App of the Living Dead by Kim Harrington

Author:Kim Harrington
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Sterling Children's Books

The front door to the library was unlocked, so we pushed it open and tiptoed inside.

“You think Mrs. Dorsey is here?” Marcus whispered.

I nodded. “She played the game, so she must have the sickness. She tends to come in early, even before opening hours, because different groups meet in the event room.”

I pointed to the bulletin board on the wall, which showed all the groups that held their meetings in the event room downstairs—from sewing circles to book clubs, Scrabble tournaments to the Teen Advisory Board. From the looks of the note on the wall, the Teen Advisory Board was supposed to meet yesterday before school to vote on next month’s movie night selection.

Marcus said, “She probably came in even though she wasn’t feeling well, to unlock to the doors. And then . . .” his voice trailed off.

My favorite librarian was somewhere in this building, and she was a zombie.

The library was quiet—even more so than usual—which was good. We didn’t need to deal with zombie Mrs. Dorsey and a whole bunch of zombie patrons.

We moved past the eerily empty checkout desk. The bank of computer terminals sometimes had a waiting line but now they were all empty, their screensavers swirling.

A shuffling sound from the stacks caught my attention. Marcus and I looked at each other.

“The Mystery aisle?” he suggested.

“I think it’s closer.” I pointed. “Sci-Fi.”

We edged toward that aisle, peeking around stacks of books. The grunting noises got louder as we neared Sci-Fi. We stopped right before the aisle’s opening. My heart sped up. I pulled out my phone. My finger trembled as I held it above the screen, waiting to swipe.

Marcus readied his phone as well. He looked at me and I mouthed, “Now!”

We jumped into the row, startling Mrs. Dorsey, who was indeed a zombie. Her head was flopped to the side, and that face I’d always found so warm and welcoming was now slack and terrifying. Her gray eyes flared as she lurched toward us.

Marcus and I stood shoulder to shoulder—well, not quite because he was so tall—but we took up the whole row. We swiped, quickly and efficiently, tossing cures at Mrs. Dorsey as she got closer and angrier. One arc of red light hit her arm and she lashed out, knocking a pile of books from the shelf to the ground. A zombie horror novel fell on my feet.

Fitting.

We launched again and again until finally one of our shots was a direct hit.

Mrs. Dorsey stopped moving, a stunned expression on her face. She gazed at us, recognition dawning. “Bex? What just happened? I feel like I have a hole in my memory.”

“You were a zombie,” Marcus said, matter-of-factly.

She swayed on her feet, from shock, the illness, or a combination of both. I knew that the extreme fatigue was hitting her hard, and we only had a few minutes before she’d be asleep.

“The new game, Zombie Town, turned all the players into actual zombies,” I explained. “And when they bite others, they turn as well.

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