I spent the next five minutes doing exactly what anybody else would have done after having a dream like that - lie there and try to remember what real life was. I hadn't closed my curtains last night, so a very sunny morning was illuminating the corners of my room. Outside, a few sparrows were chirping and in the distance I could hear a police siren.

Around my head, my pillow felt slightly cold and damp, even though my skin and pajamas felt dry. It was as if I had gotten a really bad fever in the middle of the night, then returned back to normal before I woke up. I propped myself up on an elbow after a minute, feeling numb despite the warmth of the bed, and rubbed the sleep from my eyes.

It was a Saturday morning, so I would usually be hurrying downstairs to catch my favorite cartoons at this point, but today, my digital clock was displaying the numbers 7:26. There wouldn't be anything good on for about an hour. I'd never voluntarily gotten up this early before, it must have been that dream.

That dream...

I didn't have the slightest idea of what I was supposed to make of it. The first part was freaky enough, but then hearing an ominous voice telling me I'm going to have to save the world and possibly die in the process… How do you react to something like that? Really, how?

Too restless to sleep in, I slid off the bed and headed to the bathroom. On weekends, I'm not usually ready for the day until well after breakfast was over, but I couldn't stand just sitting still. I process things better when I'm doing something.

I replayed the dream in my head like a movie while I showered, making sure I hadn't forgotten anything. I had no idea what that voice had been talking about, and I obviously wasn't sure if I should listen to it, but I was at least freaked out enough not to want to miss any details. By the time I was done, I had memorized it from start to finish, and I could recite the strange voice's words by heart. I began thinking about them as I watched the reflection of a freckled, dark-haired boy brush his teeth in my mirror.

"It has begun, Ninten."

What has, exactly? It mentioned the world being destroyed, is that what it meant? I've heard a lot of ideas about how the apocalypse is gonna happen, but I don't think anybody could have predicted we would meet our end at the hands of a lamp uprising. If that's the case, I'd better start carrying that handy baseball bat around if I plan on surviving much longer.

"None of you will live to see when it is finished", it had said.

Who's "you"? Me and my family? Me and these "friends" it was going on about? The entire human race? That'd be a little redundant, wouldn't it?

Feeling slightly queasy, I spat into the sink and went back to my room to get dressed. 7:53, half an hour to spare.

"Tomorrow, your journey will begin, whatever you choose to do."

Well, Dramatic Dream Voice, I thought to myself as I pulled my favorite striped shirt over my head, I'm not saying I believe you, but if you're telling the truth, I'm not going unprepared.

And so, feeling kind of foolish, I began to pick apart my pigsty of a room for things I thought a world-saving hero might need. Yeah, it was stupid, and I knew it was, but at the time I just chopped it up to reacting out of fear. I couldn't even remember the last time I'd had a dream with understandable words in it, let alone a fully-fledged one-sided conversation with... myself?

I don't know, it didn't matter. Maybe with all the crazy stuff that had gone on the last twelve hours, I guess I couldn't blame myself for acting along with it. And besides, I wasn't really going on an adventure, right? I was just doing all this to calm my nerves. Come tonight, I'd be asleep in my cozy bed, with no world at risk and no need to go out on a dangerous adventure to save it. Though, I admit, part of me did kinda like the idea…

It was exactly eight o' clock when I was finished. Wasting no time to admire my handiwork, I clambered downstairs and into the kitchen. Mom was down there, sipping her coffee and greeting me happily like always.

"Do you have plans for today?" she asked, taking notice of my clothes and wet hair.

"Nah, just the usual stuff, riding my bike to the park and such."

I switched on the TV, only to find it in the middle of a commercial break.

"You don't usually get up this early, honey, is something wrong?"

I began pouring myself a bowl of fruit loops, not wanting to meet her gaze. The old book tucked away upstairs had crept its way into my mind

"Just had a messed up dream last night, that's all."

"Oh, I'm sorry to hear that."

Before she could ask me what it was about, two identical redheads, each wearing identical purple nightgowns, came pattering in.

"Good morning, girls."

"Morning, Mommy."

"Mommy, what's this?"

