Chapter 8

chapter eight Two days pass. Two days of rest and recovery and then it's— LEGENDARY HERO TRAINING! DAY ONE! My alarm clock goes off—but I'm not even mad and I don't even hit snooze. Y'know, funny thing about alarm clocks— you'd think during the Monster Apocalypse, you wouldn't need 'em anymore—'cause you'd just wake up every morning like...

what beasts shall I slay to day? How many pints of goo shall I spill? But nope. Still love the snooze. Except for today! Because today I TRAIN! The Slicer has powers and I must learn to wield those powers—and that is totally a Skywalkerstyle call to adventure! The smell of breakfast carries me downstairs. If my nostrils aren't lying, it's Quint's famous donut hole kebab with chocolate syrup drizzle. "Save some fancy donut sticks for me!" I shout as I toss on my hoodie and hop into the

kitchen, trying to jam my feet into my sneakers without untying the laces. I tumble into a chair and like an old-timey TV dad, I ask: So what's everyone got in store for today?

I shall begin my examination of the tale. I will make Bartell proud. We haven't heard anything on the radio in months. Even with the snow gone, I got to find another way to connect with survivors, just trying to relax with tunes "Well, dudes," I say. "All of your stuff sounds rad—and I wish I could drop everything and hang. But I've got hero training ahead of me!" With that, Quint heads for Dandy-Lions ice cream shop across town—where he'll be studying the tail. June races upstairs to tinker with the radio. Dirk puts on his headphones,

cranks up Metallica, and flops into our hammock. And I get my butt in gear. I take an extra donut hole kebab for the road. And one for Rover. And then two more in case I get surprise hungry. And three more in case I fall off Rover and sprain my ankle and I'm left, starving, helpless, and in desperate need of nourishment. And one more for good luck. Outside, the air is crisp. Rover's nostrils blow thick clouds of steam as he charges across Wakefield toward the zombie farm. My heart's pounding—I'm not sure if I'm excited or if I'm anxious or if excited and anxious are actually the exact same thing and just no one told me. When I get to the farm, Bardle is waiting for me. The zombies are nearby, corralled in a pen made from Christmas tree netting. I stride toward Bardle, hand on my Slicer, and stop when we're face-to-face. I'm patiently waiting like a good little hero-in-training. Bardle's face is stern. He's about to say some intense mentor stuff, I know it. Here it comes—

"I smell donut holes," he says. "Have you been eating donut holes?" That was less intense than I expected. "Oh, yeah, sorry. Should I not have eaten? Is hero training like one of those doctor's appointments where you can't eat before?" "Did you bring me donut holes?" "Um. Sure...." I toss him a fistful of donut holes (coincidently, A Fistful of Donut Holes is the title of my favorite Western). As he gulps them down, I'm feeling antsy—let's get this show on the road, right? This is it! This is.... LEGENDARY HERO TRAINING. DAY ONE. Wherein I, Jack Sullivan, begin the path to total zombie master manipulator!