The Smoky Corridor

100

Zack, Zipper, and Malik were sitting in a small room, staring at the wild inscription on the wall:

“Any idea what it is?” Zack asked.

“Some kind of voodoo symbol,” said Malik. “Probably painted with chicken blood.”

“Gross. We need to find where Pettimore stored his soul jars.”

“You mean there’s another root cellar?”

“Sort of. See, when the bokor steals a dead person’s soul, he captures the ti bonanj, the part of our spirit that holds whatever it is that makes you and me unique and different from everybody else.…”

“Did you look this up on Google?”

“Last night. A friend gave me a heads-up on what we might be facing.”

“Who? Benny?”

“That’s not important. What’s important is—”

Suddenly, Zipper’s ears perked up.

“He hears something!” said Malik. “The zombie?”

“No. His tail’s wagging. He’s not afraid. He’s happy.”

Zipper looked up at Zack and gave him a series of short barks.

“What’s he trying to say?” asked Malik.

“I don’t know. It’s not one of his standard barks.”

And then Zipper took off!

“Where’s he going?” asked Malik.

“Back the way we came …”

“What about the zombie?”

“I don’t think they like dog brains. Just humans’.”

Malik sighed. “I sort of wish I were a dog.”

“Come on. Let’s go see what’s up ahead.”