The Zombie in the Basement (4 page)

Understanding flooded Ricky’s face but then it changed again as an idea hit him.

“
That’s it, Eric, that’s exactly what we’ll do,” he said with the hint of a smile.

“
Do what?”

“
We’ll kill the zombie before it can bite anyone and get some proof it exists.”

“
No way, I’m not doin’ it,” Eric said.

Ricky crossed his arms over his chest. “Fine, then I’ll do it myself. Some friend you are, letting me go all by myself. How are you going to live with yourself if something happens to me?”

Eric frowned, knowing Ricky had a point. Friends stuck together no matter what and Eric and Ricky were the best of friends.

“
Fine,” Eric sighed. “We’ll go get your zombie, if it is that. When do you want to do this?”

Ricky rubbed his chin with a dirty hand, thinking about that very thing.

“
Tonight, after dinner. Right when it gets dark. Can you come out?”

Eric shrugged. “Yeah, I guess so. I’ll tell my mom I’m going to your house.”

“
Okay, and I’ll tell my mom I’m going to your house. It’s perfect, it can’t fail,” Ricky said with a grin.

Eric said nothing, but just stared at Ricky.

Ricky saw the concerned look in Eric’s face and he placed his right hand on his friend’s shoulder.

“
Trust me, everything will go as planned,” Ricky smiled. “We’ll sneak in, find the zombie and destroy it. Then we’ll tell our parents and we’ll be heroes. We’ll be the two kids who killed the zombie. It can’t fail.”

Eric stared at his friend. “You better hope not, Ricky, because I don’t want to become zombie chow. That would totally ruin my week.”

CHAPTER 4

AFTER LEAVING ERIC
, Ricky ran home. Going into his backyard, he ran up the back porch steps and into the kitchen, slamming the screen door as he entered.

His mother turned from the stove and frowned when she saw the condition of her son.

Ricky’s pants were covered in mud and grass stains, as was his shirt. His arms and hands were also covered in a thin layer of dust and dirt and his elbows were caked with mud. His face was so dirty it made him look like a camouflaged soldier going to war. His hair was matted down on the sides of his face from sweat.

She ignored the pot of boiling water for the pasta they were going to have for dinner and crossed her arms over her chest.

“
Ricky James Meyers, what in the world were you doing out there?”

Ricky tried to look as bashful as he could. “Sorry, Mom, I fell down.”

“
Fell down? In what? A dumpster?” She pointed to the hallway leading to the upstairs bathroom. “You get right upstairs and take a shower, and make sure you wash in all the cracks and other places on that filthy body.”

“
Yes, Mom,” he said, thinking he was getting off lightly, but as he passed her, she saw his torn pants and she gasped in shock. Ricky hunched his shoulders, preparing for the onslaught of chastising.

“
Oh my Lord, Ricky, just look at your pants, they’re ruined,” she began. She continued on, telling him about how he didn’t appreciate what he had and the value of a dollar. Ricky nodded when appropriate and tried to look sad, but inside he was itching to go. He wanted to wash up, eat, and get ready for his and Eric’s zombie hunt.

When she finally finished, she waved him away, telling him he needed to be more careful with his school clothes or he would pay for them out of his allowance.

“
Dinner is in half an hour and you better not make a mess of the bathroom.”

“
Yes, Mom,” Ricky said again, looking as sad as he could. She softened as she looked at him, then she smiled.

“
Oh, just go. You’re lucky I love you so much.”

Ricky looked at her with love and he opened his mouth, wanting to tell her about the zombie, but then he stopped.

“
What, dear, were you going to say something?” she asked.

He closed his mouth and shook his head. “Just that I love you, too.” Then he turned and was off. She shook her head as her son galloped up the stairs.

“
And don’t touch my walls with those dirty hands!” she called. Then she had to deal with the pot of boiling water. Her husband would be home soon and she knew he would be hungry after a long day at work.

Ricky stripped, tossing his dirty clothes into the hamper. Padding to the shower, he turned it on and hopped in. The water felt good, and though he hated to be clean, he had to admit it felt great to wash the dirt from the old house off his body. As he scrubbed, he thought back to the zombie he’d seen in the basement window. He remembered how that face was gaunt, the eyes dead, the mouth slack. He imagined what those teeth would do to him, and he got goosebumps, even though the water spray was hot.

