Chapter 7

chapter seven Hey Warg, open up. If you're on the can, we're sorry, but it's quite urgent. "She's not on the can..." June says, sighing and pushing through us. "Warg, it's June! We're here to give you—um—a really overdue thank-you." Oh crud! I realize we never thanked Warg for the whole "saving our buddy from turning into

a zombie" thing. I mean, if your weird aunt sends you a bad book for Christmas—you have to write a literal, physical thank-you note! Warg gave us one of her EYEBALLS to save Dirk—yeah... that definitely deserves some gratitude.... After a long moment, the door opens. It's not Warg—it's one of Warg's eyeballs, using its body to nudge open the door. "You first," I whisper. "No way," June says. "I will go either second or third," Quint says. "Not first, not last." "Aww, geez," Dirk groans, and he finally just shoves us all inside. We're not greeted with a warm welcome.

I WONDERED IF I'D SEE YOU AGAIN. I HAD HOPED NOT. I flash a grin. "Ahh, you're just saying that, Wargy. We're buds! And we owed you a major league thanks for saving Dirk!" Warg glares. With every eyeball. "Sooooo, we got you a thank-you gift!" I say. "What is this gift?" Warg asks, brooding. "Oh you're gonna love it! It's a—um— massive HORDE OF ZOMBIES! All yours! They're outside! Don't know where you wanna

put them, but we thought maybe the Christmas tree farm? And that way they can't get out and bite us good folks and also you could maybe look after them? Again—this is a GIFT and you are SO, SO WELCOME." I am nailing this. Are you though? "Jack's just rambling," Dirk interrupts. "Am not!" I exclaim. "This is a wonderful gesture I'm doing. It's the gift that keeps on, uh, decaying!" Dirk sighs. "Warg, I do wanna say thanks. They told me what you did. And I should, uh, return this."

Dirk reaches into his bag and pulls out—oh no. The eyeball. It's flattened and deflated—but it is most definitely the eyeball.... I whisper, "Dude, you've been carrying that around this whole time?!" "So cool..." Quint says. The eyeball is gnarly. A month in a backpack can gnarly-fy anything. But a deflated eyeball? Massive nasty. Warg silently takes it from Dirk and sets it on the ground. Dozens of eyeballs roll off her body, surrounding and inspecting the flattened one. Thankfully, Bardle appears in the doorway, interrupting this slow-dance-level-awkward moment. "Quint, June, Dirk—please, bring the zombies inside the farm's fence," Bardle says. "Jack stays." Quint gives me a look, like I've been invited to do something special—and he hasn't. But then he flashes me a happy thumbs-up, because he's a bud like that.

Once everyone's gone, Bardle wastes no time. "Jack, tell Warg what happened. With your blade..." "Uh, well," I say—and I realize I'm embarrassed and self-conscious. But I tell her everything. When I've finished, all of Warg's eyes slowly inflate and deflate at the same time. I think it's the Warg version of, like, a deep sigh. Then she holds out her hand—palm open. She wants the Slicer. I hesitate. I lost it once —and I won't let it happen again. But Bardle's neck gills flex and a rough-sounding grunt comes out. I hand it over. Warg runs her hand down the length of the Slicer. "Ghazt..." she says softly. "Correct," Bardle says. "The power within that blade—it appeared when Ghazt's energy ripped into this dimension...." Just then, Warg's eyeballs return to her body. Dirk's deflated eyeball is gone. Eaten— absorbed, I guess—by the other eyeballs. They