But then, here he was, back in his house. This is Grandpa Mo’s house. Mom and Dad thought he was too old and sick to live alone. So we all moved into his house in Franklin Village.
Mom teaches third grade at the elementary school. And Dad is an investment manager at the bank in the next town.
And now I think you know everything about us. Oh. Except for one other thing about Grandpa Mo: He loves to tell zombie stories.
Sometimes he says they are true. Sometimes he says he dreams them. I know he makes them all up. But I can’t tell if he believes them or not.
“Put away the game, boys, and I’ll tell you a true story,” he said. His voice is soft and sometimes hard to hear. His hand tapped a rhythm on the arm of the couch.
Alec set the controller on the floor, and we turned to face Grandpa Mo. Tricia rolled her eyes, so only I could see. She doesn’t like Grandpa Mo’s stories. She thinks anything about zombies is dumb.
“Many years ago, there was a powerful storm in Franklin Village,” Grandpa Mo started. “There were lightning attacks everywhere. I mean, not your normal lightning. It didn’t crackle — it boomed like thunder.
“The lightning snapped trees in half and darted over the lawns like some kind of living creature. It started fires all over town. It smashed and crashed and exploded like the blast of a hundred bombs.”
I squinted at Grandpa Mo. “This is really true? Were you there?”
“It doesn’t matter,” he said. “If I was there, I don’t remember. It’s hard to remember things when you’re old. But I know it’s true.”
Tricia laughed. “You make up all your true stories — don’t you, Grandpa Mo?”
The old man shook his head. He patted Tricia on the shoulder. But he didn’t answer her. He continued his story:
“The lightning was so powerful, it woke the dead. In the cemetery right across the street from this house. Dead people, sleeping soundly in their graves, were roused by the attacking currents, the bolts of energy.
“Awakened, they climbed out of their graves. They began to walk in the storm. At first, they huddled together, confused and frightened. But then they began to feel a hunger, an overwhelming hunger. They knew they had no choice. In order to survive in this new undead state, they had to eat the living.”
Tricia edged to the far end of the couch. “Eww. Is this going to get gross?”
Grandpa Mo shrugged his slender shoulders. “Gross? No. I think it gets frightening. Because it happened right across the street.”
“Your stories are just like the TV show,” Alec said. “You know. The Walking Zombies?”
Grandpa Mo scratched the pale, dry skin on the side of his face. “This is real. This isn’t TV.”
He struggled to his feet. It took him a few seconds to catch his balance. “It’s my nap time,” he said. “You three keep your eyes and ears open — you hear?” He limped stiffly out of the room.
Alec had a blank look on his freckled face. I could see he was thinking hard.
I laughed. “You believed Grandpa Mo’s story — didn’t you?” I said.
He nodded. “Yeah. I don’t think he was kidding, Kenny. I think the story was true.”
I knew Alec believed in all kinds of monsters and ghosts and paranormal stuff. He says there wouldn’t be so many stories about vampires and zombies and other weird creatures if they didn’t really exist.
I think that’s kind of dumb. But he’s my only friend in this new town, and he’s a good guy. So I keep myself from telling him that believing in ghosts and vampires is like believing in the Tooth Fairy.
“Grandpa Mo is always telling zombie stories,” I said. “He likes to make them up. He says sometimes he dreams them. But I don’t think —”
Tricia bumped me with her knees as she jumped off the couch. She crossed to the living room window. “I saw a big truck outside,” she said.
She pulled the curtain aside. “Hey, check it out. It’s a moving van. People are moving into the house next door.”
Her eyes went wide. “Oh. Wait,” she said, peering out the window. “Oh, wow. Oh, wow. They’re not people — they’re … monsters!”
“Huh?” I jumped to my feet.
Alec grabbed my arm and used me to pull himself up. We both went stumbling to the window.
Tricia stepped back and laughed. “You two idiots will believe anything.”
I felt my face grow hot. I was embarrassed. How could I fall for her stupid joke?
