Zombie Surf Commandos from Mars! (6 page)

“I stand tall,” he proclaimed, posing like a comic book hero.

Sean and Jeff laughed together, posing like two muscular superheroes.

Holly pretended she was going to be sick. Sean laughed harder. She was the reason he was biking so hard. She was a year younger, and the galaxy wasn't big enough for the both of them.

Sean rested with one foot on his bike pedal, the other on the gravel road. “Grover's Mill. Some place, huh?”

“From this far up, it seems pretty normal,” said Jeff.

“Yeah, then you open your eyes,” Sean said, brushing his wavy dark brown hair away from his forehead. “I mean, just look around! A secret army base up there. A dinosaur graveyard over there. My dad's horror movie studio over there. And us in the middle. This place is the exact center of total galactic weirdness!” He turned to Jeff. “After being at camp for two weeks, I see it all so clearly.”

“I can't see anything clearly,” said Holly. “It's getting dark. Let's go home.”

“At camp we learned to love the dark,” Sean said.

“Get real,” Holly snorted.

“No, really. I learned survival techniques.” Then Sean snickered to himself. “Well, mostly I learned songs.”

Sean started once more up the dirt road to a low rise overlooking Lake Lake.

“So why didn't you stay at Camp Goofy?” his sister quipped, pedaling alongside.

“It's called Camp Smiley,” said Sean, screwing up his face and thinking about swatting his sister. But he backed off and smiled instead. He couldn't help it. That's what the camp counselor said. Whenever he remembered Camp Smiley, he would smile.

And it was true. He was doing it!

All three bikers coasted on a flat stretch. Big hulking bulldozers and steamrollers were parked on both sides of the dirt road.

“The best part of camp was this new kid I met, Mike Mazur.” Sean went on. “His family just moved into a new house at the end of this road. The tenth house, Mike told me. It's white.”

“We're late for supper,” Holly said. “Besides, we're not supposed to be up here. Remember what Mom said about the equipment. It's dangerous. We could get hurt.”

“I scoff at danger,” Sean snapped. “Superheroes always do. You can go home if you want to.” He gestured back down the hill.

Shadows flickered in the moonlight, going in and out of the clouds. Black streaks slashed the road behind them. The breeze sweeping up from the lake was steadying into a wind.

Without anyone seeing it, night had fallen.

Holly said nothing. She rode along next to Jeff.

Sean suddenly tore off around the first bend, leaving the others behind him again. He counted houses. “Five—six—seven. It's coming up!”

He banked fast through the corner and pedaled harder into a little straight before the next turn. He could make out three houses just ahead of him. A white one was at the end.

“Eight—nine—tttttt—”

FLAAAAAASH!

A powerful blast of purple light exploded in Sean's face.

“Ahhhhhh!” he screamed.

2

Have a Blast!

T
he force blew Sean backward. He skidded across the gravel and slammed hard into the huge tire of a bulldozer.

“Ow!” he moaned. He suddenly ached all over. He felt as if his breath had been completely knocked out of him.

Jeff ran over. “Wow, what a tumble! Are you okay?”

Holly coasted up to him. “Get the training wheels. My brother forgot how to ride.”

“Oh, man,” Sean groaned, feeling the back of his head for tread marks. “Did you see that?” He pointed to the clearing ahead. “That huge light?”

Holly looked up. “That's called the moon, Sean,” she snapped. “Say it, M-O-O-N!”

“No, it was a big purple light,” Sean snarled. He turned to Jeff. “You saw it.”

Jeff looked down. “Well …”

“Oh, man!” Sean groaned again. He grabbed Jeff's hand and pulled himself to his feet. He dusted off his pants and his W. Reid Elementary T-shirt. “Come on, let's find Mike's house.”

Jeff trotted over to the road, stood there for a second, then came back. “I just counted, Sean. There
is
no tenth house. There are only nine.”

Sean counted, too. Jeff was right. There was no white house. Suddenly Sean felt jittery all over.

“I guess my big brother doesn't know his numbers,” said Holly. “Maybe when we get back to school, you should drop back a grade, Sean. I heard Principal Bell talking about it anyway.”

In the distance—
bong!
—the clock on top of the Double Dunk Donut Den chimed the hour. A moment later—
ssss!
The pan sitting atop Usher's House of Pancakes hissed the hour, too.

