The Zombie in the Basement

THE ZOMBIE

IN

THE BASEMENT

THE TURNING: A STORY OF THE LIVING DEAD

MEN OF PERDITION

THE Z WORD

THE DEAD OF SPACE: BOOK 1 AND 2

THE BABYLONIAN CURSE

PLAYING GOD: A ZOMBIE NOVEL

THE JUNKYARD

PLANET OF THE DEAD

THE HAUNTED THEATRE

SUPERHEROES VS ZOMBIES

THE UNNATURAL DEAD

ZOMBIES IN OUR HOMETOWN

PHOTOS OF THE DEAD

NIGHT OF THE WOLF: A WEREWOLF ANTHOLOGY

JUST BEFORE NIGHT: A ZOMBIE ANTHOLOGY

THE BOOK OF HORROR

KNIGHT SYNDROME

THE WAR AGAINST THEM: A ZOMBIE NOVEL

CHILDREN OF THE VOID

DARK DREAMS

BLOOD RAGE & DEAD RAGE (BOOK 1& 2 OF THE RAGE VIRUS SERIES)

DEAD MOURNING: A ZOMBIE HORROR STORY

BOOK OF THE DEAD: A ZOMBIE ANTHOLOGY VOLUME 1-6

LOVE IS DEAD: A ZOMBIE ANTHOLOGY

ETERNAL NIGHT: A VAMPIRE ANTHOLOGY

END OF DAYS: AN APOCALYPTIC ANTHOLOGY VOLUME 1-4

DEAD HOUSE: A ZOMBIE GHOST STORY

THE ZOMBIE IN THE BASEMENT (FOR ALL AGES)

THE LAZARUS CULTURE: A ZOMBIE NOVEL

DEAD WORLDS: UNDEAD STORIES VOLUMES 1-7

FAMILY OF THE DEAD

REVOLUTION OF THE DEAD

KINGDOM OF THE DEAD

DEAD HISTORY

THE MONSTER UNDER THE BED

DEAD THINGS

DEAD TALES: SHORT STORIES TO DIE FOR

ROAD KILL: A ZOMBIE TALE

DEADFREEZE

DEADFALL

SOUL EATER

THE DARK

RISE OF THE DEAD

DEAD END: A ZOMBIE NOVEL

VISIONS OF THE DEAD

THE CHRONICLES OF JACK PRIMUS

INSIDE THE PERIMETER: SCAVENGERS OF THE DEAD

BOOK OF CANNIBALS VOLUME 2

CHRISTMAS IS DEAD…AGAIN

EMAILS OF THE DEAD

CHILDREN OF THE DEAD

TALES OF THE DEAD

CLAN OF THE BIGFOOT

NOVELLAS OF THE DEAD

THE DEADWATER SERIES

DEADWATER

DEADWATER: Expanded Edition

DEADRAIN

DEADCITY

DEADWAVE

DEAD HARVEST

DEAD UNION

DEAD VALLEY

DEAD TOWN

DEAD GRAVE

DEAD SALVATION

DEAD ARMY (Deadwater series book 10)

THE ZOMBIE

IN

THE BASEMENT

ANTHONY GIANGREGORIO

THE ZOMBIE IN THE BASEMENT

Copyright
©
2009 by Anthony Giangregorio

ISBN Softcover ISBN
13: 978-1-935458-31-9

ISBN
10: 1-935458-31-0

All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

This book was printed in the United States of America.

For more info on obtaining additional copies of this book, contact:

www.livingdeadpress.com

Visit the author’s website at www.undeadpress.com

Illustrations by Andrew Dawe-Collins

CHAPTER 1

IT WAS LATE
afternoon in the middle of the cul-de-sac in Melrose, Massachusetts, a small town set in the heart of New England. It was a place where almost everyone knew everyone else and the Main Street still had a local hardware store, a bakery and a garage with just one mechanic.

It was a place Ricky Meyers called home.

Though only ten, Ricky was wise beyond his years. He knew all about the history of his town and had done more homework and extra credit projects in school about the town than any other kid.

