My Zombie Hamster (16 page)

11:00 p.m
. I couldn’t sleep, so I thought I’d ask Charlie if she wanted to play Runespell PvP online. I went to Katie’s room and pushed the door open. Katie was fast asleep,
Moby-Dick
lying open on her chest.

But there was no sign of Charlie. I checked the rest of the house, but even as I did so I knew I wasn’t going to find her. She’d gone. She didn’t want to get us into trouble.

I wondered what to do. Wake Mom and Dad? Then what? Apparently, there was a curfew in place until the evil deadbeat had been caught. If anyone was found wandering around the city streets, he’d be arrested.

I returned to my room to think. An e-mail was waiting for me.

I had an idea where she might be. Back at the wall, she’d said that would be the perfect place for her to escape if she needed to. I wasn’t sure if she had been serious, but it was my only lead.

I ran out of the house and grabbed my bike,
pushing it across the lawn, checking along the road to make sure there were no Zombie Squad patrols. Then I set off.

I got to the marshlands where the pipes emptied out, and I jumped off my bike, hurrying through the boggy grass to the wall. It loomed above me, cutting the night sky in half. I looked around but couldn’t see Charlie anywhere.

I was too late.

“Up here.”

I looked up. Charlie was clinging about halfway up the wall. She wasn’t moving. She was still wearing the hoodie, pulled up to hide her face.

“What are you doing?” I shouted.

“Got stuck,” she replied. “Thought there were footholds all the way to the top. Guess I was wrong.”

“Shouldn’t you come down now?”

“I can’t. Matt, I’ve got to go. The longer I stay, the more trouble your family will be in.”

“I’ve been thinking about that,” I said. (And I had.) “Let’s go on the offensive.”

“What, like, attack the Zombie Squad?”

“No, not attack the Zombie Squad. How would that help? I mean, we go on a PR offensive. We go
to the papers. Or the news station. You go on air. You show everyone you’re not like the other deadbeats. That you’re still you.”

“Yeah, not really sure that’s going to work.”

“It might! Come down and we can talk about it. It’s our best bet.”

There were a few moments of silence, then she sighed and started to climb back down.

She dropped the last few feet and turned to face me. “So. This plan of yours. How—”

“FREEZE!”

The voice came from behind us, making us jump at least ten feet into the air. Lights burst into blinding life, five of them glaring into our faces. I reached out and grabbed Charlie’s hand.

“Do
not
move. Either of you.”

I knew that voice. Kilgore Dallas. The glare of light dimmed slightly as he walked in front of the powerful flashlights and came to stand in front of us. He frowned, then looked around, appearing a bit confused.

“Names?”

“Matt Hunter.”

He shifted his gaze to Charlie. “And you?”

I tightened my grip on Charlie’s hand. She
responded, then lifted her head high.

“Charlie Atkinson.”

Dallas frowned even more. “Is this some kind of joke? Ask me how much I like jokes.”

Neither of us said anything.

“I said, ask me how much I like jokes!”

“How … how much do you like jokes?” we both said.

“I don’t! Now I’ll ask again. Name?”

Charlie released my hand, then slowly lowered the hood, revealing her white face and gray eyes to Dallas.

“My name,” she said, “is Charlie Atkinson. And I’m a deadbeat.” Dallas opened his mouth but paused when Charlie raised her hand in a commanding gesture. “But as you can see, I’m very obviously a new kind of deadbeat. One who has intelligence, one who can think, speak. One who has friends. Also, this is partly your fault. I got scratched when the deadbeats invaded our camp.”

Dallas crouched down, staring hard at Charlie’s face. He reached out slowly, gently, and put a hand against her neck.

“Now ain’t this a right pain in the butt,” he said. He glanced over his shoulder at the Zombie Squad
still waiting behind him. None of them had lowered their weapons.

“I’m sorry, Charlie,” he said. “I’ve got to put you under arrest.”

“But you can’t!” I shouted. “You can see she’s normal. She’s like us!”

“Kid, she’s not like us. Besides, I’m doing this for her protection as much as ours.” He inclined his head to indicate the Zombie Squad, who had moved closer.

“Matt,” said Charlie. “It’s okay. Maybe we can still do your plan?”