“It's getting late,” said Sean. “We'd better go home.” He rubbed the back of his head again, hopped on his bike, and pushed off down the hill.

The next morning was hot and sunny. Sean greeted his parents at the kitchen table and opened the refrigerator. A blob of brown oozy stuff slid off the top rack and onto his hand.

He licked it off. “Mmm, not bad.”

“Do you think so?” asked his mother.

Next Sean shook the milk carton and raised it to his lips. Thick blue liquid poured down his chin. After that he reached into a bowl on the counter, grabbed two eyeballs, and popped them into his mouth at the same time.

“Crunchy,” he mumbled, showing red teeth.

“Ho, ho!” cried Mr. Todd Vickers, the not-at-all-famous movie director, producer, special effects person, camera person, and in fact the
only
person at Humongous Horror Movie Studios. “Daisy, you've done it again! Hideous movie props you can eat! Dear, you are wonderful!”

Mrs. Daisy Vickers blushed. “I try.”

“This is a little disgusting,” said Holly, dipping her spoon into her cereal.

No, this is the Vickers household. A home full of gunk and goop. Fake monster heads and hands. Eyeballs in little bowls. Crawling hands under the sofa. Green oozy brains in the hamper.

“Is this any way for a kid to grow up?” asked Holly.

“No,” said Sean, “but it's a good way for a kid to throw up!”

Mr. Vickers beamed at his two children, got up from the table where he was making notes for a new movie, and did a little dance across the floor. On the way, he grabbed Mrs. Vickers and twirled her around.

“Dad!” snorted Holly. “Please don't be weird. Someone could be watching.”

“Ah, sorry, little one.” Mr. Vickers halted in mid-twirl, but, oh, Mrs. Vickers didn't! She kept spinning and hit the table, her arms flying. Then she slammed the oven door—
wham!

She quickly recovered her balance, and sang, “Ta-da!”

“Children,” said Mr. Vickers, “today I have to check on scenery being built for my next film spectacular. A big bald guy stomps a little town. I call it
The Amazing Colossal Bloody Fiend From Beyond the Third Realm of Venusian Fire Attacks the Tiny American City of Grover's Mill.”

“Oh, darling,” Mrs. Vickers beamed. “I just
adore
the bloody fiend part, but will that lovely title fit on the sign, dearest?”

“Hmm,” he mused. “Perhaps you're right, sweet cheeks. Anyway, I've asked a toymaker to create a little model town for my fiend to crush. It's a tiny version of our fair Grover's Mill!”

“A toymaker?” said Holly. “A jolly toymaker? Maybe he's like old Pagetto, in
Chiponnio, the Puppet Boy.
Short and chubby with white hair, clicking his heels, always singing.”

“Or maybe,” said Sean, hunching his shoulders and swooping down on his sister, “he's the creepy guy in
Terrible Toymaker of Terrorville!”

Holly backed up and hit the wall. Sean smiled.

“To the toy shop!” exclaimed Mr. Vickers, and headed into the garage.

The Vickers piled into the family car and made the short drive to Main Street in the center of Grover's Mill. Mr. Vickers parked and pointed to a row of stores. “A left at Vader's Glove Store. The toy shop is in the alley right around the corner.”

Sean took off, leaping giant steps ahead of everyone.

But when he got to the corner, he screeched to a stop, and stared.

3

UFO! Sort of

I
t looked like a dream a kid might have the night before his birthday.

The little shop in the alley twinkled all over with tiny colored lights. Toys were stacked up in the windows in neat little arrangements.

It looked like a kid's dream, all right.

Except for one thing. Filling up the doorway, towering over everything, was a man.

Nope, it wasn't Pagetto, the chubby little toymaker. No way.

This guy was thin. And very tall. His hair was black, inky black, except for a streak of silver-white that shot back from his forehead to behind his left ear. He wore really thick glasses. And his long nose had long hairs curling out.

But the weirdest part of all was that his face was crooked. It was tilted, as if the two halves of his face didn't go together.

“The little child,” the man said suddenly. He stepped forward from the doorway.

Sean looked around. He was the only one in the alley. “Me?” Then he pulled himself up taller. He started thinking of some snappish big superhero words to say. None came to him.

