Page 92 of Wicked Hungry

And they move fast — not as fast as me and my friends, but there are more than a dozen of them and only three of us. Before I know what’s happening, they’ve shambled into a circle, surrounding us.

Zach stands in front. “It’s almost showtime, boys,” he says. “Are you ready for the big detox?”

He’s obviously crazy. But at least he doesn’t have my brother’s cat.

I have to look on the bright side, especially as we’re surrounded by spastic zombies. Zach, though, just stares at us, quiet and still. Why am I more scared of him than of all the others?

They are almost in arm’s reach, but Jonathan mumbles something and I growl, and then Enrique shouts out in surprise. I look toward him and his pocket seems to be on fire.

The jaguar figurine.

He reaches a hand in and pulls it out and the zombies shriek and groan as he moves it about. Zach covers his eyes.

“To me!” says Enrique.

We huddle close, and then we run.

We’re off and away before they can do much more than moan and shuffle and curse.

But still the question remains, nagging at me: Why did Zach take my brother’s cat?

Not so far off, a horn sounds.

We slow down to a walk. Enrique has the figurine out in front of him.

“You know,” he says. “I felt her when I held out the jaguar at the zombies.”

“Felt who?” I ask.

“Abuelita. My great-grandmother.”

Enrique keeps guiding us. He uses the jaguar as some kind of compass, but really it can’t be that hard to figure out where we’re going. I just have to follow the sounds of the horn. Follow the howls of the angry wolves — of my kin, like it or not.

At least there aren’t any screams. No one’s getting hurt. Or do they not have time to scream?

No, I’ve spoken too soon. The sound freezes us there, in the dark. Not Max this time. Not a cat at all. Someone human.

Oh no, not Meredith. Don’t let it be Meredith, please God.

Then we’re all running. We’re already in the woods at the edge of the cemetery. At the far side of the graveyard is Carolina’s house, and beyond that, the site of the new mall.

But first we need to get through or walk around. Enrique and Jonathan are leading the way, straight toward the gates. Suddenly, they stop.

“What’s the matter?” I ask.

“I can’t feel anything anymore,” Enrique says. “It’s like she’s gone. Like she got pulled away or something.”

He puts the jaguar figurine back in his pocket.

“Well, it’s simple, isn’t it?” Jonathan says. “We just walk around the graveyard, and then we get to Carolina’s house.”

But just then we hear another scream.

“You know,” I say. “It’s a lot faster to go through than around.” Because there’s a fence, and it looks like it runs for half a mile both ways.

&nb

sp; “Dude,” Jonathan says. “You want to go into a cemetery on Halloween? With all that’s going on right now?”