Chapter 5

chapter five The undead freaks come at me in a wave. First, an old-man zombie—he's got one eyeball dangling out, and it bounces against his cheek. He lunges at me, his throat making a sound like GLUGHH. I dive under his outstretched hands. Coming up, I'm staring at an old-lady zombie—must be like ninety. She gets my shirt, but I shrug it off. I can see the back door to Quint's house, and I spot a direct path— The picnic table! I dash across.

I leap off the picnic table, using one zombie's bald, moldy head as a little step, and grab on to the tire swing. Quint, open the door!

Quint yanks open the sliding door just as a hulking, half-rotten zombie man steps in front of it. His throat is missing—just a bunch of gnarly old flesh there. He comes at me, practically jumping. I've got no choice but— Quint slams the patio door shut behind me. Just in time, too—three zombies stumble into the glass and bounce off like a bad Three Stooges bit. Quint slides his big kitchen table against the glass —a makeshift barricade. I get to my feet, eyes wide—I can't believe it. It's him. It's really him.

QUINT BAKER, —The Best Friend— Old—mm cap Hair smells like movie theater popcorn butter. Always working on a new gadget or experiment. pocket watch for looking Dorky. Wears a lab coat as a jacket for no good reason. "I was afraid you were dead this whole time!" I exclaim. "A scientist never truly dies," Quint says. "He lives on through his research." I groan. Non—aihlete's foot

"But yes, I'm also regular normal alive," Quint says. I want to groan again, but I can't help but laugh. I'm just so happy to see my buddy. secret handshake, Tom, buddy, We have a secret handshake. "Um, yeah. Remember?! We worked on it that whole afternoon one time. We had that big plan. We were gonna do the handshake when we passed in the hallway so people would know we had cool secrets going on and we were up to stuff. Remember?" Quint scratches his head. "Vaguely remember. How'd it go again?" "Hmm. Um. I think you grab my ankle and I finger-flick your elbow. There was also some ear tugging, I think." Quint looks confused.

"Just tug my ear, Quint." "I am not tugging your ear." "C'mon. Just a little tug to get the handshake started." "Jack, I think you should give up on the secret handshake." I shrug. We bump fists. Can't go wrong with the classics. I follow Quint up to his room: "the lab," as he calls it.