Page 67 of 10 Things I Hate About Zombies

‘Go, Ainsley.’ He leaned over to crack open the passenger-side door. ‘Hop up.’

Zoey climbed in, giving Alice a hug as she buckled up.

‘I love her mushroom bandana,’ she said approvingly. ‘She’s a stylish girl.’

Nick pulled out into the street, cruising slowly to avoid groups of pedestrians and a worryingly large murder of crows who definitely looked like they were on their way to commit said murder. His phone dinged with about thirty family texts; he tried not to grimace.

‘Almost as stylish as my sisters,’ he said, adding, ‘who are extremely excited about meeting you after the Naked Bike Ride, as you can see.’

Zoey clapped her hands over her eyes. ‘Oh God, what have you told them about me?’

‘Mostly lies,’ said Nick. ‘It’s up to you to set them straight. It’s a family tradition of ours.’

‘Is it too late to say I’m washing my hair?’ asked Zoey, with a tug on her ponytail.

Nick nodded. ‘Short of a major medical emergency, your attendance is required.’

‘Okay, but you’ll need to give me some crib notes so I can study.’

‘They’re not going to grade you, you know. Well, Larissa might. But it’s a pass/fail situation, so I wouldn’t stress too much.’

Zoey’s hazel eyes scrunched in amusement. ‘Sure, except her fail usually means someone ends up in prison.’

‘That’s why we have an appeals system, babe. Okay, I think we’re here, right?’

‘He was somewhere along here.’ Zoey waved at a street of colourful craftsman houses decorated with wind chimes and giant planters filled with garden gnomes. ‘Near a mailbox shaped like a pitcher plant. Apparently they have a heck of an issue with returned mail.’

‘Returned, or digested?’ asked Nick, as he parked the truck next to a Radio Flyer wagon filled with peaches. FREE the fruit, read a handwritten sign next to it.

‘You’re welcome to put your hand in and test it,’ teased Zoey, as she climbed down. ‘Wait! There he is!’

Two emerald eyes flashed behind a hedge.

Nick and Zoey raced over, trying to spot the wayward Romero before he disappeared.

Mrow!! came a feline battle cry. A black cat thundered past, hiding beneath the truck and then making a break for a massive thicket of rhododendrons.

‘Should’ve brought my gardening gloves,’ muttered Nick, as he reached into the bushes for the furious cat. Green eyes scowled at him, their rage underscored by a series of hisses.

‘Is it him?’ Zoey crouched for a better look.

‘I mean … it’s a black cat,’ said Nick. ‘Does he have any other distinguishing features? A collar or something?’

Zoey sighed. ‘No, he’s … just a cat. There have definitely been a few times that everyone on the street was feeding some other cat thinking it was Romero. But surely this is him? The green eyes. The homicidal intent. He was really pissed off the last time I saw him.’

Nick shrank back as a sharp-clawed paw lashed at him.

‘Do you know what set him off? Is he up-to-date on his rabies vaccines?’

Zoey nodded. ‘He’s had all of his shots. The neighbours all banded together to make sure it happened. But the only thing I can think of is … he got into a mushroom smoothie. The first batch. I was worried the mushrooms would make him sick – I got on the phone with poison control that evening and everything. They said to monitor him, but, well, Romero is his own person. Own cat.’

Nick swallowed. A strange series of threads was starting to come together for him, but he couldn’t quite figure it out.

‘Zoey, what if he’s not sick? What if he’s a …’ He hesitated, because the word felt so silly on his tongue. But they’d danced around the topic before – maybe it was time to properly bring it up. ‘A zombie?’

Zoey took a step back, just in case. She squinted down at where Romero was rustling and hissing. ‘Can cats even be zombies? And also … how? Did he get bitten by some other cat zombie? Mean George? Is Mean George a zombie?’

‘I don’t know,’ said Nick. ‘I don’t know who the Ur-zombie – the original zombie – would be.’