He decided he was done, so he turned off the faucet and stepped out, grabbing a towel from the rack attached to the wall.

It was as he turned to face the sink, and the mirror mounted to the wall above it, that he stared at his visage, only now it was distorted from the steam of the shower.

He felt his blood run cold and his heart stop as he gazed at the face of the zombie again. The skin was mottled gray and the eyes were wide open, the cheeks having drops of what looked like raindrops.

Wait a second…raindrops?

Then reality set in and he realized he was staring at his reflection in the mirror, the steam droplets on the surface looking like they were on his face.

He felt silly now. He’d gotten scared by looking at

his reflection!

He decided right then he would keep this secret to himself. No one ever needed to know he was stupid enough to scare himself after taking a shower.

Feeling refreshed, despite the scare, he headed off to his bedroom to get dressed for dinner.

CHAPTER 5

THE SUN WAS
just beginning to set as Ricky crossed the street and stopped at the end of the cul-de-sac. His stomach was pleasantly full with his mom’s pasta and garlic bread. He and his parents had enjoyed a nice dinner, his father chatting with him about school, and then to his mom about work. When dinner was through, they had gone off to do grown-up stuff and Ricky was free to go and meet Eric

In all the houses around Ricky, he could see lights on, the thin illumination sneaking out between closed curtains and drapes.

No one else was about. Mothers and fathers had returned home from work, the small rush hour now forgotten, and all along the cul-de-sac, families gathered to watch television, play games on the computer or read a book.

Ricky felt alone as he stood in the growing shadows, wondering if maybe what he and Eric were going to do was crazy. After all, he was just a kid? He wasn’t a monster hunter.

And a zombie was a serious thing. If it bit you, you could die, or worse, you could become one of them. He imagined himself as a zombie, face pale and eyes blank. He would go to school still, his shambling walk carrying him to the school doors. He would sit in class, drooling, his mouth sagging, as the teacher went on about numerals and fractions, then he would go to gym. They would play tug of war and he would accidentally get his arms pulled off when the other team won, but he’d be fine. He was dead, so there was no pain. After a quick trip to the nurse where he would get his arms sewed back on, he would then go to lunch. While the other kids ate pizza and fish sticks, Ricky would snack on the brains his mom had packed. Then he’d wash it down with a juice box.

Then he’d go home, do his homework, watch some television, and then go to bed, to do it over again the next day.

He gave that some thought. He did that every day pretty much, so in the end, being a zombie wouldn’t really be that much different from being a regular kid.

An owl hooted from a nearby tree, its eyes catching the waning light and glowing softly. Ricky stared at it, hearing it hoot, and he felt the slightest chill go down his spine. Perched on the branch, the owl looked menacing. The shadows wrapped around it, giving him the feeling it was a bird of prey. He imagined shaped talons ready to rip and tear his soft flesh, the beak that would attack his face.

But then the clouds cleared and the owl was in full view and it was just an owl again. It hooted one last time and flew off, searching for a tasty mouse or other small rodent, but then landed in another nearby tree.

Ricky shivered and shook off the chill, feeling silly. He heard footsteps coming from around the corner and his heart beat faster, but then Eric appeared, smiling widely.

Ricky frowned. “Took you long enough,” he snapped, but he was really mad at himself for getting scared over a stupid owl.

“
Sorry,” Eric replied. “My mom said I couldn’t go out until my homework was done.”

“
Well, fine, but still, I was waiting,” Ricky said.

Eric brushed his friend’s reply off and changed the subject. “So, we’re really gonna do this? We’re really gonna sneak into that old house?”

“
You bet, and I brought the tools to do it, too,” Ricky said and reached into his pocket and pulled out a flashlight and a Swiss Army knife.

Eric took the Swiss Army knife and held it in his right hand, staring at it. Then he opened it, showing Ricky the corkscrew, nail file and clippers. It was the clippers and nail file he pointed at.

“
So what’re you gonna do with this, do the zombies nails?”