Zombiefied! (3 page)

My lips were clamped shut and I couldn't make a sound. Then an arm, which felt like it belonged to someone much bigger and stronger than me, went around my neck and I was dragged backward, my heels scraping along in the dirt, toward the old bus. I tried to wriggle out from underneath the arm, but my legs were sort of running the wrong way and I could hardly breathe.

My beanie fell off and landed in the mud.

The person dragging me stopped.

‘Ben?'

I was released so suddenly that I almost collapsed. Sagging forward, I coughed a few times, clutching my throat.

‘Are you alright, kid?'

Sophie's dad, Mr Knight, came into view. One of his meaty hands was still on my shoulder, although now he was holding me up. As usual, he was wearing one of his embarrassing aprons.

‘What . . .? Why . . .?' I stammered.

‘Sorry,' he said awkwardly. ‘I thought you were someone else. What happened to the other hat you sometimes wear?'

‘The other hat?' I said.

‘You know, the blue hat. The one that says “Have a nice day” on the back.'

‘“Have a purrfect day”,' I said, which
was pretty dumb because it really didn't matter what the hat said.

‘That's it!' cried Mr Knight, squeezing my shoulder and staring into my eyes as though he was worried I might be concussed. Which, judging from what I'd said, was probably exactly how I sounded.

‘Who did you think I was?' I asked, trying to sound normal although I was still breathing like Darth Vader.

‘Um . . . just a bad guy. Someone I don't want around here, that's all.'

‘He must be really bad if you wanted to strangle him,' I said. I wasn't scared anymore — just annoyed.

Mr Knight dropped his hand from my shoulder. He looked awkward. ‘Yeah, sorry about that.'

‘Sorry about what, Dad?' Sophie had appeared at the front door, Michael's Fuzzil
stuck on top of her shoulder. She stared at us. ‘What happened?'

Mr Knight didn't answer her. He just kept looking at me in a strange sort of way. I kept rubbing my throat, even though it was pretty much fine. As far as headlocks went, Michael's were way worse.

‘Nothing,' I said to Sophie. ‘I just tripped trying to jump up the steps.'

‘I knew that would happen one day!' said Sophie. ‘Just a tic, I'll go grab my bag.'

She reappeared a few seconds later. ‘See you, Dad!' she yelled, jumping on
her bike, which was leaning against the side of the house. She never locked it up because she always said that anyone desperate enough to steal it could keep it. So far, nobody ever had. She sailed past us onto the street.

‘Guess I'm a bit overprotective, sorry about that,' said Mr Knight again, leaning down and grabbing my beanie out of the dirt. He dusted it off and handed it to me. ‘I'm glad you didn't mention it to Sophie.'

‘No problem,' I said, taking the beanie and putting it on. I headed for my bike, keen to get out of there as quickly as possible. The guy sure was being weird!

By the time I'd reached the end of the street, Sophie was way ahead of me and pedalling hard. We always race to school. The trouble is that she usually wins, especially if she gets a head-start. I decided
to take a short-cut through Henderson Park. I could see her flying along the road just beside me. At the park entrance, I swerved between the posts and zoomed up the footpath to avoid the speed bumps on the road at the school gate. It was against school rules to ride on the footpath, especially just before the bell went when heaps of kids were arriving, but I was pretty awesome at riding my bike and I knew I wouldn't hit anyone.

Then —

‘AAAAGGGHHH!'

I swerved as fast as I could, but it wasn't fast enough. The front wheel of my bike connected with someone's legs before bumping down into the gutter, while the back wheel skidded out. I fell sideways off my bike, landing on one hand and one knee. Luckily, I'd managed to slow down
enough that the fall didn't hurt too much. Sophie glided past me, looking smug.

The legs I'd hit stopped in front of me. ‘What'd you do that for?'

I was about to tell him it was
his
fault for stepping out in front of me. But when I looked up from my position on the ground, I clamped my lips shut.

The kid I'd run into was called Tank. I'm not sure if that was the name he was given by his mum and dad, or if that was just the best way to describe him. Tank was big and square and hard. He was big enough to still be standing while I was sprawled on the ground.

‘Ahh . . .' I muttered. ‘Sorry, Tank. My mistake.'

‘Yeah, it was your mistake,' he said, staring down at me. ‘A mistake you won't make again.'

A few people had gathered around. They looked like they were hoping for a fight.

‘Well, like I said,' I began, as I climbed to my feet and brushed the dirt off my knee, ‘I didn't see you there, Tank.' Some of the crowd laughed, because saying you didn't see Tank was like saying you didn't see an elephant when it was standing right in front of you. ‘Umm . . . what I mean is . . .'

‘You sound like you're cruisin' for a bruisin',' said Tank, suddenly leaning down so his nose was only inches from mine.
Cruisin' for a bruisin'
was Tank's favourite saying. ‘Are you cruisin' for a bruisin', little Benny?' he said in a high-pitched voice, like he was talking to a kid in Year One.

