Zombie! Read online

  For Miss Menendez and the children of the Colegio Ingles de Asturias ~ D R

  For all the children and staff at Beck Primary School ~ A M

  Contents

  Title Page

  Dedication

  1 Zombie!

  CHAPTER 1

  CHAPTER 2

  CHAPTER 3

  CHAPTER 4

  2 Zumba!

  CHAPTER 1

  CHAPTER 2

  CHAPTER 3

  CHAPTER 4

  3 Zoo!

  CHAPTER 1

  CHAPTER 2

  CHAPTER 3

  CHAPTER 4

  Collect all the Dirty Bertie books!

  Copyright

  Mum came off the phone.

  “That was Eugene’s mum,” she said. “They’re going away for the weekend so she’s asked if Eugene can stay with us.”

  Bertie looked up. “You mean for a sleepover?”

  Mum nodded.

  “Yessss!” yelled Bertie, showering the table with toast crumbs.

  “What about me?” grumbled Suzy. “Don’t I get a sleepover?”

  “Not this time,” said Mum. “It’s only Eugene, you’ll hardly notice him.”

  Bertie stuck out his tongue. A whole weekend! This was going to be great. They could stay up late, build a den, make the world’s stinkiest stink bomb … but hold on…

  “What about Darren?” he said. “Isn’t he coming too?”

  Mum shook her head. “One friend’s enough,” she said.

  “But I’ve got two friends,” argued Bertie. “I can’t leave Darren out.”

  It wouldn’t be right. They were the famous three. The three desperados – they always stuck together.

  Bertie clasped his hands. “Please! Just this once!” he begged.

  Mum sighed. She guessed one more wouldn’t make much difference.

  “All right!” she said. “But no staying up till all hours of the night.”

  “We won’t,” promised Bertie.

  A sleepover with his two best friends for a whole weekend! This was going to be epic!

  Darren and Eugene arrived on Friday night with their sleeping bags. Eugene had a gift from his mum – one of her famous chocolate cakes. Bertie’s eyes lit up.

  “Uh-uh, don’t touch,” warned Mum. “We’ll save this for Sunday tea.”

  Bertie took his friends up to his room. He had even tidied up – at least he’d swept his toys under the bed, which was the same thing.

  Eugene and Darren unpacked their bags. Bertie picked up a computer game lying on top of Darren’s sleeping bag.

  “What’s this?” he asked.

  “Zap the Zombie! Haven’t you played it?” Bertie and Eugene shook their heads.

  “It’s the best game ever,” said Darren. “You have to splat the zombies in the haunted house before they disappear.”

  “Zombies give me nightmares,” said Eugene anxiously.

  “They’re only cartoons,” said Darren. “Anyway, you’ll love it.”

  ZIP! ZOOP! SPLAT!

  “Yahoo!” cried Bertie as another zombie was splatted.

  Mum poked her head into the lounge. “What’s all the noise?”

  “It’s just a game,” said Bertie.

  “It’s brilliant!” said Darren. ZOOP!

  “Zap the Zombie? Where did you get this?” asked Mum, inspecting the box.

  “Darren brought it,” replied Bertie.

  Mum turned off the TV. “You’re not playing that,” she said. “It looks completely revolting.”

  “But Mum…” moaned Bertie.

  “No buts. I don’t want you getting nightmares. Why don’t you play Snap?”

  She swept out, taking the zombie game with her. There was a gloomy silence.

  “Nightmares! As if!” said Bertie.

  CREAK! CREAK!

  Bertie and his friends crept down the stairs. It was ten o’clock and they were on a raid. Mum and Dad were watching TV in the lounge. Suzy was in bed.

  “Hurry up!” whispered Bertie.

  They tiptoed past the lounge and stole into the kitchen. Bertie opened the fridge door. The chocolate cake was on the top shelf.

  CLICK! The kitchen light went on.

  “Can I help you?” asked Mum.

  “We were just … er … getting a drink,” gulped Bertie.

  “Yes,” said Darren. “Eugene was thirsty, weren’t you?”

  “Was I?” said Eugene.

