Rise of the Zombie Scarecrows Read online

  The first person to zoom up to the scene was Officer Nicole Vance. Thank God the ambulance was right on her tail. Before Nicole could get out of the cruiser, I leaned closer to Monica and touched the top of her head.

  “Let me do the talking, okay?” I told her. She nodded hard as the emts swarmed around us and efficiently took over her job.

  Nicole and I helped Monica to her feet. She was still trembling.

  “Are you okay?” I asked, as a couple of rivulets of mascara trickled down her cheeks. She brushed them away, nodded and tried to smile, then burst into tears.

  “So Mr. Dalton was just hurrying along the street and he collapsed?” Nicole asked.

  Mr. Buddy Dalton. The grandpa of a grade-nine kid I knew. Timothy, with the 007 actor’s name. In the rearview mirror, I caught a glimpse of Nicole’s eyes watching mine as she drove us home. When I felt Monica squirming beside me in the backseat, I squeezed her hand.

  “We were kind of hiding behind a tree, you know. And we were, like…”

  “I get it,” Nicole said. “Making out. So then what? What did you see? Or hear?”

  “So we didn’t see much. Just heard shouts and footsteps and saw him fall.”

  “Like he was chasing someone or something?” Nicole asked.

  Monica stiffened, and I squeezed her hand harder. “Yeah, like that, I guess.”

  “I sure hope he makes it,” Nicole murmured. “He used to run the candy store. Years ago when your mom and I were kids. Nutty Buddy, we called him. After those ice-cream cones.”

  I gulped. Monica’s hand went limp in mine. When we pulled up to her house, her mom was waiting in the doorway. I hoped Monica wouldn’t tell her what had happened. If anyone found out we’d seen a zombie scarecrow running down the street, our epic movie would be toast.

  “Thanks, Officer Vance,” Monica said when Nicole let her out of the car. “Don’t worry, I’ll explain everything to my mom. You can just take Dylan home now.”

  Then she slammed the car door. Without even saying goodbye to me.

  Chapter Three

  I got lucky that night in one way. Nicole let me off in front of the apartment and didn’t even come up to blab anything to Gran. So I just said goodnight when I passed her on the sofa watching Doc Martin and went straight to bed. I tried to fall asleep without fixating on what had happened in the car with Monica.

  It worked, too, until someone started shaking me at eleven thirty. When I opened my eyes, the light was on in my room. And three faces were staring down at me. Gran and Mom. And Nicole.

  “Mr. Dalton is okay, Dylan,” she said. “In fact, I was just talking to him a while ago at the hospital. It was a mild heart attack. But he’s a tough old guy. He’ll be fine.”

  “Well, that’s great then. Thanks for letting me know. Hi, Gran. You’re home early, Mom. Goodnight, everyone.” I pulled the covers over my head. Instantly they were yanked back off.

  “Mr. Dalton told Nicole he was chasing a scarecrow down the street,” Mom told me.

  Gran stood there frowning and clucking her tongue in a knowing way.

  “What does that have to do with the price of eggs?” I said. And probably shouldn’t have.

  Gran clucked her tongue even louder. I hoped she wouldn’t say it.

  “Well, obviously someone was up to no good,” she muttered. Yeah, I guess it was too much to hope for after all.

  I sat up in bed. I looked them all straight in the eye, one by one.

  “Is it not enough that we saved the old guy’s life?” I said. “And now you think it was our fault that he collapsed?”

  “I never said that,” Nicole told me. “I just want to know what you saw. By the way, I believe it was Monica who performed cpr on him. Apparently, she’s taken a lifesaving course. Cool, huh?”

  I swallowed hard. “How do you even know all this?” I asked.

  Thick silence. That wasn’t a good sign.

  “I went back to Monica’s place after I dropped you off. To interview her alone,” Nicole said. “She told me what you saw. And also said you didn’t want to tell me. How come?”

  I felt something wither inside me. I couldn’t even look at them anymore.

  “Why, Dylan?” Mom whispered, then sat down on the edge of my bed. An even worse sign. “What’s going on with you?”

  “Nothing,” I said. “Nothing is going on with me.”