‘Fight!' someone yelled from the crowd. Then they all started chanting: ‘Fight! Fight! Fight!'

Tank pulled back his fist and took aim at my face.

I closed my eyes and braced myself. Getting hit by Tank would be pretty much the same as getting hit by an
actual
tank. It was not going to tickle . . .

‘What's going on here, boys?' asked a voice.

I opened my eyes. Mr Crumpet, the Chemistry teacher, was staring down at us. I breathed a sigh of relief. Tank wouldn't dare punch me in front of a teacher, even though Mr Crumpet was probably the softest teacher in the school.

‘Umm,' said Tank, thinking fast. Or at least
trying
to think fast. ‘Umm . . .'

I had to admit, it
was
pretty hard to think around Mr Crumpet. The man was kind of weird. I mean, it's not every day you see someone wandering around with a raven on their shoulder!

Mr Crumpet had found the bird when he was just a chick. He called him Corvus and kept him as a pet. Corvus wore a little hood over his eyes, so he wouldn't fly away.

Now the bird turned his head toward the sound of our voices and made a soft clicking noise with his beak.

‘It looks like Ben fell off his bike,' said Mr Crumpet, ‘and you were helping him back onto his feet. Is that what happened, Tank?'

Tank nodded slowly, staring at the bird.
‘Yeah,' he said. ‘That's exactly what happened.'

I nodded too. It was such a relief not to get punched in the face by Tank, I would have agreed to anything. ‘I'm OK. Thanks, Tank, for your . . . help.'

Tank glared at me and disappeared into the crowd.

‘Looks like you've grazed your knee,' said Mr Crumpet, peering at my leg, where a drop of blood was running down my shin. ‘It might be a good idea to go and give that a wash before class starts.'

‘Sure, Mr Crumpet,' I said.

Mr Crumpet never
told
us to do anything. He never even made us do homework! Instead, he just ‘suggested' it would be ‘in our best interests' to do things, like revise around exam time. Funnily enough, everyone worked just as hard in his class as
they did in any other class. Maybe it was because Mr Crumpet seemed so gentle, none of us wanted to disappoint him.

I wheeled my bike through the school gates. Of course Sophie was just on the other side of them, looking pleased with herself.

‘I won!' she said, pulling her bike in beside mine. The Fuzzil was still stuck on her shoulder.

‘Yeah, whatever,' I said. How could she just ride right past me when I'd fallen off my bike? And where was she when I was attacked by the school bully? Some friend! I sped up and pushed my way through the crowd.

‘What's the matter? It didn't seem like the fall hurt that much,' she said, running to keep up with me.

I didn't answer. If she couldn't figure it out, why should I tell her? Angrily, I shoved
my front tyre into the bike rack and wound my bike lock around the wheel.

‘Ben!' She dropped her bike on the grass and stood with her hands on her hips. ‘What's wrong?'

‘Tank nearly punched my lights out!' I said.

‘What?' She looked stunned, but I didn't buy it. ‘When?'

‘Just now.' I was so mad, I was almost shouting. ‘After I fell off my bike!'

‘Are you OK . . .?'

I ignored her. It was obvious she didn't care! I dodged around her and lost her among the crowd. Maybe washing my knee was a good idea; that way she wouldn't be able to follow me into the boys' toilets.

The bell rang as I walked through the school doors. The hallway was filled with
kids, some taking things out of their lockers, some chatting as they made their way to class. A few said hello to me, but I pretended not to hear them as I made a beeline for the boys' toilets, which were down the end of another smaller, less crowded hallway, opposite an old staircase. The staircase was blocked off with a rope, which had a little sign dangling over it:

I think this was meant to show people the stairs were steep and dangerous, but someone had drawn on it with a black marker. Now the sign looked like this:

If it hadn't been for the sign, I would never have even noticed that one of the panels, which blocked off the space under the stairs, was loose. I stopped to inspect it. It wasn't loose; it was
open
. What seemed to be a bit of ordinary wall panelling was actually a door. It reminded me of one of my favourite video games,
Return of the Infected
. Zombies would jump out from hidden doorways when you least expected it. Could zombies be lurking here too?

I looked around. The hallway was now empty. I pulled the door open further.

Inside was a small room. The floor was cluttered with stuff: stacks of buckets, boxes of rags, vacuum cleaners and other machines. Mops were leant up against one corner. A shelf, with fancy carved knobs at either end, ran along the length of one wall. It was piled high with cleaning products.

This must be the janitor's storeroom. It made sense that they would want this stuff near the toilets, but they wouldn't want the kids to know where it was kept. People would come in and trash it! I imagined Tank in here, emptying the bottles of detergent on the floor and unravelling the rolls of toilet paper. He'd make a real mess of the place if he knew about it. I stepped back, pulling the door shut. I felt a bit disappointed because, for some reason, I thought I had discovered a secret room.

But just as the weird door-disguised-as-a-panel was swinging shut, I saw something: a movement. I pushed the door open again and there it was, right in front of me — a gaping hole in the wall.