I Kissed a Zombie, and I Liked It Read online

  But it turns out that they host banquets and stuff there all the time. They convert the planetarium into a dance floor. I honestly can’t wait to see it.

  So we park in Doug’s spot at the cemetery, which is right nearby, and walk up along the river to the Science Center. Everyone else is starting to file in, all dressed in suits and shiny dresses. For once, people actually look good. Some of them are kids I’ve known since kindergarten, but I’ve never seen them so dressed up and … well, sophisticated. It’s hard for me to think of any of these kids as sophisticated. I guess it’s hard to think of people you’ve seen eating paste as grown up.

  But they are. They’ll be back to lighting farts on fire tomorrow, but today, everyone looks grown up.

  Naturally, Doug and I turn heads. People look at me and grin at my zombie makeup.

  Crystal comes running up to me.

  “Oh my God!” she says. “You converted!”

  I laugh a bit. “It’s just makeup,” I say.

  “We’ll worry about that next,” says Doug.

  “Maybe eventually,” I correct. “Not before I’m thirty, at least.”

  He looks like he wants to say something, but dying is the last thing I want to talk about. Tonight, I’m here to live.

  So I kiss him before he can open his mouth, then lead him into the planetarium. The fake stars fly on the dome over our heads, only instead of the distorted synthesizer sounds from the usual planetarium show we see at least once a year on field trips, there’s a band playing rock music. All the chairs are gone and everyone is dancing. Maybe it’s not quite like going to a glamorous hotel ballroom in the 1930s to dance to Benny Goodman and His Orchestra playing a show that will be broadcast on NBC radio, but it’s certainly the closest I’ve ever been.

  I’m so glad to be here with a date, not just coming to make fun of it with Sadie.

  I think I stand speechless for about five minutes, just looking at how beautiful everything is, before I turn and give Doug the biggest kiss I’ve ever given anyone.

  “I … I’m not a very good dancer,” he says. “I can’t do much more than slow dancing, remember?”

  I kiss him again. “Then let’s slow dance.”

  “To this?”

  The music is a fast, upbeat number. A big pop hit. Some people are dancing to it; others are sort of pogoing.

  “Sure,” I say. And I grab him and start to slow dance. There are a lot of beats in the song, but it’s really just in 4/4. You can slow dance to it. We do, and the fast music just makes it feel like we’re moving in slow motion. I almost hope there’s been some kind of weird time-space thingamabob and we are going in slow motion, so the night will last longer.

  Hey. The world has zombies and vampires in it. Why not time travel? Just because it defies all known laws of physics doesn’t necessarily mean it’s impossible, right? If it’s gonna happen anywhere, it might as well be at the Science Center.

  I think that for the rest of my life, the smell of embalming fluid will take me back to this night, the same way the smell of cinnamon cookies and pistachio ice cream reminds me of Hanukkah.

  We dance, and I’m losing track of time. Everything around me is a blur, and my head is just swimming. It’s awesome. It’s no wonder so many girls lose their virginity on prom night. I’m usually damn good at saying no, but tonight I almost feel like I’d say yes to anything.

  Then there’s a voice.

  “Mind if we cut in?”

  I look over to the side and see Fred, Michelle and Will all standing around us. They move a bit, so that Fred and Will are on either side of us.

  “Get lost,” I say.

  “I don’t think so,” says Will.

  And then he charges.

  It all happens so fast I don’t even realize what’s happening. One second he’s standing beside me, an instant later I feel arms around my waist and then I’m moving fast out of the planetarium, and through the Science Center, and in all of a second, I’m in the room with all the giant dinosaur models.

  We stop moving. I see that Will has grabbed me and carried me at about a million miles per hour or however fast it is that vampires run. An instant later Fred appears, carrying Doug. Michelle is riding on Fred’s back.

  “What the hell?” I shout. “Get your hands off me!”

  Will drops me on the ground.

  Fred puts Marie and Doug down, zips over to the door and locks us in.

