Mean Ghouls (11 page)

“I can't believe I'm doing this.” Rachel shook her head in disbelief. “I mean, I like acting, but this is —”

“You owe me,” Megan said as she climbed into the shallow grave and laid down in the dirt.

“I said I was sorry.” Standing nearby, leaning against a tree, Rachel straightened the dress she'd borrowed. It was one of Brenda's favorites, the first one she'd rolled over with the car after she was diagnosed.

“And after this, you'll be forgiven,” Megan assured Rachel. “I mean, other best friends might be mad that you came to school and didn't talk to them at all, but not me. I'm totally over the fact that you ran off with the Mean Ghouls.”

“I wanted to be part of the fashion show,” Rachel explained for the zillionth time. “I thought you'd be surprised. Brett asked me to do it.”

“Talking about me?” Brett popped his head out from the open grave next to Megan.

“Yes,” Rachel said. “Megan's still mad at us.”

“I'm not mad,” Megan said. “I know not to get too emotional.” She smiled, flashing her sharp teeth. “I still kind of wish you'd have been honest a long time earlier, but seriously, I'm glad that you two are going out.” The news hadn't been a surprise. And truly, Megan was fine with it. Brett and Rachel made a cute couple.

Megan rolled on her side to look at Brett. “I forgive you, too, even though you tried to eat my brains.”

“You gave me a virus that turned me into a monster!”

“Did not.” This time instead of fighting, Megan shrugged and smiled. “At least not on purpose.”

“Yeah. I know.” Brett sighed. “I just wish someone had given me a zombie rule book. No one told me that there was an unwritten zombie code that zombies don't ever eat other zombies.”

In the hours after the fashion-show disaster, Brett
had snapped out of his nastiness. Nurse Karen explained that the shock he'd been in when he'd first arrived had only seemed to disappear, but didn't go away altogether.

“I wasn't in control. I'm not usually mean like that,” Brett said. “I had zombitus, you know.”

“We both
still
have zombitus,” Megan reminded Brett.

They hadn't taken the cure yet because Megan had made a deal. And she'd convinced Brett and Rachel to help her out. They were all going to be in Zach's horror movie.

Brett's and Megan's transformation back to the living was going to be the movie's big climactic scene. But first, Zach wanted a zombie chase.

“Is everyone ready?” Zach asked. He straightened his floppy beret and pointed the video camera at the two graves Dr. Shelley and Mr. Jones had helped dig them in the wooded area near the research center. Happy had painted prop gravestones, and the whole time, she'd complained about working with gray paint, instead of black.

When Megan had returned to Mr. Jones's bungalow with Sam and the cure, there had been a lot
to explain. And a lot to apologize for. Turned out, though, that no one was quite as angry as Megan would have expected.

In fact, Rachel and Brett were the first to apologize
to her
. Followed by the Bs.

The Bs had sneakily invited Happy's parents to the show, hoping they'd like the fashion line, but until clothes were thrashed and the perfume spilled, the Yevermans were not interested. After the show, Mr. Yeverman offered to make the torn and fragrant Zom-B chic clothing a part of their fall Halloween-inspired collection

Brenda, Betsy, and Brooke were all going back to their old schools, but thanks to Megan, they'd never be the unpopular girls they were before. They were going to be fashionistas. Megan hoped they'd treat other students better — now that they knew both sides of popularity.

And since the Bs liked fashion and Happy didn't, Happy was also grateful to Megan for getting her parents off her back. They even agreed to let her go to a visual arts high school in a few years.

“Action!” Zach called.

“Augh!!!” Rachel screamed. “Help me!” She dashed through the bushes, looking over her shoulder.

All those years doing theater had made Rachel an excellent actress. Her screams scared Megan so much that for a moment, she forgot that she was supposed to be the scary one!

“Uhhhh-uhhhh,” Megan groaned, rising slowly from the grave, tossing dirt aside like Zach had directed.

“Uhhhh-uhhhh.” Brett sat up and shook his straight arms.

“Zombies!” Rachel shrieked. She rushed down the narrow path leading to Mr. Jones's cottage.

