Zombiekins 2(8)
And that’s when the door to the hall swung open behind him!
Stanley spun around in a flood of embarrassment—which quickly turned to terror—
For there, standing in the doorway, was Knuckles!
“I thought I smelt you sneaking around in here,” Knuckles grunted. “Weirdo.”
“I-I was just looking for something. . . .” Stanley stammered.
Knuckles took two menacing steps toward Stanley and the door closed behind him. The noise it made in the echoey bathroom was like the stone door to a tomb slamming shut.
“You shouldn’t be in here, Nudelman,” he sneered, coming closer. “What if something bad was to happen to you? Ha, ha. . . .”
Stanley backed away in terror, cursing himself for letting Knuckles catch him off guard twice in the same day. But before Stanley could slip past Knuckles by creating a diversion, flee the building, change his name and move to Australia, Knuckles grabbed hold of him again.
And the next thing Stanley knew, his head was wedged under Knuckles’ armpit and he was staring down into a gleaming white toilet bowl.
“You know,” Knuckles said in a reflective tone, “I almost feel bad about this. . . .”
“R-r-really?” Stanley squeaked, a faint hope stirring inside him.
“Naw,” Knuckles sneered, pushing Stanley forward.
What happened next was all a blur. One moment Stanley was staring helplessly down at his own terrified reflection getting larger and larger . . .
Then a weird noise rang in his ears:
Stump!—scri-i-i-i-i-itch . . .
Knuckles stood up, yanking Stanley back. They both froze, listening. The noise echoed around the room like a rubber ball bouncing off all the walls. When it finally died out, they heard it again. Only this time it was closer:
Stump!—scri-i-i-i-i-itch . . .
Whatever was making the strange noise was in the next stall over—and sounded like it was dragging itself toward them!
Then they saw it....
Stump!—scri-i-i-i-i-itch . . .
From under the partition between the stalls it came . . . Staggering slowly toward them . . . Moving stiffly, with a pronounced limp . . . .
It was . . .
Zombiekins!!!
Obviously.
Like, duh.
Still, it was a shock. Even Stanley found the sight of it a little unsettling: The cold, dead eyes . . . the fierce, sharp fangs . . . the one floppy bunny ear. . . .
“Hey, isn’t that your doll?” Knuckles snorted in a mocking tone—but Stanley heard a nervous tremor in his voice too. “Why’s it following us like that?”
Knuckles backed out of the stall, dragging Stanley with him. Zombiekins just turned sharply and continued lurching in their direction.
“I-I don’t know,” Stanley replied. “I never even realized it was battery-powered.”
Soon they were backed up against a wall and Knuckles was holding Stanley in front of him like a shield. Still Zombiekins kept coming.
“Make it stop, Nudelman,” Knuckles whimpered. “Seriously, or else I’ll—hunh?!”
Zombiekins latched onto Knuckles’ pant leg.
“Get it off me!” Knuckles screamed, sliding down the wall. “Get it—AAAHHHHHHH!!!”
As Knuckles crumpled to the floor, his grip loosened and Stanley was able to break free and step away....
Knuckles’ eyes bulged and his mouth gaped open, but the only sound that came out was a sort of strangled gurgling—as if he was too choked with terror to scream.
For a moment, Stanley stood frozen in shock. Then, coming to his senses, he turned and bolted for the door. Behind him, the bathroom echoed with piteous smacking, smooching, puckering noises....
Stanley broke out into the hall just as Knuckles suddenly found his voice:
13
STANLEY BURST INTO HIS CLASSROOM. HIS HEART was pounding. His breath came in great heaving gulps. His head was spinning with everything he’d just seen . . . .
But his classmates were just working quietly at their desks. Nobody even noticed him come in.
“ . . . Agahgahgrrraaghagahgrraaghllhh . . . ” Knuckles’ wail echoed through the hall behind him.
Stanley started to slam the door, then caught himself and shut it carefully, with a tiny click.
Mr. Baldengrumpy looked up from his desk at the back.
Knuckles’ screams went on and on, muffled only slightly by the door.
“ . . . agahgahgahgahgahgahg . . . ”
Mr. Baldengrumpy gave Stanley a narrow look.
“You weren’t running in the halls just now, were you?” he asked accusingly.
“N-no, sir,” Stanley panted.
“I hope not,” Mr. Baldengrumpy replied, in a voice like he didn’t for one minute believe it. “Because you know we don’t run in the halls.”