The Smoky Corridor

70

“Sounds like fun,” Zack’s dad said when he heard about the Saturday-morning history crawl through the old cemetery. “Can Judy and I tag along?”

They were sitting around the dinner table, eating fried chicken. Judy didn’t cook it. The Colonel did.

“That would be fun,” said Judy. “You guys need extra adults?”

“Not really. Ms. DuBois wants to keep this first trip small. Just me, Azalea, Malik, and her. She probably thinks it might get boring, just looking at gravestones and junk.”

“Boring?” said his dad. “Maybe some of the spirits will rise up out of their graves and wail at you for cutting across their lawns! Moo-ha-ha!”

Both Zack and Judy pretended to find that funny. Gave him a weak “heh-heh-ha”-style laugh.

Poor Dad. He didn’t have a clue.

After dinner, Zack and Zipper were playing fetch in the backyard.

That was when Davy showed up.

“Howdy, pardner. Hey there, Zip!”

Zipper wagged his tail. Davy was probably his second-favorite boy in the world, even though Davy was from some otherworldly world.

“So, Davy, what’s going on?” Zack asked. “Mr. Willoughby started babbling in my locker and then Mary Jane Hopkins took his place and then Kurt Snertz …”

“Yep. Things are all in a jumble. But you were smart not to invite your pops and Judy to join you tomorrow.…”

“Well, Ms. DuBois …”

“Pardner?”

“Yeah?”

“We need to have us a little chat about Ms. Daphne DuBois.”

Zack nodded. “She had a real peculiar look on her face this afternoon.”

“Boy, howdy, did she ever.”

“You saw it?”

“Yep. Folks upstairs asked me to keep an eye on Ms. D today.”

“And?”

“Zack, let’s just say you can’t judge a book by its cover, especially if it’s a phony one.”

“Really? But she seems so nice.…”

“Yep, she sure seems that way, don’t she? She wants you to lead her to some kind of treasure tunnel. Don’t do it, hear?”

“Don’t worry. That’s where the zombie is. Said so on the warning stone!”

“That’s the other thing I need to talk to you about.”

“The zombies?”

“Yep. Like I said before, we can’t see much of what they’re up to, on account of all the voodoo hoodoo spells, but at least one of them zombies started movin’ around today, goin’ places he ain’t been in years.”

“Is it looking for children’s brains to eat?”

“Maybe. Can’t say for sure. Wouldn’t doubt it. This particular zombie feller is the fiercest, most vicious creature Captain Pettimore shipped up here from Louisiana. Tall, bone-thin man with a dinosaur-style head, all jaws and teeth and eyeballs buggier than a bullfrog’s.”

Zack tried not to picture this beast while Davy kept describing him.

“On the hunt, he moves fast—like a two-legged cheetah. He can rip off your head and crack open your skull, lickety-split.”

Zack struggled to find his voice. “You can kill a zombie with fire, though, right? I read that in a book. It was a comic book, but …”

“Yep. Fire’s just about the only way to stop a zombie.”

“Just about?”

“Yep.”

“Is there another way?”

Davy looked around the backyard. “Well, maybe …”

Thunder rumbled across the cloudless sky.

Davy mumbled, “Dadgummit,” under his breath and quit talking.

Zack had already gotten into enough trouble with fire over the summer; he didn’t want to use it again if he didn’t have to. “If there’s some other way to stop this thing …”

Davy looked squirmy. He glanced up at the sky. “Zack, you know I can’t come right out and tell you what to do.”

Zack couldn’t believe this. “Because of the stupid rules?”

“Yep.”

“You’ve got an indestructible zombie with ginormous fangs and superhuman strength who could devour a whole school full of kids first thing Monday morning and you won’t tell me how to stop him without burning down the building?”

“Can’t, I reckon.”

Zack more or less pouted for a second. “Stupid rules,” he grumbled.

Zipper groaned in agreement.

“Well, I best be goin’.…”

Davy started to fade away.

“Wait!” Zack pleaded. “Don’t go! Not without telling me!”

Oddly, Davy lifted a foot, examined the bottom of his shoe.

“What are you doing?”

“I got me a hole in my … what do you call that thing?”

“Your shoe?”

“On the bottom there.”

“Your sole?”

Davy touched his nose. Held up two fingers.

“I have to guess a second word?”

Davy nodded.

Man! He couldn’t tell Zack how to stop the zombie but he had time to play charades?

“Dang, I like pickles because they come in a …”

“Sandwich?”

“Think glass, pardner.”

“Ajar?”

Davy touched his nose again. Gestured for Zack to butt the two words up against each other.

“Sole. Jar.”

“Hey, that sounds like a dadburn plan!”

“What? Wait a second. Are you trying to tell me I need to find the zombies’ soul jars to stop them?”

“Shoot, pardner. I ain’t tellin’ you nothin’. That’d be against the rules.”

And with a wink, Davy was gone.