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“Good!” Cordelia shouted. “Now take a deep breath and dive! Dive back into the water where they can’t shoot you or find you! Swim along the huge red bridge towards the shore on the other side. Then I’ll tell you how to find Brendan!”
Fat Jagger nodded one last time and then suddenly Cordelia and Eleanor felt their stomachs drop as Jagger dived deep into the San Francisco Bay, essentially becoming a living submarine. The two girls hung on to Fat Jagger’s huge molars for dear life as the colossus made a break for the Golden Gate Bridge.
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Deep within Fernwood Cemetery, Brendan Walker stumbled away from the zombie that had somehow managed to clamp its deadly jaws on to his forearm. Brendan yanked free from its clutches, and in the process tore off one of the zombie’s arms. But the damage had been done.
Brendan slumped down into a sitting position and looked at the gory bite wound on his forearm. This was it; he was a goner. Everyone knew the first rule of zombies: if they bite you, then you will eventually turn into a zombie.
He swore to himself. He had always believed he would thrive in a zombie apocalypse. He’d read instructional books, had escape routes mapped out, and had even drawn up construction plans for a fortress on the cliffs of Battery Crosby. Now here he was about to become the world’s second zombie, literally the worst you could do in this situation.
He looked up and noticed more zombies stumbling towards him. Some of the walking corpses looked much fresher than others. A few looked old enough to have even fought in World War One.
They continued to advance on Brendan. Didn’t they understand that he’d been bitten? He was already as good as dead.
He only had himself to blame. Not only had he failed to raise the spirit of Denver Kristoff, but he had somehow managed to accidently raise the dead! Brendan had just accidentally jump-started the end of the world with a zombie apocalypse.
But that didn’t mean he’d go down without a fight. The knowledge of his own impending doom erased any fear and replaced it with pure rage and courage the like of which he’d never experienced before. It was almost like drinking some sort of hero potion. It made him feel invincible – because, in a way, he sort of was.
Brendan leaped to his feet, still holding the zombie’s severed left arm. He stepped forward and reared it back like a baseball bat. Then he swung at the nearest zombie like he was back in T-ball. The zombie arm connected with its head and it flew into the trees at least fifty feet away, still groaning the entire time.
“Home run!” Brendan screamed, before pivoting and taking another swing at a different zombie behind him.
He connected again; this time the zombie’s head stayed attached to the neck, but exploded on impact like an old rotting pumpkin. Bone and dirt and dust sprayed everywhere.
“Gross!” Brendan yelled.
He whirled around swinging the severed zombie arm as fast as his injured arm would allow. Brendan stayed near the mausoleum since it provided protection on at least one side as more zombies began showing up.
Eventually, he climbed up the three stairs on the mausoleum. He looked around and then promptly dropped the zombie arm he’d been using as his weapon. From his new vantage point, he finally saw just how hopeless his situation had become.
The sea of zombies spread out around the mausoleum had grown to rock-concert proportions. If he weren’t feeling so hopeless, he might have even performed the Bruce Springsteen song “Glory Days” that had saved him back in Emperor Occipus’s Colosseum.
But, instead, he slumped against the ornate bronze doors and waited for the zombies to devour him.
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Fat Jagger came bounding into Fernwood Cemetery still dripping wet from the ocean water he’d been soaking in for the past ten hours. His mouth was open just enough for Cordelia and Eleanor to see outside so they could direct his movements. He’d been careful to avoid smashing any houses on the short walk there, just as Cordelia had instructed. But now, inside the cemetery, he was crushing people with each step.
“Oh, no!” Eleanor gasped. “He’s smooshing all those people! Wait … what are they all doing in a cemetery at three in the morning?”
“Those aren’t ordinary people, Nell,” Cordelia said, straining to see over Fat Jagger’s huge lower lip. “I think they’re … zombies!”
“But zombies aren’t real!” Eleanor said. “That’s impossible.”
“So is a colossus with two kids in his mouth walking around Mill Valley, California!” Cordelia reminded her.
Eleanor was about to admit that Cordelia made a good point, but was distracted by shouting somewhere far below them.
“Down here!” the tiny voice yelled. “Jagger, down here!”
“It’s Brendan!” Eleanor yelled, pointing to their left. “Fat Jagger, can you see Brendan down there? He’s in trouble! Save him!”
They saw Brendan on the landing of a white marble mausoleum, jumping up and down hysterically. There were hundreds of zombies closing in around him.
Fat Jagger closed his mouth to keep Cordelia and Eleanor from falling out and then reached down and pulled the entire mausoleum from the ground. Brendan clung desperately to one of the marble pillars. The bronze doors had burst off from the force of Jagger’s grip. The roof of the mausoleum crumbled.