Minnie was holding up a little black box, about half the size of a hamburger. I recognized it as the thing she had found inside Cupid Doll after I decapitated him.

"Let me see, sweetie... Oh, it's a music box!"

"Who would put a music box inside a dinky old toy?" I wondered aloud.

"Play it, Mommy! Wind it up!"

The box was empty, there wasn't a spinning ballerina in it or anything like that, but it still played. Barely, at least. After letting out the first five notes of a broken tune, it abruptly fell silent.

"Oh, that's too bad..."

"Can you fix it, Mommy?"

"Yes, fix it, Mommy, fix it!"

"I'm not sure if it can be fixed, honey, see that part there?"

She pointed into the box's mechanisms.

"Thats where the rest of the notes should come from, but it's broken off now. A shame, really, it sounded like the a pretty song..."

It must have been, because, for some reason, I couldn't get the tune out from the corner of my mind all morning.

By the time I had mounted my bike and was on my way into town, an early spring sun had risen high overhead, and the dew that had dotted the grass overnight was now beginning to dry. Mick was busy chasing a bumblebee in circles around the yard, and the pair of sparrows whose chirps I had heard when I woke up were now hard at work building a nest. It was these sort of weekends, I thought, that made Podunk a slightly more than decent place to live.

Podunk had been established about one hundred years ago, and I liked to think that it had grown steadily right up until the 1950s, where it suddenly froze in time through some cosmic accident, and remained so to this day. Every single house had a weathervane and a rosy pink flowerbed, which were very taxing on my sisters' allergies this time of year, and there were probably enough burger joints to keep the entire town's population fed a dozen times over.

I had decided that day that my first destination would be the video store, to renew a game rental for a third time, then play baseball with myself until lunch. I would have enough money left to pay for a sandwich, and, if there was time, spend an hour or so at the arcade. Overall, an extremely normal Saturday was spread out before me, except for the fact that it was apparently my first day as a world-saving hero. This sense of normality, however, was very short-lived.

My first warning came in the form of one of my neighbors, Miss Lindgren. As I was pedaling past her house, I looked over to see her pacing around in her yard, raising a tremendous fuss. She was clutching a handkerchief to her face and letting out cries of "Oh me, oh my! Oh me, oh my!" in an almost stereotypical display of distress. I stopped on my bike and watched, both concerned and curious. Miss Lindgren was a very nervous young woman who hardly ever left her house or spoke to anybody, so something unusually bad must have happened to send her into this state.

"What's the problem, Miss Lindgren?"

"Who..?! Oh, it's you..."

Maybe now aware of the scene she was making, she scampered over to her porch and sat on the steps. She was hiccuping back sobs now.

"You're... y-you're Cynthia's boy, aren't you?"

"Yeah, that's me."

As you can see, weird names were sort of a thing in our family.

"Oh, I'm d-dreadfully sorry for disturbing you, it's just... it's just..."

"Yes...?"

Suddenly, she let out a terrible wail.

"My dear Pippi has gotten lost! She's gone and gotten herself somewhere all secret from me again, and I just can't seem to find her anywhere!"

"I'm very sorry to hear that..."

Little Pippi Lindgren was about the same age as my sisters, and the three of them often had playdates together.

"Have you checked the entire house?"

What I wanted to ask her was "Have you checked anywhere other than the house?", but I felt that'd be too mean.

"Oh, yes! In all of her usual hiding places too!"

"Well, I… I'll keep an eye out for her, then."

I couldn't say it, but I really wanted to leave. It's not that I didn't care, I just wasn't exactly sure how I was supposed to help.

"Oh, thank you!" she sniffled, dabbing at her eyes, "If you're going into town, please tell the mayor for me, alright?"

I didn't really see this as something worth alerting the mayor about. Pippi had quite a record for causing mischief, and many of her antics were done for the sole purpose of watching her mother panic. Vanishing for hours at a time only to pop up out of nowhere perfectly unharmed, I was sure I'd heard about her doing that at least twice before. All the same, though, I couldn't just let her keep worrying.

"Of course I will."

"Oh, bless your dear little heart!" I heard her call as I sped off into town.

