Cover

Title Page

Copyright

Dedication

Map of Wakefield

chapter one

chapter two

chapter three

chapter four

chapter five

chapter six

chapter seven

chapter eight

chapter nine

chapter ten

chapter eleven

chapter twelve

chapter thirteen

chapter fourteen

chapter fifteen

chapter sixteen

chapter seventeen

chapter eighteen

chapter nineteen

chapter twenty

chapter twenty-one

chapter twenty-two

chapter twenty-three

chapter twenty-four

chapter twenty-five

chapter twenty-six

chapter twenty-seven

Acknowledgements

Back series promotional page

Last Kids on Earth and the Skeleton Road

About the Author

chapter one

Well, it happened. After all that time, they got us.

The zombies bit us.

We turned. We transformed.

Look at us – twisted undead faces, slumping undead posture.

We’re zombies. Absolute zombies.

Quint: zombie. Dirk: zombie. June: total, big-time zombie.

Things are different now . . .

Our adventures are a little slower: less darting around, more shambling. And our appetites have changed: less grilled donuts, more flesh burgers.

Y’know what – let me catch you up. Fill you in. Explain HOW we joined the ranks of the undead.

See, it’s been about a month since, uh, BIG STUFF HAPPENED. A month since we battled a new villain; a villain who was HUMAN . . .

This villain’s name is EVIE SNARK, and like me, she’s a super-mega-geek. But unlike me, she’s OUT OF HER EVER-LOVING MIND . . .

First, she stole my beloved Louisville Slicer, and I was like, nuh-uh, NOT OK.

Then, she caused Dirk to be bitten by a zombie!

It was all part of her big bad cosmic plan – she was going to perform this weirdo ritual and bring the Cosmic Terror, GHAZT, into our dimension.

See, Ghazt is “The General” and he has the ability to control zombies with his TAIL . . .

And that’s, like, bad.

But Quint, June and I swung in like the Three Compadres! We saved Dirk by feeding him an eyeball, lent to us by our monster buddy Warg. The eyeball had some kind of healing, anti-zombie elixir inside, and Dirk sucked down the contents glass of h gooey lemon (It was gross, yep.)

We got the Slicer back, too! But not before it connected with the monster dimension . .

And in the end, well – WE KINDA FAILED. Evie’s plan worked! Ghazt entered our dimension. But, because we interfered, things went a little sideways and Ghazt took the form of a RAT – a rat mixed with Evie’s action figure collection. So now he’s a half-plastic, half- rodent, zombie-controlling cosmic creep.

And they escaped! Evie and Ghazt: now at large, on the loose, concocting bad guy plans!

And that leads us to . . . this very morning.

And us, becoming zombies.

Me, Jack Sullivan – former Post-Apocalyptic Action Hero! Now, just a lousy Post-Apocalyptic ZOMBIE DUDE.

And June, Dirk and Quint. Also zombies. We’re just four, regular, normal zombies among hundreds. Things have taken a turn for the terrifying . . .

“Guys, being a zombie stinks!” June says. “Literally. It smells.”

“Don’t you dare bad-mouth the smell,” Quint says. “I spent weeks perfecting it!”

“Stop yappin’!” Dirk barks. “We’re zombies. Zombies don’t yap!”

OK, so . . . I lied. We’re just pretending to be zombies. We’re undercover. secret MISSION OPERATION: DEFEAT EVIE AND GHAZT!

We are currently staggering, zombie-style, towards the Wakefield Bowl-O-Drome, which is Evie and Ghazt’s villainous lair.

How do we know it’s their villainous lair?

Because there are a bunch of old TVs mounted above the Bowl-O-Drome’s entrance, and Evie’s up there talking:

I lean over and whisper to my buddies, “Look at Evie, beckoning zombies from far and wide. She really embraced her bad side. Like full supervillain.”

“It appears the zombies are drawn by her voice,” Quint says.

June nods. “Yep, ’cause humans = food!”

See, we’ve been staking out the Bowl-O-Drome for a week, waiting for a big enough zombie horde to come along so we could slip in with them, unnoticed.

And finally they have . . .

So we got into character and joined the walking zombie club, but not before we did a final operation checklist – Zombie makeup: Check. Grey skin, green ooze draining from our mouths, just-woke-up hair.

Zombie odour: Check. We got THE STENCH. Quint bottled it. It’s awful and foul and I’ve got puke like three-quarters of the way up my throat – but it works.

And last but MOST IMPORTANT: the zombie walk, AKA the zombie shuffle, AKA the zombie shuffle, AKA the zombie zigzag. We knew our zombie walks had to be perfect if we wanted to blend in. We spent days practising – even doing it for Bardle to make sure we had it down pat.

It all better work, because we’re nearing the bowling alley entrance. There are zombies on either side of us, pressing against us . . .

I hope Evie’s ready, ’cause we’re coming – and we’re bringing payback! She stole my blade! Got my friend zombified! Did – just – a lot of stuff !

