Chapter 18

chapter eighteen It's past midnight. The moon is big in the sky—a blood moon, I think they call it—and rays of blue

light shine through the windows. Dirk and June are fast asleep, but I can't snooze, so Quint and I are playing Mario Kart. I'm coming out of a power slide when I hear something. At least, I think I hear it. I click START. "Hey, you paused it!" Quint exclaims. "Just as I was going over the big jump! Not fair, friend! I'm going to come out of the jump into the turn and—" "Shh!" I say. "Dude, you hear that?" "The only thing I heard was you robbing me of a red shell," Quint says. I shut off the TV. I could have sworn I heard something. But all I hear now is the rumbling of the generator. I step out to the deck and switch it off. The generator chokes and coughs and burps smoke —and then goes quiet. Quint peeks out the door. "What is it?" "Maybe my mind was playing tricks on me..." I start, but I'm interrupted by a banging and clanging sound, followed by a loud, choked moaning. Quint and I look at each other, confused, and then both at the same time realize— "Alfred!"

We hurry down to the garage... Our brainless butler tries to walk forward but simply bangs his head against the cage. "It's like he's in a trance," Quint says. "I wonder if he hears The Shrieking?" "Well, I don't hear it. Do you hear it?" "No—" But then it comes. The angry, ferocious scream fills the air once again. It's time to release Alfred and get to the bottom of this mystery. But what if we let him go and we

lose him? I know he's just a zombie, but he's our zombie. I look to Quint—he's smiling like he's reading my mind. He holds up a bike helmet. On the back is a bright flashing light. "No way we'll lose him in the crowd with this," Quint says. I nod. "Good thinking." "You get the helmet on Alfred," Quint says as he rushes out of the room. "We need to hurry before The Shrieking ends. I'll wake Dirk and June." "No, no," I quickly say. "Don't get June and Dirk. I don't—I don't want to risk them." Quint eyes me. Looking to the floor, trying to dodge his guilt- tripping gaze, I remember how June and Dirk saved me from the insect monster. How I'd be done-zo without them. And I remember, trying to go it alone —that's a good way to end up, well, not alive anymore.... "Right, good idea, Quint," I finally say. "Grab 'em." Quint gives me a big thumbs-up, then turns— leaving me alone with Alfred. OK... Um. Sure.

No problem. Just need to put a helmet on a zombie. I step close to his cage. "Hey, Alfred! You're going to help us save the day. I just need to let you out without you eating me, OK...?" I trail off as I try to figure out how to go about this. When Quint returns with Dirk and June, the three of them all burst out laughing. I'm perched on top of the cage, gripping the helmet, trying to figure out how to simultaneously open the door and drop the helmet on Alfred's head. "June, I could use your help here," I say. "Distract him." "How do you expect me to distract him?"

Stick out your arm, Do a dance or something. He's a zombie. He wants to eat. You get his attention. I will not be dancing for this zombie. Me neither. No dancing. Not that anyone asked, but just So we're clear, "Fine, fine," I say. "Everyone—behind the cage. I'll open it and drop the helmet." That works. The door swings open with a clang. Quickly I yank my hand away and drop the helmet on Alfred's rotten noggin. The light on the back of the helmet flashes as Alfred shuffles toward the front gate. I jump off the cage, race up to the tree house, slip on a pair of Quint-designed chain-metal action