The man in charge of the video store was a college-age guy named Chase, who used a lot of hair gel and always wore a shirt with a giant robot on it. I liked Chase; he wasn't boring or forcefully professional like the people at the drugstore or burger joints. He liked to laugh and make jokes, some of them actually funny, and he was always happy to give opinions on what games were worth renting and what game were just garbage. When I came in to do my re-rent, he understood immediately when I told him that I honestly would be finished by now if it weren't for homework, and that pesky mad knight boss.

"Just use 'Stopspell' on him your first turn, he'll be a piece of cake after that." he advised as he handed me back the cartridge.

"Thanks, Chase, I'll see you soon."

I turned to leave, then he spoke up again.

"Hey, is it true, by the way? The ghost thing I've been hearing about?"

I stopped.

"... What?"

"Oh, just some weird... phantom thing, supposedly going around messing with people."

"Wait, who told you this?"

"Loads of people, one chick even told me it tore her whole house down. I dunno, I was just wondering if there was an early Halloween celebration happening that I'm missing out on."

"Not that I know of, no..."

So it wasn't just us, then...

"By the way, if you're going to go practice somewhere," he gestured at the bat sticking out of my bag, "Steer clear of the cemetery, I heard a bunch of punks are causing trouble there."

It sounded like a strange comment to make, but the cemetery was the closest thing Podunk had to a park. It was grassy, open, and very big, not because a lot of graves were there, but because there was a lot more space between them than necessary.

"I will, man, thanks."

Questions started buzzing around my head again as I rode across town. Exactly how widespread was this 'poltergeist' problem going to turn out? Had our house really seen the last of it? If it really had torn up that person's house... Chase had sounded unconvinced about it, but he hadn't witnessed one of the attacks first hand like I had. Were we one of the luckier victims? And if I'm apparently the one that's going to stop all this, exactly how do I stop something possibly happening all over the country? The world, even?

Something roused me from my thoughts, and at first, I wasn't sure what. Nothing noteworthy was reaching my ears, just the usual bustle of the town. Then I remembered; I was approaching the pet store, normally, I should be be picking up the sounds of animals. Not wanting my curiosity left unsatisfied, I put on the breaks and stepped back onto the sidewalk.

Under the big red sign that simply read "Pets and Supplies" (You really didn't need to be that creative with names in Podunk), the store windows that should have been the home to restless puppies and kittens now looked strangely empty. At first I thought some nutty old lady had come in and bought them all over the week, but once I entered the store, that possibility seemed very unlikely. Every single cage in the store was open and empty. The metal wire doors were all hanging off their hinges, the glass lids had all been shattered, and here and there, a display had been knocked over or bag had been spilled. It was clear, by the looks of things, that some sort of mass breakout had just taken place.

"Oh, did I forget to turn the sign off again?" said the wizened old store owner, who looked incredibly downcast. "I'm so sorry, my boy, but we are... out of stock at the present time. Unless you want to purchase a leash or something..."

"Oh, I don't wanna buy anything, sir, I just wanted to know what happened."

"I really can't say, boy. All the animals were perfectly happy this morning, then, out of nowhere, something made them all start going cuckoo. They started hitting themselves against the walls of their cages, and... well, I didn't want them hurting themselves. So I started letting them out, thinking they were feeling too cooped up, but then the next thing I knew, all of them had escaped and gone running out the door."

"Was it rabies or something?"

"Couldn't be that, we made sure they'd all had their shots." He sighed and pressed his hands to his temples. "It's not just them, either. I saw on the news this morning, pets all over the place are starting to act nutty. Something... strange is happening, I think. Sonething only they can sense."

Something like the end of the world, by any chance?

Feeling slightly sick again, I glanced around for something to change the subject with. I quickly noticed a birdcage sitting behind the owner's desk, which appeared to be the only one still occupied. There was some sort of animal sitting quietly inside it, though, from a distance, I couldn't tell what it was.

"What's in there?" I asked, pointing.

"Oh, in there? It's a canary chick; maybe a week old or so."

