The Zombie in the Basement Read Online Free Page B

he was thin and he just made it. Ricky watched him slide in and step into the tall weeds. As Ricky watched, he half expected Eric to be attacked by a werewolf or a mummy. Some mythical creature that would jump out of the weeds and grab his friend, then
     
    drag him to its lair. These images were flooding his mind when Eric spoke up.
    “ Well, Ricky, you comin’ or what?”
    That broke the spell and Ricky came back to reality. “Huh? Oh, yeah, I’m comin’, keep your shirt on.”
    Ricky slid through the hole in the fence and almost got stuck halfway through. He was a little bigger than Eric, what with too many Pop-Tarts and potato chips. But he sucked in his stomach and popped through, losing his footing for a second. But his friend was there to help him and Eric caught him easily.
    “ You okay?” Eric asked.
    “ Fine, let’s get this done,” Ricky replied, not as confident as back when they had discussed this before dinner. Now that he was actually in the yard of the old house, things looked very, very different.

 
    CHAPTER 7
     
     
    WITH ERIC IN the lead, the two boys crossed the yard, the shadows even deeper under the overgrown trees. Their legs rustled the grass and a few stray stalks brushed their arms, causing them to scratch. Mosquitoes flitted about, seeking a choice piece of arm to sink proboscis in and have a feast.
    But it didn’t take the two boys long before they reached the house and the windows of the basement.
    Ricky took the lead now and showed Eric the window where he’d seen the zombie.
    “ It was right there, looking at me with its face all gross and stuff. Then it moaned and I took off.”
    Eric peered at the dirty glass. “Well, it’s not there now,” he said simply.
    “ No kidding,” Ricky replied. “It must be in there somewhere. We need to go inside.” Before Eric could
     
    reply, Ricky knelt down and pulled out his Swiss Army knife. He opened it so that the small blade was out and then he pushed it into the wooden frame of the window.
    While he worked, Eric leaned over his shoulder. “You know, Ricky, this isn’t right. We’re breaking into this house. That’s wrong.”
    Ricky stopped working and turned to look at his friend. Eric’s face was wreathed in darkness and he could barely see him.
    “ It’s only wrong if we we’re gonna do some damage or steal something, but we’re not. There’s a real live zombie in there and the only way we can prove it is to kill it and then tell the police. I don’t think anyone will care how we did it after it’s done, do you?”
    Eric couldn’t help but acknowledge Ricky’s reasoning. After all, it wasn’t like they could just go to the police and tell them there was a zombie in the basement. They would be called crazy kids with wild imaginations and sent on their way. So they had to find the zombie first, then tell the authorities.
    Eric leaned closer to Ricky, so close that Ricky could feel Eric’s breath on his neck. This continued for almost a minute until Ricky stopped working and turned to Eric. “Do you mind?”
    “ Huh? Oh, sorry,” Eric said and took a step back.
    “ Thank you, this is hard enough without you trying to give me a hickey,” Ricky joked.
    “ That’s gross; don’t even joke about something like that.”
    Ricky ignored Eric and went back to work. It was taking so long because the window was painted shut. After years of paint, the frame was one big piece of wood, with dozens of layers of dried paint over it. Ricky had to scrape along the line where frame met window until he could wiggle the knife in enough to try and pop it out.
    When he did this, he was rewarded with a groan of wood and paint chips, which fluttered to the ground like confetti.
    “ Hah, got it. No one can stop the master burglar, Ricky Meyers.”
    “ Don’t say it like that,” Eric told him. “We’re not burglaring anything. We’re gathering evidence for the police.”
     
     
    “ Oh, sure, of course we are,” Ricky said.