Rise of the Zombie Scarecrows Read online

  Rise of the

  Zombie

  Scarecrows

  Deb Loughead

  O R C A B O O K P U B L I S H E R S

  Copyright © 2015 Deb Loughead

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording or by any information storage and retrieval system now known or to be invented, without permission in writing from the publisher.

  Library and Archives Canada Cataloguing in Publication

  Loughead, Deb, 1955–, author

  Rise of the zombie scarecrows / Deb Loughead.

  (Orca currents)

  Issued in print and electronic formats.

  ISBN 978-1-4598-0996-3 (pbk.)—

  ISBN 978-1-4598-0998-7 (pdf).—ISBN 978-1-4598-0999-4 (epub)

  I. Title. II. Series: Orca currents

  PS8573.O8633R58 2015 jC813'.54 C2014-906683-X

  C2014-906684-8

  First published in the United States, 2015

  Library of Congress Control Number: 2014952066

  Summary: Fifteen-year-old Dylan is making a short film about zombie scarecrows, but Halloween pranksters are making his progress difficult.

  Orca Book Publishers is dedicated to preserving the environment and has printed this book on Forest Stewardship Council® certified paper.

  Orca Book Publishers gratefully acknowledges the support for its publishing programs provided by the following agencies: the Government of Canada through the Canada Book Fund and the Canada Council for the Arts, and the Province of British Columbia through the BC Arts Council and the Book Publishing Tax Credit.

  Cover photography by Getty Images

  Author photo by Steve Loughead

  ORCA BOOK PUBLISHERS

  PO Box 5626, Stn. B

  Victoria, BC Canada

  V8R 6S4 ORCA BOOK PUBLISHERS

  PO Box 468

  Custer, WA USA

  98240-0468

  www.orcabook.com

  18 17 16 15 • 4 3 2 1

  For Ben and Star,

  “happy creators” who always inspire.

  Table of Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter One

  “Aren’t you too old for trick-or-treating, Dylan?” Gran put down her knitting and stared at me from her usual spot on the saggy sofa.

  Gran was great at sticking it to me.

  “We’re not ‘trick-or-treating,’ Gran.” I even used air quotes. “It’s a project for our media class. We need to make a short film, and ours has a Halloween theme. So we’re wearing costumes while we film on Halloween night.”

  “Hmm, sounds like a good excuse to me.” She clicked her tongue and her knitting needles at the same time.

  Wow, sticking it to me twice in one minute. That had to be a new record.

  “Honestly, it’s not an excuse, Gran,” my friend Cory told her. All my friends called her Gran. She pretty much insisted on it. “It’s an important project.”

  “We’ve worked hard planning this for almost all of October,” Monica added. “It counts for 50 percent of our grades this semester.”

  Which was the undead truth.

  “Hmm. Is that so?” Gran squinted at us.

  “Honestly, Gran, everything’s cool,” I reassured her. “And trust me, you will get a huge kick out of this movie. I wish I could tell you more, but it’s top secret.”

  Gran raised her eyebrows. “I see,” she said. “Now I’m very curious. But you know I trust you to do the right thing.”

  She was so good at laying guilt trips on me.

  Cory stared at me, wide-eyed, sending a silent message to keep my mouth shut. Yup, it was probably best not to mention that we were making a zombie flick. I’d been obsessed with them ever since I saw World War Z and read the book. Then there was Zombieland and Warm Bodies. Shaun of the Dead and The Walking Dead. The whole undead explanation probably wouldn’t go over very well with Gran, though, even if she knew what a zombie was.

  It wasn’t easy to keep my mouth shut about our movie. We were totally pumped because we’d figured out a brand-new spin on the zombie thing. During the month of October in Bridgewood, a scarecrow contest takes over the whole town. Nearly every property has at least one scarecrow on display. Even shop owners on the main drag participate. On November 1, All Hallows Day, judges from the Chamber of Commerce wander around to check out all the displays. Prizes are awarded for “most original,” “most terrifying” and “most adorable.” So we figured a movie about zombie scarecrows would be the coolest ever! In keeping with the spirit of the town, of course. Not much difference between scarecrows and zombies anyway, apart from straw and rotting flesh.