He picked up the cage and set it down carefully on the counter. Inside it, sitting on a pile of shredded newspaper, was the most miserable looking creature I'd ever laid eyes on. Its wrinkled pink skin was protected by only the thinnest layer of fuzz, leaving it shaky and naked looking. Its glassy black eyes looked too big on its head, they probably opened very recently, and its wings were little more than elbowed stubs. As I watched, it shifted its head toward me and let out a pathetic little chirp.

"He's the only one that didn't try to escape, poor thing," the store owner explained as I poked a finger through the cage bars. "Some girls about your age brought him in yesterday, and as you can see, he's not in good shape."

And I immediately had a guess as to where they must have found it. I'd be sacrificing my lunch money, but I think an empty stomach would feel a lot less painful than watching the thing suffer.

"How much is he?"

"You want to buy him...?"

"I think I know where he used to live."

"Oh, then just take him. He won't last any longer here than anywhere else."

He opened the cage door, carefully fished the bird out, and handed it to me, free of charge.

"Maybe now I can get a new start and officially convert this place into a Petless Pets and Supplies store."

Now, if you're wondering why I immediately knew where the bird must have come from, or why there are domestic canaries living wild in Podunk in the first place, here's what everyone always tells me: For as little as I know about my great grandparents, I do know that they owned a lot of songbirds. Apparently, it was something everyone looked forward to when visiting their house, being able to enjoy their compsmy while surrounded by canary song. So after the two of them vanished into thin air, and once everyone had finally agreed to stop waiting and give them both a proper funeral, they decided to bring the birds along as part of the service. It helped them remember what it was like when they were still alive, I guess. Anyway, in an act of finality, they set all the birds free as soon as the funeral was done. They must have expected them to just fly away, but for some reason, they all wanted to stick around. So now, nearly eighty years later, their great great great grandbirds are living happy, predator-free lives in the Podunk cemetery.

So, yeah, I guess it was sort of stupid of me to go wandering into somewhere I was told not fifteen minutes previously to steer clear of. Part of me kinda knew this, but I reasoned with myself that if I was supposed to stop whatever it was that was threatening the world right now, how much of a problem could a few trouble-making seventh graders be, really?

More of a problem than I thought, by the looks of it, because the cemetery was completely trashed.

And I don't mean it was full of garbage, like graffiti and broken glass and other stuff you'd expect to see when teenagers cause trouble, I mean it literally looked like a small hurricane had hit the place. Broken branches and chunks overturned dirt were littered everywhere. Even though it was the middle of April, the trees looked like they had each shed about half their leaves, leaving them looking all scrawny and misshapen. Here and there, I saw a grave that had a corner nicked off or an angel was missing one of its feathers. Nothing too devastating; I could have still believed it was just a bunch of hormonal idiots who had done it, but it just didn't give off that sort of feel. Despite it being... well, a cemetery, I had never really felt gloomy whenever I went there. Maybe it's unfair to say, since nobody I knew was buried there, but to me, the Podunk cemetery was just a good place for me to practice ball and listen to the sound of birds, nothing else.

Speaking of birds, I still wasn't having any luck finding the canary nest. If it had been blown off like everything else in the trees, I really didn't think I could talk mom into keeping him. If things went anything like they did with Bacon the goldfish, he wouldn't make it past his first molt as long as he and Minnie shared a roof...

"Hey! Hey!"

I looked up. It was coming from the church I had just passed by.

"What're ya doin' out there, kid? Get inside!"

A chubby, middle-aged guy was poking his head out the front door, gesturing frantically for me to join him. He looked familiar, but I couldn't place a name.

"Get inside, now! Before they get ya!"

"Before who gets me...?"

He sounded like it should be incredibly obvious.

"'Before who gets ya?!' The zombies, of course!"

I blinked.

"What…?"

"Just get inside, kid!" Despite the absurdity of his words, he sounded absolutely sincere. "I'll be the one getting blamed if they get another one!"

More confused than ever, I walked up the steps and entered the door. The wacko who called me inside, who I finally recognized as the church's janitor, locked it tightly behind me.

"Dang things already got a little girl with 'em, can't let 'em gettin'-"

"Hold it, hold it. What is going on, exactly?"

"I wish I could tell ya, kid. They showed up early this morning, right after I came here to fix the pipes, and I've been stuck here ever since."