Megan and Brett kicked off the last bits of dirt and chased Rachel into Mr. Jones's home. Rachel slammed the door. Zach got some great footage of her cowering in a closet while the two zombies stared through the window.

“Cut!” Zach said. He grinned, pleased at how his film was shaping up. Zach went to get Nurse Karen to prepare for the transformation scene. He wouldn't tell Megan what was going to happen. He just kept saying, “This is going to be super-fun!”

While Rachel and Brett congratulated themselves on a job well done, Megan wandered into the living room where Mr. Jones was sitting with Dr. Shelley and Sam.

After confessing to Megan, Sam had come to the bungalow to tell Mr. Jones everything. How he'd taken the cure. And why. He gave back all the researchers' notes and every vial he had stashed in the back of his closet.

The first thing Mr. Jones did was put a vial in his coffin and lock the lid. Now, they sat in his Hawaiian chairs discussing the future. Mr. Jones turned to Dr. Shelley. “Should I ask him?”

She nodded.

Megan couldn't believe what happened next. Mr. Jones and Dr. Shelley announced that they were going to continue to run Zombie Academy for anyone who didn't want to take the cure. But since the school would be much smaller, they'd only need part of the castle. In the other part, they were going to open a haunted hotel.

Dr. Shelley was going to retire from her medical practice and build her own bungalow. She wanted to lead classes on monsters and monster movies. She'd also research zombie health and the benefits of a rotten vegetarian diet. They were going to combine their collectibles and open a museum.

“People will pay big money to visit a zombie haunt,” Mr. Jones explained.

“And who better to do it?” Dr. Shelley asked. “I am Mary Shelley's great-great-great-granddaughter after all.”

“And I am the son of Mary Shelley's housekeeper, Louisa Jones.”

Megan wanted to ask them about her English assignment.
Was Mary Shelley's Frankenstein monster really a zombie?
But the time wasn't right.

This meeting was about Sam.

Mr. Jones settled back in his chair. “Sam, we'd like you to stay here. We need someone who knows the castle and all its secret spots. Someone who can help ensure our guests have a memorable time.”

Dr. Shelley said, “Some people love to be scared.”

Sam didn't even think about it. “I'll take the job.”

Megan was glad. The castle was a lot closer than Siberia.

Just then, Zach herded Rachel, Brett, and Nurse Karen into the room.

“This is the big cure scene,” Zach explained. “It's where Rachel gets brave and saves herself.” He went
to Rachel and whispered in her ear. He handed her something that Megan couldn't see.

Megan assumed it was a rope or maybe handcuffs. She thought that Rachel was going to capture them and take them to Nurse Karen to be injected with the cure.

“When I say
Action
, Brett and Megan, go outside and attack the house.”

“Do not break my window,” Mr. Jones said.

“Don't be a spoilsport,” Dr. Shelley countered. “Go ahead, kids. Shatter the glass. I'll get it fixed later.”

“Already bossing me around?” Mr. Jones asked with a chuckle.

“Forever,” Dr. Shelley said. She planned to be infected with the virus and become a zombie herself.

Megan and Brett went back outside and peered through the window. On the count of three, Brett broke the glass with a rock and Megan crawled in through the same window she'd escaped out of hours before.

“Uhhhh-uhhhh,” she moaned for the very last time.

Rachel looked terrified, but then as Megan and Brett got closer, her expression became brave. From behind her back, Rachel pulled out the thing that
Zach had given her. It was a dart gun. And before the zombies could shuffle away, Rachel fired darts at them.

“Ouch!” Megan shouted as she fell backward onto the rough woven rug. Something very strange was happening. And it was happening fast. “Zach! What did you do?! I thought we were getting cured. Not shot at.”

“Hey!” Brett screamed. “That wasn't in the script. I'm still a zombie, so guess what? I'm going to break the school rules — I'm going to eat
your
brains!” He snarled at Zach.

“That's good, Brett. Keep in character,” Zach said. He wasn't scared. He was filming up close now.