Fat Jagger opened his mouth wide and shook the mausoleum over it like a box of sweets, dumping a screaming Brendan inside. Then Jagger closed his mouth and turned back towards the ocean.
A SFPD helicopter suddenly hovered down into view from the clouds above the giant. A man in a blue SWAT uniform sat inside the open door of the chopper. He raised a huge rocket launcher, pointed it at Fat Jagger, and pulled the trigger.
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Brendan fell into Fat Jagger’s mouth, not having any idea why his friend would eat him. Maybe Fat Jagger had become a colossus zombie himself?
In spite of the dizzying headache gnawing at the back of his skull, it didn’t take Brendan long to figure out that Fat Jagger had never intended to swallow him, even. Part of it was the fact that he was still in the giant’s mouth, sitting in a pool of gooey saliva on a massive tongue. The other clue was the arms of his sisters wrapped around him.
“Brendan, you’re alive!” Eleanor said.
“Did it work, did you manage to talk to Denver Kristoff?” Cordelia asked, getting right down to business.
Before Brendan could answer, the sound of a helicopter outside interrupted their reunion. Brendan had never heard a real rocket launcher being fired before, but he’d played enough video games to recognise the sound right before they were all tossed around inside Fat Jagger’s mouth from the impact, like toddlers in a bouncy castle.
Fat Jagger bellowed in pain. In the split second that his mouth was open, the Walkers saw a gaping and bloody hole in the colossus’s left shoulder.
“They’re going to kill him!” Eleanor shrieked. “Jagger, get back to the bay! You need to hide!”
Cordelia screamed too, but for an entirely different reason. Rising up slowly behind Brendan … was the Storm King!
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It wasn’t a spirit version of the Storm King. It was the real flesh-and-blood version. That much was obvious as they jostled and bounced inside Fat Jagger’s mouth as he ran back towards the bay.
Brendan spun around, yelped, and then quickly scampered over to Cordelia and Eleanor.
Fat Jagger dived back into the water, shaking his four passengers together like dice in a cup. Once the colossus was smoothly swimming through the bay and his mouth was settled, the Storm King climbed slowly to his feet again with a loud groan.
The Walkers scrambled away from him; towards Fat Jagger’s right molars. Their mobile phone flashlights cast an eerie glow on to Denver Kristoff’s rotting face.
“Denver?” Cordelia ventured. “I know we’re not exactly best friends or anything … but we really need your help.”
The Storm King had never looked worse. His normally putrid face was even more hideous than usual. If it weren’t for a few greenish flaps of rancid flesh clinging to his head, he would have basically just been a skull with hair.
The Storm King finally opened his mouth to reply.
“Graaanghhhhh!” the Storm King moaned. “Brrrraaaaoooohhhhrrrr!”
“Um, what?” Cordelia said.
“Oh yeah, did I forget to mention that I accidentally started the zombie apocalypse?” Brendan said.
“What are you talking about?” Cordelia asked.
“The spell did bring Kristoff back from the dead,” Brendan explained. “But it also turned his corpse into a zombie, along with the rest of the cemetery’s inhabitants. I must have used the wrong inflections or something …”
“Are you kidding me? Now what are we going to do?” Cordelia asked, panicking. “He was our only way out of this!”
“Let’s start by making sure no one else gets bitten,” Brendan said, standing up.
He’d watched enough zombie movies to know that they moved pretty slowly – plus, he’d already been bitten so he wasn’t nearly as afraid to attack a zombie unarmed as he normally would have been.
Brendan charged at zombie Denver and slammed his shoulder into the old dead guy’s chest. He wasn’t sure what he expected to happen – he considered for a moment that the decrepit old man might simply explode from the force. But zombie Denver didn’t explode. Instead, the old man went flying backwards into a row of Fat Jagger’s molars, a low moan escaping his green lips as he slammed into the teeth with enough force to cause Cordelia and Eleanor to look away.
Brendan tensed, waiting for the old man to get back up again. But he didn’t. Zombie Denver just stayed there, slumped against a pair of huge Fat Jagger teeth. Brendan took a few steps closer and then realised that the old man’s arm was firmly wedged between the teeth. He was stuck.
“Well, I think we won’t have to worry about him any more,” Brendan said, turning back towards his sisters with a satisfied grin.
“Nice check,” Cordelia admitted, her voice wavering. “But why did you say ‘no one else’ gets bitten?”
Brendan answered by showing them his infected and pulsating bite wound.
“I’m going to become zombie,” he said sombrely. “There’s nothing we can do to stop it. Pretty soon, I’ll be trying to eat your giant brain, Deal.”
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Instead of laughing at his joke, Cordelia choked out a sob.
