Whew ... that had been the most awesome experience of his life.

You know, Bubba, I need to pay you to work here. 'Cause if women like that came by often, even if they were total head cases, he definitely wanted a job. Forget Liza and her store that was usual y frequented by little girls and their moms. He wanted to work in Hot Woman Valhal a until he died of testosterone poisoning.

Letting out a low whistle of appreciation, he pul ed the stakes off the counter and wondered who or what had bled on them. With Bubba's friends, there was no tel ing.

He put them in one of the plastic bins Bubba used for intake items and left a note with her name and the instructions she'd given him.

As he started back to the computer, the door jingled again.

Reversing course to return to the counter, he tried not to be frustrated with the interruption.

It was Madaug from school.

"Hey, bud, what's up?"

Madaug also leaned over the counter to look into the back room-it just wasn't as cool as when Tabitha had done it.

Which was probably a good thing from Nick's way of thinking.

"Is Bubba around?"

"Nah, he's sleeping upstairs. Can I help you with something?"

"No, I guess not."

Nick noticed the fact that Madaug was real y distracted and fidgeting. Like something heavy was on his mind. "You wigged out about what happened at school?"

"Wha-no ... not exactly. Wel , maybe. Kind of. Look, I real y need to get a hold of Bubba when he gets up. It's real y important."

Nick gently scratched at his injured arm. "Yeah, okay. Want to leave your number and I'l have him cal you?" Madaug reached for the pad and pen by the register. He quickly scribbled his number on it, then handed it to Nick.

"Please don't forget. It's really important."

"You got it."

Madaug hesitated before he let go of the paper and stepped back. He cast one last wistful stare to the back room, then left.

Okay, the boy was even more insane than Tabitha had been. Too many sniffs of the formaldehyde jar in their biology cla.s.s. His brain must be pickled. Either that or Stone and crew had bashed him against the lockers one time too many and given him a ma.s.sive head injury.

Whatever ...

Nick tucked the note into his pocket and started back for the computer.

He'd barely reached it when the door chime rang again.

"Son of a ..."

What now? He growled low in his throat before he headed back to the counter to see who needed Bubba this time. No wonder Bubba was so cranky. If this was a taste of Bubba's typical day, it explained much about the surly redneck.

Nick paused as he saw three members from his footbal team walking around the store like they were looking for something. He didn't know their names, but he recognized their faces. Second-stringers like Stone, they were even more aggressive against "nerdy" kids. The kind of p.r.i.c.ks Nick spent al of his time avoiding and the kind who slammed poor Madaug into lockers, then laughed about it.

But the weird thing was they were sniffing the air like dogs chasing prey. It was epical y creepy.

"Can I help you guys?" Nick asked.

The tal est, a guy with brown hair and a smile that ought to be used to sel toothpaste, stepped forward. His jacket had the name biff on it.

Nick bit his tongue to keep from baiting him over that name.

His parents must have real y hated him. I'm here to serve Bubba, not get my b.u.t.t kicked by oafs.

Biff stepped closer. "Nerd boy? Where he?" Okay ... sad that they couldn't even form a complete sentence. See what happens when you abuse steroids?

Dudes should have read the warning label. First the p.e.n.i.s shrinks, then the sentence structure deteriorates. Next thing you know, you're climbing to the top of the Empire State Building, swatting at planes with your oversized fists.

Granted you'd be there with a seriously attractive blonde, so even being a monster freak had some perks. ...

But that was neither here nor there.

"You looking for Bubba or Mark?" Nick asked. Nerd definitely applied to either-or since they were the kings of computers, B-movies, video games, and science.

"Nerd boy!" He grabbed Nick by the shirt and hauled him over the counter to stand in front of him.

Cursing as pain shot through his injured arm, Nick slugged him hard across the face, but he didn't seem to even feel it.

"Let me down, you animal. So help me ..." The jock buried his nose against Nick's neck and inhaled.

Nick screwed his face up in distaste. "What are you? A pervert? Get your sick hands off me." He kicked him hard in the groin.