"Zombies...?"

"Yup."

"As in... zombies?"

Had the whole world gone crazy while I was doing my homework last night or something?

"Oh, call 'em whatever you want." The janitor replied. "If it's slow, wants to eat ya, and has a surprisingly good sense of direction despite being braindead, it's a stinkin' zombie."

"W-wait… are they the ones that wrecked the graveyard?" I asked.

"Well, it obviously wasn't the local butterfly population, was it?"

"Then you can go home if you want to," I said, feeling relieved. "They're just a bunch of high schoolers trying to cause trouble."

"They bit me!" he retorted, holding up a hairy arm. There was a bruise shaped like a set of human teeth, but no broken skin.

"Do ya call that normal high school behavior?"

Being only in the sixth grade, I could not answer that.

"Well, look, I can't stick around here." I held up my hat, which I had been using to carry the baby canary. "I have stuff I gotta do, and-"

"Hey, where'd ya get th/at bird?"

It was a weird shift of focus, but at least he had stopped his zombie lecture.

"The pet shop, why?"

"Oh, just makin' sure you hadn't kidnapped him. Me an' the pastor have been keeping an eye on his nest, see."

"You know where it is?"

"Well, yeah, but it's in the middle of zombieland now. You wouldn't last half a minute if- Hey, there's one of 'em!"

I had been facing away from a window as we talked, and at those words, he rushed over to look through it. I pivoted around to do the same, curious to see what these so-called zombies looked like.

To the janitor's credit, 'zombie' was the first word that came to my mind when I saw how the person wandering outside was acting. He had an entirely blank expression on his face, like somebody who just got lobotomized. (I don't know what "lobotomized" actually means, but I've heard it used in movies, and he definitely had that sort of look.) His feet were dragging mindlessly along the ground as he walked, leaving his shoes coated in dirt. He wasn't holding his arms out in front of him and groaning or anything like that, but the way he was moving still suggested he was a member of the undead. What broke this idea, though, was the way he looked. Other than the copious amount of mud covering his face and clothes, he looked like a perfectly healthy human being. He wasn't bleeding or oozing out of anywhere, and aside from a particularly bad case of acne, his skin looked completely normal. Nothing about his looks suggested he was infected, rotting, or sick in any way.

"That's what you're freaking out about?," I scoffed. "I've seen more convincing zombies in math class."

The janitor retorted, but I wasn't paying any attention. As if he had heard my comment, the zombie guy stopped in his tracks and looked straight at me. My stomach dropped. Putting it into words is hard, but there was something a little... wrong about the look he was giving me, like he was trying to get a glimpse at the back of my skull. Then after a few moments, he turned in the direction he came, and shuffled off.

It went against my better judgement, but I had a hunch...

"Hey, where are ya goin'?" asked the janitor, interrupting himself.

I ignored him, then felt a meaty hand grab my arm.

"Where d'ya think yer goin', kid?"

"Out."

"Oh, so you have a death wish? No way, kid, yer stayin' here until the zombies are gone."

"I told you, they're not zombies. They're just a bunch of idiots trying to win a bet or something."

"Yer not goin'," said the janitor with a note of finality, "There'll be no youngsters gettin' their brains eaten on my watch."

So, that better judgement I talked about when I had my hunch?

Yeah, that was kind of a lie too. In truth, I have pretty much no good judgement to go against with in the first place. In fact, I'm pretty sure the only reason I've lived as long as I have is because I've never been faced with a situation that's lead to something dangerous. Until today, of course.

As soon as the janitor guy had sulked off to use the bathroom, though not before giving me one last warning about the zombies, I was back outside without any hesitation. The zombie couldn't have gone far at the rate he was going, I thought, so I shouldn't have any trouble following him. I wasn't exactly sure what I'd find when he reached his destination, but if my hunch was correct, it'd be worth getting there.

It was a very slow process, following behind a zombie without being noticed, but he eventually lead me to the opening of some sort of underground crypt. I hadn't met a single other person, living or dead, my entire way there, so my belief that this was all some sort of joke was strengthened even further.