  “Well, you won’t find squash in the fridge,” said Mum. “And if you’re after chocolate cake, forget it. It’s for Sunday tea.”

  Bertie closed the fridge door. “But we can’t get to sleep!” he moaned.

  “Try staying in bed,” said Mum.

  “We’re starving!” pleaded Bertie.

  Mum rolled her eyes. “Go back to bed. I’ll bring you some snacks in a minute.”

  Snacks! Brilliant! thought Bertie. He knew for certain there were Monster Munchie bars in the cupboard.

  Five minutes later Mum knocked on the door. She set down a plate.

  “Fruit?” groaned Bertie.

  “It’s good for you,” said Mum. “Far better than crisps or chocolate!”

  “I like fruit!” said Eugene.

  It didn’t take long to empty the plate.

  Eugene helped himself to a piece of orange. “EWWW!” he cried, taking a bite. “This orange is RED!”

  Darren looked up. “You didn’t eat that, did you? It’s a blood orange!” he gasped.

  “Is that bad?” asked Eugene.

  “Bad? It’s full of BLOOD!” said Darren, winking at Bertie.

  “No it isn’t,” said Eugene.

  “Of course it is,” said Darren. “If you drink blood juice you’ll turn into a zombie!”

  Eugene frowned. “You’re making it up,” he said.

  “Ask Bertie,” said Darren.

  Bertie nodded. “Darren’s right. How much did you eat? Not all of it?”

  Eugene pushed the plate away. He was certain they were trying to trick him. All the same, he wished he hadn’t eaten that orange.

  “There’s no such thing as zombies,” he said, getting into his sleeping bag. He snuggled down inside. How did you know if you were turning into a zombie? Did your face turn brown and wrinkly like a prune? He hoped he was going to sleep tonight.

  RATTLE, RATTLE, RATTLE!

  Bertie woke up. What was that noise?

  He sat up in bed. In the dark, he could just make out Eugene trying to open the bedroom door.

  “Eugene?” whispered Bertie.

  Eugene didn’t answer. Finally he got the door open and vanished into the darkness. Bertie stared after him. If Eugene needed the toilet why didn’t he turn on the landing light? Bertie crept out on to the landing.

  CREAK! CREAK!

  Eugene was heading downstairs.

  “Hey, Eugene!” hissed Bertie. “Where are you going?”

  Eugene didn’t reply. He carried on plodding downstairs as if he was in a dream. Bertie followed him down to the kitchen and found him standing in the dark. He seemed to have forgotten why he was there.

  “Eugene? You’re giving me the creeps,” said Bertie.

  Eugene turned and looked right through him as if he wasn’t there.

  Suddenly the ghastly truth dawned on Bertie. The dead eyes, the silence, the gormless expression – it all made sense… Eugene had turned into a ZOMBIE!

  Bertie backed away. Zombies were always hungry … what if he tried to—Wait, Eugene was opening the fridge door. He brought out his mum’s chocolate cake. Bertie’s eyes widened. Surely he wasn’t going to…

  “UMMMMF!”

  Eugene sank his teeth into the cake.

  Yikes! thought Bertie. He didn’t know zombies ate chocolate cake. Eugene wi
ped his mouth on the back of his hand and returned the cake to the fridge. Then he left the kitchen, almost walking straight into Bertie.

  Upstairs, Bertie watched as Eugene climbed into his sleeping bag and instantly fell asleep. It was weird! Eugene had never done anything like this before. Bertie lay awake for a long time, keeping a careful eye on him. One thing’s for sure, he thought, I’m never eating blood oranges!

  Next morning, Eugene acted as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened. At breakfast Bertie watched him pour Chocco Pops into a bowl.

  “So how are you feeling?” Bertie asked. “Sleep okay?”

  “Fine,” said Eugene, reaching for the milk.

  “You don’t remember anything about last night?”

  “I remember you and Darren trying to trick me,” grinned Eugene. “Zombies! As if!”

  Mum appeared in her dressing gown. She opened the fridge door and gasped.

  Uh oh, thought Bertie.

