air. And then –
I feel the Slicer catch – like the blade and the zombie are connected by some strange magnetism.
And all around, it’s like someone hit the PAUSE button on this battle. Everyone’s looking at me. My arms are unsteady and there’s a zombie, frozen, braced to pounce . . .
I feel Ghazt’s power tugging at the zombie, trying to push it towards Quint.
“No . . . you . . . DON’T!” I cry out, forcing the Slicer downward.
The hovering zombie is thrust down, too. Its knees buckle and it crumples to the floor in a drooling, groaning heap.
From the corner of my eye, I spot Skaelka sneaking up behind Ghazt. I need to keep him busy for one more moment.
Ghazt’s icy rat eyes peer at me. Then the Slicer.
“Impressive,” he laughs. “But it will not be enough to defeat me.”
I shrug. “That’s cool. I don’t have to defeat you. I just have to distract you.”
Ghazt grunts, “Uh?”
And Skaelka swings . . .
Skaelka’s razor-sharp blade slices through Ghazt’s tail! The creature SHRIEKS. His eyes go wide and his face contorts into a “oh no now my tail is just a nub” face.
Instantly, every zombie STOPS. Their arms fall to their sides, stiff, like they’re awaiting orders. They moan quietly. Drool falls.
Suddenly, water sloshes at our feet – it’s old, grimy, and smells like someone forgot to flush. I realize Skaelka’s axe must have split the floor, too.
Ghazt wobbles back and forth. Without his tail, he’s off balance. He lurches to the side, then crashes heavily to the floor.
It cracks open even further.
I see a crisscrossing maze of pipes beneath the floor – and one massive sewer pipe, as wide as a train. The wood begins to crumble completely – like jigsaw puzzle pieces, falling away.
Ghazt’s paws slap, his gnarled nails scrape the floor – but that only makes it worse. Water rushes up around him.
He lashes out, grabbing Evie.
Her eyes lock on to mine. She’s stuck – and she knows it. She’s scared. But more than that – I can tell she looks mad. She forces a never-admit-defeat smile. And then they are pulled under . . .
And like that – Evie and Ghazt are swept up in the rushing sewer water . . . gone.
“Whoa,” I say. “Did we just beat the bad dudes? Already?”
“We beat these bad dudes – yeah,” June says. “The threat is over – at least for a while.”
I grin. “Rad. Mission Operation: COMPLETE.”
Quint approaches the severed tail. “Most important, we’ve removed Ghazt’s ability to control zombies.”
I glance around. Quint’s right. The zombies don’t move. They just stare at the tail. Eyes dull.
All of a sudden, Bardle comes sweeping into the room, stepping over the rubble.
Bardle doesn’t seem to be enjoying this. He’s not fist-bumping. He’s not feeling the awesome.
“Bardle?” I ask. “Why aren’t you feeling the awesome?”
“Yeah,” June says. “We crushed that!”
“Exactly!” I say as I give Bardle a big ol’ slap on the back. Which, I discover, is a bad idea, just awful, ’cause in a flash . . .
“Nope!” I say. “Totally not what I desire. In this dimension, a slap on the back just means, like, ‘Hey, cool, good times, buddy – friendly back slaps!’”
Bardle’s confused. “You slap for friendliness?”
“I mean – we don’t say ‘slap for friendliness’ because that sounds deranged. It’s just a – um –”
I’m trying to figure out how to explain when I realize – hoo boy – my hand stings.
It stings way worse than it should after a regular ol’ friendly back slap. It feels like I jammed my hand into a flaming bonfire or grabbed a handful of red-hot coals.
“Argh,”I moan, shaking my hand back and forth. Thankfully, Rover bounds over and showers my palm with cold slobber. The pain subsides some. “Thanks pal, needed that.”
Bardle grabs my wrist. Rover saliva splashes the ground as Bardle turns my hand over, examining it. He blinks quickly. “I suspect that using your blade to manipulate the undead causes it to become hot,” he says. “So hot that wielding it becomes near impossible.”
June stops walking. She cocks her head. Looks me up and down. Then she brings up the ninety-pound Dozer in the room. “Yeah . . .” she says slowly. “We should probably talk about the craziness that went down back there.”
Quint’s eyes are wide. “Jack,” he says. “You controlled a zombie . . .”
I kind of hoped no one would mention it, honestly. I feel a little numb. There’s this feeling like yay, that was rad, but also kind of like yah, this is scary?
“I, uh . . . I guess I did,” I say with a weird little shrug.
Quint, Dirk, and June surround me. Like I’m a specimen at a laboratory. Like I’m some new Jack. Some different Jack.
Then, all together, they explode –
“Wait, wait, hold up,” I stammer. “I feel like there’s a bunch of undeserved credit here. I didn’t do anything! The Slicer did! And the Slicer just happens to be mine! I mean, it’s just a Little League bat!”
Warmth creeps up my neck, across my cheeks.
“Aww,
