dollar Kids by Jennifer Richard Jacobson and the author-illustrator of the graphic novel This Was Our Pact. Two of his web comics have been nominated for Will Eisner Comic Industry Awards. Ryan Andrews lives in Fukuoka, Japan.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or, if real, are used fictitiously.
Text copyright © 2021 by Kara LaReau
Illustrations copyright © 2021 by Ryan Andrews
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, transmitted, or stored in an information retrieval system in any form or by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, taping, and recording, without prior written permission from the publisher.
First electronic edition 2021
Library of Congress Catalog Card Number pending
The illustrations were done digitally.
Candlewick Press
99 Dover Street
Somerville, Massachusetts 02144
www.candlewick.com
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