Brett struggled to pull the dart out of his rear. He growled, and Megan noticed his teeth were already starting to look normal again.

“I quit!” Megan growled at her brother. “Ouch.” She yanked the dart out of her arm, and rubbed it gently.

“You don't have to quit. The movie's a wrap. That scene was totally worth it. Academy Awards, here I come,” Zach said. He handed her a mirror. “This is a gift from Happy. She said seven years' bad luck is enough. Don't go for fourteen.”

Megan considered hitting Zach over the head with the mirror, but instead, she looked at her reflection.

And there she was.

Megan Murry. Just like she remembered.

 

“I have a present for you,” Megan told Zach on the car ride home. She'd gotten over being shot with the dart when she'd discovered the tip had been soaked in the zombitus cure.

Megan handed Zach the same gift bag he'd given her before she went to Zombie Academy.

“I love presents,” Zach said.

Inside was a Zom-B
BE A B
T-shirt. “I know it's too big,” Megan told Zach. “But maybe you could pin it to your wall.”

Next was Megan's Zombie Academy red spiral notebook.

“I hope there's something inspirational in there for your next movie,” she told him.

The skeleton key. “You never know when you might need it,” Megan said.

And finally, at the bottom of the bag was a monster lunch box from Zach's favorite horror movie.

“I bought it online,” Megan explained. “You should start a collection.”

Zach gave his sister a huge hug. “Uhhhh-uhhhh,” he said.

Megan knew exactly what he meant. “Uhhhh-uhhhh to you, too.”

HERE'S A BONE-CHILLING
SNEAK PEEK AT ANOTHER
ROTTEN APPLE BOOK!

ZOMBIE DOG

 

“Mom, you don't understand,” Becky said as her parents did the dishes. “It wasn't just a regular noise.” At the table, Jake nodded, his face solemn. They'd been trying to tell their parents about the eerie howl that had come out of the McNally yard, but with one look at her mother's skeptical face Becky knew they
hadn't been able to get across how very scary it had been. The kitchen was warm and brightly lit, so normal and safe that it was hard to explain just how
wrong
everything had felt outside.

“It was probably a stray cat in the yard next door,” her mother said reasonably. “Let's keep an eye out, and if we see it, we can try to catch it and take it to the animal shelter.”

“Bear was really scared, too,” Jake said, his face stubborn. “He wouldn't be scared of a stray cat.”

Their father's eyebrows rose. “Wait, Bear was there? What was Bear doing when the noise started?”

“He wasn't doing anything!” Becky said, feeling defensive. She folded her arms across her chest. Her parents exchanged a glance. She should have known that they would find a way to make this all about Bear.

“Honey,” her mother said firmly, setting down a mug, “we know you love Bear, but he needs to stay off the neighbors' property. And that includes the empty house next door. If he's scaring stray animals over there, he could get hurt.”

“
Mom
,” Becky said indignantly, “Bear wasn't even over there. He was with us in the yard. He didn't do
anything
. Whatever it was just howled at him for no
reason. And you didn't hear this noise. It wasn't any stray cat. It was, like, a banshee or something.” She was breathing hard, and she realized as she said it that it was true: The sound felt too eerie to have been made by anything natural.

Her parents stared at her. Then her dad gave a little huffing sigh. “You can't just make up ridiculous stories to cover up Bear's bad behavior,” he said.

Becky blinked hard and looked away from her parents. She stared instead at the big poster of different kinds of peppers that her mom had hung over the table, trying to will back tears. They were being so unfair. “Listen,” she said, working to keep her voice reasonable, “you don't know all the stuff I've heard about the house next door. Everyone says it's haunted. Or that a mad scientist lived there, or … different things….”

The corners of her dad's mouth twitched as if he was stopping himself from laughing, and Becky wanted to scream.

“There's something weird about that house,” she told them. “Why do you think it's been empty for so long?”

“The house next door is
haunted
?” Jake asked. He broke into a huge grin. “That's amazing!”

Becky's mom set down the sponge and turned around. “Of course it's not haunted, Jake. Becky, don't try to scare your brother. The house is empty because old Mrs. McNally lives in assisted living now, but she doesn't want to sell it or rent it out,” she said matter-of-factly.