  “Let us go, asshole!” Doug grumbles.

  “You are not going anywhere,” says Will with a grin. He grabs me and drags me over to the triceratops and shoves me up against it.

  “Sit,” he says.

  I don’t have a choice.

  Over on the other side of the room, Doug leans against a tyrannosaurus; then Michelle walks over to me. Will is just pacing back and forth, grinning.

  “I’m so glad we have time to talk,” Michelle says. “I’ve been just dying to talk to another girl who’s converting!”

  “I’m not converting!” I say.

  Michelle laughs. “I sure am. You’re eighteen, right?”

  I nod.

  “So you can convert!” she says. “I signed a letter of intent to make Mrs. Smollet happy, but Friedrich can’t convert me officially until I turn eighteen. If they do it before that, it’s technically statutory rape.”

  “Is that how they do it?” I ask. “By having sex with you?”

  “Something like that,” she says.

  I try to think my way out of this. Will is planning to do something to me that’s going to count as rape. I don’t want him touching me. I’d scream, but I doubt anyone can hear. And even if they can, what could they do? They can’t outfight the vampires.

  My best hope is to talk my way out.

  “Enough talking!” says Will, walking up to me. “We’re going to do this tonight!”

  “Shut up!” I shout. “I know you can’t hurt me. The Council of Elders will destroy you if you do.”

  “Oh, no one’s going to hurt you,” Will says. “See, the thing is, I have their permission to make you into a vampire, but the rule is that I have to get yours, too. You ever hear that legend about how vampires need an invitation or they can’t enter your house?”

  “I guess,” I say.

  “Well, this is what it comes from,” he explains. “I can sneak into your house anytime. But I need your permission to make you into a vampire. And you are going to give it to me. Tonight. Now.”

  I spit at him. He just chuckles. Then he inhales.

  “I can smell your blood type,” he says. “It is a very rare type. Do you have any idea how long I’ve looked for a girl such as you? Just like you?”

  “Keep looking,” I say.

  “I am finished with such things,” says Will. “I have found you. You will do.”

  “I’m not giving you permission,” I point out.

  “I think you will,” he says. “Because if you don’t … your boyfriend will crumble by dawn.”

  “Don’t do it, Gonk!” shouts Doug, as loudly as he can. “Just let me crumble!” I can barely hear it, but I know he’s trying to shout. His voice gives me some measure of strength.

  “You can’t kill people,” I say. “It’s against the treaty.”

  “I can’t kill people,” says Will. “But no one will care if I kill someone who’s already dead. Zombies are just walking corpses. No person smells that bad!”

  “You’re the one who made those new zombies, aren’t you?” I ask. “You made them to make Doug look bad, so people would drive him out of town.”

  Will laughs. “You think I am afraid of your boyfriend? Or that I would create more of those disgusting creatures?”

  “Hey, Wilhelm, can I watch when you convert her?” asks Michelle.

  “No!” says Fred. “I don’t want you to see him doing that!”

  “Quiet, Friedrich,” orders Will.

  “Look, Wilhelm,” says Fred. “I thought you were just going to scare them a bit. No one said any
thing about hurting anyone. I don’t want the council on my back.”

  I’m thinking through every insult, put-down and smear I’ve ever used at the lunch table. I might need them all. If I can just buy some time …

  “Hey, Michelle,” I say. “There’s a question I always wanted to ask you.”

  “What?” she asks.

  “What’s the square root of nine?”

  She looks at me for a second and doesn’t answer.

  Just as I thought.

  “That’s one smart girlfriend you have there, Friedrich,” I say. “No wonder you talked her into killing herself. I’m sure you’ll be able to spend centuries having long, fascinating conversations with her.”

  “Shut up,” barks Will.

  I laugh. “If you expect me to shut up, I’m not going to make such a good vampire companion for you.”

  “That might be true, actually, Wilhelm,” admits Michelle. “Rhodes never shuts up. You sure you don’t want to turn some other girl into a vampire?”