After conveniently leaving the door open, the zombie guy entered the crypt, his muddy shoes clunking against the steps of a ladder. After giving him a little headway, I stepped out from my hiding place to follow him, when a familiar cheeping caught my attention. I looked up.

Six feet above my head, tucked away in the branches of a walnut tree, was a twiggy little bird's nest. Inside it, twittering loudly for someone to drop a worm down his throat, was a tiny canary. It was almost identical to the one in my hat, who, as if recognizing the sound of his brother, lifted his head and let out a feeble little squeak.

I hesitated at first thinking I was losing time, until I realized that there was no reason why the zombie would really go anywhere.

I needed both hands to climb the tree, so I did the most rational thing I could think of: putting the hat back on my head with the canary still curled up inside. He started tugging at my hair a little, but seemed to be safe and secure. The tree, thankfully, had enough footing within reach for me to climb it. After reaching the branch and seating myself, I carefully took the bird off my head.

"There you go, little guy," I said as I settled him into the fluff lining the nest. "Now don't go flinging yourself out again, okay?"

No sooner had the words left me when human scream, so sudden and loud I almost fell out of the tree, shattered the pleasant silence. For a second, I thought it was one of my sisters, but no, they should still be at home. It was somebody about the same age, though, and it was coming from the door zombieman had just gone down. Feeling a little more scared, but also a little more determined than I was a moment ago, I clambered down from the tree.

Here's a shocker: I'd never been in a crypt before, so I had no idea what to expect. Judging by the length of the ladder, I was standing about ten feet below ground. After another descent down a flight of stairs, I found myself in a rather uninviting stone room. It probably hadn't been touched in years; cobwebs were snagging on almost every surface, and there was so much dust in the air I was reaching for my inhaler in a matter of seconds. There was no illumination except for a single gas lamp by the entrance, probably lit just now by the zombie guy. And sitting on the floor, in neat rows as far as the light would let me see, were dark wooden caskets. Quite a creepy place, I'll admit, but I really think the zombies could have afforded to be a little more creative.

I hadn't brought my flashlight; it had been among the things I had put in my backpack that morning. And, since I hadn't totally bought into the idea that today was the day I would save the world, that backpack still sitting on my bed at that point. Looking back on it now, I have no idea what I was thinking, but I can't really blame myself for not being able to foresee a situation that would involve me poking around in a crypt.

Anyway, because of this dumb move on my part, I had no way of finding my way around, so I was pretty much confined to a few feet around the entrance. I did, however, have something to defend myself with should I need it. Out of habit, I had been mindlessly carrying my baseball bat during my pursuit of the zombieman. So, gripping it a little tighter, I did the best thing I could think to do.

"Uh... Hello?"

No response.

"Okay, look, the joke's over. I admire your persistence and everything, but it really isn't funny anymore. Trashing the place is one thing, but I'm pretty sure biting people crosses a line that'll end up getting you arrested."

Still nothing. Not only did I sound stupid, the growing paranoia was making my skin crawl.

I wasn't sure what I was trying to accomplish; there was no chance any of them would take orders from a wheezy middle schooler. After listening for a second, though, I did hear something. It sounded like a thudding against wood, and it was coming from further in the room. My eyes had adjusted to the dark by now, so I could see one of the coffins shaking very slightly. Working up the faltering remains of my nerve, I tiptoed over to it and put my hand on the side of the lid. Then, keeping the other hand tight around the handle of my bat, I opened it.

The frightened, freckle-covered face of a girl looked up at me. I recognized it immediately.

"Pippi?!"

"Mmmggph!"

She had a gag over her mouth.

"Pippi, how... What are you doing down here?"

"Mmmnnnggff!"

I had been so surprised to see her, of all people, that I hadn't thought about freeing her. When I did so, however, I regretted it almost instantly.

"Oh, goody!"

She latched onto me like a starfish and started talking at a million miles an hour with her notoriously loud lisp.

"I juth't knew th'umbody would come and th'ave me! I dunno what your name ith, but I know who you are! You're Mimmie and Minnie's big brother, that'th who!"

"Pippi, shut up!"

"You muth't be pretty brave, huh? Coming in here with all thoth'e creepy people around-"

"Shhhhh!"

