Free Neighborhood Watch by Evan Bollinger Page A

with shiny grey hair and the iciest blue eyes I had ever seen.
    As I stepped closer, I could feel it. The odor hit me all of a sudden, like old egg salad in a locker at school. “ Aghh —what is th...” My eyes were already burning.
    You gotta get outta here
    This was some nasty stuff, whatever it was. If the guy was a chemical expert, it made sense—but what was it? If it smelled this bad, it had to be something powerful. Swallowing, and practically gagging, I backed away. I couldn't stay here to find out. It was just too much.
    As I whipped around, mail clutched tightly in my hands, something else hit me. This time, it wasn't a strong smell, or even an odor at all. It was a noise, a low, agitated noise. The first thing I could think of was a dog. It had the same kind of growl, and was growing louder. Somewhere, closer; nearby .
    And that's when I jerked. My body knew before my mind, and as I gazed into the feverish eyes of the man, my heart nearly stopped. There he stood, in the corner. He was shaking like he had a real bad flu and the liquid was all over him. An almost black-purple.
    His clothes were ripped and his face like a skeleton's.
    And then the growl ripped through the air, and the man or thing—whatever it was—sprung forward.
    “No!” I screamed and my legs were already moving like lightning. I rammed through the front door, gasping, my bike still on the curb.
    The noise shredded the air behind me. I sprinted, I jumped; I leaped. And before I could reach the handlebars, before I could kick the stand and mount the seat—I tripped. Face forward, fast-forward into the soggy earth.
    ***

“A Zombie, eh?”
     
    “Something happened to Mr. Clark!”
    These were the only words I could utter as I scaled the steps two at a time. My older brother Mitch and his acne-faced pal Sam were sitting in his room. They were two seniors, headed off to college in the fall. But for now it was summer, and as their fingers raced across the Super Nintendo controllers, the sounds of ghouls and monsters filled the air—a classic SNES game, “ Zombies Ate My Neighbors .”
    My nostrils flared as I detected  the familiar scent of burnt pine-cone. My brother's colorful bong was perched right on the window sill, fresh smoke still curling out. Out the window, a dark sky with a fast rain; somehow, I had dodged it.
    “What are you talking about?” My brother said.
    “Mr. Clark, the guy down the road, the chemical, ex-chemical engineer guy on my paper route. I was over there, and then I went in his hous—
    “Good grief, calm down goober .” My brother turned back to the screen as Sam released a chuckle.
    “You don't understand...” I struggled to get my breath. I had never pedaled faster in my life. “I was in his hou—”
    “Mr. Clark, isn't he the rapist one?” asked Sam.
    Mitch snorted. “What the hell you talking about dude, there's no rapists livin around here.”
    “No, that's what my mom heard,” Sam said with a shrug. “He could be on the sex offender registry.”
    Mitch shook his head as he threw his controller to the bed. “I'm pretty sure the guy had a wife. Maybe if you weren't thinking about rapists, you'd actually focus on the game, yeah?”
    Sam threw his arms up in mock anger. “Dude, I'm serious! Remember a couple years back that football star from Montgomery High just disappeared? That they never found?”
    “Yea, so what?” Mitch said. “That guy was a hothead. He probly got lit up by the wrong guys one night and they left him in a ditch somewhere.”
    Sam frowned. “You don't even know him. We don't know anybody from Montgomery.”
    “He was a jock and a douchebag. He probably got what was coming.”
    “Yes, or he got raped by Mr. Clark.”
    “He's not a rapist,” I said, breathing sharp. “Something happened to him, I swear, I walked int—
    “What happened to your face,” my brother asked. He pursed his lips, that look he got when he was about to give me one of his life lectures.