Biff doubled over. "He smel s like nerd boy. Get him!" They moved forward, licking their lips. Oh c.r.a.p! They were zombies, too.

Nick jumped the counter and ran for the back room where Bubba kept an ax ... just in case. Bubba had never said what that case was, but this seemed like a real y good time to grab it. Not to mention it was the only weapon in the store that Nick could use with one hand.

He angled it at the first jock to reach him-this one named Jimmy according to his jacket. "Dude ... back off 'cause I wil chop you. Hard."

Jimmy hesitated.

Feeling c.o.c.ky about holding him off so easily, Nick strutted.

"Yeah. That's right. You don't want no piece of me. I'm bad ah-"

His bravado ended when they attacked en ma.s.se.

c.r.a.ppola . . .

Hefting the ax, he swung at the first jock to reach him. The ax landed in a case, shattering it. Gla.s.s fragments flew al over them as Nick pul ed it free for another strike.

But before he could angle it at them, Biff bit him in his good arm.

He cried out in agony, then head-b.u.t.ted the jock. He used the top of the ax to shove Biff back into his friends. Then he turned in one graceful arc and c.o.c.ked his arm for another ax swing.

"What in tarnation is going on here?" Bubba s.n.a.t.c.hed the ax from Nick's hand. He angled it at Nick like he was about to use it on him. "Boy, have you lost your ever-loving mind?

Tearing up my store. Smashing my things ... You're lucky I'm not beating you with the ax handle."

Nick gestured to the jocks. "Bubba, they're zombies!" He held his arm up for Bubba to see the blood. "And they're trying to eat me!"

Bubba cursed. "Wel , why didn't you say so?" Biff sank his teeth into Bubba's hand-something that was the equivalent of stepping into a den of rattlesnakes.

Bubba punched the jock so hard, Nick swore he could feel it.

Biff stumbled back as the other two opened their mouths to hiss at them.

"Freakin' zombies!" Bubba returned the ax to Nick's hand, then grabbed a shotgun off the wal . He pumped a bul et into the chamber and took aim for the head of the jock closest to him.

The jock's eyes widened as he realized Bubba was about to blow him into his next lifetime. Shrieking, al of them turned and ran out of the store with an inhuman speed and a freaked-out gait.

It was like something out of Resident Evil mixed with zombie chimpanzees.

Bubba ran toward the door to get a better shot at them.

Before he could think better of it, Nick grabbed the shotgun right as Bubba fired. The barrel swung wide and instead of hitting the jocks, the shot blasted a huge hole right through the eyes of the picture of Bubba's mama that hung on the wal near the register.

Nick stared at the hole in absolute terror. Ah G.o.d. I'm so dead.

Bubba real y loved his mama.

And he'd shot her right between the eyes. ...

The look of Satan's wrath on Bubba's face nauseated him.

"Bubba ... I'm so sorry."

He stalked Nick like a hunting lion out for dinner. "Not half as sorry as you're gonna be. Make me shoot my mama. Boy, what are you thinking? What the hel 's wrong with you?" Nick had to stop retreating as he backed into the wal and had nowhere else to go. He held his hand up to stop Bubba from slaughtering him. "I couldn't let you kil them."

"Why ever not?"

"For one thing it's il egal ... hel o? You think the police are going to buy it was a zombie attack? I don't think so. And for another they're my cla.s.smates. c.r.a.ppy cla.s.smates, but stil . I have enough trouble coping at school. I'm pretty sure kil ing three members of the footbal team when we're coming up for a championship would ruin my rep forever." Bubba snorted. "So what? In case you didn't notice, boy, your cla.s.smates are zombified. Had I not come down here when I did, they'd be ripping out your entrails and chowing down. So you ought to be thanking me, not shooting my mama in the head."

Nick swal owed his panic as he realized Bubba wasn't choking him. Yet ...