  Gran’s mouth had turned into a tight knot. When Monica noticed, she snuggled up beside Gran on the sofa. Ever since the summer, when Monica and I had become closer after helping the police solve a local break-and-enter crime, Gran had been crazy about her. All Monica had to do was give her that brilliant smile, and Gran would melt.

  “Aw, Gran,” she said. “We know grade ten is too old to go out for Halloween. This is our way of taking part. Who are you knitting those socks for? They’re so pretty—all those blue and green and purple shades.”

  “I know you’re sweet-talking me, Monica,” Gran said. “I’m knitting these socks for you. I hope you like the color.”

  “Wow! Cool! I love them, thanks.”

  “And I know I won’t have to worry if you’re going to keep an eye on things. Dylan has a bad habit of—”

  “Getting up to no good,” I said, finishing her favorite sentence. “And technically, none of it has ever been my fault.”

  “That’s what Nicole always tries to tell me,” Gran said, and I winced. Nicole Vance, a local police officer, was also my mom’s best friend. They’d grown up together in our town. Somehow Nicole was always involved in my little adventures.

  “You’re the best, Gran,” Monica said and gave her arm a squeeze. It was a good distraction from talking about Nicole, but she meant it too. Monica had to be the most honest person I’d ever known.

  She was also a really good kisser, I’d discovered over the summer. “I’m so glad you’re watching It’s the Great Pumpkin, Charlie Brown with the three of us tonight,” she said.

  Gran leveled her gaze at us. “Technically, I’m letting you fellas watch Charlie Brown with me tonight.” Then she gave us one of her trademark winks.

  Ah, that Gran of mine. She was great at sticking it to all of us.

  On the Monday before Halloween, we put up the zombie casting-call posters in the hallways at school. We weren’t the only ones feeling bad about being too old for trick-or-treating. Until you’re fourteen, you can sort of get away with it. Especially if you haven’t had a huge growth spurt yet. I was still waiting for mine.

  But by the time you’re nearly sixteen, and I’d be turning sixteen in November, going door-to-door with all the little kids is pretty lame. Besides, big kids showing up at the door freaks out most candy donors. Sometimes they yell at you and shut the door in your face. That happened to us last year.

  “Wow, Monica, you rock at art,” I told my girlfriend. Yes, girlfriend. “Those zombies look just like a real movie poster.”

  She gave me that killer smile. “It’s my passion, Dylan. Like you wanting to be a filmmaker someday. We’re both kind of crazy and artsy.” She brushed her hand across mine, and as usual I melted from the inside out.


  “Let’s hope some kids show up for the casting call on Wednesday,” Cory said. “Who wouldn’t want to dress up like a zombie scarecrow for Halloween night and scare all the little kids?”

  “Rise of the Zombie Scarecrows,” I growled, grinning. “Personally, I think it’s a totally brilliant title.”

  “You would,” Cory said. He stepped aside when a group of students crowded in front of the poster to admire Monica’s artwork.

  “I sure hope some of the older kids from Theater Arts and the drama club come and audition,” Monica said.

  “Oh, they will,” I told her. “They’ve got a long wait till the spring drama production.”

  “This sounds totally cool,” one of the guys said. I recognized him, a senior named Henry. He was in the drama club last year and had played a lead role in a production of Guys and Dolls. He was tall and thin. I already had him pegged for the part of the main zombie.

  “You need girls, too, right?” said Helena, the girl who was with him. She’d had a starring role in the play last year too.

  “Of course,” Monica told her. “There are girl zombies in every flick. Come and audition. And bring your friends too.”

  “Nice artwork, Monica,” Helena said. “For sure we’ll be there Wednesday.”

