Flesh of the zombie, p.6
Flesh of the Zombie,
p.6
Luke’s thoughts were suddenly interrupted by a commotion behind him.
“Stop this, right now!” Sir Otto, purple with fury, charged onto the stage. One by one the musicians stopped playing, until silence filled the square.
“What are you all doing here?” roared the landlord. “I banished you to the Underlands!”
“Dude!” called a voice from the front of the crowd. Doug flipped open the top of his head to scratch his brain. “You sent them there?”
“It’s true,” said Vein, pointing to Sir Otto. “This man sent us to the worst place you could ever imagine.”
At this, the zombies around Doug lunged forwards with a screech and grabbed Sir Otto’s ankles. The landlord fell with a crash as the creatures dragged him off the stage and into the crowd. Within seconds they were all over him.
Luke raced to the front of the stage and snatched the microphone from Vein’s hands. “Stop!” he commanded.
The zombies paused and turned to face the stage. Luke swallowed hard and spoke nervously into the microphone. “Sir Otto Sneer is a bad man,” he said. “He does bad things to a lot of people — but that doesn’t mean you should hurt him for it.”
Doug pushed his way back to the front of the crowd. “The little dude’s right!” he said. “What’s happened to the spirit of Deadstock?” The zombies looked quizzically at one another for a second, then, with a mass roar, they pushed Doug to one side and continued their attack on the unfortunate landlord.
“So much for the diplomatic approach,” said Resus, reaching inside his cloak. “Time for something a little more persuasive!” With that, he pulled out a squirming cloth sack and ripped away the cord from around its neck. Dozens of angry pixies flew out of the bag and shot into the crowd, biting and scratching everything in sight.
The zombies at the front howled in pain. Dropping Sir Otto, they began to retreat across the central square.
Staggering and lurching back up the side streets and into the gardens, the zombies dived into the tunnels that had brought them to Scream Street in the first place. The pixies gave chase, darting from monster to monster, snapping their razor-sharp teeth.
“You brought those things back from the Underlands?” demanded Cleo, joining Resus and Luke at the front of the stage.
“I figured they might come in useful.”
The trio leapt down from the stage and fought their way through the retreating crowd to Sir Otto. The landlord lay curled up in a ball on the ground, sobbing like a baby.
“Let’s get you out of here,” said Luke, grabbing one of Sir Otto’s wrists as Resus pulled the other.
Cleo lifted up the flap of cloth that hung across the front of the stage so the boys could drag Sir Otto away from the stampede. Turning, she found herself faced with the grey, one-eyed zombie once again. “What now?” she said.
The creature gave a gentle moan and handed Cleo a single, dead flower. Then, sighing heavily, he turned and limped slowly away towards his tunnel.
“You know,” said Cleo as she joined Luke, Resus and a trembling Sir Otto beneath the stage, “I’ve really changed my opinion of zombies!”
“And I’ve changed my opinion of werewolves,” said a voice. Luke spun round to find Vein crawling under the stage towards them.
“I was worried about what giving you my relic would do to me,” admitted the zombie. “What I didn’t consider is what you would do for others.”
“What do you mean?” asked Luke.
Vein gestured towards Sir Otto. “You saved this man, even though he tried to take everything from you! That’s the bravest thing I’ve ever seen; it made me realize that I need to be brave too.”
Opening his mouth, Vein grabbed hold of his tongue and pulled. With a sickening squelch, the muscle tore away. “Ih i or ooh,” he mumbled, handing over the quivering chunk of flesh.
“But — the band!” said Luke. “Your career …”
“Vein is going to be the band’s manager from now on,” said Tee, appearing beside them. “They’ve got a new singer.”
“You …?” exclaimed Cleo, throwing her arms around her new friend. “But what happened to finding out who you really are?”
“I know who I am now,” smiled Tee. “I’m a zombie.”
“If this gets any mushier, I think I might throw up,” grinned Resus, pretending to be sick.
“Sneer’s gone!” exclaimed Luke, interrupting him.
Sir Otto was nowhere to be seen. Resus lifted the cloth in time to see the landlord scurrying away towards the gates of Sneer Hall. “I guess he just about gets away with it — this time.”
“I suppose so,” agreed Luke.
“Er, not quite,” admitted Cleo. “While you were busy taking pixies from the Underlands, I was leaving something behind …”
“What?” Luke asked cautiously. There was a flash of green light and a heavy thud shook the stage above them.
“I wrote down the lyrics to ‘Zombie Feasting Time’,” grinned the mummy. “The Tooth Fairy must have found them somehow and joined in with the song.”
“Whoa, momma!” bellowed the Tooth Fairy, leaping to the ground and chasing after Sir Otto. “Let me get a look at those pearly whites!”