All this zombie talk was messing with my mind.
I stepped up beside Tricia and Alec. They had pushed the curtain aside and were staring over at the next house. I bumped Tricia out of the way. “I owe you one,” I said.
Movers in gray uniforms were lowering furniture and big cartons off the back of a yellow-and-red van parked in the neighbors’ driveway. We watched a long blue couch come off the truck. Two big men with shaved heads and tattoos around their necks struggled to balance it between them.
“I wonder who your new neighbors will be,” Alec said.
“I hope there’s a girl my age,” Tricia said. “It’s so hard to meet friends when you move to a new school so far away from home. Everyone already knows everyone.”
“Hey, that’s why we’re having the Halloween party,” I said. “To meet new kids?”
Tricia turned to me. “Yeah. What about the party? You two said you’d help me plan it. So, let’s hear it. Where are the plans?”
“I think it should be a zombie party,” Alec said. “Everyone comes dressed as a zombie.”
Tricia rolled her eyes. “Of course you do,” she said sarcastically. “Can we forget you said that and talk seriously about this party? Halloween is almost here, you know.”
“Well, this is the perfect place for a spooky Halloween party,” I said. I glanced around at the gray walls, the heavy, old furniture, the ragged, stained carpet. “It won’t be hard to make it look like a haunted house.”
Next door, the movers were carrying a long bookshelf into the house. It was a cool October day, but they were red-faced and sweating.
“Maybe we should have the party in the basement,” Tricia said. “You know. Make it really scary.”
“Awesome,” I said. “We’ll keep the lights off. Maybe only have candles. And hang a lot of cobwebs and creepy stuff from the ceiling.”
“Nice,” Alec chimed in. “But I still think everyone should come as zombies. You could have prizes. Like, Most Disgusting Face, or Best Dried Blood, or Most Undead Looking.”
“Maybe,” Tricia said. “Let’s think about it.”
I could see she was starting to warm up to the idea. “Maybe I could be a zombie bride,” she said. “You know. Wear a long white dress, all stained and ripped. Maybe a skeleton mask under my veil …”
“Sweet,” Alec said. “Hey, where are your neighbors? Are they in the house? I haven’t seen anyone over there. Just the movers.”
We watched the guys carry stacks of cartons off the moving van.
“Maybe they’re coming later,” I said.
Tricia stepped back from the window. “This is getting kind of boring,” she said.
“Wait. Look —” I cried. I squinted to focus my eyes on the back of the truck. “Look what they’re carrying into the house.”
Tricia pushed back between Alec and me. “Oh, wow,” she murmured.
We watched them carefully lower a dark wooden coffin to the driveway.
“I … don’t believe it,” I murmured.
We didn’t move. We watched the men go back into the truck. After a few seconds, they slid another coffin out. And then a third.
Three coffins going into the house next door.
I watched the third coffin disappear through the front door. My brain was spinning. “Who has coffins in their house?” I said.
Alec scrunched up his face. “Dead people?”
Tricia shook her head. “I really don’t think there are dead people in those coffins. I mean, why would anyone —”
She sto
pped as Grandpa Mo lumbered back into the room. “Couldn’t sleep,” he said. “The whistling in my ears keeps me awake.”
He swept back his white hair with one hand. “What are you looking at? You spying on someone?”
“The neighbors,” I said. “The house next door. They’re moving in. But …”
Tricia finished my sentence for me. “The movers just carried three coffins into the house.”
Grandpa Mo’s mouth dropped open. He staggered back a step. “Coffins?”
I nodded. “Yeah. Three of them. Weird, huh?”
“It’s not as weird as you might imagine, Kenny,” the old man said. He made his way to the window. Alec pulled the curtain a little wider.
Grandpa Mo stared out at the moving van. The workers were closing the back of the truck. “They seem to be finished,” he said.
“But we didn’t see the neighbors,” I said. “Only the movers.”
