Free Zombie Elementary by Howard Whitehouse Page A

getting rid of the severed leg. I was pretty tired. I thought I should get to bed early, what with tomorrow being Monday.
    Still, I needed to call Jermaine.
    “What do you need to speak to Jermaine for?” asked my mom. “You saw him this afternoon.”
    “Uh, something for school tomorrow,” I said.
    “Larry, did you forget? It’s a Teacher In-Service day tomorrow, so you get a day off.”
    I smiled at Mom. Usually I remember when school’s out. “Oh, yeah. But I still need to call him.”
    Mom handed me the phone, then sat down right next to me with a magazine. I wished I had my own phone. All the other kids do.
    “Jermaine. Yeah, it’s me. I had to, uh, deal with something after you left.” I couldn’t say what. I hoped he’d catch on. He did. Like I told you, he’s smart.
    “Hmm. The leg, right? Darn it, I shoulda noticed when the dog didn’t have it anymore. You saved it for O’Hara?”
    “Nope.”
    “Did you
dispose
of it?”
    “Yup.”
    “Permanently?”
    “I guess.”
    “Buried it? That won’t work with Mr. Snuffles.” I smiled, ’cause I’d figured that one out myself.
    “Nuh-uh.”
    “Mailed it to BURP in Washington, DC? I guess that’s where their lab would be.”
    “Nope.” Actually, I liked that idea a lot. But it would probably have taken a lot of stamps and I would have had to leave it in the mailbox at the end of our driveway. The zombie might have found it. I’d get in a lot of trouble if I caused the undead to mess with the mail waiting for pickup. That’s a federal offense. Plus, Mom sends out paid bills on Monday mornings, andI wouldn’t have wanted her to meet a zombie in her robe and slippers. (Mom, not the zombie.)
    “Burned it?” asked Jermaine.
    “Yup,” I answered.
    “Smell terrible?”
    “Like hot dogs.”
    My mom gave me a funny look. “Your dad said he smelled hot dogs. Must be some cookout if Jermaine could smell it from his house.”
    “Tomorrow,” Jermaine went on, “I got a plan. I know who could help us with fighting zombies. Someone with a vehicle and, you know, equipment. An adult. We could go see him.”
    I’d about given up on adults helping with the zombie problem. The only grown-up who knew about the outbreak was from the government, and he came to ask
us
to help
him
. And I didn’t wanna talk to Mr. O’Hara right then, ’cause I’d have had to tell him about the roasted leg. He’d have been mad at me.
    “You know Chainsaw Chucky?” asked Jermaine.
    Chainsaw Chucky has commercials running on local TV channels. I saw one last night. He’s this weird long-haired guy who runs a business sellingchainsaws. Fixing busted chainsaws. Anything with chainsaws, really. His grandma is always in the commercials with him. She’s weird too. They sit on the porch of this beat-up old house, and Granny sings a little song:
    “Ripping up high prices
    that’s Chucky’s Mission!
    Chopping up our rivals
    cutting down the competition.”
    Chucky fires up his chainsaw, and they both grin at the camera. Neither one has a lot of teeth. Scary, sort of. Like they’re both a little nutso.
    So I guessed that’s who we’d be going to see in the morning.
    I got up in the night to get a drink of water from the bathroom faucet. I heard something outside. I looked out the window, across to the Zollinger house. There was something large rooting around in the bushes.
    I closed the window and made sure the catch was locked.
    ZOMBIE TIP
    Locking a window is completely pointless. Zombies always break windows. They have no respect for other people’s property.

29
    “Why do you think Chainsaw Chucky could help us?” I asked Jermaine.
    “Wait ’til we get there!” Jermaine replied. “He’s our man!”
    “Isn’t he, uh, kinda crazy?”
    “Oh yeah.”
    We rode our bikes all the way along the main highway out of town. It’s maybe three miles. I had my bat in a bag over my shoulder. Jermaine had left his BB gun at home. We pulled into this scrubby yard in front