  Mum stared at the chocolate cake, which had a large bite-size chunk missing. She lifted it out and glared at Bertie. “Did you do this?”

  “Me?” said Bertie. “No!”

  “I told you not to touch it,” said Mum.

  “But I didn’t!” said Bertie.

  “Then who did?”

  “Eugene!” said Bertie, truthfully.

  Eugene looked up. “ME?”

  “Don’t tell lies, Bertie,” snapped Mum.

  “I’m not!” said Bertie. “Last night he turned into a zombie and ate a big bit of cake!”

  Mum snorted. “You expect me to believe that? I warned you this was for Sunday. I’ve a good mind not to let you have any.”

  She put the cake back in the fridge and stormed out.

  Darren sniggered. “Ha ha! Good one, Bertie!”

  “It wasn’t me! It was Eugene,” cried Bertie.

  Eugene frowned. “I don’t know why you’re trying to blame me,” he said crossly. “I was asleep the whole time!”

  While Eugene was cleaning his teeth, Bertie grabbed Darren and shut the bedroom door. They needed to talk.

  “Listen, I’m not making it up,” said Bertie. “Last night Eugene turned into a zombie!”

  “Ha ha! Right!” chortled Darren.

  “I’m serious!” cried Bertie. “It must’ve been that blood orange.”

  “That was a joke,” said Darren. “You don’t become a zombie by eating an orange!”

  “Well, Eugene did,” said Bertie. “You didn’t see him in the middle of the night. He was acting weird!”

  Darren frowned. “He seems all right now.”

  “I know,” admitted Bertie. “But there’s only one way to find out.”

  “What’s that?” said Darren.

  Bertie lowered his voice. “We’ll have to stay awake tonight and see if he does it again.”

  DONG! DONG! DONG!

  The clock in the hall struck midnight. Bertie had been lying awake for hours. Loud snores came from the next sleeping bag. Darren was useless, he’d barely stayed awake for five minutes.

  THUMP!

  Bertie sat up. It was starting – Eugene was off on his travels once more! Bertie watched him open the door and slip out of the room. He leaned over and shook Darren by the shoulder.

  “Wake up!” he hissed. “He’s at it again.”

  This time Bertie was prepared. He’d hidden a torch under his pillow so they wouldn’t have to blunder around in the dark. They followed Eugene downstairs.

  Darren stopped. “Wait, what if he attacks us?” he whispered.

  “It’s only Eugene,” said Bertie.

  “Yes, but zombies have the strength of ten men,” said Darren.

  “Don’t worry, last night he didn’t even know I was there,” said Bertie.

  They pushed opened the door to the kitchen. Eugene was sitting at the table in the dark. He had a knife and fork, and the chocolate cake in front of him.

  “Hi, Eugene, what’s up?” said Darren.

  “He can’t hear you,” whispered Bertie, waving a hand in front of Eugene’s face. “He’s in zombie world.”

  Eugene suddenly spoke, making them both jump.

  “I’ve laid the table,” he said.

  Bertie and Darren looked at each other. It seemed safest to play along and sit down. Eugene cut a fat slice of cake and crammed it into his mouth in one go.

  “Crumbs! He’s pretty greedy for a zombie!” said Darren.

  “At least Mum can’t blame me this time,” said Bertie.

  Upstairs Mum was awake, sitting up in bed. She shook Dad by the arm.

  “Listen! Someone’s downstairs!” she hissed.

  Dad rolled over. They both listened for a few moments. There were definitely voices.

  “Burglars?” said Dad.

  “You better go and see,” whispered Mum.

  “Me?”

  “Well, I’m not doing it!”

  Dad looked in the cupboard and found one of his old golf clubs. He crept downstairs clutching it, while Mum followed at a safe distance. They could hear the intruders in the kitchen.

  “Go on!” hissed Mum.

  Dad gripped the golf club. He was sure you weren’t meant to tackle burglars – right now he’d rather be hiding under the bed.

  He kicked open the door and rushed in.

  “YAAARGHH!”

  “AAARGHH!”

  Two of the burglars jumped to their feet. It was dark but they seemed to be wearing pyjamas.