I clamped a hand over her mouth. She struggled, still trying to talk, but I wasn't paying any attention. The moment she had piped up, I got the feeling somebody had to be listening to us.

"Save it, Pippi, we need to get out of- Eurgh!"

In an attempt to free herself, Pippi had actually licked the palm of my hand. I'm not typically squeamish, but she was one of those really unhygienic type of kids that often got accused at school of carrying cooties. I don't believe in cooties anymore, but I still didn't want her getting her mouth on me.

Then, all around us, we heard movement. My noise of disgust must have finally sounded the alarm. My bat slipped from my hand with a soft clatter, and Pippi suddenly went very still.

There were more of them; dozens more. The crypt had been completely filled with people the entire time I had been down here, it had just been too dark to see. Among them, I recognized the acne-ridden teenager I had followed in, but he was only one amongst every sort of person imaginable. Little kids who looked no older than Pippi, silver-haired old grannies and grandpas, men and women around my parents' age, boys and girls around my age, tall people, short people, fat people, scrawny people, people of every race and in every style of clothing. And each one of them was just like the first: limp, muddy, and expressionless, but otherwise normal.

They stopped moving once they had us surrounded. Then they just stood there, staring silently at us like security cameras. Forcing myself to stay calm, I slowly reached down and grabbed my bat from the floor, still keeping my eyes on our onlookers. Pippi remained strangely quiet.

My mind was completely blank with terror and confusion. Any belief I had left that this was all a joke had seeped out of me by now, but what other possibilities were there? They couldn't really be zombies, could they? They'd be rotting to bits if they were, and if it was some sort of virus or whatever, then wouldn't the janitor be... What am I saying, zombies aren't even real!

My heart was now throbbing against my ears as we waited for something to happen. The door was blocked off by a punk-looking girl and a guy with dreadlocks, neither of which looked like they wanted to let us pass. If they attacked, we'd last about a minute. If I attacked first, maybe thirty seconds at best. The seconds stretched on. The hand holding my bat felt clammy. Part of me, the small part of me that was never very focused, noticed that the zombies could still blink.

Then, as if one of them had given a silent command, all of them were on us.

Sad to say it, but I would have been creamed right then and there had it not been for Pippi. I was able to knock one of them out cold with my bat (They could still feel pain, apparently), but even as I did, three more of them had grabbed me. Slow as they were, they seemed to have all the strength they had while still regular people. Fists and shoes started hitting me from all sides. Teeth were biting me, nails were scratching at my face. One brutal-looking biker zombie grabbed my arm and seemed determined to pop it right off, but Pippi intervened before he succeeded. For some reason, none of the zombies were paying her any attention, and she was using this to her advantage. Small as she was, that kid was surprisingly fierce. Even still, though, there was no way we'd last long. For every zombie who got a head bashed by my bat or a nose punched in by Pippi, another one followed to take their place. The fact that they were so... not dead-looking didn't help either; I can't even tell you how horrible I felt knocking out the old lady zombie. Within about a minute, I was completely overwhelmed. They all pinned me to the floor and intensified their attacks, still trying with all their might to bring me to a slow, painful end. Pippi screamed and tried pulling one of them off.

"Pippi, get out of here!", I shouted.

"But-"

"Just get out!"

But Pippi wouldn't. Despite the fact that her tiny fists barely made a scratch on the barrage of zombies slowly beating me to a pulp, she still wouldn't leave. Well, fantastic, then at least I won't die alone.

I remember thinking to myself "Well, that was a short, stupid adventure." I hated having to give up fighting, but once my bat had rolled out of my hand, there was nothing left for me to do except cover my head and wait for the zombies to either get bored or beat me unconscious. Pippi was shrieking louder than ever, and I hoped and prayed that somebody would hear her. Then a pair of hands found my throat, and I plunged into a fully-fledged panic.

I remember screaming, louder even than Pippi was. I remember my limbs tucking in tight to my body, desperately trying to shield myself. And I remember fear; paralyzing, mortal fear, blotting out every other thought in my head.