  “No one else I’ve found has her blood type,” insists Will. “It is very rare.”

  “Boy, you sure know how to make a girl feel special, Will,” I say. “It’s not that I’m attractive, or smart, or interesting; I just happened to be born with the right blood type. Pardon me while I go swoon.”

  “I grow weary of this,” snarls Will.

  “I can go on all night,” I say. “As long as I don’t need a blood transfusion. I guess I’m in big trouble if that ever happens, huh? What with having such a rare blood type and all.”

  Will walks over and grabs Doug’s arm. Hard. Doug cringes.

  “This zombie arm probably snaps right off,” says Will. “Now, if you become a vampire, your little smelly boyfriend can stay … alive. And with all four limbs attached. Otherwise, he will have crumbled by morning.”

  I have to stall. It’s all I can do.

  “Look,” I say. “You think I’m going to let you do whatever it is you’re planning to do to me just because you made some threats? No flowers? No dinner? No booze? Whatever happened to romance?”

  Will just sighs, then starts to look up at Fred. I realize that I’m in a hopeless situation: I’m having a battle of wits with unarmed people. It’s about as much use as picking a fight with a message-board troll. The only way I can get out of this is if I can distract them, sneak away and make it to Doug’s grave, two blocks away. They can’t get me in there.

  “Stall all you want,” Will says. “By morning, your boyfriend will crumble, whether I hurt him or not. Is that what you want?”

  He twists Doug’s arm a bit, and Doug winces. Obviously, it hurts him like hell. It takes every bit of strength I have not to agree to whatever Will wants just to make it stop.

  “Come on, Wilhelm,” says Fred. “Blackmailing a girl into giving you permission? The council is gonna be pissed.”

  “What they do not know will not hurt them,” Will says.

  “You’re such an idiot, Will,” says Fred. “I’m leaving. And I’m going to report you.”

  “You will stay!” shouts Will. “No one leaves! You can’t outfight me, and you know it!”

  “Yeah, Friedrich,” says Marie. “Don’t be such a wuss!”

  Just then, we hear screams coming from outside.

  “What the hell?” asks Fred.

  Fred moves away from Doug and opens the door. People are running around screaming. I wonder what the hell is happening for a second, but then I hear it.

  “Brrrrrraaaaaaiiiiinnnnns!”

  “Aw, crap,” says Will. “Not more zombies!”

  This is my chance.

  “We have to get out of here!” I yell.

  “Those are feral,” says Doug. “They could kill people.”

  “If people die of a zombie attack while we’re in here trying to blackmail a girl, the council will find out,” warns Fred. “We’ve got to get rid of them.”

  Will scowls, but then he sighs.

  “I know how to get rid of them!” says Doug.

  “Very well,” Will concedes. “But we are coming right back here once those creatures are gone! You will not escape!”

  At the very least, this will buy me some time. I can get help. I can hide.

  “What do you intend to do?” Will asks Doug.

  “They usually go toward whoever created them, right?” I say. “You guys have to get out. I know you created them! They might follow you!”

  “Get me to that exhibit with all the body parts,” Doug says to Fred. “Now!”

  Fred puts Doug on his back, and Will hoists me onto his. I can’t think of a back I’d less like to be on; I’d rather just run for the graveyard. But that might not be safe yet. There could be more zombies in there, just lying in wait.

  Fred and Will rush us out to the part of the museum where you can find out what your tongue looks like outside of your body, walk through a giant model of a heart and stuff like that.

  “There’s a brain on display in here in a big thing of formaldehyde,” says Doug. “It’s in one of these cases. We can lure them back to the graveyard with it!”

  Doug, Fred, Will and I look through the museum. It’d be hard not to linger on all the weird stuff behind the cases if it weren’t for all the screams and gunshots we can hear coming from the planetarium.

  “I’ve got it!” says Fred. He smashes his fist through the glass and pulls out a jar with a brain in it. It actually looks more like gefilte fish than matzoh-ball soup.

  Doug grabs it from him and says, “To the lobby!”