  As they walked away, I gave Monica a high five. “Wow. She actually knows my name,” Monica whispered, sounding starstruck.

  “Cool. Henry and Helena,” I said. “That’s exactly who I was hoping for.”

  Then someone bumped into me hard from behind. I spun around. Oh great. Garrett, standing there with his goofy grin. This guy had been giving me grief for a few years now. Our friendship was on and off. Most of the time he was a huge nimrod.

  “Wow, did your girlfriend draw this?” he said, eyeing Monica. I think he was jealous that I was dating someone as awesome as her.

  “I’m standing right here,” Monica said. “And yes, I drew all the posters we put up around the school.”

  “So what’s the buzz? You’re making a zombie movie? Can anyone be in it?”

  Uh-oh. He was the last person on earth I wanted to audition. Whenever he and his buddies turned up, something was sure to go wrong.

  “Yeah, well, we’re kind of looking for drama students to take roles,” I explained in as nice a way as I could manage.

  “Huh. So you don’t want football players and non-advanced-stream kids then. Right? That’s kind of racist, isn’t it?”

  Monica rolled her eyes and Cory grimaced. I just sighed.

  “Not exactly,” I told him. “We just want to give the drama kids a chance to be in something this fall. Okay?”

  “Maybe. Maybe not. Auditions in the auditorium after school Wednesday,” he read from the poster. “Cool. See ya then, dudes. And dudette.”

  As he stomped away, I had a fleeting thought that he’d make a good zombie. But I stomped that thought out as Monica stood there shaking her head.

  “Dudette? Seriously?” she said. “God, Dylan, I sure hope he doesn’t show up for this.”

  Funny, I half hoped he would. I’d never admit that to Monica though!

  Chapter Two

  Every October as far back as I can remember, the town of Bridgewood has taken on a surreal atmosphere. It almost literally becomes a ghost town. But in a good way.

  It’s my favorite time of year. The invasion of the “cidiot” cottage dwellers has basically ended, but we haven’t been buried in snow yet. The whole town seems to glow gold and orange because of the turning leaves. That brings in busloads of tourists, but at least it’s a short season.

  The best part of October leading up to Halloween is the scarecrow competition. Nearly every home on every street is set up like a haunted house or a crime scene. Especially the homes that have kids my age living in them. Is there anything better than creating a blood-spattered gore fest on your front lawn?

  Even we apartment dwellers get in on the fun. During October there are always a couple of dead bodies slumped over our balcony or dangling from a noose to scare anyone who dares to look up. One year, Gran caught me as I was about to drip ketchup on them. Another year I dropped one of the “bodies” from a rope a couple of times. I stopped after a little kid started screaming blue murder when it landed in front of her. It didn’t go over very well.

  This year, our balcony scarecrows were dead athletes with half-deflated basketballs for heads. Cory and I attached grotesque rotting-face masks made out of rubber. They made Mom shiver for real. Gran was sure she’d be having nightmares.

  I brought Monica home for dinner with Gran and me after school. Mom was working an evening shift at Rocky’s Roadhouse, where she was bar manager. Lots of guys liked to drop by there for a pint or two and some spicy wings. And to talk to my mom as she worked the bar. I’d seen them flirting with her often, but they were wasting their time. My mom had handed her heart to a guy named Brent, who came up from the city most weekends. Not a typical cidiot, he was self-employed and thinking of relocating here to be closer to her. I figured it would be weird to have something like a dad if that ever happened.

  Gran served us her made-from-scratch mac and cheese with cut-up weiners. Then Monica and I worked on homework until nearly seven thirty. It felt great sitting right beside her at the kitchen table, our shoulders touching as she helped me out with math, which I suck at. But right between Wheel of Fortune and Jeopardy!, Gran had to ruin it.

  “Time for you to be getting ready for bed soon, Dylan,” she said. “You’d better take Monica home now.”

  “God, Gran,” I said and groaned. “I’m not five years old anymore.”

  “Still,” she said. “You have to cross town, so get moving. Your mom expects it.”

