Zombie Read Online Free PDF Page A

Silence. Peace. Tranquility. A meadow. No sound
.
    “God, I love that smell. Smells like,” the beefy bitch says, staring into the distance, like a general surveying a battlefield. He says, “smells like freshman.”
    “Pussy,” another says.
    “Beaver,” another says.
    “Twat,” another says.
    “Cunt,” another says.
    “Snatch,” another says.
    Wow. We have a gaggle of thesaurus enthusiasts on our hands here. What original motherfuckers. If only I had a Minigun for a leg like Cherry Darling in
Planet Terror
, this would all be over. I’d mow them all down without even blinking.
    The five plaid monkeys drop me to the floor again. I land on my side. I lie there, experiencing the stillness and quiet. The floor is sticky and cold. Feet shuffle around me. Khaki-ed and corduroyed legs swing past. A fire alarm is on the wall, but no axe.
    I could pull the lever. I could sound the alarm. I could create a real chaos.
    The sixth plaid fuckface kicks my legs, bends over, and pulls off my shoes, throwing each in opposite directions. The plaid monkeys walk away like everyone else, goddamn guiltless and gutless, blending into the mass of sport coats and knots and off-colored khakis, jumping up on each other’s backs, slapping each other in the face, punching each other in the arm hard, screaming, “DEAD ARM.” The blond fuck turns around, walking backwards. He points at me, where I’m still lying on the floor. He smiles as another plaid monkey smashes into him, knocking him down the middle hallway.
    Brother Lee appears at the end of the hallway as the Plaids disappear. He narrows his eyes, then looks around for evidence, for someone to come forward with information, but my fellow faggots disperse. Not one faggot says a word. Like it never happened. Eyewitness amnesia. And this faggot takes the heat. Brother Lee snaps his fingers at me and I stand, still shoeless, like it never even happened. He shakes his head and taps his watch at me like he did with the girls from Prudence before he vanishes around the corner.
    Zombie Survival Code #3: Forget the past.

6
    I gather my shoes from off the floor, ripped from my feet and chucked down the hallway, each shoe in a different direction. The piece of paper with my combination is gone, disappeared, nowhere to be found. I slide on my shoes and am now an official enemy of my locker.
    A half-eaten chocolate donut with rainbow sprinkles lowers into my sightline.
    “Chocolate-chocolate, chocolate-dipped donut? Best fucking thing in the world.”
    I decline.
    “Suit yourself,” he says, taking another bite. His pants are dark khakis, not plaid, and this somehow puts me at ease. “Shake it off,” he says. “They’re not worth it.” The kid is short, my height, with buzzed black hair. His face looks like a mountain—craggy nose, sharp chin, bulging eyes, big floppy ears. His thin black tie falls short to the middle of his chest, tied in a perfect Windsor knot. “Don’t take it personally.”
    “Hard to take it any other way,” I say.
    “They love to pick on freshman.” He jams the rest of the chocolate donut with chocolate icing and white sprinkles into his mouth and then speaks with his mouth full. “Cam Dillard and his Plaid Lackeys. They are the sad benchmark by which success is measured here at The Hall.”
    “Is it that obvious that I’m a freshman?”
    “Obvious as a sledgehammer, but don’t take it personally. All you need to do is see Cam and them dance and you’ll feelvindicated.” He does the robot dance. “They look retarded.”
    “I’d like to see that,” I say.
    “The first Hall mixer is in a few days,” he says. “They’ll be there in all their plaid glory. You have to come and see for yourself.”
    “Jocks?” I ask.
    “Something like that.” He looks away. “Varsity soccer.” Then slapping his chest, he says, “My name’s Ryan, but people call me Zink. I’m the human sieve also known as the varsity soccer goalie.”
    “Jock?” I