Last Kids on Earth and the Midnight Blade. Max Brallier

from the radio since. Quint and June are jazzed because there’s a possibility their parents are still alive – but we can’t leave Wakefield, because Evie and Ghazt are here doing bad stuff.

      Still – Quint and June want to at least know if their parents might be OK . . .

      OK, un-pause the backtrack!

      June leans in close. “If Ghazt ever stops being a complete lazy butt – we’re all in trouble. Not just us – everyone . . . everywhere.”

      At that very moment, Dirk’s claustrophobia goes from bad to ultra-bad. “I can’t take that whispering, moaning sound any more!” he says, grabbing his head, plugging his ears.

      “Put a sock in it, dude!” June says.

      Quint, being quite literal, removes his shoe, yanks off his sock, and stuffs it into Dirk’s mouth. Toe jam flies. It’s odd.

      Dirk just about barfs up the sock. The next instant, he’s tumbling through the curtain, bursting out from our hiding place.

      “Dirk!” I cry, trying to stop him. “No!”

      But it’s too late.

      Dirk’s eyes are locked on a nearby claw-grab game – and the pair of headphones inside. They’re huge headphones, like hip DJs and air traffic controllers wear.

      In a split second, our super-spy Mission Operation surveillance turns into what my old third-grade teacher would’ve called “a ruckus.”

      “I CAN’T TAKE THESE ZOMBIE MOANS!” Dirk cries out.

      He grips the claw-grab machine. Then, with one mighty heave, brings it crashing to the ground.

      SMASH!!! The Plexiglas case shatters – Dirk grabs the headphones and jams them on to his head.

      The entire lair goes quiet. The old “could hear a pin drop” moment.

      Then . . .

      “Ahem.” It’s Evie.

      Evie is staring at us.

      Ghazt’s staring at us, too.

      And so is his army of the undead.

      “Bring the dorky human ones before me,” Ghazt says. His tail lifts and points at us, and then the zombies approach, arms raised, to drag us before their master.

chapter four

      So now here we stand, in front of Ghazt and Evie. Captured prisoners! It kinda feels like we got caught texting in class and now we gotta face the principal. But we’re not just staring down a few days of detention – our dimension is at stake!

      Ghazt’s massive form leans forward. His mouth opens, and I think he’s about to eat us – but instead he just burps. Evie looks embarrassed. Ghazt readjusts, getting a grip on his whole bellygas- burp situation.

      “Argh – you!” he snarls, showering us with bits of cheesy spittle. “I should have taken my army and DESTROYED your little town when I had the chance.”

      I lean over to June and whisper, “Time for Mission Operation: Project Maximum Jack Confidence.”

      “Dude,” June snarls. “If you say mission operation one more time –”

      “So here’s the deal, bad dudes,” I say, taking a relaxed step forward, channelling my inner coolguy Kurt Russell. “Right now, this entire joint is surrounded by monster warriors. So, either you release us – or I give the signal. And you don’t want that, ’cause our monster buddies have itchy . . . um . . . itchy, uh . . . what’s the –”

      “Itchy backs?” Quint asks.

      “No. Not itchy backs. Itchy, uh – itchy trigger fingers! That’s it!”

      “They mostly use swords and axes,” June whispers. “Swords and axes don’t have triggers.”

      “Fine! Itchy axe fingers! Whatever! Bottom line – Evie, Ghazt – release us, now, or I’m calling in the monster cavalry.”

      Wow, I really nailed that. That lie was so good that I almost believed it. Evie and Ghazt will never know it’s a –

      “BLUFF!” Evie shouts. “That’s a bluff !” She leans towards Ghazt and whispers, “He’s bluffing. Classic bluff. Kid’s got bluff all over his face.”

      I scowl at Evie. She smiles in the most annoying way.

      Ghazt’s tail slithers up and tickles his lip in thought. “Hmm. Bluff. Bluffing. Bluffin. Muffin.” Ghazt’s stomach grumbles, then he says, “Evie, do we have any more of those little mini muffins I like? The blueberry ones?”

      Evie clenches her jaw. Bites back a sigh. “No, sir.”

      I steal a quick glance to the side. Dirk’s got his hands to his head, mashing the headphones hard against his skull.

      No question – we need to make our move now.

      Evie and Ghazt don’t seem to be on the same page. Maybe we can use that against them.

      June picks up what I’m mentally throwing down – because she tilts her head and says, “Hey, Ghazt, if you’re this big, bad, zombie-controlling general, how come Evie does all the talking while you just sit there on a big cheese throne?”

      In response, Ghazt slurps cheese from a hollowed-out bowling ball.

      Ghazt doesn’t like that. He snarls, then his tail snaps through the air. I hear a hollow thunderclap sound – the sound of Ghazt exercising his control over the zombies . . .

      Sure enough, the zombies begin to circle around us.

      Evie approaches. “Jack,” she says. “You are unarmed. Bad move. I’m surprised you would show up without your precious blade . . .”

      I smile. “Y’know, Evie . . .”

      I whip the blade around, pointing it at Evie and Ghazt. Evie frowns. “You hid your Little League sword in your trousers?”

      “You bet I did,” I say proudly.

      “That’s weird, kid.”

      “I’ll tell you what’s weird – you, ya weirdo, calling me weird! You’re the weird one doing the weird worshipping! Now I hereby DEMAND you guys open a portal and LEAVE. Outta this dimension, post-haste! Whatever post-haste means . . .”

      Ghazt’s tail snaps again – and the zombies inch even closer. June coughs into her hand, then says, very loudly, “WELL, JACK – IT APPEARS YOUR PLAN HAS FAILED.”

      “OK, geez, June – aggressive,” I murmur.

      June, again, louder: “I SAID, JACK, IT APPEARS YOUR PLAN HAS FAILED.”

      “Look, June,” I whisper, “I know this is a big life-and-death moment – but you don’t gotta be mean about it! It’s not like –”

      And that’s when I hear a sound like cannon fire erupting. The building shakes. The zombies stagger. Evie grabs Ghazt to steady herself.

      I look up, just in time to see the ceiling practically evaporate as something like a meteor comes smashing through . . .