  We jump back onto the vampires’ backs and they rush us to the atrium outside the planetarium. Everyone is running around like crazy, screaming and yelling. Cops are trying to keep the zombies out, but these ones are nuts. They seem a lot crazier than the ones that attacked me a few days ago.

  “These guys look harsh,” I say to Doug as we’re set down.

  “If they were made into zombies the same day as the others, they’re are going to be tough,” Doug tells me. “I’m gonna need Will and Fred. I don’t have my knife. You go hide in my grave! The vampires can’t go in there. Run!”

  I take off running, but not before hearing Fred yell, “We’ve got a brain!”

  I run like I’ve never run before out of the Science Center, down the block and into the cemetery. I’m running and puffing so hard that I barely even notice Fred and Will race by so fast I can hardly see them. Doug is probably on one of their backs. The zombies come in hot pursuit. They’re not nearly as fast as Will or Fred, but they’re certainly faster than me. Frenzy mode at this point really does make them rough. Thank God they’re chasing the vampires, not me.

  I make it to Doug’s grave and climb in. If I jump up and look over the edge, I can see a little of what’s going on. There are a bunch of people who’ve wandered out from the prom, staring at the graveyard from the outside.

  Doug and the vampires are fighting with about nine really rough zombies. One of them is eating the brain from the jar; the rest are in a massive rumble. I can see that Fred and Will are kicking serious ass while Doug is trying to take on two zombies at once. People are screaming in the background.

  Doug lands a blow to one zombie’s face, but the thing just keeps coming at him like a grizzly bear. I can’t take it. I jump out of the grave and rush up to help, but Fred runs away from the fight and over to me.

  “Back in the grave!” he shouts.

  “Help Doug!” I yell.

  “We’ve got him, don’t worry. Just get down there!”

  Fred runs back and rips the head right off the zombie that’s attacking Doug. I duck back into the grave and curl up into a ball. I can’t watch.

  I can hear Doug grunting and groaning, but the number of zombies shouting for brains quickly drops as Fred and Will take them out.

  Then, silence.

  It’s over. And I hear Doug’s voice, so I know that the other zombies are dead (again) and he’s still alive.

  I feel like I ought to keep hidi
ng in the grave—if I stay somewhere public, maybe help will arrive before Will can grab me again. But I can’t help looking up.

  And when I do, I start to cry.

  Doug is hobbling back to his grave. He’s missing all of one arm and part of another. His face is a mess.

  “Doug!” I shout.

  “Alley!” he groans, hobbling toward me.

  I jump to the ground and run to him. He collapses, and I just hold him.

  “They’re gone,” he says. “They’re gone. But get back in my grave!”

  “Don’t try to talk!” I say. “We’re going to get you fixed up. You saved my ass again!”

  I lie down beside him. I can hear sirens. I’m vaguely aware that a crowd of girls in prom dresses are standing around outside the cemetery.

  “God, it hurts so much,” he says.

  “Don’t talk,” I say. “Don’t talk.”

  “Take me home, please,” he says.

  We’re not far away. I summon all my strength, pick him up and carry him over to his grave, then carefully lower him to the mattress and climb inside. Safe.

  “Will won’t try to get you again tonight,” he says. “He can’t come in here. And now he can’t blackmail you by threatening me, because I’m not going to make it.”

  “Don’t say that!” I say, trying to wipe all the tears from my eyes so I can still see him. “You’ll make it.”

  “No,” he says.

  I can hear the sadness in his voice. I run my hand through his hair and then realize that his ear is coming off in my fingers.

  I should be disgusted.

  But I’m just overwhelmed by sadness.

  It’s true.

  He’s not going to make it.

  I could pour embalming fluid down his throat every four hours, but there’s no repairing him.

  “I won’t get to do any of it now,” he says. “All I wanted was to have a life. Just for a while.”

  I cry. I catch myself imagining that maybe my tears will have some magic effect and make him all better, but they don’t. They just drip onto his face.