the sound of his voice. On the other side of the barrel, she found a deep, rectangular hole. As she had suspected, it was an empty grave. Bryce sat in the pit, rubbing his ankle.
Ashley dropped to the ground at the edge of the grave. “Grab my hand,” she said, reaching for her brother.
“I don’t think I can stand,” Bryce whimpered. “I twisted my ankle!”
“You have to try,” she urged. “Now. They’re coming!”
At that, Bryce nodded. He stood more easily than she expected and steadied himself against the rough wall of the grave. He extended a hand toward Ashley’s.
“Gotcha!” she exclaimed, grabbing him and starting to pull.
With a yelp, though, Bryce let go and crumpled to the ground. Ashley almost fell in with him.
“Try again!” she said.
“I can’t,” Bryce sighed. “It’s no use.”
“I’m not leaving you!”
“You have to,” he said. “I’ll be safe down here. Zombies want to get out of graves, not into them. Besides, I’m the Zombie King.”
“Bryce, no,” she begged. “I can’t leave you!”
“Go!” he cried. “I’m not afraid!”
Ashley wanted to argue. That was her brother down there! But the moan of approaching zombies convinced her to leave. There was no time to pull Bryce out. She had to save herself before she could save him.
“I’ll be back,” she promised with tears in her eyes. Then she turned and fled. The cemetery gate lay just ahead. In seconds she broke from the graveyard.
Ashley sprinted down the middle of Eastman Avenue. No cars appeared on the street. She spotted no other humans. By the look of things, she could have been the last person on Earth.
The last living person.
Because zombies roamed everywhere—in the streets, on the sidewalk, and in the yards of the houses she passed. Had the chemical in the graveyard turned everyone into zombies? Were she and Bryce the only people left?
She ran harder. Next stop, home. She dashed up the driveway to the white colonial house. The front porch light was on and the front door was slightly ajar. She pushed through it without slowing.
Darkness engulfed her. The house was black except for a dim light coming from the kitchen. From the hallway, Ashley could hear movement and a noisy smacking sound ahead.
“Mom?” she called apprehensively, creeping toward the light. “D-Dad?”
She heard no reply. Not in words. The smacking noise intensified, becoming louder and sounding … wetter. The juicy clap-slap made her stomach turn.
Chew with your mouth closed! She wanted to scream. Assuming that whatever was chewing still had lips.
Ashley slipped into the kitchen, afraid of what she would see. Pots, pans, and plates littered the floor. Bits of broken glass and ceramic glinted sharply in the light of the open refrigerator.
The refrigerator! Ashley wanted to look away but couldn’t.
A pair of disheveled figures squatted in front of the fridge like apes. They moved jerkily, digging carelessly through the shelves. Their mouths made sloppy smacking sounds as they chewed on items Ashley could not yet identify.
“Mom! Dad!” she shrieked. The figures were her parents. Or what used to be her parents. Something had changed them into zombies.
The chemical.
Dad turned first. He dropped a half-eaten chicken leg and belched loudly. A greenish cloud fogged the air in front of his face. It stunk of the chemical. Mom looked up from a raw hamburger package. Crimson darkened her lips and tongue.
Horrified, Ashley backed away and started for the door. Mom and Dad couldn’t help her. It was already too late for them. They were zombies!
She shuffled blindly down the hall, one hand on the wall to guide her. Not once did she turn around. Not until—bump! She ran into something solid. Something that wasn’t the front door.
Screaming in terror, Ashley spun around. The zombies had followed her! But to her relief, she saw her brother. Bryce stood in the doorway, cast in shadow.
“You made it!” she exclaimed. “I thought I was alone!”
Bryce stepped forward and smiled darkly. The bone crown sat crookedly on his head. He moved surely and without a limp. What had happened to his twisted ankle?
“Make room for my friends,” he said, shooing Ashley with a wave of his hand.
She backed up, confused. Her eyes searched his face for answers. “What are you talking—?”
Low groaning voices interrupted her. They came from behind Bryce. Behind him but very close.
Over her brother’s shoulder, Ashley spotted dozens of zombies. They shambled up the driveway, onto the porch, and into the house. They raised their clawed hands and stumbled forward.
“Bryce, help!” she screamed.
The zombies were coming for her. Their moaning increased. They passed Bryce without pausing. They wanted only her.
In the doorway, Bryce’s dark smile widened. He calmly adjusted the crown on his head.