And in mere moments we’re gonna hit her with that payback. All four of us, together, like the freaking Avengers . . .

Heavy breathing – like panting – pulls me out of my superhero squad fantasy. I expect to see a zombie with a nasty cold, but it’s actually Dirk. And he does not look ready to get his Avenger on.

Which is fair. He went through some pretty serious stuff. I mean, he’s healed. But still – upstairs – he’s probably a little freaked out.

“Dirk, you OK?” I whisper.

Before he can answer, I feel a hand on mine. I look down. “June, you’re holding my hand!” I whisper excitedly.

“Not holding,” she says. “Squeezing.”

“A love squeeze?”

“NO! A hurt squeeze,” she growls through gritted teeth. “No more talking!”

June squeezes twice – extra-painful hard – and I look up as the bowling alley doors swing open.

I do my best zombie moan as we are all, together, funneled inside the villainous home base . . .

chapter two

As soon as we’re through the door, we start searching for cover. Quint silently points to a row of shelves filled with bowling shoes. Getting there is a claustrophobic nightmare – kinda feels like Best Buy on Black Friday. We’re forcefully pushing ourselves through the zombie horde, trying to reach our safe place.

But we’re lucky – the zombies leave us alone. The horde is morphing from a huge mushed-up mash to one organized line.

They are drawn by something we don’t see or hear – and they’re shuffling away from the entrance and towards the old arcade and snack bar room. When the last zombie has turned the corner, I realize that this whole place is emptier than I expected – by a lot. And most important – no sign of Evie or Ghazt.

Ghazt was scared of the Slicer last time, so all I gotta do is show it to him again – and he’ll vamoose! But first we gotta find him.

“Guys, it’s quiet,” I say. “Too quiet.”

Dirk shoots me a confused look. I see sweat pouring off his face in fat droplets.

Dirk frowns, getting sweatier, then quickly says, “Oh OK me neither just wanted to make sure.”

“Guys!” Quint says in a whisper. He’s using an old selfie stick with a mirror to peek around the corner. “The zombies all went into the arcade. But there are ZOMBIE GUARDS at the doors!”

I scooch over and glance in the mirror. I see four zombies, standing watch, wearing hooded robes . . .

Those robes – I realize they’re just like the ones we saw in Evie’s book. She’s drafting these zombies into her Cabal of the Cosmic!

OLD-TiMey MeMBeRs OF
THe CABAL OF THe CosMic!
WAY BACk iN THe DAY.

The Cabal of the Cosmic was a group of crazy- pants people from the olden days who were obsessed with bad dudes like Ŗeżżőcħ the Ancient, Destructor of Worlds. Evie found their old book, full of information and instructions. (It’s OK, though – we stole the book from her and now we have our own guide to Ŗeżżőcħ’s world of cosmic horror.)

“Guys,” I whisper, nodding towards the arcade snackbar, “I think that’s Ghazt’s real home base.”

“A villainous lair inside a villainous lair?” June asks. “How many villainous lairs does one interdimensional rat monster need?”

Quint responds, “The answer, it seems, is two.”

“If we’re gonna sneak in and crash their evil party,” I say, “we need to blend in like undercover super spies.”

I lock eyes with June – and she gets it, right away. We gotta take out these guards, triple-ninja- style, and steal their uniforms.

June nudges Quint. He pulls a wiffle ball box from his action-geek bag. But inside is no ordinary wiffle ball. Inside is the –

“I’ll roll,” Quint says.

“And I’ll take ’em out,” June adds.

With that, it’s meatball away. Quint bowls it towards the arcade. It rolls past the blue-cloaked zombie guards . . .

They look around, sniffing, then a moment later –

The guards stagger after the ball, hunched over, bony fingers grabbing and scraping. One finally collapses on to the ball, like it’s trying to recover a fumble in the end zone. All four of them begin gnawing at the thing – sucking on the wiffle meatball.

Bingo. A very gross bingo.

June smiles. “I got this next part . . .” she says, and lifts her torn zombie sleeve to reveal the Gift. I got it for her this past Christmas, and it’s a total monster knockout device. Also good for temporary zombie takedowns . . .

She cranks a wheel on the side, and then –

WHAFK! WHAFK! WHAFK!

Four blasts.

Four blue-robed zombies hit the floor.

We shove the zombies into a storage closet and slip into their robes. We look pretty legit!

I eye the entrance to the arcade. With the guards gone, all we have to do is slip inside.

But I hesitate.

Because it’s finally happening. We’ve searched long and hard for this foul, formidable creature that wants to rule over our broken planet. It’s now or never.

I steel myself. “In we go,” I whisper. “And remember: best zombie impressions ever. It’s game time.”

Hearts pounding, we push the doors open – going for total 007-level inconspicuousness, we shuffle inside.

And – well – we find the zombies, that’s for sure. Hundreds of them . . .

