Chapter 13

chapter thirteen Moments before I go unconscious, June and Dirk let me down from the zombie snare. Some pals, huh? I'm still filthy from last night's battle, so I use our rainwater shower to freshen up. In the shower, chewing on my muddy nails, I noodle our situation. And I don't like it... Discovering a pizza place full of monsters? That's heavy! Learning that the earth is now covered in monsters from, like, a time before time began to tell time? Also super heavy. And that's just like the weirdness appetizer! The main course is what appears to be the real threat: some strange, eerie sound—The Shrieking—that causes zombies to lose what little minds they have left. Where could they be going?

Ice—cream Social Tennis class? Denny'sP After my shower, I stick my head into Quint's workshop. I spot ropes and wires and hooks. "Quint, buddy, how much time do you need to create these zombie traps?"

"Two days," he says. "Three days tops." My insides are being twisted by fear. This is a great big problem. And I only know one way to deal with great big problems... AVOID THEM! So with two days (three days tops) until we can tackle The Shrieking, I decide to throw myself headlong into Action Jack Bestiary Questing Mode. I can picture us showing Thrull the finished book, dusty and old and from another land. Proof of the completed quest. Proof that I'm a fantastic, monster- documenting photojournalist. I want that proof! June's helping Dirk tend to his little vegetable garden when I stroll over. Dirk's whining about weeds and chewing on a carrot like Bugs Bunny. "Guys," I say. "Quint needs two days to build his zombie traps. So while we're waiting..."

Let's quest. We start at home and work outward. Bestiary building is a very systematic process. You must search beneath rocks, inside abandoned old cars —everywhere. The first day, we catalog six different creatures.

The next morning, I'm up early—before the sun's risen. I pop in on Quint. He's still working on his traps. He does it by candlelight, and he looks like some creepy old innkeeper.

After a breakfast of grilled crab apples and stale Pop-Tarts, we head out, on the hunt. We've just finished scooping up some essence from this nasty Sludge Savage— When we hear it. The Shrieking. It has returned.