Yes, sir, he loved his town and was proud to be a part of it.

“
Car!” someone yelled and everyone got out of the street as Mrs. Miller drove by. She waved to the boys and her son, Eric, then pulled into her driveway a few houses down. All the kids ran back into the street to continue their game of stickball.

Ricky left the sidewalk and stepped out into the street, waiting for the ball to come to him. But after five minutes later and still no ball, he got bored and drifted off into a daydream.

“
Hey, Ricky, hey stupid, wake up! Jimmy’s gonna hit the ball!” a voice cried out, waking Ricky from his stupor. He snapped awake immediately, looking around himself. He was standing at the edge of the cul-de-sac, right where the circle met the rest of the street that led to Mount Vernon Street, which then led to Main Street.

He was in the outfield, or what you called an outfield when you were playing stickball in the street. His friend Jimmy was at bat and Eric, his best friend, was the pitcher. All around him, the rest of the neighborhood kids cheered and laughed. Eric wound up the pitch and threw it over the plate, or what they were using as home plate, which was the top of a metal garbage can.

The ball flew straight and Jimmy lined up his shot, swinging for all he was worth.

The stick connected with the ball and sent it flying into the air. Ricky watched as the ball sailed over his head and kept going. It bounced onto Mount Vernon Street and then onto the sidewalk, but it still kept going. After bouncing on the sidewalk, it jumped through the wrought iron fence lining the land of the house behind it. It rolled in the tall grass and came up a few feet from the house.

But this wasn’t just any old house where the ball landed. This was the house that every neighborhood had. This was the house that had tall grass, overgrown shrubs, peeling paint on its facade and newspapers piled high on the porch.

This was Melrose’s very own haunted house, or as close to one as you could get. This was the house no one went to on Halloween, and if you were selling candy for a school field trip, this was the house you bypassed.

“
Oh, great, Jimmy, you hit it into old man Rollin’s house,” Eric said in a frustrated voice.

“
Hey, don’t blame me for my awesome arm. I can’t help my own strength,” Jimmy replied as he rounded the bases, waving his arms in the air as he jogged in slow

motion, like he was a famous baseball player.

“
All I know is if it goes in old man Rollin’s yard then it’s an automatic homerun.”

“
That’s because no one wants to get it if it goes in there,” another kid said as he watched Jimmy land on home plate again, his buddies patting his back.

Eric was upset though. “But that’s my last ball. I guess that’s it for today, guys.”

Jimmy shrugged. “That’s okay. I should go home, anyway. It’s almost time for dinner.” As if on cue, another voice rang out. It was one of the other kid’s mothers calling their son home for dinner. Some of the other kids scratched their heads and looked at one another. With no ball, stickball was over and everyone was tired and hungry. It was almost five o’clock, and after getting home from school, and going right out to play, stomachs were rumbling and homework had to be done. One after another the kids all floated away until it was only Jimmy, Eric and Ricky standing together in the middle of the wide street.

The three boys picked up the makeshift bases and tossed them into the small shopping carriage they used to transport their stuff.

Eric looked to Jimmy and Ricky and he shook his head.

“
Well, guys, unless you have another ball in your pocket, that’s it for stickball forever,” Eric told them.

“
Why’s that?” Ricky asked. “Can’t you just bring another one tomorrow after school?”

Eric shook his head no. “Nope, that’s my last one and my dad says he won’t buy me any more. He says I go through them too fast.”

“
Oh, great, so what then? No more stickball?” Jimmy asked.

Ricky turned and looked back at the old house and bit his lip, thinking. Finally, as the other two talked about what they were going to do now, Ricky spoke up.

“
I have an idea, guys. What if I just go get the ball that went into old man Rollin’s yard?”

“
What? That’s crazy. No one goes in there,” Eric said. “One time I heard a kid went in there to get a Frisbee and he never came out. They still don’t know where he is. The police went and checked, but there was no sign of him.”

Jimmy began laughing. “Oh, please, Eric, that is such a lie it’s crazy. That never happened.”

“
Did too,” Eric said.

“
Oh, yeah? Then when did this happen?”