  “You’re not dealing drugs, are you?” Gran said. “Because if he is, Stephanie, then—”

  “Mom, cool it, okay?” my mom said to her. “I’m sure it’s nothing to do with drugs.” A long pause. “Am I right, Dylan?” Her eyes pleaded for reassurance.

  “God, of course not,” I said. “Because if I was, then for sure Officer Vance would have caught me by now! Am I right, Nicole?”

  At least that made them all smile for a few seconds.

  “Look. I also heard about that movie you’re making,” Nicole added, and I sucked in my breath. “About zombie scarecrows on Halloween night. It’s not a good idea.”

  “See? I knew you’d want to shut this whole thing down if you found out. That’s why I didn’t want Monica to blab about what we saw tonight.”

  I tightened my jaw, bit down on the inside of my cheek and tried my best not to start crying. Because the truth was, I was starting to feel like total crap about this whole thing. Monica looked like some sort of CPR-performing superhero, and I looked like a superloser.

  “Don’t flatter yourself, Dylan. Because this isn’t about you,” Nicole told me, straight up like usual. “This isn’t about your film project or about Monica or even poor old Mr. Dalton, who is going to be fine, thank God. It’s actually about the scarecrow.”

  “The scarecrow?” the rest of us said in unison.

  “Okay, we’re not going to broadcast this because we want to avoid copycats,” Nicole told us. “But over the weekend there was another weird incident like this one on the same street. Started with a knock on someone’s front door after dark. When the homeowner opened it, a really freaky-looking scarecrow was standing there, holding a lit jack-o’-lantern.”

  “Oh gosh,” Gran said. “That would scare the living daylights out of me.”

  “I know, and it gets worse,” Nicole said. “Because as soon as the homeowner opened the door, the scarecrow pitched the pumpkin into the house, then ran away laughing like a maniac.”

  “Oh my god,” Mom said. “That’s ridiculous.”

  “And dangerous,” Gran added. “That could start a fire!”

  “And who the he…eck is doing it, Nicole?” I said, catching myself.

  “Language, please, Dylan,” Gran said, squinting.

  “We don’t know. But we sure want to find out. Mr. Dalton heard about the first incident from his neighbor. That’s why he chased the scarecrow this time. He hates the thought of not feeling safe in his own home.”

  My mouth was hanging open. “Wow, that is insane,” I said. “I wonder who—”

  “Stay out of this, Dylan,” Nicole and Mom said in one voice. And Gran clucked.

  “A gem of a man, that Buddy Dalton,” she said.

  “Oh god. All right already,” I said. “You don’t all have to go ballistic on me!”

  “But you can clearly see the problem with making that movie on Halloween this Saturday, right?” Nicole said, and I winced. “I mean, we can’t have a bunch of random scarecrows running around town when we’re trying to find real troublemakers.”

  “Okaaay,” I said. “But my whole film project is based on Halloween night. And it’s due a week later. So that means I won’t have a film to turn in on time for my media class.”

  “You’re a smart guy. I’m sure you’ll think of something,” Nicole said. “And I’m sure your teacher will understand if you explain. Please. This can’t happen, and you know it.”

  I gritted my teeth, nodded and tried to smile. “Okay, so good night,” I said.

  This time when I pulled the covers over my head, nobody pulled them off.
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  I hardly slept the rest of that night. I tossed and turned and got mummified by my covers. Sometime during the night I got up to eat a bowl of Cheerios, and I watched a lame old Frankenstein movie for a while. Back in bed, I started counting sheep, then scarecrows, and that didn’t help.

  It wasn’t because I was worried about the scarecrow vandal and his pumpkin bomb. Or the zombie movie I had to figure out a way to make and the script that wasn’t quite finished. Or poor old Mr. Dalton. Or how Nicole was probably going to be on me like a duck on a June bug, as Gran liked to say.

  Nope, none of that. I couldn’t sleep because I couldn’t stop thinking about Monica.

