Undead (9780545473460) Read Online Free Page A

“He’ll only be a second. You said Mr. Taylor was moving really slowly —”
    â€œOh my god oh my god oh my god . . .” Alice runs blindly to the front of the coach. “Smitty’s outside? We can’t lock this thing?” A loud
clank
comes from underneath the bus and she screams. “He’s going to get in! He’s going to kill us!”
    â€œThat’s just Smitty.” I pull myself up to the hatch to make sure. Mr. Taylor is still on course. He’s not fast, but fast enough to make it to the bus if Smitty lingers. “Open the door and help him!”
    Alice looks up at me. “Are you totally mental? If you think I’m opening that door, you are living on Planet Crazy.”
    â€œYeah?” I jump down and push past her. “Is that the planet where everyone randomly drops down dead and teachers go all monstery? Because I think we’re already living there.” I’m at the door lever before she can answer back, and I thump it. It doesn’t move. I try again. No damn diff. There’s a bashing noise at the door. Alice screams again. It’s Smitty, waving desperately from the other side of the glass.
    â€œI can’t get it open!” I shout at him, trying the lever again. It refuses to move. I look at Alice. “Help me!”
    â€œNo way!” Alice backs down the bus aisle.
    Smitty is kicking the door now; then I see him bend. He’s trying to push the Open Sesame button on his side of the glass. My stomach flips as a dark shape looms into view behind him. Mr. Taylor has arrived. I lift my snow-booted foot and with an almighty force, kick the frickin’ lever like it’s responsible for every goddamn crappy thing that’s ever happened to me. The doors open and Smitty falls inside, snowboard first.
    â€œShut it!” he cries, but my attention is not on him. Mr. Taylor is filling the space behind him, roaring, fingers clawing toward Smitty, his bloody eyes straining from their sockets. I pull the lever back with all my might, but it’s bent. I must have broken it.
    â€œI can’t move it!”
    Smitty turns and whacks Mr. Taylor over the head with his board. Frankenteacher’s monster stumbles back from the door momentarily. I kick the lever again. Still stuck. With a deathly moan, Mr. T shakes himself — blood and saliva flying from his mouth like water from the fur of a wet dog — and attacks a second time. Blocking his way with the snowboard, Smitty tries to reach across and pull the doors shut, but it’s no good. I abandon the lever and, against every instinct in my body, hurl myself down the steps and tug at the doors. Smitty is holding Mr. Taylor at bay, but the teacher is a breath away — and I smell it, like rancid, rotting fish-sick. Suddenly there is a rush of wind above. Alice appears over the front seat barrier rail like some kind of avenging angel, whirls the binoculars around her head on their strap, and thwacks Mr. Taylor full on and fabulous in the face.
    â€œThat’s for the double detention, you moron!”
    He is still and perfectly upright for a second, then he pirouettes away from us, an arm and a leg making a graceful arc to the side, and falls softly into the snow and out of sight. The doors, finally free, slide deliberately into place. Smitty slots the board across them and collapses, panting.
    â€œWoo-hoo!” Alice punches the air with her manicured hand.
    The bus starts up with a jolt.
    The driver, awake now and rolling in his seat, reaches for the hand brake with his bandaged hand, and revs the engine violently.
    â€œStay behind the line, kids!” he gurgles.
    I cling on to the rail and the bus lurches backward into the Mini with a
thud
. The driver cranks the gear stick and we leap forward. There is a crunch, the bus stalls, and the driver passes out again and slithers out of his seat.
    I realize I’m huddled on the floor, my arms still clinging