  “Don’t move! I’m calling the police!” yelled Dad. He wished he was holding his phone instead of a golf club.

  “DAD! IT’S ME!” cried Bertie, switching on the light.

  Mum and Dad stared.

  “Bertie! You scared us half to death!” groaned Mum.

  “What are you doing down here?” said Dad.

  “Following Eugene,” said Bertie. “I told you, he’s turned into a zombie!”

  They all looked at Eugene who hadn’t moved from his seat. He was on his second slice of chocolate cake.

  Mum gasped. “He’s not a zombie, he’s sleepwalking!”

  “What?” said Bertie.

  “It’s happened before. His mum mentioned it on the phone.”

  This was news to Bertie.

  “Why didn’t you tell us?” he said.

  Mum shrugged. “I forgot all about it.”

  “Well, shouldn’t we wake him up?” asked Dad.

  Mum shook her head firmly. “No, that’s the last thing you should do.”

  Just then, Eugene suddenly stood up and walked past them. They followed him upstairs where he climbed into bed. Unfortunately it wasn’t his bed.

  Dad groaned. “Now what? He can’t sleep in our bed.”

  “He’ll have to,” said Mum. “We mustn’t wake him.”

  “Then what do we do?” asked Dad. “It’s almost one in the morning!”

  “I know!” cried Bertie. “We could play Zap the Zombie!”

  “At the window!”

  “Quick!”

  “Get him!”

  ZAP! SPLAT!

  “Yesss!” shouted Mum as another zombie bit the dust.

  Bertie high fived Darren and his parents. This was turning out to be the best sleepover ever!

  “Hurry up, Bertie!” sighed Mum.

  “You’ll make us late,” moaned Suzy.

  Bertie trailed after them into the leisure centre. Saturday morning and his mum had dragged him along to watch Suzy’s dance class. Could anything be more boring? Why couldn’t Suzy choose something interesting – like karate or skydiving? Bertie wouldn’t have minded watching that. But dance – he’d rather be doing his homework. At least he didn’t have to take part. That would be torture!

  “Bertie, get a move on!” grumbled Mum.

  They reached the hall. Miss Foxtrot’s dance class stood around in puffy tutus and tights, pointing their toes.

  Bertie flopped into a seat beside his mum. Uh oh, Miss Foxtrot was coming over. She was tall and thin, like an ost
rich in a cardigan.

  “And who is this young man?” she asked.

  “Oh. This is Suzy’s brother, Bertie,” replied Mum.

  “And does he like dancing?” asked Miss Foxtrot.

  “NO, he doesn’t,” said Suzy firmly.

  “I’ve just come to watch,” said Bertie.

  Actually he’d come because his mum had made him.

  “Nonsense!” clucked Miss Foxtrot. “You won’t learn anything by watching. You must join in!”

  Join in? Bertie almost choked. “It’s okay, I’ll just sit here,” he said.

  But Miss Foxtrot was dragging him up by the arm. “Don’t be silly, there’s no need to be shy,” she said.

  “I’m not! I can’t dance,” said Bertie desperately. “I don’t have the right shoes.”

  “Don’t worry,” smiled Miss Foxtrot, “I always keep a spare pair, just in case.” She dangled a pair of ballet shoes before him. They were pink – the same colour as Bertie’s face.

  “I … I can’t!” he gasped.

  “Really, he’d better not,” said Mum.

  “He’ll just get in the way,” said Suzy.

  But Miss Foxtrot was already helping Bertie on with the ballet shoes.

  Bertie stared at his feet in horror. This was turning into the worst day of his life. What if anyone from school saw him dancing – with a class of girls? It didn’t bear thinking about!

  Suzy hissed in his ear. “Don’t you dare mess this up!”

  Bertie stuck out his tongue. Hang on, that gave him an idea. Maybe if he messed up, Miss Foxtrot wouldn’t want him in her class…

  “Places, children, places!” cried the teacher, clapping her hands. She pressed a button and syrupy music began to play.

  “Let’s begin by making ourselves ever so small!” trilled Miss Foxtrot. “Imagine you are teeny, tiny seeds in the earth.”