  “You figure she’s avoiding you because she’s mad?” Cory asked me in the cafeteria at lunch on Tuesday. I had just finished filling him in on what had happened the night before. I told him all about the scarecrow vandal after he promised to keep his mouth shut. I even confessed how stupid I felt that Monica was the only one who could help save Mr. Dalton’s life. Of course, everyone had clapped for her, in every classroom, after the principal announced the news on the PA system.

  “Guess so. She hasn’t even looked at me today. She walked right past me on the school bus this morning, and we always sit together. And she ignored me when I said hi in the hallway.”

  “So maybe she’s got a bunch of other stuff on her mind,” Cory said.

  “Thanks. Not helpful,” I said, then bit into the tuna-salad sandwich Gran had fixed me that morning. She’d skimped on the mayo, and no chopped-up apples either. Which meant she was probably still mad about last night too. “So what should I do?”

  “Dude, seriously, I know nothing about girls,” Cory confessed. He sighed. “I’ve never even kissed a girl. And if you tell anyone that, I’ll have to kill you.” He grinned and nudged me with his elbow. “Anyway, I’m sure she’ll get over it. Eventually.”

  I kept glancing across the cafeteria toward the table where Monica was sitting. If it was over with her and me, well, I guess I was lucky I’d had the chance to be her boyfriend for a while.

  Monica was sitting with Charlie Wells, a senior most girls crushed on. Just like back in middle school, when he’d started breaking hearts. He was in Theater Arts too. And Monica liked artsy types.

  “Quit staring at her,” Cory said. “You look freakin’ desperate.”

  “Whatever. Want the rest of my tuna-salad sandwich?”

  It was in his hand before I could blink.

  “So what about our movie then?” he said through a mouthful. “We’re screwed now, right? And Monica is in our group. What’s she gonna do? Join another group?”

  “Stop asking me questions I can’t answer,” I told him. “When I think of something, you’ll be the first to know. Because this movie still has to happen. There’s no time to pull anything else together.”

  “Okay,” Cory said. “Are those homemade gingersnap cookies? Are you gonna eat them?”

  I pushed the cookies across the table and glanced over at Monica again. For an instant she looked right back at me. But she wasn’t even close to smiling. And she looked away as soon as her eyes met mine. Her chocolate-brownie eyes.

  I missed those eyes already.

  Monica avoided me the entire day. When I tried to talk to her in class a few times, she just ignored me. When we passed in the hall, she made a point of keeping her head down. And after school, there was a note jammed in the crack of my locker when I went to open it.

  Dylan, I need this mark. I can’t risk it. So I’m helping Ivy and Sasha shoot their movie Wednesday night. And editing it over the weekend. Sorry it didn’t work out with your movie. Good luck. M.B.

  Great. So it really was over. I stared at the inside of my locker for about five minutes, feeling like an undead under my skin. Until I realized Cory was beside me.

  “Bad news?” he said. When he pointed at the note in my hand, I passed it to him.

  “Ivy Adams? Hmm,” he murmured. I knew for a fact that he was crushing on Ivy big-time. “So Monica’s done with us then?”

  “Pretty much.” I stuffed the note in my back pocket. “Looks like it’s just you and me.”

  “So how do we pull this off without getting Officer Vance mad at us? What’s the plan?”

  I looked him in the eye. “The plan isn’t changing. It’s just…shifting. I have an idea. But you can’t tell a single living human being. Got it?”

  We walked home together instead of taking the bus, so I wouldn’t have to face Monica. As we walked, I told him my plan. That was the one good thing that had come from being alone with my dismal thoughts most of the day instead of focused on Monica’s sweet face. I mostly daydreamed about how to make our movie happen anyway, even after Nicole’s warning. Cory listened wide-eyed, looking extremely doubtful.

  “Look, Cory,” I told him. “If things work out the way I’ve planned tomorrow night, we’ll actually be doing the Bridgewood police department a huge favor. Am I right, or what?”

  Cory gulped hard. “I sure hope so,” he said. “And I sure hope Officer Vance agrees with you. And doesn’t decide to arrest us.”

  When I got to the apartment, Gran was all perky and asked if my lunch was okay. I just shrugged. Then she asked how Monica was. So I shrugged again and walked straight to my room. Which is exactly where I stayed for the rest of the night. I tried to work on the script for a while, but I felt totally brain dead. And my heart kind of hurt too.

