Look again. That's Baron Chomsky."
She stared at the zombies slowly moving through. Baron was shambling along midpack, a playful smirk on his lips.
"But... but... how is it possible?"
"I suppose I should know since I am the zombie master."
Her face turned several shades of red. "But... I'm so sor-- I thought..."
"I know. Come on. I think he wants us to follow him." Baron was subtly giving us a hand signal behind his back.
Our little pack veered off course, following him down to the basement. Slowly the halls emptied as zombie students entered their classrooms along with zombie teachers. After a short while
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our two packs were the only ones in the corridor. I noticed Baron pointing at something.
"What is it?" whispered Sybil.
"Check out the zombie boy in front of him." The jock zombie in front of Baron had been given the world's biggest wedgie. The zombie's underwear had been hiked up practically to his chest.
For as far back as I could remember, geek boys had always been the target of bigger boys for a wedgie. Baron was getting even for every geek in America.
The jock zombie pack arrived at the weight room and entered while Baron hung back. As soon as they were all in, he pulled the door shut. Then, he turned to us as if he'd done something heroic, and struck one of his James Bond poses. "The name's Chomsky. Baron Chomsky."
Despite his silly antics I caught myself smiling.
"Dude! I told you not to bring them here!"
"But we need their help."
We were once again in Baron and Milton's basement hideout. Milton had hung a sign on the door that read the fortress of solitude. Could he get any geekier? Upon entering we found Milton cooking up a chemical concoction over a Bun-sen burner. Today's T-shirt featured a cow dressed as a gun-slinger ready to draw on an opponent, cowboy cow was written underneath the cartoon. When he noticed us, Milton stopped working, removed the beaker from the fire, and secreted it into a cabinet.
"We don't need anybody's help, homie," he said, eyeing me with distrust. "I told you, I got this."
"Well, alrighty then. See ya." I started from the room.
"Wait, wait," Baron called.
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"Look, guys, I don't need to go through this again. If Milton doesn't want us here, we don't want to be here. Now if you don't mind r we're off to English class."
"Mmmaghhh!" Dirk emitted a hungry moan.
"We are totally breached, homie!" Milton cried with alarm. He threw his hands into the air. "He's signaling the troops. Pretty soon we're gonna be swimming in zombies."
I tossed a hunk of raw meat in Dirk's direction. He grabbed it mid-flight and gobbled it down. Satisfied for the moment, he stood patiently waiting for more.
I turned to Milton. "He's not signaling anyone. He's just hungry, that's all."
"See?" Baron said with a smile. "That's why we need her. She's the only one who can get close enough to them to get what we need."
"What is it you need?" Sybil asked.
"Ixnay on the DNA," Milton breathed through clenched teeth.
"DNA?" asked Sybil.
"Huh? That's not what I said."
"Yes," replied Baron. "We need some zombie DNA. Preferably saliva and a hair sample."
Milton threw up his hands. "We're dead."
"Could you help us out?" Baron's hazel eyes looked into mine.
How long have his eyes been hazel? I wondered. I looked away.
"You'd be doing us a big favor," he added.
"Okay. I can get you both hair and saliva. But what are you going to do for me?"
Baron smiled. "What do you want, baby?"
While I didn't want to participate in dezombifying my
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classmates, recently I'd been cooking up an idea for the Holiday Pageant, and I was going to need lots of help to pull it off. "I need your help with the zombies for the Holiday Pageant."
"You got it," Baron said quickly.
Milton's eyes widened. "You can't put zombies in the Holiday Pageant."
"Sure I can. I'm president of the Holiday Pageant Committee, and I want zombies," Of course I didn't want zombies, but I wasn't going to tell him that.
He turned to Baron. "I told you she was the zombie master. Dude, you have been blinded by love."
"I know," said Baron. "Ain't love grand?"
Milton shrugged hopelessly. "We're dead."
"While we're helping you, Milton and I can keep our eyes peeled for the person who's responsible for turning everyone into zombies."
A look passed between Baron and Milton.
I pulled out a few hunks of meat and dangled them in front of Dirk.
"Mmmmph!" he moaned. His lips parted, and saliva drizzled down his chin, dripping