The Undertakers Read Free Page B

her right and began turning in a sloppy, frustrated circle around a leg that now seemed to have been rendered useless.
    Still trailing behind her, a bunch of beetles got stomped.
    â€œGet going!” Helene told me.
    Feeling numb, I obeyed, gingerly avoiding the shards of glass that lined the window frame like shark’s teeth.
    The outside air was crisp with autumn’s chill. The trees along Ridge Avenue were turning orange and yellow. Fifty yards to the left, the busy Shurs Lane intersection buzzed with late morning traffic. To the right—
    To the right, three more zombies rushed toward me from the direction of the school’s main entrance. They were all dressed like teachers and looked to be in varying stages of decomposition. One was so far gone that some of his body parts seemed about to fall off of him. Still he kept coming. They all did, closing in on me with terrifying speed.
    â€œ There . Catch . Boy . Kill . Girl . Catch . Boy .”
    I heard Helene exclaim, “Run for Shurs! I’m right behind you!”
    â€œWh-what are those things?”
    â€œJust run!”
    So I ran, looking over my shoulder long enough to see Helene spring through the broken window after me. Behind her, the remaining windows of our mathematics classroom were filled with the pale faces of frightened kids. Brian’s was among them.
    No test today, dude.
    We reached the intersection. The light was red, the traffic heavy. I stopped, panting and clutching a lamppost for support. Helene hardly seemed winded at all.
    â€œNow will you tell—?” I began.
    â€œKeep going!” She grabbed my hand again and pulled me down Shurs Lane in the general direction of home. “They’ll be spreading the word about us! We’ve got to get off the main roads!”
    A couple of blocks later, we turned left onto Mitchell Street, darting across the busy road and earning ourselves some angry horn blasts. Mitchell was a more typical Manayunk street, narrow and lined with houses. Through open windows I could hear TV’s and radios playing—the sounds of normalcy.
    After another block, Helene turned again and then again after that, leading us gradually downhill toward Main Street and the river. We ran until our hasty footfalls were all I could hear—well, those and my labored breathing.
    â€œWhere…are…we…going?” I croaked. She didn’t reply. Somewhere off in the distance, police sirens blared. I swallowed and asked a different question. “They’re hunting for us, aren’t they?”
    Helene treated me to a look that seemed to say Duh!
    â€œMy house is close by,” I offered. “My mom—”
    â€œNo,” she said flatly. “You can’t.”
    â€œWhy not? ”
    â€œThere’s no time to explain. Just—please, we have to keep going!”
    She led me down a series of alleys and side streets, all of which finally dumped us near St. John’s Church and the empty playground at Manayunk Park across from it.
    â€œThere!” Helene exclaimed. “Quick!”
    She crossed the street and vaulted the playground fence like a hurdle jumper. Feeling outclassed, I had to climb it. Once inside she yanked me wordlessly to the ground—and just in time too. Lying there in the bushes, we both watched as a police car buzzed slowly down Churchview Street, coming from the direction of the school. Its lights were flashing, but its siren was off. I could see two uniformed policemen sharing the front seat.
    The one on the passenger’s side was clearly dead.
    I almost cried out, but Helene clamped a small hand over my mouth.
    The police car slowed briefly in front of the playground. I could almost feel the corpse’s milky eyes scanning the empty swings and monkey bars. It made my skin crawl. Surely the thing had spotted us!
    The cruiser disappeared around the next corner.
    Pressed so close beside me that I could almost feel her heartbeat,