Last Kids on Earth and the Midnight Blade. Max Brallier
olden days who were obsessed with bad dudes like Ŗeżżőcħ the Ancient, Destructor of Worlds. Evie found their old book, full of information and instructions. (It’s OK, though – we stole the book from her and now we have our own guide to Ŗeżżőcħ’s world of cosmic horror.)
“Guys,” I whisper, nodding towards the arcade snackbar, “I think that’s Ghazt’s real home base.”
“A villainous lair inside a villainous lair?” June asks. “How many villainous lairs does one interdimensional rat monster need?”
Quint responds, “The answer, it seems, is two.”
“If we’re gonna sneak in and crash their evil party,” I say, “we need to blend in like undercover super spies.”
I lock eyes with June – and she gets it, right away. We gotta take out these guards, triple-ninja- style, and steal their uniforms.
June nudges Quint. He pulls a wiffle ball box from his action-geek bag. But inside is no ordinary wiffle ball. Inside is the –
“I’ll roll,” Quint says.
“And I’ll take ’em out,” June adds.
With that, it’s meatball away. Quint bowls it towards the arcade. It rolls past the blue-cloaked zombie guards . . .
They look around, sniffing, then a moment later –
The guards stagger after the ball, hunched over, bony fingers grabbing and scraping. One finally collapses on to the ball, like it’s trying to recover a fumble in the end zone. All four of them begin gnawing at the thing – sucking on the wiffle meatball.
Bingo. A very gross bingo.
June smiles. “I got this next part . . .” she says, and lifts her torn zombie sleeve to reveal the Gift. I got it for her this past Christmas, and it’s a total monster knockout device. Also good for temporary zombie takedowns . . .
She cranks a wheel on the side, and then –
WHAFK! WHAFK! WHAFK!
Four blasts.
Four blue-robed zombies hit the floor.
We shove the zombies into a storage closet and slip into their robes. We look pretty legit!
I eye the entrance to the arcade. With the guards gone, all we have to do is slip inside.
But I hesitate.
Because it’s finally happening. We’ve searched long and hard for this foul, formidable creature that wants to rule over our broken planet. It’s now or never.
I steel myself. “In we go,” I whisper. “And remember: best zombie impressions ever. It’s game time.”
Hearts pounding, we push the doors open – going for total 007-level inconspicuousness, we shuffle inside.
And – well – we find the zombies, that’s for sure. Hundreds of them . . .
I’m trying to do a zombie version of “fly casual” – my face twisted to look undead, while simultaneously trying to give off a whole “Hey-how-you-doing-nice-party-come-hereoften- we-totally-belong-here-and-if-you’recurious-yep-we’re-definitely-zombies-no-reasonto- look-closely” vibe.
But it’s hard to be casual – because what we see inside here is so bananas insane . . .
This lair is huge and sprawling: a combined snack bar, arcade and bathroom.
Bits of light filter in through cracks and holes in the walls and ceiling. Vine-Thingies creep along the floor, glowing neon green and purple.
“Ghazt’s not looking so hot, huh?” June whispers.
Peering through the zombie horde, I see Ghazt.
June’s right – the general isn’t exactly awe-inspiring.
In fact, Ghazt now looks more like some sort of –
LAZY TUB-O-GOO CHEESE BEAST !
“He’s constructed a bed from nacho squeeze cheese,” Quint remarks. “How inventive.”
I’m so focused on Ghazt’s transformation that it takes me a moment to notice the weirdest weirdness going down.
The zombies inside this strange, dark base – they’re different.
“These robed zombies aren't just shambling about mindlessly,” I whisper. “They're, like, doing stuff.”
What we’re looking at, right now – it is mindblasting and world-alteringly new. These zombies aren’t just possessed – they’re productive . . .
At the movie theatre, we saw Ghazt move the zombies. And we saw the zombies carry him. But this is more than that – these are zombie servants. One’s even serenading Ghazt with bongo drums!
Honestly, it has the vibe of an almost cool but actually really awkward birthday party with a not-so-gracious host.
A few zombies shuffle to the side – and I spot it. The thing that we came for: Ghazt’s tail. The nasty, slithering source of his zombie-controlling power . . .
“Jack, we need to hide . . .” June whispers, tugging on my sleeve.
“This way!” Quint points to Dino Rampage – a vintage arcade game enclosed by a curtain.
We zombie-shuffle our way over – then quickly cram inside. Dino Rampage is built for two players, so the four of us are forced into an uncomfortable pile.
I feel heavy breathing on my neck – it’s Dirk, huffing and sweating with claustrophobia.
And I’m feeling the way Dirk looks. We’ve done dangerous junk many times – but this time we’re behind enemy lines, inside enemy robes! If we’re not careful – this will go south before you can say “zombie bowling league.”
Quint and I sneak a peek through the curtain.
And I see her. Evie.
She stands at Ghazt’s side. We can faintly hear her speaking into his shrivelly rat ear.
Evie nods. “Of course, but the sooner we release these zombies – the sooner they can DO BAD!” she says, her voice cracking. “There are human settlements to crush – and monsters to enslave. We could start in Wakefield.”
I gulp. Wakefield. Our home.
And human settlements. That could mean the people on the radio at the Statue of Liberty. That could mean every last survivor, everywhere.
Quick pause for a backtrack! For a long time, we thought we might be the only survivors of the apocalypse. But then, a few months ago, we found a radio and heard LIVE HUMAN VOICES and we were like, “Oh-Em-Gee-Whiz!”
There was a broadcast from an entire colony of humans hunkered down in