Eleanor, meanwhile, seemed not to have heard Brendan at all. She just sat there staring at Denver Kristoff lazily struggling to free his trapped arm. He was more of a skeleton now than the rotting monstrosity he had been when he was still alive.
“I’ve got it!” Eleanor said suddenly. “I know how to fix this!”
“How?” Brendan asked. “It’s too late to chop off my arm to slow the infection …”
“No, and that’s disgusting, Bren!” Eleanor said. “I’m talking about the bigger problem.”
“Geez, Nell,” Brendan said. “Can’t you at least pretend to be upset like Cordelia? Or say you’ll miss me?”
“We have to get Fat Jagger back home!” Eleanor said, her words rushing out in a panic. “We have to somehow fix all of this! If not, more and more creatures and bad guys from the book world are going to come into our world and eventually destroy everything!”
“So what’s your big plan then?” Cordelia asked her little sister with more edge in her voice than she’d intended.
“I’ll explain later, there’s no time right now,” Eleanor said. “Fat Jagger!”
They felt him grunt in reply as he swam.
“Can you get to the surface and open your mouth?” Eleanor shouted.
Their ears popped as Fat Jagger ascended. They heard splashing as his head broke the surface of the water. His jaw hinged open slightly. A dolphin caught in Fat Jagger’s hair dropped into the water and swam off to safety. Eleanor looked out of the giant’s mouth and saw the pink haze of the sunrise on the ocean’s horizon. They were currently headed west, out of the bay towards the open Pacific.
“Turn left slowly!” Eleanor screamed over the sound of an approaching police helicopter.
Fat Jagger spun slowly. As soon as Eleanor saw what she was looking for, she shouted for him to stop.
“Go back down and swim straight ahead!” Eleanor screamed over the roar of the nearby helicopter. “When you get to shore, climb the cliff and look for our house.”
“You remember what it looks like?” Brendan yelled. “You’ve held our house before, Jagguuhhhhhhnn …”
Brendan looked confused as he opened his mouth to speak again.
“Urhhhh,” Brendan grunted, trying desperately to get the words out of his mouth. “Urgggghh?”
“You OK, Bren?” Eleanor asked.
Brendan lifted himself up slowly and Eleanor gasped. She wasn’t sure if it was the giant’s saliva, the seawater, or something else entirely, but Brendan’s face was now a pale shade of green.
“Cordelia?” Eleanor shouted frantically. “I think Brendan just turned into a zombie!”
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Cordelia instantly knew Eleanor was right; the pale twelve-year-old groaning in the centre of Fat Jagger’s mouth wasn’t their brother any more.
Brendan turned towards Eleanor and snarled, his jaw hanging open and his dead eyes unblinking. He limped forward, drool seeping out from between his teeth. His now-leathery greyish-green skin was filled with saggy wrinkles and festering welts, as if Brendan had aged a hundred years in a matter of seconds.
“It can’t be,” Cordelia pleaded desperately. “We were so close to the house. We were almost there!”
Eleanor ran into Cordelia’s arms as they watched Brendan slouch down against the wall of Jagger’s cheek. His skin seemed to tighten across his skull; he was looking more monstrous by the second. His head lolled to the side as a guttural groan escaped from his grey lips. Seeing their normally jovial brother just sitting there, looking so empty, gutted them both – it was almost worse than seeing him die. Their brother’s eyes, which once gleamed with mischievous humour, now lolled vacantly from side to side, a shade of grey that was even more neutral than inexistence.
“Is there a cure for zombie-ism?” Cordelia asked frantically. “Holy water? Penicillin? Aspirin?”
Eleanor, having watched one too many scary movies with her older brother, shook her head dejectedly.
“The only way to stop a zombie is by destroying its brain,” she said, fighting tears.
“I’m going to go and try to talk to him,” Cordelia said, unhooking Eleanor’s arms from around her. “Maybe if we can get him to remember us, he can turn back? Maybe it’s not too late?”
Brendan, still slumped against a pair of Fat Jagger’s massive teeth, looked up as Cordelia approached.
“Hey, Bren,” Cordelia spoke softly. “It’s me, Cordelia … Are you still in there, buddy?”
Eleanor peeked out from behind a molar, as Cordelia got even closer to their undead brother.
“Brendan, come on, I know you recognise me,” Cordelia said, now just a few feet away from him. “We don’t always get along … but it’s me, your sister, Cordelia. Can you say Cordelia?”
The corners of Brendan’s mouth slowly widened and his eyes glowed with life again, in what could have only been a sign of recognition. As Brendan’s lips parted further, it was clear to Cordelia that he was trying to smile! She reached out to help him up, and his smile grew even wider.
“It’s OK, Brendan,” Cordelia spoke softly, offering her hand for support. “I knew you could fight through it!”
CRUNCH!