Then... well, I can't exactly describe it in words, my memory of it is sort of a blur now, but I think my brain switched into some sort of autopilot. My vision was suddenly nothing but a burning white, as if a very bright sun had appeared in the room. I was aware of my hands tensing into fists, of the hairs on my arms standing up, of something that felt like a powerful gust blowing my hair and clothes...

Then the pain stopped. Somehow, all at once, they were gone. Under normal circumstances, I think I would have been too sore to move, but my body still seemed to be acting almost on its own. I rose unsteadily to my feet, not taking in anything from my surroundings except for Pippi, who looked stunned.

What happened? What did I do?

I grabbed her hand and made a dash for the exit, which now seemed to be clear.

What's going on? Why did the zombies stop?

I could hear movement behind us as we climbed the ladder. I urged Pippi to go first, and she obeyed, looking almost scared. As I clawed my way up the ladder, I felt something grab my ankle, but it was free after a well-aimed kick. Then I was in the open air, and felt hot sun stinging my eyes. Not wasting a second, I slammed the crypt door shut and bolted it. Then, feeling my newfound strength suddenly leave me, I collapsed.

If you've ever had the snot beaten out of you by a gang of bullies, then maybe you have some sort of idea how I felt. Just replace the bullies with bloodthirsty zombies and multiply their numbers about six or seven times. Every inch of me ached horribly from an even layer of bruises, my mouth and nose were both bleeding, and every breath I took hurt thanks to the damage done to my ribs. Nothing was broken, thank God, but I probably wasn't going to feel normal again for weeks. But I was, at the very least, alive. Alive and safe. I could hear the zombies pounding at the door behind us, still trying to get to me, but the bolt held. Another second later, I heard a soft creaking, followed by a loud crash and a tumbling of bodies. The ladder, overrun by too many zombies, had fallen over.

After recovering for a bit, I managed to get to my knees. Pippi was still staring at me like I had just dropped out of the sky. One of her ratty orange pigtails had come undone, but she didn't seem hurt.

"That... wa'th..."

Suddenly, she latched onto me again, crushing my already bruised ribs.

"Aweth'ome!"

She began babbling, giving all the details about exactly how awesome I was, but I wasn't paying any attention. Pippi had seen what had happened, she should be able to tell me...

"Pippi...", I started, spitting out a blob of blood.

"I hope I can do th'tuff like that when I'm bigger!"

"Pippi, what did-..."

"Tho'the th'tupid z'thombie people didn't even know what-"

"Pippi, I appreciate it," I said, pulling her away from me and looking into her face "But what exactly did I do?"

Pippi looked puzzled.

"You dunno?" she asked, cocking her head to the side.

"No, I don't. I have no idea how I did it either, but what exactly did it look like?"

She dug a pinkie into her ear, thinking.

"Well, firth't you kinda th'tarted... acting funny..."

"Funny how?"

"I dunno, I couldn't th'ee you too well. Th'o, you were acting funny, then when you yelled, there wa'th this great big 'Whooth'sh!'," she spread her hands out in a 'whoosh' gesture, "Then the z'thombies went flying!"

"Flying?"

"Uh huh!", she nodded vigorously, "Flying like they got hit by a train!"

I stared at her.

"Then what...?"

"Then you got up and got uth' out.", she explained. "All the z'thombies hit their head'th real bad, th'o they couldn't get uth'!"

She turned to the crypt door and called at it in an annoying, singsong voice.

"You hear that, you th'tupid z'thombies? You can't get uth'! You can't get uth'!"

She blew a raspberry at it, giggling. I just sat there, taking in the words she had said to me.

"Oh, by the way, I got your bath'eball bat," she added, gesturing at the grass beside her. I looked at it, stared for a bit, then looked back. Pippi's freckle-ridden face was still split into a massive grin, oblivious to my pain and confusion.

Then I stood up. It hurt like crazy to move, but I couldn't just sit there the rest of my life.

"Hey, where ya going?", Pippi asked as I turned to pick up my bat.

"Home," I replied simply.

"But what about my mom?"

I stopped.

"Th'e's probably worried th'ick about me!"

"Yeah, she is..."

I can't remember the last time I wanted to be home so badly, but what could I do?

"Okay, come on, kiddo" I sighed, holding out a hand, "I'll take you home."