“I told you I was the Zombie King,” he said softly. “Now do you believe me?”
Ashley fell to her knees and screamed. She believed him now. As the filthy hands of zombies reached for her, she believed.
The End
This story and twelve others appear in the book Mystery Underground: Michigan Monsters. Look for it on MysteryUnderground.com.
Ghost in the Graveyard
Evans City, PA
September 12, 10:26pm
“I can’t believe you haven’t ever played Ghost in the Graveyard,” Henry said. “What planet are you from?”
“What planet am I from?” his cousin Noah repeated with emphasis. “What planet are you from? You’re the one trying to climb into a cemetery at night.”
“I’m not trying,” Henry disagreed. “I’m succeeding.”
Henry was in an oak tree, straddling a thick branch that extended over an eight-foot high brick wall. The wall completely surrounded Evans City Cemetery. His plan was to hang a rope over the wall so that he and his friends—Noah included—could climb in and out of the cemetery. The only other access was a gate, and that was locked.
On the ground below him, Noah stood with two of Henry’s neighborhood friends, Carter and Emily. The three clutched flashlights and shone them up on Henry as he worked.
“Are you almost done?” Noah asked.
“Try not to sound so scared,” Carter said, nudging Noah with an elbow.
Noah wasn’t scared exactly, but he would’ve preferred to be elsewhere. Like inside watching TV or playing videos game. Or reading a book in bed. Anywhere but a dark cemetery at night.
Not that he would admit that out loud.
“I’m cool,” he said.
“I don’t know,” Emily remarked slowly, shining her flashlight on his face. “You look awfully pale to me.”
“You sure do,” Carter nodded. “You’re as pale as a ghost. Maybe you should be it first.” By it, he meant be the ghost in their game.
“Get that out of my face,” Noah snapped, swinging his flashlight around like a lightsaber. He pointed it in Emily’s eyes until she lowered her light. “So I’ve never played Ghost in the Graveyard before,” he continued. “Big deal. Why do we have to play in a real graveyard anyway?”
“It’s the name of the game, cuz,” Henry said from overhead. “And we like to live dangerously.”
Noah grunted, unamused. “There’s no such thing as ghosts. How can a graveyard be dangerous?”
Carter and Emily answered at the same time like creepy twins in a horror movie.
“Mr. Romero,” they chanted.
“Mr. Who?” Noah shrugged. The name didn’t sound particularly frightening to him.
“He’s the cemetery’s caretaker,” Carter clarified. “His name is Mr. Romero.”
“If he finds us in here at night, it’ll be trouble,” Emily said.
Still in the tree, Henry laughed. “Just like last time!” he hooted.
Noah shot his cousin a troubled
look. “What do you mean? What happened last time?”
“Mr. Romero caught me trying to climb the gate,” Henry explained. “He started yelling, waving his arms, and chasing after me.”
“He was coming to get you, Henry!” Emily snickered.
“Yeah he was,” Henry agreed, laughing again. “I ran like crazy. Good thing the old guy moved as slow as a zombie.”
The three neighborhood friends laughed, but Noah didn’t join them. He scowled in the dark. Ghosts, graveyards, zombies, and creepy old caretakers. He was already tired of cheap scares and Halloween wasn’t for another month!
Henry finished knotting the rope and tossed it over the far side of the cemetery wall. “Here I go,” he announced. “Wish me luck!” Then he dropped from the branch, slid down the rope, and disappeared from view.
Everyone else held their breath, waiting and wondering. Did Henry land safely? Was he OK? Had Mr. Romero spotted him? The chirping of crickets filled the air, seeming unnaturally loud, and Noah wanted to scream. Hurry up!
Finally the rope fluttered as it flew over the wall and slapped softly against the bricks. Henry was safe and had tossed the rope across for the next climber.
“Girls first,” Emily called, snatching the rope and starting to ascend. She was up and over the wall in seconds, a satisfied smile on her face the whole way.
Carter followed her and Noah went last. He wasn’t eager to play in the graveyard, and seeing it up close didn’t change his mind. It bewildered him. When his feet touched solid ground and he let go of the rope, he frowned in confusion.
Evans City Cemetery was covered in plastic. Big gray tarps were draped over every headstone, grave marker, and memento. Except for the lumps beneath the tarps, the graveyard looked like a baseball field during a rain delay.
“Why’s