Chapter 24

chapter twenty-four The next few minutes unfold faster than fast. Mission Operation: Cheer Up Dirk has morphed into Mission Operation: Dirk and the Great Zombie Hive Mind. And it's all hands on deck. The Wi-Fi's satellite dish is loaded into Big Mama. Quint's football helmet—the one he was using to try to pick up the tail's energy—goes on Dirk's head. The helmet connects to Big Mama's stereo. Car keys go into the ignition. Dirk lies down in Big Mama's truck bed. Quint sits beside him, strapped into the seat, the satellite nearby. "You guys ready?" I ask. Dirk and Quint nod.

Over—Qir energy amplifierP check, Prainwave absorber check, Inside Big Mama's glove box is a map of Wakefield and the surrounding area. I'm unfolding it as June says, "I'll drive." And I don't argue, 'cause it's an argument I'd lose. Partly 'cause June's got a bone to pick with the Tower that's threatening the family she just found out is still alive. And partly 'cause I'm a lousy driver. "Good luck," Warg says. She stands outside the tree house, with Rover at her side.

And then the keys are turning and the engine is roaring and we're all just hoping.... We drive and drive. June steers us in a spiral, starting at the tree house, then spreading out like a pinwheel, wider and wider, so we don't miss anything. It's like holding up your cell phone, hoping for enough bars to make a call to get a ride home from soccer practice. Except, Dirk's head is the phone and this call is the key to everything. Fingernails are bitten. Dials are adjusted. Lips are chewed. Suddenly, over the stereo—I hear something. It's so soft, I wonder if I'm just imagining it. It's kinda like when you hold a seashell to your ear and you hear the ocean. But it gets louder.... I spin around in the passenger seat. In the back of Big Mama, I see Dirk's lips moving and his face is stiff with pain. His eyes are shut so tight it's like they're Krazy-Glued.

Quint adjusts the satellite, tilting it, and Dirk starts speaking louder and faster. It's incredible: these words are the direct thoughts of an entire interconnected horde of zombies— and they're being blasted into his brain and shot out through our stereo! Quint adjusts the satellite once more and I crank the volume on the stereo. Dirk's in the back, spewing a strange stream of words. tail. Fine, what?

You ever wonder what zombies think? I can tell you.... There's a lot about eating. Eating the sort of stuff nobody wants to hear about. Maybe sometime, after I've had enough ginger ale, I'll tell ya. But there are other things, too. A jumbled mess of words: "Move. Go. Speaking. Tail. Now." And then— "Rolling. Sliding." Each word out of Dirk's mouth is spoken in a slightly different voice. It's him talking, for sure —but he's channeling the zombies. Then he says two more words—and as he says them, his eyes flash open. "WATER. MONSTER." I gasp with realization: "The Scrapken! It's watching the zombies! And the zombies see The Scrapken!" "Left! To the pier!" I shout as I stab at the map. June spins the wheel, and we slide out onto the avenue. Then we're speeding across town, flying up the hill past the library.

And on the way back down the hill, I see it. It's a blip in the distance. Miles away. But it's there. The Tendrill. It surges along like a branchy, viney Ferris wheel off its hinges. If I squint hard enough, I can see the zombies. Every zombie from the farm, dotting the Tendrill. Like sprinkles on an ice cream cone. Like the sprinkles scattering in the air as Bardle fell. "Dirk," I say, jerking my head back. "Dirk, you did it. You can take the helmet off." Quint immediately reverses it. The helmet bangs across the truck bed as Dirk rolls over onto his side. Beads of sweat trickle down his face and he gulps air....