Who's A Zombie?
"Mom! I'm home!" Marshall announced as if slamming the front door did not provide sufficient evidence of his arrival.
Mrs. Teller yelled from the kitchen, "Hi, sweetie. Something came for you in the mail, I put it on your dresser. Do you want a snack?" Considering he had just gorged himself on moon pies, Funyuns, and chocolate milk at Simon's house Marshall wasn't very hungry.
"No, thanks!" The lanky teen ran up the stairs to his room, curious about his mail. He didn't even bother to take off his backpack or heavy green jacket. He went straight to his dresser and examined the mysterious envelope. It was a large brown one and had no return address. The postmark was missing and it had no stamps, meaning that someone had placed the envelope directly into the family's mailbox. It was addressed to Mr. Marshall Teller in handwritten block letters. "Curious. Very curious indeed," Mars muttered to himself.
He carefully opened the flap, peeked inside and removed a large photograph. He gasped and stared at it intensely for several seconds. Finally, he flipped the photo over and saw what was printed on the back. "No freaking way!" Marshall dumped his backpack and stripped off his jacket before grabbing his walkie-talkie.
"Mars to minion, Mars to minion, come in minion!" Marshall and Simon could easily have phoned each other but communicating via walkie-talkie was much cooler and reinforced their sincere belief that they were actually super sleuths, detectives destined to expose Eerie, Indiana as the center of weirdness for the entire planet, if not the universe.
"Jeez, Mars, will you stop with the minion thing? It's insulting!" Simon sounded annoyed even through the hiss and static of the cheap radio.
"Never mind that, get your red headed butt over here, right now! You are not going to believe this, get over here now and bring your camera!" Marshall was unusually insistent. "It's about Dash, I know who he is!" The walkie went silent. "Hello? Simon?" Thirty seconds later the doorbell rang.
"I got it!" Marshall yelled as he bounded down the stairs two at a time. He yanked the front door open and grabbed Simon by the sleeve of his coat and hustled him up to his room. He shoved his young friend inside and slammed the door shut, locking it. Marshall's eyes were huge and he was so excited he felt like he had to pee but that could wait. He had to share this.
"Ok, here it is! Evidence beyond belief, something so amazing it will literally blow your socks off, something so incredible it will stun your mind and dent your brain, something so freakishly awesome it will make you laugh, make you cry, make you want to go to the bathroom, something …"
Simon cut off the older boy. "Mars! Get a grip! You always babble when you get excited, just show me what you have!"
Marshall escorted Simon to his dresser where the envelope was resting. He had replaced the photo and closed the flap. "You brought the camera, good man! Take a picture of this for the files, notice there is no postage and no return address."
Simon dutifully took a couple of photos with his instant camera then looked at Marshall. "Done. Now will you show me what the hell is in there?"
"In a minute, I hafta pee!" Marshall's bladder was about to explode and he ran off to the bathroom. "No peeking 'til I get back," he yelled over his shoulder.
"Arrrrrgh! Mars, you are nuts, I hope you know that!" Simon obeyed his friend's wishes and didn't look inside the envelope, instead he just stared at it, trying to gather as many clues as possible without peeking inside.
Marshall returned and seemed calmer. He told Simon to sit down and theatrically waved the envelope before his eyes. "Mr. Simon Holmes, prepare to be astonished." He opened it and removed the photo, it was a school portrait of a kid they both knew.
"Dash! It's Dash! Oh my god, Mars! It's Dash! Look at his hair, it's brown and his skin isn't all pasty looking, it's Dash!" Simon grabbed the picture and stared at it, looking for clues. "This has to have been taken before whatever happened to him, um, happened to him. He looks a little younger, too." He flipped it over and read out loud. "Jacob Anderson, Grade 8, Waterford School, Albany, New York."
Marshall complimented his friend. "You said he looked younger in the photo, good detecting! Check the date out, see, up here in the corner, two years ago. So 8th grade makes him 13, add two years and he's 15, that's what we always figured Dash to be, around 14, or 15.
"Mars, how the hell could a kid from New York end up in Eerie?" Simon turned the photo back over and stared at the image of Dash Jacob Anderson X.
"Hey, doofus, I'm a kid from New Jersey who ended up here in Weirdsville. The question is what happened to him. At least now we know who he is and we can track down his family. Maybe he's just a runaway from a bad home and he made up all that junk about having no memory."
"What about his hair and the marks on his hands? You think he actually dyed himself grey and tattooed minus and plus signs on his hands just to be mysterious? Seems like if he was a runaway he would want to have a low profile, not stand out." Simon wasn't buying it. "Was there anything else in the envelope or just the picture?"
Marshall realized that in his excitement over the photo he hadn't looked for more. "Dunno." Simon seized the envelope before Marshall could object and looked inside. "Dude, there's something else in here." He fished out a newspaper clipping and read it.
"Tragedy Strikes Local Family. Drs. Anthony and Janet Anderson and their 13-year old son Jacob were killed early Friday when their car apparently ran off Highway 9 near Latham under icy conditions and struck a tree. The Andersons were well known in the community for their work with orphaned and disadvantaged children. They operated the Anderson Clinics in Latham and Albany and served on the boards of several local charities. Jacob was a gifted student at the prestigious Waterford School and was president of the Albany Area Chapter of the National Honor Society, the youngest person to ever hold that office. He was the Anderson's only child. Services are pending."
Simon carefully handed the clipping to Marshall. The implications of what it said were not lost on him and he felt sick to his stomach. "Mars, he's a zombie! Dash is a freaking zombie!"
Marshall took the clipping, read it, and then carefully placed it on his dresser along with the photo and the brown envelope. "Simon, he's not a zombie! I don't know what all of this means or why Dash is the way he is but he's not a zombie! He's a really cool guy, he's totally screwed up but he's nice deep down and I really, really like him. You're always running him down, I think maybe you're jealous or something. He hasn't tried to eat your brain has he? Dash is no zombie! There has to be an explanation for all of this."
"Ok, Mars, chill, man. Maybe whatever turned his hair grey and put those things on his hands is what uh, brought him back, what's the word, um, resurrected him?" All of a sudden Simon said he had to pee. When he came back from the bathroom he looked sullen and his eyes were red. "Dude, I should go, my mom's on me about all the time I spend over here anyways and we have company coming for dinner. Are you going to show this stuff to Dash?" Simon knew the answer before he asked the question.
"Yes! I hafta show him, I owe him that much. Listen, just because I like Dash doesn't mean you and I aren't still best friends." Marshall saw that Simon was upset and playfully put his arm around his neck like he was choking him. Both boys laughed.
"See ya, Mars!" Simon smiled and waved as he left the room but Marshall had an uneasy feeling, a feeling that was about to get much, much worse.
Young Mr. Teller tossed and turned all night long. He got out of bed several times and paced up and down his room, he went back to bed and tried to sleep but couldn't. He wanted to ditch school the next day but knew he'd be caught so he made a plan to go to see Dash after class. Finally, around 4:00 a.m. Marshall collapsed on his bed and fell asleep. He dreamed about Simon and Dash and moon pies.