I looked around in desperation, seeking a way out. But there was none. Dallas was right. If Charlie tried to run now it would only end badly.

“Come on, kid,” said Dallas, putting a hand on her shoulder. “My van’s just up the hill.”

He led Charlie off. The Zombie Squad moved aside, keeping their weapons trained on her as she passed them by. Charlie glanced over her shoulder once and gave me a small wave.

Then the night swallowed her up.

THURSDAY, JANUARY 30

When I got home last night the first thing I did was wake Mom and Dad up and tell them what happened. They went next door to give Charlie’s mom the bad news.

This morning we headed over to the police station next to city hall. Me, Mom, Dad, and Charlie’s mom. The police confirmed that Charlie was in one of their cells, but they refused to let us see her. When Mom started making a fuss, the police put a call through to city hall, and the mayor himself waddled on over, Pugsley the pug cradled in his arms. Dallas came in behind him. He stood at the rear of the police station, arms folded, looking really uneasy.

“I’m sorry,” said the mayor to Charlie’s mom. “I really am. But your daughter is a stinkin’ deadbeat, no offense meant, and has thusly lost all her rights to be treated as a human being.”

“But you can see she’s not like the others!” shouted Mom.

“I can see no such thing. Haven’t even laid eyes on the critter. Don’t want to.”

I looked to Dallas. “Tell him! You saw her. She’s not like the others.”

Dallas was silent for a moment, then unfolded his arms and nodded. “It’s true. She seems to be holding on to her intelligence. Who she is. She can still think.”

“That may be,” said the mayor smoothly. “But it’s out of my hands. Washington is sending someone on Monday to collect her. It’s all signed and sealed. I’d love to help, I really would, but I’m afraid I have a pet show to organize.”

He smiled a fake smile and hurried out of the police station. I saw him on the big patch of grass outside city hall, shouting at some workmen who were assembling a wooden stage.

“What are they going to do with her in Washington?” I asked Dallas.

He didn’t answer. But the look on his face didn’t fill me with hope.

“Can’t you do anything?”

“Sorry, kid. My hands are tied.”

FRIDAY, JANUARY 31

His hands are tied. Huh. Well, maybe
his
are, but mine aren’t. I got Aren and Calvin and filled them in on everything that had happened. Then we spent the day coming up with a plan to bust Charlie out of prison. Aim high or go home.

Hmm. Not bad. That will be the tagline when they make this into a movie. Or, “They took his friend. He took their lives.” No. Maybe not. I don’t actually intend to kill anyone. “They took his friend. He … took her right back.” No, that makes Charlie sound like a possession. Anyway, I’ll sort all that out later, once I’ve written the screenplay.

We headed over to city hall. The small park outside was bustling with activity, so we were
pretty much left alone to do our reconnaissance and sneakily film everything we could. The stage had been completed. It was even bigger than last year’s. The runway where the owners walked their pets was easily thirty yards long. The mayor was making sure his time in the spotlight was as long as possible. A huge tent was also being put up. Caterers were unloading plastic tables and chairs from huge vans.

We walked nonchalantly toward the police station, then headed around the back, filming the windows and even managing to check how secure the metal guards were over the glass. (Answer: very secure.)

I checked the Dumpster that was sitting against the wall. Inside was a load of junk. I grabbed an old plastic milk crate, slammed shut the lid on the Dumpster, and steadied the crate on top. Then I climbed up and peered onto the roof. Holding my phone up, I scanned the area, then dropped back to the ground.

Sneaking Charlie out the back in a
Mission Impossible
–style escape wasn’t going to be easy.

But I had a few ideas. I was sure I’d come up with a plan before tomorrow.

SATURDAY, FEBRUARY 1

6:00 a.m
. I’ve run out of time! I’ve been awake all night trying to come up with a concrete plan of action. I even scoured my old books and comics to see if there were any prison breaks in them that I could copy. There were, but they all involved some form of weaponry, and that was something I didn’t have access to.

It looks like we’re just going to have to wing it.

What I do know is that we need some form of distraction. A big one. One that will get all the police to leave the station so we can enter and let Charlie go. I mean, most of the police will be out on security duty anyway, covering the crowds at
the carnival and pet show. So it shouldn’t be that hard. Should it?

Anyway, here’s what I’ve got.