Grandpa Mo squeezed my shoulder. He continued to peer out the window. “That’s the best way for zombies to travel,” he said. “No one can see them inside a coffin.”
Tricia groaned. “Oh, come on. Give us a break,” she said. “You’re not going to start another zombie story — are you?”
Grandpa Mo frowned at her. “You saw the coffins, didn’t you?”
“Sure,” Tricia said, “but there can’t be any dead people in those coffins.”
Alec scratched his red hair. He turned to Tricia. “Kenny is right. Who has coffins in their house?” he demanded. “Normal people? No way. Normal people don’t keep coffins in their house. Your grandfather may be right. This is totally sick.”
“You’re totally sick,” Tricia snapped.
I turned and saw that Grandpa Mo was trembling. I jumped up and helped him to the couch. He hugged his slender chest for a long moment. When he finally looked up, his face was even paler than usual.
“A family of zombies has moved next door,” he said in a low, shaky voice. “When they come out of those coffins … they’ll be hungry.”
Tricia sat down beside Grandpa Mo. She took his hand and squeezed it. “Grandpa Mo, you’re letting your own stories scare you,” she said. “You know those stories aren’t real. Don’t let them confuse you.”
He didn’t seem to hear her. He stared blankly across the room. “This is just what I was afraid of,” he said, barely above a whisper. “I knew this day would come.”
I felt bad for Grandpa Mo. I didn’t like seeing him so scared. His zombie stories were scary and fun. But he seemed to believe them.
Alec was still on his knees, gazing out the window. “Hey, Kenny — check it out,” he called.
I hurried over to him. “What’s up?”
Alec pointed. “I saw someone move in that side window over there. They must have climbed out of their coffin.”
Tricia laughed. “Did the person you see have just a skull instead of a face? Like you?”
Alec rolled his eyes. “What if he did? You wouldn’t be laughing then.”
I squinted across the yard into the side window. It was dark now. I didn’t see anyone.
Grandpa Mo cleared his throat. He sat up straight. “Listen to me now,” he said. “Here’s what you have to do.”
His eyes darted from Alec to me. “All three of you,” he said. “Go over there.”
“Huh?” I uttered. “Go over there?”
Grandpa Mo nodded. “Go next door. Say you came to say hi and welcome them to the neighborhood. Maybe they’ll invite you in. Then, see what you can see.”
Alec started shaking his head. “Go over there? I don’t think so.”
I didn’t want to go, either. But I didn’t like seeing my grandfather so terrified. If we could prove the new neighbors weren’t zombies, we could stop him from shaking. And stop him from worrying.
Tricia was already on her feet. “Why do all three of you look so scared?” she demanded. “You’re all zombie crazy. Get over it.”
She opened the front door and stepped out. Alec and I scrambled to follow her.
The sun was low in the sky. I shielded my eyes with one hand and started across the front lawn to the house next door. The movers were just pulling away. The driver waved to me as they pulled down the driveway.
Across the street, the graveyard sat empty and silent. Some crows rested on a low tree branch, peering down at the rows of tombstones.
We crossed the driveway and walked up to the front stoop. “Kenny, Alec — stop looking like that,” Tricia scolded. “Smile, okay? There’s nothing to be afraid of.”
We followed her up the steps to the front stoop — and I knocked on the front door.
A sudden gust of wind made the brown leaves skip and dance across the front yard. In the graveyard, I saw the bare trees tremble.
I heard someone moving around inside the house. But no one answered the door.
“L-let’s go,” Alec stammered. “I … really don’t like this.”
Tricia stomped on his foot.
Alec cried out. “Why’d you do that?”
“That was a reality check,” she said. “There aren’t any zombies in this house.”
I knew Tricia had a crush on Alec. But she had a strange way of showing it. I think she really was totally fed up with all the zombie talk.
Finally, I heard the lock click on the other side of the front door. The door pulled open slowly.
A boy stuck his head out. He had thick brown hair that fell down his forehead. He had olive-green eyes. His face was pale.
