Chapter 15

chapter fifteen Back at the tree house, we all tumble out of Big Mama. Quint is energized, like he's been sucking on batteries in his spare time. He immediately retreats to his workshop with my camera. This is the photo he's so fired up about: Quint says he's now certain how we can catch (and not lose—that's important, the not losing) a zombie. And that means we can find the source of The Shrieking. And that's all I care about. Actually, also? Eating. I care about eating. Maybe even something that's not Fun Dip.

A near-deadly run-in with a Winged Wretch will leave you seriously hungry. I find Dirk angrily yanking weeds from his vegetable garden. "Pass me that Weed-B-Gone," he says, pointing to a green spray bottle. He blasts away at the weeds like they were bad- mouthing his mom or something. In seconds, the weeds shrivel away to nothing. Dirk plucks a tomato from its stem, dunks it in a bucket of rainwater, and tosses it to me. "Y'know, I'm not a big veggie guy," I say, taking a massive chomp. "But this is hitting the spot." Dirk crunches into a carrot. "Thought you were monster food back there."

I thought you were monster food. We're lucky We made it back in one piece. Winged wretches are no joke. And he's right. It's true. Entirely, totally, terrifyingly true. I think about that for a while. Just how lucky we are. Just how high the odds are stacked against us. All the other possible outcomes. I catch Dirk's eye. We're both thinking the same thing... I mean, is there any way we could ever succeed here? I've blundered my way through a few monster

encounters, sure—but this thing that's sucking out zombie brains? Blasting them through the air like discarded food? This thing with the power to summon zombies? Just the thought of it practically has me in a state of panic-induced puking. I make up my mind. The next morning, we need to go back to Joe's Pizza. We need to know what the monsters think about all this. "Friends!" Quint hollers. "Come down here!" I blink my eyes open. It's morning. The sun is just barely up. Too. Early. This better be good, Quint, I think. A few minutes later, I'm standing outside Quint's workshop. He's got a big bedsheet over some giant box-looking thing. He looks like a magician about to attempt his grand finale—pull a bunch of doves from under his armpit or something. Dirk's sitting on the Ping-Pong table, bouncing a ball. "Quint, kid, just get on with it."

Quint, totally into the magician thing, says, "Ladies and gentlemen, I'm proud to introduce the latest and greatest in zombie catching..." The Cage of Death! "That name does not exactly inspire confidence," I say. "I know," he says, with a meek sigh. "But it is for catching zombies. And they are dead. Well, technically, undead... but 'The Cage of Undeath' doesn't have the same ring to it." "If you think I'm stepping in there, you're nuts," Dirk cuts in. "I get claustrophobic."

Quint grins. "No! No one need step inside! No one need risk their lives. Because of... REVEAL NUMBER TWO!" With a dramatic flourish, Quint reaches inside the cage and yanks away a second sheet, revealing a sort of odd, vaguely lifelike lump. We all inch closer. I can't lie—my curiosity is piqued. "What on earth is that?" I ask. "It looks like a scarecrow. Taking a nap." Quint laughs. "It is, in fact, the complete opposite of a scarecrow. You might say it is an 'invite crow'!" "It looks familiar..." I say. Dirk scratches his head. "Yeah, like someone we know." Suddenly, June shrieks. "ME! It looks like me! Quint, it's wearing my shirt! And pants!" "I know!" Quint says, and he smiles like he's proud of that. "I call it June Bait.