The man stepped closer. “The little child …”

Sean shuddered and shrank back.

“And his family!” the man said, stopping just as Holly and her parents ran up next to Sean.

Suddenly, the man's crooked face smiled. Well, half of it did. “Welcome to Kruger's Toy World,” he said. Then he bowed really low and swept his hands toward the door. “I am Kruger.”

“Now there's a howdy for you!” Mr. Vickers exclaimed.

“I'm going to order a pizza,” said Mrs. Vickers. She swished across the street to Duffey's Diner as the others walked into the store.

“This is awesome,” said Sean, staring at shelf upon shelf of all the latest toys advertised on TV. “He's even got Moto-Men! My favorites!”

Sean ran across the room to where dozens of mega-warrior Moto-Men stood shoulder to shoulder on a shelf. Each Moto-Man was ten inches tall with a face that was all rivets and blinking lights. The arms were rocket launchers.

Sean reached for one. Suddenly, the robot's little head turned to face him. “Exterminate!” droned a little voice. Then it shot its arm rocket.

Flonk!
It bounced off Sean's chest. “Hey!”

“Ha-ha!” It was Mr. Kruger, holding a small radio controller box. “Rockets sold separately.”

Then the man turned to Sean's father and crooked a long finger at him. He shuffled across the floor. “Walk this way, yes?”

“Sure, if I can.” Mr. Vickers shuffled after him.

Sean noticed that the toymaker's streak of white hair went all the way back behind his ear to his skin. It ended in a black spot on his neck.

“Ultra creepy,” Sean whispered to himself.

“Will you take a look at this!” Mr. Vickers whistled from the backroom. “Now, this is my town! Grover's Mill! I can't believe the detail.”

Sean entered the backroom and walked over to a long table. He had to agree, the detail was amazing. One little house even had lights on inside. There was the Double Dunk Donut Den clock and even Lake Lake.

Suddenly the bell on the door jangled and Mrs. Vickers came in carrying a flat white box. The room smelled instantly of pizza with anchovies.

“What
is
that smell?” the toymaker snarled.

“Oh, no!” Mr. Vickers screamed out. “Don't anyone move!” He ran and snatched the white box from his wife and whipped out the steaming hot pizza. “Flying saucer from Pluto!” he screamed. “The fiercest alien force in the galaxy!”

Mr. Vickers flung the cheesy pizza over the model town. It whizzed and almost hovered for a second, just like real flying saucers do.

The horror movie director crouched low and made a frame with his fingers as if he were watching the pizza through a camera.

But then—no!—the cheesy pie started to dip.

“It's not going to make it!” Sean gasped.

The tall toymaker rushed over in horror as he saw the pizza coming in fast for a landing.

FLOOOOTH!

The crust caught the tip of a tiny water tower and pulled the whole thing down with a crash. A sudden rush of water splashed out on the table.

“Hey! Realistic!” Sean's father cried out in joy.

A big anchovy slapped the side of a little white house above the lake while the rest of the pizza spun to the distant mountains.

“Crash landing!” Mr. Vickers cheered. “Aliens all dead! Another victory for earth-lings!” He posed with his hands on his hips.

Mrs. Vickers hummed big movie music.

“Yoooooou!”
screamed the tall man, whipping the pizza off his creation. “How could you?”

Mr. Vickers' eyebrows shot up and he smiled like a kid opening presents. “Like this!” He curled his hand toward him then flipped it out, as if he were throwing another pizza. “Wanna try? I can run out and get a small cheese—”

“I AM A GENIUS!” the tall man proclaimed. “My incredible work is too good for you and your horrible movies!”

“Horror
movies,” Mr. Vickers corrected him. He looked at his wife. She smiled and nodded.

“No!” the man gasped. “I've seen them. They're terrible!”

“You mean
terror-filled?”
Mr. Vickers said.

“I mean—bad!” said Mr. Kruger.

“As in
evil
?” Mr. Vickers grinned delightedly. “Yes! I can see we're thinking the same way about my movies. I'll be back in two days to pick up my town!”

Mr. Vickers slipped his arm around his wife's waist, and strode out the door into the street, licking cheese from his fingers.

Sean edged to the back of the room toward a door that was slightly open.