  “Mom doesn’t care what time I go to bed,” I reminded my grandmother, “as long as I’m in my room by ten. Which gives me two and a half hours to get Monica home.”

  “Nice seeing you tonight, Monica,” Gran called over her shoulder. “Come on over anytime. Hurry back, please, Dylan. Don’t make me worry about you.”

  “Jeez, Gran!” I yelped. Yet another guilt trip to drive me nuts.

  “It’s okay, Dylan,” Monica said close to my ear, and she put her hand over mine. Instant warm rush. “I’ve got to get going anyway. Mom wants me home by eight.”

  I helped her gather her stuff, and then we thumped down the echoing apartment stairway. Out on the dim and windy street, the rattle of dry leaves sounded a bit like scarecrow footsteps. Monica kept glancing over her shoulder, and then she snuggled in closer, so I wrapped my arm around her. She slipped hers around my waist.

  We stopped to kiss in the shadows more than a few times as we crossed town. We also stopped to admire the scarecrows arranged in eerie scenes in front yards and in shop windows on every street. And the jack-o’-lanterns that were lit up in so many windows already.

  “This Halloween is gonna be the best ever,” I said as we walked along. “The film is a no-brainer to shoot. I wish I had the ending figured out though.”

  “Yeah, that is kind of important,” Monica said. “You know, I was thinking maybe we should tell Officer Vance before we do any filming. In case there’s, like, an…an incident or something.”

  I stopped dead under a streetlight, put my hands on Monica’s shoulders and looked right into her delicious chocolate-brownie eyes.

  “Can’t happen,” I told her. “Because you already know how that will go. Right?”

  Monica sighed. “She probably won’t approve. I just hope you don’t make the news for the third time in a year,” she murmured. “I mean, that would be—”

  I planted a long soft kiss on her lips before she could finish her sentence. It was a good one, too, because I heard her sigh again. Our lips froze in that position, though, when we heard yells and running footsteps not far off. Monica yanked herself away, grabbed my arm and pulled me behind a gigantic tree trunk.

  “Look,” she said, pointing down the gloomy street.

  In the pools of light
from the street lamps, we could see something running fast. It was headed straight in our direction. I heard Monica start to breathe harder as we both realized what we were seeing. Not far behind it, an old man seemed to be chasing it down.

  “What is that creepy thing?” she said. “What’s going on here?”

  “Crap! Am I really seeing a scarecrow? Running down the street?” I said.

  When it passed only a few feet away from us, I sucked in my breath. It had a hideous face.

  “Zombie scarecrow?” I hissed.

  Beside me, Monica’s whole body was trembling. “Let’s get out of here fast.”

  But we couldn’t. Because right that second, the old man fell over. He collapsed in a heap right there in the middle of the road.

  “Crap!” I yelled again, and we both ran over to him.

  Monica crouched and started shaking his shoulders. He looked scary—pale and half dead. My arms and legs turned all rubbery.

  “Sir? Sir? Can you hear me, sir?” she kept saying.

  “Is he dying? Please don’t let him be dying,” I murmured.

  Monica reached into her pocket and shoved her cell phone at me.

  “Call 9-1-1,” she said. Then she started pumping on the center of the man’s chest with both hands. And singing some oldies song, “Stayin’ Alive,” over and over again.

  My fingers kept hitting the wrong numbers on her phone. “You’re supposed to breathe into his mouth, aren’t you, Monica?” I said. “And what’s with the song?”

  “Just call the number, Dylan!”

  This time I got it right and told them to come quick. Monica kept pumping on the man’s sternum. She looked like a crazy girl, her face taut, dark eyes gleaming in the orange glow of the street-lights. Willing the old man to stay alive.

  I couldn’t even move, I was so scared. And underneath it all, I felt ashamed for not having a clue what I was supposed to be doing. For not leaping into action like Monica had. I just knelt on the road beside her and made gentle circles on her back until I heard the sirens.