  At one point I found the courage to call Monica. It took me three tries to dial her number with jittery fingers. When the phone rang, her mom answered. She said Monica was busy and couldn’t talk to me right then. I was actually blinking back tears when I hung up.

  “Looks like Monica made the papers this time,” Gran told me as soon as I walked into the kitchen the next morning. Mom was sitting at the table, still disheveled from sleep and rubbing her eyes. And grinning as she read the newspaper item.

  “They’re calling her a ‘shero’ in the headline,” she told me as I slumped into a chair. “They call you a friend. Bummer.”

  “I don’t really care,” I said. “I didn’t do anything anyway. What about the scarecrow?”

  Mom pushed the paper over and I scanned the story. No mention of the scarecrow. It just said that Buddy Dalton, a stalwart of the Bridgewood community, was chasing a possible intruder from his property at the time of his collapse. Monica Buckley and a friend happened upon the scene. Young Monica leapt into action and likely saved Buddy’s life with her composure and quick thinking as she performed CPR on him.

  “Wow. Now I really feel like crap,” I told them.

  Mom patted my hand. I hated it when she got all sympathetic like that.

  “Maybe you should take a first-aid course, Dylan. They offer them at the rec center.”

  “Yeah, maybe,” I said. “I’m not hungry. I think I’ll just grab a granola bar and ride my bike to school today.”

  “Ride?” Mom said. “But it’s raining out.”

  “Don’t worry, okay? I’m meeting up with Cory. It’s just a couple of miles. I’ll be fine.”

  I grabbed the granola bar, my windbreaker and my backpack and left without another word. And felt their eyes boring into the back of my head as I shut the door.

  Monica avoided me again all day Wednesday. It was messing me up inside, and I couldn’t quite figure out why she was so mad. Because I couldn’t help out when Buddy Dalton collapsed? Or because I didn’t call 9-1-1 fast enough? Or because I didn’t tell the truth about what happened or about the movie we were making? I figured it was most likely all of the above.

  At least people turned out in droves for the casting call after school. All except for Monica. Cory and I had set up a table on the auditorium floor, and we each had a notebook. All the kids gathered around in the seats, yapping nonstop about how awesome this was going to be. I sure hoped they were right.

  First we took down everyone’s names. Then I explained the scarecrow part, which everyone thought was totally cool.
Some of the kids even gave zombie moans of approval. I told them not to worry about their scarecrow stuffing. Cory and I would be ready with bags of straw to stuff into their shirts at the staging place in the park on Saturday. Cory had gotten hold of a pile of straw from his uncle’s farm.

  Some of the kids had dressed the part, in tattered clothes and lots of gore. They wanted to be zombies, and Cory and I had no problem with that. They didn’t even have to audition. But everyone else did, and we handed them each a sample of the script so they could practice before we called them to the stage. Then we auditioned them in groups of four. We had everyone read some lines from the script and then zombie-walk across the stage. That way we could figure out who would be best to play the roles of the humans and who would make the best zombie scarecrows.

  HUMAN ONE

  I got a feeling this is gonna be a really long night.

  ZOMBIES

  (walking and slathering) Ahhhrrrgh. Ahhhrrrgh.

  HUMAN TWO

  (panicking)

  We need to figure out a way to stop them. Or else we’re totally doomed!

  ZOMBIES

  (same as above)

  HUMAN ONE

  Okay, chill out for a second. I think I got a plan.

  ZOMBIES

  (same as above)

  HUMAN TWO

  (still panicking)

  Well, I sure hope it’s a freakin’ good one, dude!

  Yep, pretty simple. I didn’t mention that I still hadn’t worked out the finer details of the plan, or the ending. But everyone who tried out was totally into it. Henry and Helena showed up. So did Charlie the jerk, and they all brought friends. Garrett was there, too, with a few guys from his football team. But it didn’t matter now because Monica wasn’t there to scowl, though I wished she was. Even Tim Dalton showed up, which was weird since his granddad had had a heart attack on Monday.