Chapter 22

Chapter Twenty-two "Hey, Quint, buddy—why did you say they closed the theater again?" Quint opens his mouth to tell me, but as he does, something bursts from the ground. Seats fly, ice cracks, and a horrible howl echoes. A rat. A rat the size of a school bus. But it's not simply a vehicle-sized rodent. It's monstrous. Something has happened to it... One leg is gnarled plastic. A chunk of its face is gooey. It's chomping and slurping on— "Oh gross," June says as she realizes. "It's Evie's action figures!" This monster—part rat, part stretched and melted action-figure plastic—stomps toward us, revealing itself fully—

GHAZT THE RAT BEAST face is part rat and part melted plastic. It's bar for Rama naar only giant action figure limbs, strange snapping, twitching, tail, cosmically bad intentions. Ghazt's eyes are fully white. Blood-red energy dances over its body. It shakes its head, and bits of electricity fly off it—like a dog drying itself. The monster steps forward. Its mouth narrowly opens, but out comes not a hiss or a growl—but words. Directed at Evie. "WHAT IS THIS AWFUL BODY YOU HAVE PUT ME IN?" Evie staggers back. She reaches for an aisle seat to steady herself. I see her hand tremble. "My master! Ghazt. I—I'm sorry. It is a—ahem—rat. It's a type of rodent. It's, um—it's like the coolest animal on Earth..." "NOPE!" I shout. "EVERYONE HATES RATS!"

Ghazt glances my way. I shut up. His head swings back toward Evie. "WHY DID YOU BRING ME INTO THE BODY OF THIS ANIMAL? YOU ARE NOT WORTHY OF WORSHIPING .E...C.!" "I am sorry!" she cries. "I didn't mean to disappoint you! It's these lousy kids—" Ghazt snarls, "YOU DID! AND YOU WILL PAY!" June whispers, "Dudes, I think that's definitely our cue to leave." I get Dirk's left arm over my shoulder. June slips underneath his right. The brand-new weapon gift around her wrist keeps Dirk steady. And as Ghazt continues to scream and scold Evie, the failed villain, we race from the theater, out into the hall... The energy, the black lightning—it has brought new power and electricity to the theater. Every movie theater door is open. We hear bits and pieces of movies. The 20th Century Fox theme drums. Dialogue from some action-comedy trailer. And worst of all...

Zombies. They are shambling out into the halls. The water is pee-warm around our feet, like racing through a kiddie pool. We must find a safe place for Dirk to dine on the eyeball. Angry, soul-shaking howls chase us down the hallway. "This way!" I shout as we turn the corner. We all tumble and slide down the watery escalators. I

feel tremendous heat in the air as we turn toward the massive, old-fashioned staircase that leads to the lobby. I take three steps down, then stop. The raging energy has melted the ice that was keeping the zombies stuck. The undead are free! The lobby is fully loaded!

More come stumbling out of the bathroom. They stagger in from the arcade. Dirk hangs over our shoulders. His face is pale, almost see-through, and, to be honest, freaking me out. I totally know you're not supposed to judge people by how they look and that's, like, 110 percent a true and smart thing, but—man—looking at your almost-undead buddy is HARD. Quint says, "He has to eat the eyeball innards!" "I know, I know!" I say. We're surrounded and trapped by horror. A zombie horde in front of us and a monstrous Cosmic Terror just one floor above us. But nothing is more urgent than Dirk eating the insides of that eyeball. I glance down at it. No time to crack it open like a coconut and start feasting. Need a quicker solution... My eyes focus on the spinning Blue Raspberry ICEE sign behind the concession stand. I love those slushy slurpie drinks... And on the counter: a big thing of straws.