I’m trying to do a zombie version of “fly casual” – my face twisted to look undead, while simultaneously trying to give off a whole “Hey-how-you-doing-nice-party-come-hereoften- we-totally-belong-here-and-if-you’recurious-yep-we’re-definitely-zombies-no-reasonto- look-closely” vibe.

But it’s hard to be casual – because what we see inside here is so bananas insane . . .

chapter three

This lair is huge and sprawling: a combined snack bar, arcade and bathroom.

Bits of light filter in through cracks and holes in the walls and ceiling. Vine-Thingies creep along the floor, glowing neon green and purple.

“Ghazt’s not looking so hot, huh?” June whispers.

Peering through the zombie horde, I see Ghazt.

June’s right – the general isn’t exactly awe-inspiring.

In fact, Ghazt now looks more like some sort of –

LAZY TUB-O-GOO
CHEESE BEAST !

“He’s constructed a bed from nacho squeeze cheese,” Quint remarks. “How inventive.”

I’m so focused on Ghazt’s transformation that it takes me a moment to notice the weirdest weirdness going down.

The zombies inside this strange, dark base – they’re different.

“These robed zombies aren't just shambling about mindlessly,” I whisper. “They're, like, doing stuff.”

What we’re looking at, right now – it is mindblasting and world-alteringly new. These zombies aren’t just possessed – they’re productive . . .

At the movie theatre, we saw Ghazt move the zombies. And we saw the zombies carry him. But this is more than that – these are zombie servants. One’s even serenading Ghazt with bongo drums!

Honestly, it has the vibe of an almost cool but actually really awkward birthday party with a not-so-gracious host.

A few zombies shuffle to the side – and I spot it. The thing that we came for: Ghazt’s tail. The nasty, slithering source of his zombie-controlling power . . .

“Jack, we need to hide . . .” June whispers, tugging on my sleeve.

“This way!” Quint points to Dino Rampage – a vintage arcade game enclosed by a curtain.

We zombie-shuffle our way over – then quickly cram inside. Dino Rampage is built for two players, so the four of us are forced into an uncomfortable pile.

I feel heavy breathing on my neck – it’s Dirk, huffing and sweating with claustrophobia.

And I’m feeling the way Dirk looks. We’ve done dangerous junk many times – but this time we’re behind enemy lines, inside enemy robes! If we’re not careful – this will go south before you can say “zombie bowling league.”

Quint and I sneak a peek through the curtain.

And I see her. Evie.

She stands at Ghazt’s side. We can faintly hear her speaking into his shrivelly rat ear.

Evie nods. “Of course, but the sooner we release these zombies – the sooner they can DO BAD!” she says, her voice cracking. “There are human settlements to crush – and monsters to enslave. We could start in Wakefield.”

I gulp. Wakefield. Our home.

And human settlements. That could mean the people on the radio at the Statue of Liberty. That could mean every last survivor, everywhere.

Quick pause for a backtrack! For a long time, we thought we might be the only survivors of the apocalypse. But then, a few months ago, we found a radio and heard LIVE HUMAN VOICES and we were like, “Oh-Em-Gee-Whiz!”

There was a broadcast from an entire colony of humans hunkered down in the Big Apple! It was major . . .

But then winter set in, and we couldn’t go to NYC – and we haven’t heard anything from the radio since. Quint and June are jazzed because there’s a possibility their parents are still alive – but we can’t leave Wakefield, because Evie and Ghazt are here doing bad stuff.

Still – Quint and June want to at least know if their parents might be OK . . .

OK, un-pause the backtrack!

June leans in close. “If Ghazt ever stops being a complete lazy butt – we’re all in trouble. Not just us – everyone . . . everywhere.”

At that very moment, Dirk’s claustrophobia goes from bad to ultra-bad. “I can’t take that whispering, moaning sound any more!” he says, grabbing his head, plugging his ears.

“Put a sock in it, dude!” June says.

Quint, being quite literal, removes his shoe, yanks off his sock, and stuffs it into Dirk’s mouth. Toe jam flies. It’s odd.

Dirk just about barfs up the sock. The next instant, he’s tumbling through the curtain, bursting out from our hiding place.

“Dirk!” I cry, trying to stop him. “No!”

But it’s too late.

Dirk’s eyes are locked on a nearby claw-grab game – and the pair of headphones inside. They’re huge headphones, like hip DJs and air traffic controllers wear.

In a split second, our super-spy Mission Operation surveillance turns into what my old third-grade teacher would’ve called “a ruckus.”

“I CAN’T TAKE THESE ZOMBIE MOANS!” Dirk cries out.

He grips the claw-grab machine. Then, with one mighty heave, brings it crashing to the ground.

SMASH!!! The Plexiglas case shatters – Dirk grabs the headphones and jams them on to his head.

The entire lair goes quiet. The old “could hear a pin drop” moment.

Then . . .

“Ahem.” It’s Evie.

Evie is staring at us.

Ghazt’s staring at us, too.

And so is his army of the undead.