“Hi,” he said. He studied the three of us. Then he pulled the door open a little bit more and stepped out on the front stoop.
We backed up to make room for him. He was very thin and shorter than Tricia and me. He wore a black sweatshirt pulled down over thin-legged black jeans. He didn’t smile. His face was pretty much a blank.
“Tricia and I live next door,” I said, pointing to Grandpa Mo’s house. “I’m Kenny. And this is my friend Alec.”
The kid nodded. I figured he was about our age. “Hi,” he said again.
“We saw the moving truck,” Alec told him. “But we didn’t see anyone from your family.”
“We … came earlier,” he said. “My name is Trevor.” His eyes went to the graveyard. “You ever go over there?”
“Sometimes,” Tricia answered. “It’s kind of interesting. Some of the gravestones are really old.”
“It’s a little creepy living across from a graveyard,” I said.
“Not really,” Trevor replied.
Weird answer.
I struggled to see inside the house. But the door was only open a crack, and Trevor was blocking my view.
“We just moved in, too,” I said. “That’s my grandfather’s house.”
Trevor nodded but he didn’t say anything.
This was getting awkward.
I began to think he was really shy. He was so pale and quiet. He had his hands jammed into his jeans pockets.
“Are you going to go to our school?” Tricia asked. “Franklin Village Middle School?”
He shook his head. “No. My parents said I’m going to go to a private school.”
“Where?” Alec asked.
Trevor shrugged. “Beats me.”
I peered over his head. I could see the living room behind him. I almost lost it when I saw the three coffins. They were lined up in the middle of the living room!
Did the lid on the middle coffin move?
No. I’m seeing things.
I lowered my gaze and saw Trevor watching me. He knew that I was staring into his house.
“I’ve got to help my parents unpack,” he said. He backed into the house, blocking my view.
“We just wanted to say hi,” Tricia said.
“Thanks,” Trevor replied. “See you.”
He slipped inside and closed the door quietly behind him. I heard the lock click on the other side of the door.
“Totally weird,” Alec whispered. “And awkward, huh?”
The three of us didn’t move. We stood there blinking and thinking hard. And …
And …
Then I heard a long, low moan inside the house. And a woman’s voice. A hoarse, raspy voice. I could hear her clearly through the door.
She said: “Keep unpacking, Trevor. Don’t worry. We’ll find some food soon.”
I hopped off the stoop. I wanted to get away from there. I could still hear the woman’s voice in my ears. So hoarse and breathy.
I trotted back to Grandpa Mo’s house with Alec and Tricia close behind. We all had the same questions on our mind: Was Trevor just a pale, shy kid? Or was Grandpa Mo right? Was he someone we should be afraid of?
My grandfather was waiting for us in the living room. He hadn’t moved from the front window. His pale eyes studied us as we hurried in.
“Well? What did you find out?” he demanded.
“It’s definitely weird over there,” Alec told him.
We all began talking at once.
“We met a kid named Trevor,” I said. “He’s pale as a ghost. He looks like a strong wind could blow him away.”
“He wouldn’t open the door all the way,” Alec said. “He didn’t want us to see what was going on inside.”
“He was just shy,” Tricia said. “I think he was tired from unpacking, that’s all. He was kind of sweet-looking.”
“I could see the three coffins,” I said. “They were lined up in the living room. How weird is that?”
Alec added, “And we heard his mother say something about finding food. You know. Like human flesh to eat.”
Grandpa Mo shuddered at those words. He hugged himself, his bony arms poking out of his short-sleeved shirt.
“She didn’t say that at all,” Tricia insisted. “You’re making it sound a lot weirder than it really was.”
“I knew this would happen,” Grandpa Mo uttered, still hugging himself. “I knew it.”
“You knew what would happen?” a voice demanded. We turned to see Mom walk into the room. She dropped her briefcase on a chair and tossed her jacket on top of it.
She was wearing a pale yellow sweater over a denim skirt. She shook her dark hair back over her shoulder.