Authors: Alan MacDonald
Zombie! (2 page)
CREAK! CREAK!
Bertie and his friends crept down the stairs. It was ten o’clock and they were on a raid. Mum and Dad were watching TV in the lounge. Suzy was in bed.
“Hurry up!” whispered Bertie.
They tiptoed past the lounge and stole into the kitchen. Bertie opened the
fridge door. The chocolate cake was on the top shelf.
CLICK! The kitchen light went on.
“Can I help you?” asked Mum.
“We were just … er … getting a drink,” gulped Bertie.
“Yes,” said Darren. “Eugene was thirsty, weren’t you?”
“Was I?” said Eugene.
“Well, you won’t find squash in the fridge,” said Mum. “And if you’re after chocolate cake, forget it. It’s for Sunday tea.”
Bertie closed the fridge door. “But we can’t get to sleep!” he moaned.
“Try staying in bed,” said Mum.
“We’re starving!” pleaded Bertie.
Mum rolled her eyes. “Go back to bed. I’ll bring you some snacks in a minute.”
Snacks! Brilliant!
thought Bertie. He knew for certain there were Monster Munchie bars in the cupboard.
Five minutes later Mum knocked on the door. She set down a plate.
“Fruit?” groaned Bertie.
“It’s good for you,” said Mum. “Far better than crisps or chocolate!”
“I like fruit!” said Eugene.
It didn’t take long to empty the plate.
Eugene helped himself to a piece of orange. “EWWW!” he cried, taking a bite. “This orange is RED!”
Darren looked up. “You didn’t eat that, did you? It’s a
blood orange!
” he gasped.
“Is that bad?” asked Eugene.
“Bad? It’s full of BLOOD!” said Darren, winking at Bertie.
“No it isn’t,” said Eugene.
“Of course it is,” said Darren. “If you drink blood juice you’ll turn into a
zombie
!”
Eugene frowned. “You’re making it up,” he said.
“Ask Bertie,” said Darren.
Bertie nodded. “Darren’s right. How much did you eat? Not all of it?”
Eugene pushed the plate away. He was certain they were trying to trick him. All the same, he wished he hadn’t eaten that orange.
“There’s no such thing as zombies,” he said, getting into his sleeping bag.
He snuggled down inside. How did you know if you were turning into a zombie? Did your face turn brown and wrinkly like a prune? He hoped he was going to sleep tonight.
RATTLE, RATTLE, RATTLE!
Bertie woke up. What was that noise?
He sat up in bed. In the dark, he could just make out Eugene trying to open the bedroom door.
“Eugene?” whispered Bertie.
Eugene didn’t answer. Finally he got the door open and vanished into the darkness. Bertie stared after him. If
Eugene needed the toilet why didn’t he turn on the landing light? Bertie crept out on to the landing.
CREAK! CREAK!
Eugene was heading downstairs.
“Hey, Eugene!” hissed Bertie. “Where are you going?”
Eugene didn’t reply. He carried on plodding downstairs as if he was in a dream. Bertie followed him down to the kitchen and found him standing in the dark. He seemed to have forgotten why he was there.
“Eugene? You’re giving me the creeps,” said Bertie.
Eugene turned and looked right through him as if he wasn’t there.
Suddenly the ghastly truth dawned on Bertie. The dead eyes, the silence, the gormless expression – it all made sense…
Eugene had turned into a ZOMBIE!
Bertie backed away. Zombies were always hungry … what if he tried to—Wait, Eugene was opening the fridge door. He brought out his mum’s chocolate cake. Bertie’s eyes widened. Surely he wasn’t going to…
“UMMMMF!”
Eugene sank his teeth into the cake.
Yikes!
thought Bertie. He didn’t know zombies ate chocolate cake. Eugene wiped his mouth on the back of his hand and returned the cake to the fridge. Then he left the kitchen, almost walking straight into Bertie.
Upstairs, Bertie watched as Eugene climbed into his sleeping bag and instantly fell asleep. It was weird! Eugene had never done anything like this before. Bertie lay awake for a long time, keeping a careful eye on him.
One thing’s for sure,
he thought,
I’m never eating blood oranges!
Next morning, Eugene acted as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened. At breakfast Bertie watched him pour Chocco Pops into a bowl.
“So how are you feeling?” Bertie asked. “Sleep okay?”
“Fine,” said Eugene, reaching for the milk.
“You don’t remember anything about last night?”
“I remember you and Darren trying to trick me,” grinned Eugene. “Zombies! As if!”
Mum appeared in her dressing gown. She opened the fridge door and gasped.
Uh oh
, thought Bertie.
Mum stared at the chocolate cake, which had a large bite-size chunk missing. She lifted it out and glared at
Bertie. “Did
you
do this?”
“
Me?
” said Bertie. “No!”
“I told you not to touch it,” said Mum.
“But I didn’t!” said Bertie.
“Then who did?”
“Eugene!” said Bertie, truthfully.
Eugene looked up. “ME?”
“Don’t tell lies, Bertie,” snapped Mum.
“I’m not!” said Bertie. “Last night he turned into a zombie and ate a big bit of cake!”
Mum snorted. “You expect me to believe that? I warned you this was for Sunday. I’ve a good mind not to let you
have any.”
She put the cake back in the fridge and stormed out.
Darren sniggered. “Ha ha! Good one, Bertie!”
“It wasn’t
me!
It was Eugene,” cried Bertie.
Eugene frowned. “I don’t know why you’re trying to blame me,” he said crossly. “I was asleep the whole time!”
While Eugene was cleaning his teeth, Bertie grabbed Darren and shut the bedroom door. They needed to talk.
“Listen, I’m not making it up,” said Bertie. “Last night Eugene turned into a zombie!”
“Ha ha! Right!” chortled Darren.
“I’m
serious!
” cried Bertie. “It must’ve been that blood orange.”
“That was a joke,” said Darren. “You don’t become a zombie by eating an orange!”
“Well, Eugene did,” said Bertie. “You didn’t see him in the middle of the night. He was acting weird!”
Darren frowned. “He seems all right now.”
“I know,” admitted Bertie. “But there’s only one way to find out.”
“What’s that?” said Darren.
Bertie lowered his voice. “We’ll have to stay awake tonight and see if he does it again.”