“There's always a rational explanation for everything,” Becky's father said. “Now, who wants to watch that movie I picked up?”

“I'll make popcorn,” her mom said. On her way toward the pantry, she put her hands gently on Becky's shoulders. “I know that moving to a new place can be hard,” she said sympathetically, “but making up stories won't help. This is a wonderful house on a terrific street, and you'll adapt.”

Becky twitched her shoulders with irritation and her mom let go. “I do love the house,” Becky said, turning to look at her mom, “but there's something strange about the house next door.”

“I'm sorry, Becky, but that's just not true,” her mom said.

“And Becky?” her dad said, and she turned back around to look at him. He pointed one finger at her across the table. “The conversation about Bear's behavior is not over.”

 

In bed that night, Becky couldn't get comfortable. She could hear Bear downstairs in his crate, shifting around restlessly, and occasionally letting out a soft whimper. He didn't like sleeping in the crate, but her parents insisted that he stay in the kitchen at night.

Outside, branches blew against her window. Past them, Becky watched the full moon sailing high in the sky. She buried her face in her pillow and shut her eyes. She had to get some sleep.

Downstairs, Bear barked, one sharp bark. Becky's eyes flew open again, and she listened, wondering if her parents had heard him, but there was no sound from their room. Another whimper came from downstairs, and she threw back her covers and climbed out of bed. Bear was lonely.

Becky tiptoed down the stairs without turning on the light. The moonlight coming through the windows washed across the floor, bright enough to see by.

When Bear saw her, he jumped to his feet, his tail wagging hard enough to rattle the crate.

“Shh, Bear, shh,” she said softly. She knelt down on the kitchen floor and put her hands through the
bars of the crate to pet him. Bear wagged his tail even harder and licked her fingers enthusiastically. “You need to go to sleep, boy,” she told him in a whisper. “If you wake up Mom and Dad, they're not going to be happy with us.”

As Becky started to stand up, Bear gave her a sad look, his big brown eyes wide, and her heart melted.

“Okay, honey,” she whispered. “You can come with me just for tonight.” Bear whuffed happily at her as she unlatched the crate. “Shh,” she said, grabbing hold of his collar.

Once they got upstairs, Bear heaved himself up onto her bed, turned in a half circle to get comfortable, and stretched out. After a moment, Becky climbed into the bed next to him. Bear immediately snuggled next to her, resting his furry head against her shoulder. Becky closed her eyes and tried again to fall asleep.

A few minutes later, Bear began to snore. Becky's eyes snapped open. Gradually, Becky became aware of a constant, low whining noise. It occasionally stopped, but always started again. Was Bear whining in his sleep? No, his breathing was regular and
steady, interspersed with soft, deep snores. The whining was coming from somewhere else.

Outside, maybe? Becky climbed out of bed. The floor was cold against her feet as she moved hesitantly toward the window, following the sound. When she looked out the window, the scene was shadowy, but lit by the full moon.

Maybe there was a stray cat or lost dog in the McNally yard, as Becky's parents had suggested. She peered down into the patch of the yard next door that she could see through her window. The whining was a little louder now, and irregular. Not the sound of the porch swing creaking or a branch rubbing against the house, but definitely some kind of animal. Becky pressed her forehead against the cold window pane, trying to see.

Something moved in the shadows on the other side of the fence.

It was a huddled shape below one of the evergreen trees in the McNally yard. As Becky watched, it moved a little farther into the moonlight.

Was it a cat, after all? It seemed like it might be cat-size, but the shape didn't seem quite right. The tail was too short, the body looked off somehow. It
was moving stiffly, not with the smooth glide of a hunting cat.

The animal raised its head and looked right at Becky. Its eyes flashed a sick, glowing yellowish green.

Instinctively, she moved back, away from the window. Had it seen her? Her heart pounded and she felt like she couldn't catch her breath. Panic bubbled inside her. She didn't know why, but she didn't want the creature to know she was there.