"I know. But ... they weren't dead. How can they be zombies if they're not dead first? Ain't that the first step?" Bubba hesitated. "Wel , that does pose a dilemma to us technical y. ... But only in the traditional sense of the word."

"How do you mean?"

Bubba scratched the whiskers on his cheek. "We're a.s.suming their bokor raised-"

"Their what?" Nick hated whenever Bubba used one of his freaked-out words.

"d.a.m.n, boy, don't that school of yours teach you anything useful? Bokor. The person who creates and controls a zombie. What rock you been living under not to know that?" Some people would probably cal that rock "reality," but Nick valued his life enough to keep that sarcasm inside. It was hard ... but after shooting Bubba's mama, he needed every advantage.

Bubba rol ed his eyes before he continued his explanation.

"Most times bokors use corpses, but they don't have to.

There's been lots of studies of chemical-induced zombies who weren't dead first."

Maybe that was true. But Nick wasn't buying it. "Yeah, but what if this is like Resident Evil and it's the Mother Virus coming to take al of us out? What then? Huh?" Nick stared at his bite mark as reality sank in and his panic overtook him. The virus always started with a bite ... Zombie Zero. The first mark who started the apocalypse.

And he was the one.

"Man, first I'm shot, now I'm going to be a friggin' zombie. At this rate, I'l never live to have my first date or a driver's license. Ah, gah! I've come too far to die a pedestrian virgin.

Bubba, you can't let me die ... I only have seventeen more months and three days to my sixteenth birthday!" Bubba cuffed him on the back of his head. "Man up, boy, and stop with that Hol ywood c.r.a.p. Zombie ain't contagious.

You live in N'awlins, Nick, and I've been fighting them for decades. The only way to become a zombie is to be made one by your bokor." Bubba paused as if another idea occurred to him. "Now demon bites ... that's a different story. But them weren't demons in here. They were zombies. Plain and simple. So stop freaking out before I shoot you." Nick took deep breaths to calm his racing heart. "Are you sure I can't catch it?" He couldn't even believe he was asking that. This had to be the most bizarre conversation of his entire life, which, given the usual weirdness of Menyara, was saying a lot.

"I'm positive. Believe me, I know my zombies." Nick scoffed. Is it just me or is that like saying I know my elves and fairies? If it wasn't for the fact Bubba might kil him, he'd say that out loud.

"I stil think we ought to disinfect the bites. Just in case it's some military-designed bioweapon."

"Disinfect what? What did I miss?"

Nick turned to see Mark entering the store. Yawning and scratching, he joined them from the door that led to Bubba's upstairs apartment where he'd been asleep on Bubba's couch.

Nick sighed in agitation. "See what you miss by sleeping late? Me and Bubba got bitten by zombies. I say they're contagious. This morning only one of the kids in my school had it. Now, I just got attacked by three more. It's spreading and it's going to infect us al . We need to do something before it takes out al the good-looking women and leaves us with only each other. Cal out the National Guard or the CBC or something."

Bubba scowled at him. "The CBC? Is that one of those new anime people?"

Nick rol ed his eyes. "No. It's that place where they talk about diseases and quarantine people when they're contagious."

"Bubba, Nick means the CDC in Atlanta." Bubba made a sound of disgust that originated in the back of his throat.

Mark, who was barely a head tal er than Nick, was stil dressed in his zombie-hunting ghil ie suit. Fluffs of Spanish moss jutted out from al the places where he'd tucked it in his clothes so that he'd blend in with the bayou. His face was streaked with camouflage paint and he wore yel ow-colored contact lenses that had a rim of red around them.

Zombie eyes.

Also for camouflage.

But that wasn't the worst of it. As he stopped next to Nick, there was an odor so foul it took his breath.

Nick covered his nose to keep from being sick over it.

"What is that smel ?" It was like three-day-old cat vomit mixed with rotten asparagus.

Mark scowled at him as if he was crazy for even asking.

"Duck urine. It keeps the zombies from thinking I'm human." Nick snorted. "Yeah, wel it keeps me from thinking you're sane."