Zombiekins - Kevin Bolger [21]
He spun around and started scrambling up the crisscrossing ropes behind him. Zombies clutched and clawed at his legs, stretching their mouths to chomp into them like drumsticks. One got hold of his shoelace and started pulling Stanley back down with the strength of ten fourth graders. The mob below let out a hungry moan as Stanley slipped—back—toward them—Luckily, his shoelace came untied and slid through the zombie’s grasp. (Good thing he was never very good at tying double knots.) And with the last of his strength, Stanley pulled himself to safety.
Stanley shimmied along a wooden beam toward the slide. A few of the zombies tried to follow him up the rope ladder but got tangled like fish in a net. The rest were so slow-moving and slow-thinking that by the time they caught on what Stanley was doing, he had swooped down the slide to join Miranda.
But the two of them weren’t out of trouble yet. They were still trapped in a playground full of zombies, cut off from the only gate leading out of the yard. And it wasn’t long before the crowd under the play structure realized they’d been duped and came stumbling and staggering after them, moaning angrily.
Stanley and Miranda made a dash for the back door with the angry zombie mob right on their tail. Stanley barely had time to stop and tie his shoelace....
They reached the back door just as the recess bell rang....
“It’s locked!” Miranda cried.
30
STANLEY YANKED AND yanked on the handle, but it was no use. He pounded on the door, but there was nobody inside to hear . . . . “I sent Russell in to open it,” Mrs. Plumdotty said cheerfully, appearing beside them. “I wonder what’s keeping him. I do hope he isn’t dawdling.”
By now every zombie in the whole playground was schlepping and schlumphing toward them—some chasing Stanley and Miranda, the rest just obediently staggering into line by the door.
“Mrs. Plumdotty, we have to get out of here!” Miranda blurted out. “These kids are all zombies!”
Stanley’s heart sank. He knew they must be in bad trouble if Miranda was asking for help from a teacher.
“Now, Miranda,” Mrs. Plumdotty replied, “you know it’s not nice to call the other children names.”
“No, you don’t understand,” Stanley hurried to explain. “She means they’re flesh-eating monsters who want to guzzle our livers and gobble our limbs!”
“Stanley, dear, don’t be such a tattletale,” chided Mrs. Plumdotty.
Stanley and Miranda stood with their backs against the school wall, completely surrounded by moaning, groaning, grasping, grumbling zombies. . . .
Suddenly the door beside them swung open and a little zombie stumbled out.
“Hhrngghrghrgllng. . .” the zombie groaned mindlessly.
“Thank you, Russell, dear,” Mrs. Plumdotty said.
And before the door could swing closed again, Stanley and Miranda ducked under a swarm of grasping zombie arms and dashed inside.
“Wait, dears!” Mrs. Plumdotty called after them. “I haven’t sent your line in yet.”
But Stanley and Miranda bolted up the stairs, not thinking where they were headed, just trying to put as much distance as possible between themselves and the horde of zombies already filing into the stairwell behind them. . . .
They reached the second floor landing, wheeled around without stopping, dashed up to the—
“A-ha!”
Standing at the top of the stairwell with a smug grin on his face was Mr. Baldengrumpy.
“Up to your usual tricks, Isee,”hescolded,shakinghishead. “Well, you can just march right back down there and come up again on the other side!” Behind them, zombies were streaming up the stairs in an endless line, like ants. As soon as they caught sight of Stanley and Miranda, they all growled and gnashed their teeth. “But, but—we’ll be torn to pieces!” Stanley pleaded. “We’ll be eaten alive—or worse, turned into mindless automatons devoid of all independent thought and free will!”
“Maybe then you’ll learn to follow the rules,” Mr. Baldengrumpy