“You gave the Tooth Fairy her freedom?” asked Resus.
Cleo nodded. “In return for these,” she said, opening her hand.
“My fangs!” exclaimed Resus, snatching them up.
“Well,” beamed Cleo, “what’s a vampire without them?”
“Still no sign of the pixies, then,” said Luke as he unfastened a section of the stage and handed it to Porridge.
“I think they must have followed the zombies into the tunnels,” said Resus. “With any luck, they’ll fly into a Hex Hatch and wind up back in the Underlands.”
“I hope it’s not the same one we’ll be using to get this lot to our next gig,” said Jazpants, loading another piece of the stage into the tour bus.
“Where’s your next concert?” asked Cleo.
“Norway,” replied the zombie. “We’ve got a huge following among the trolls.”
“They’re funny!” said Twonk, lumbering over with a pile of drum cases. “I bet they love our new lead simper, too.”
“Lead singer!” shouted everyone together.
“Oh, yeah!”
“Speaking of which,” added Porridge, “where is the little chap?”
“Here,” said Tee, emerging from the doors of Everwell’s Emporium. “Vein’s been helping me find a new look,” he added shyly. The young zombie twirled to show off his new leather jacket, ripped jeans and scarlet bandana.
“You’re the best-dressed zombie I’ve ever seen,” grinned Luke.
“These are yours,” said Tee, handing the sunglasses back to Resus.
The vampire shook his head. “You keep them,” he smiled. “Unless you want to end up a slave to injections like old inky-eyes over there!”
Vein smiled languidly and made a rude gesture with his hand. Cleo giggled. “I guess he doesn’t need a tongue to say what he thinks!”
“OK, guys,” shouted Porridge as he finished loading the last item onto the tour bus. “Everyone on board. We’ve got trolls waiting!”
“Give me a minute,” said Tee as the rest of the band climbed onto the bus. Vein nodded and waved his goodbyes as he clambered aboard.
“I want you to have this,” said Tee, handing Cleo a parcel.
“What is it?” asked the mummy.
Tee smiled. “Something to remember me by.”
Cleo blinked back tears. Resus put his arm around her as Tee stepped up onto the bus and the doors closed. Revving up the engine, Vein drove the bus across Scream Street’s central square. As the vehicle hit the invisible Hex Hatch, it disappeared.
Cleo tore open the parcel to discover Tee’s original mud-stained jacket. The embroidered “T” now had another letter beside it: “C”.
“I don’t think you’ll have any problem remembering him,” said Resus, hugging the sobbing mummy. “Hey,” he added as Cleo’s tears splashed onto his cape. “You’re showering me!”
“Showering!” Luke’s face paled and he ran across the square in the direction of his house.
“Where’s he going in such a hurry?” sniffed Cleo.
Resus grinned. “His mum and dad are still locked in the bathroom!”
Other Scream Street titles:
Fang of the Vampire
Blood of the Witch
Heart of the Mummy
Coming soon:
Skull of the Skeleton
Claw of the Werewolf
Tommy Donbavand was born and brought up in Liverpool and has worked at numerous careers that have included clown, actor, theatre producer, children’s entertainer, drama teacher, storyteller and writer. His non-fiction books for children and their parents, Boredom Busters and Quick Fixes for Bored Kids, have helped him to become a regular guest on radio stations around the UK and he also writes for a number of magazines, including Creative Steps and Scholastic’s Junior Education.
Tommy sees his new comedy-horror series as what might have resulted had Stephen King been the author of Scooby Doo. “Writing Scream Street is fangtastic fun,” he says. “I just have to be careful-not to scare myself too much!” Tommy lives in Northumberland with his family and sees sleep as a waste of good writing time.
You can find out more about Tommy and his books at his website: www.tommydonbavand.com
For Arran, who wanted to be a
zombie rock drummer called Twonk
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or, if real, are used fictitiously.
First published 2008 by Walker Books Ltd
87 Vauxhall Walk, London SE11 5HJ
2 4 6 8 10 9 7 5 3 1
Text © 2008 Tommy Donbavand
Illustrations © 2008 Cartoon Saloon Ltd
The right of Tommy Donbavand to be identified as author of this work has been asserted by him in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988
This book has been typeset in Bembo Educational
Printed and bound in Great Britain by Clays Ltd, St Ives plc
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, transmitted or stored in an information retrieval system in any form or by any means, graphic, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, taping and recording, without prior written permission from the publisher.
British Library Cataloguing in Publication Data: a catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library
ISBN 978-1-4063-1427-4
www.walker.co.uk
Tommy Donbavand, Flesh of the Zombie
