Double Feature: Attack of the Soul-Sucking Brain Zombies/Bride of the Soul-Sucking Brain Zombies (The Russel Middlebrook Series Book 3) by Brent Hartinger Page B
Authors: Brent Hartinger
to parents who I now knew didn't love me the way I was, or accept me unconditionally. And as for the guy I loved, he was about to become MIA. On Saturday, forty-four hours from right then, Otto had to go home. Who knew when I'd see him again? And that was just about the saddest thing imaginable.
Yes, yes, it was unbelievably stupid to be sad about something that hadn't even happened yet, to be ruining the brief time we did have together. But I couldn't help it. I felt like I was going to cry. I couldn't imagine going back to how I'd been before I'd come out, before we'd created the Geography Club. It's one thing to be sad that you don't have the one thing you desperately want. It might be even worse to get what you want for a little while, only to have it taken away from you.
"Let's make a vow," Em said. "Let's promise each other right here and now that we won't ever turn boring. And if we do, we give the others permission to come make us do something completely crazy!"
We all laughed, even me, because now it would have been obvious if I hadn't. And then we all agreed to Em's pledge.
Afterward, we talked and laughed some more, and Otto kept playing footsie with me under the table. I tried to pretend I was having the same good time that everyone else was having. But inside, I felt like that turkey carcass in the middle of the table—with a big hole right in the middle of my chest.
CHAPTER EIGHT
The next day, Friday of Thanksgiving vacation, we all went back to work as extras on Attack of the Soul-Sucking Brain Zombies . Otto joined us, bringing the permission form signed by his parents.
"Can I ask a question?" Otto asked Gunnar, Em, and me that morning on the way to the school.
"Sure," I said.
"What's a brain zombie?"
Em and I burst into laughter.
"No one knows!" I said.
"We still haven't figured that out," Em said. "It hasn't come up in any of the scenes we've been in."
This time, Gunnar didn't say a word, just sulked a little.
* * *
That morning we all became full-fledged zombies for the very first time, with costuming and makeup and everything. There were about twenty-five zombie extras that day, but only six makeup artists, so they were definitely working overtime.
I was one of the last people out of makeup. Wardrobe had dressed me in a T-shirt and white long-sleeved shirt, all shredded and bloody, and geeky, computer-nerd pants covered with some kind of fake dirt that smelled like chalk dust. Then they'd plastered my face with a base of green makeup (more olive, really) and used something called spirit gum to paste these fake scabs and boils all over my cheeks and forehead. And they'd oiled my hair and messed it up again, and given me this set of rotting, yellow teeth, which I could slip in and out of my mouth, but which made it so I could still talk. Finally, they'd glued half of this plastic calculator to me, so it looked like someone had jammed it into the side of my head.
In short, I looked like a walking, slowly rotting corpse. True, they'd pegged me for a computer nerd (again), but I guess I couldn't have everything.
The first shot took place right outside the front doors of the school. The school bell was supposed to ring, and then all we zombie-students were to come staggering out. The doors had been rigged to burst off their hinges so it looked like we were doing it.
Kevin was there, waiting with the other extras. He'd been made up as a full zombie now too. They'd put him in a torn, moldy-looking letterman's jacket, and he carried a blood-spattered baseball bat (which was appropriate, given that he did play baseball). His makeup was like mine, except they'd also made it look like he'd had his neck ripped open and blood had dripped down onto his shirt.
"You look great," I said, before I could stop myself. "How'd they do that to your neck?"
He stared at me with a completely straight face. "Whaddaya mean? Do what? Hey, what's taking them so long with the makeup anyway? Aren't
Yes, yes, it was unbelievably stupid to be sad about something that hadn't even happened yet, to be ruining the brief time we did have together. But I couldn't help it. I felt like I was going to cry. I couldn't imagine going back to how I'd been before I'd come out, before we'd created the Geography Club. It's one thing to be sad that you don't have the one thing you desperately want. It might be even worse to get what you want for a little while, only to have it taken away from you.
"Let's make a vow," Em said. "Let's promise each other right here and now that we won't ever turn boring. And if we do, we give the others permission to come make us do something completely crazy!"
We all laughed, even me, because now it would have been obvious if I hadn't. And then we all agreed to Em's pledge.
Afterward, we talked and laughed some more, and Otto kept playing footsie with me under the table. I tried to pretend I was having the same good time that everyone else was having. But inside, I felt like that turkey carcass in the middle of the table—with a big hole right in the middle of my chest.
CHAPTER EIGHT
The next day, Friday of Thanksgiving vacation, we all went back to work as extras on Attack of the Soul-Sucking Brain Zombies . Otto joined us, bringing the permission form signed by his parents.
"Can I ask a question?" Otto asked Gunnar, Em, and me that morning on the way to the school.
"Sure," I said.
"What's a brain zombie?"
Em and I burst into laughter.
"No one knows!" I said.
"We still haven't figured that out," Em said. "It hasn't come up in any of the scenes we've been in."
This time, Gunnar didn't say a word, just sulked a little.
* * *
That morning we all became full-fledged zombies for the very first time, with costuming and makeup and everything. There were about twenty-five zombie extras that day, but only six makeup artists, so they were definitely working overtime.
I was one of the last people out of makeup. Wardrobe had dressed me in a T-shirt and white long-sleeved shirt, all shredded and bloody, and geeky, computer-nerd pants covered with some kind of fake dirt that smelled like chalk dust. Then they'd plastered my face with a base of green makeup (more olive, really) and used something called spirit gum to paste these fake scabs and boils all over my cheeks and forehead. And they'd oiled my hair and messed it up again, and given me this set of rotting, yellow teeth, which I could slip in and out of my mouth, but which made it so I could still talk. Finally, they'd glued half of this plastic calculator to me, so it looked like someone had jammed it into the side of my head.
In short, I looked like a walking, slowly rotting corpse. True, they'd pegged me for a computer nerd (again), but I guess I couldn't have everything.
The first shot took place right outside the front doors of the school. The school bell was supposed to ring, and then all we zombie-students were to come staggering out. The doors had been rigged to burst off their hinges so it looked like we were doing it.
Kevin was there, waiting with the other extras. He'd been made up as a full zombie now too. They'd put him in a torn, moldy-looking letterman's jacket, and he carried a blood-spattered baseball bat (which was appropriate, given that he did play baseball). His makeup was like mine, except they'd also made it look like he'd had his neck ripped open and blood had dripped down onto his shirt.
"You look great," I said, before I could stop myself. "How'd they do that to your neck?"
He stared at me with a completely straight face. "Whaddaya mean? Do what? Hey, what's taking them so long with the makeup anyway? Aren't
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