Miranda stared at Stanley in surprise. For as long as she had known him, he had always been the kind of boy who didn’t like taking chances. Now, suddenly, he was like some brave new Stanley Nudelman.
And the new Stanley Nudelman puffed his chest out some more and leaped fearlessly over the barricade . . . .
Unfortunately the new Stanley caught his foot on the table edge and landed with a faceplant on the other side. The knapsack slipped from his hands and the rest of the Widow’s taffy skittered away across the floor.
He peeled his face up off the floor to see the teddy of terror inching toward him. . . .
Stump!—scri-i-i-i-i-itch . . . Stump!—scri-i-i-i-i-itch . . . Stump!—scri-i-i-i-i-itch . . .
And the new Stanley Nudelman did the only thing he could think of under the circumstances. He bravely squeezed his eyes shut and screamed like a baby:
“Waaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhh—”
33
“—AAAAHHHHHHH—”
Stanley went on and on screaming as something was shaking him, and shaking him. . . .
“—aaahhhhhunnnnhhh?”
Stanley peeked out with one eye. It wasn’t Zombiekins shaking him, just Miranda.
Zombiekins, actually, had halted a few inches from Stanley’s nose to nibble a piece of the Widow’s taffy off the floor. Its fierce fangs made short work of the cement-like candy, devouring it without a trace in seconds, and Stanley trembled at such a terrifying display of lethal power.
But instead of coming after Stanley when it had finished, Zombiekins just uttered a happy little moan, sat back on its teddy-bear haunches, and closed its eyes like a smiling baby. Then it appeared to go to sleep.
Laying there, still and sleeping, Zombiekins looked peaceful and not-at-all-bloodthirsty. As if it was nothing but a harmless stuffy after all—in spite of its somewhat macabre, half-dead appearance.
Miranda gave Stanley another shake and he looked up. All over the room, the other zombies had stopped advancing and were standing around, chewing intently. The Widow’s taffy had halted them in their tracks!
Then something even more incredible happened. The first zombie began to twitch and jerk.... It shivered with strange convulsions . . . It bent forward, clutching its hands to its face . . . . . . And when the zombie straightened up again, he was Sasha Govay, no more terrifying or undead than your average fourth grader.
Sasha stared around him with a blank, confused look, like someone waking from a deep sleep.
Behind his back, the other zombies had started twitching and jerking too. . . .
“W-what’s happening?” Stanley asked, with a blank, confused look of his own.
“It was the taffy!” Miranda said. “You had the antidote in your knapsack all along, doofus!”
“How did you figure it out?” Stanley asked.
“I remembered what the Widow said when she gave it to you,” Miranda explained. “‘You never know vhen it might come in handy. . . .’”
But any relief Stanley and Miranda might have felt at being spared from having their limbs ripped off by zombies didn’t last long. Because as soon as the other kids had turned back to normal, they started asking questions. Very uncomfortable questions. Questions like “Where are we?” and “How did we get here?” and “Why does Bryce have a pair of scissors stuck in his chest?”
There was a heavy silence as everyone stared at the scissors jutting out of Bryce’s chest. Talk about awkward.
Luckily, at just that moment, someone at the back yelled, “Teachers coming! Everybody hide!”
Kids scurried for cover like ants. Just as the last of them were squeezing into cupboards or behind curtains, Mr. Straap and Ms. Mellow appeared in the doorway.
But Stanley saw at once they weren’t themselves: Mr. Straap staggered stiffly and awkwardly, with no more athletic coordination than an alligator on roller skates. And sweet-tempered Ms. Mellow gnashed her teeth and snarled with honey-toned strangled gurgling noises....
As soon as the zombified teachers saw Stanley and Miranda, their eyes flashed with a fierce bloodthirsty gleam and they came drooling toward them like hungry wolves . . . Zombie Ms. Mellow snarled sweetly... Zombie Mr. Straap stumbled over a bump in the carpet....
Behind their backs, kids slipped from their hiding places and tiptoed out into the hall.
“We’re dead!” Stanley squeaked.
“Relax,” Miranda whispered. “We have the antidote, remember?”
She dangled two pieces of the Widow’s taffy in front of her, and Mr. Straap and Ms. Mellow froze and sniffed the air like dogs.
“Stayyyyyy. . . .” Miranda ordered. Ms. Mellow and Mr. Straap obeyed, ogling the taffy with tongues lolling out of their mouths.