Johnny Graphic and the Attack of the Zombies Read online

  “You will be provided with an escort who knows the lay of the land,” Sir Colin said. “He will function as your guide and bodyguard.”

  Johnny thought of a big problem. “Will Uncle Louie be allowed to come, too?”

  “Yes, of course. Mr. Hofstedter will be part of your entourage.”

  Uncle Louie laughed. “I’ve never been part of an entourage before. But I like to think I’m not too old to learn how.”

  “So what happens now?” Johnny asked.

  “Even as we speak,” said Mr. Cargill, “arrangements are being made to fly you to the Royal Kingdom. In the meantime, we have lots of preparations to make.”

  Johnny sure hadn’t planned on another big adventure this soon. But if Percy Rathbone was kidnapping kids and turning bog men into zombies, who knew what kind of dreadful plan he had in mind.

  Whatever it took, Johnny had to help beat him.

  Chapter 4

  Sunday, January 26, 1936

  Zenith

  Being dead was awful. In fact, for many centuries after her death, Bao hadn’t felt like going anywhere or talking to anyone. The little mountain girl hid from other ghosts, and moped and pouted and felt very, very sorry for herself.

  It was only just a few months ago that, through a strange chain of events, she had met Dame Honoria Gorton Rathbone in a dank, dark cave. At the time, Dame Honoria was being held prisoner by her wicked son, Percy.

  Dame Honoria had asked Bao a question that changed the little ghost’s entire existence. Would Bao help her? When Bao agreed, she suddenly had a connection with the living, real world. She could touch and hold things. She could do things—from sweeping and fetching to making beds and cooking food. She could brush Dame Honoria’s hair and even give her a hug. She could, in a way, be part of a family again.

  Bao had come to Birchwood with Dame Honoria, whom she called Grandmother and whom she now served. They had lived here for a few months with Johnny and Mel, and Bao had grown to love the place.

  She spent a few hours every day doing chores for Grandmother. She would get the mail and make the bed and run the bathwater. But Grandmother had also ordered her to spend some time learning about her new world. Since Bao was curious by nature, this was not an unwelcome assignment.

  So Bao visited each morning with Mrs. Lundgren, the ghost housekeeper, who had shown her how to do things in the kitchen. Now Bao could peel potatoes and carrots, stir pots, fry eggs, pour drinks, make sandwiches, and wash and dry dishes.

  Colonel MacFarlane and his men of the ghost brigade taught her some of the games that they played when they were “at ease.” The colonel said Commander Graphic—that’s what he called Mel—felt it was important that ghosts stuck in the ether enjoy themselves, so she ordered them to have fun when they weren’t on duty.

  Bao always paid attention when the grown-up ghosts talked. And ghosts, because they didn’t have much else to do, tended to gossip a lot. The colonel’s men had quite a discussion one day about Percy Rathbone and how he had managed to occupy a dead body. They debated whether it was right—taking over a body that wasn’t your own. The colonel thought it was absolutely wrong and unnatural. And, in the end, so did all the other ghost soldiers.

  Bao was in total agreement. Ghosts couldn’t be blamed for wanting to have proper bodies again. What dead person wouldn’t? It was the First Impossible Thing that ghosts desired—to be in physical bodies again.

  But there was something very nasty and dreadful about taking over corpses and walking about in them. Nina had a very good word to describe it. She scrunched up her face and spit it out: “Gross!” Besides, possessing another person’s body could never be as good as being in one’s own body again.

  The living people at Birchwood were just as nice as the ghosts. Mel had informed Bao that no one should be illiterate. Being dead was no excuse for not being able to read. So whether Bao liked it or not—and she did like it, actually, rather a lot—Mel was teaching her how to read. They’d spent dozens of hours together, and Bao could now read books with pictures and a few sentences on each page. She was incredibly proud of that.

  Bao liked Johnny a lot. Maybe too much. She had gotten into trouble haunting him without him knowing it. Big trouble. But despite getting spied on by the nosy little ghost, Johnny was showing her how to do some basic arithmetic. She was good at adding and subtracting, but multiplication wasn’t as easy. And division? Very hard.

  Uncle Louie and Nina couldn’t see Bao until Mel made those ghost goggles. Still, they were always polite when they knew she was around, saying, “Hi Bao, how you doing?” And things like that. Bao, though, couldn’t help but feel a little jealous of Nina, who was alive and got to spend a lot of time with Johnny.

  But now Dame Honoria wanted to take Bao away from Birchwood. They were going to go across another ocean, to Dame Honoria’s home—a place called Wickenham. Bao’s first best ghost friend, Evvie, would be coming, too. He hoped to have a reunion with his family back in the Royal Kingdom.

  Bao confided to Evvie that she was sad about leaving Birchwood.

  He patted her on the shoulder. “Cheer up, old girl. I’ve heard it said that the Royal Kingdom is quite the ghost’s paradise. Lots of dead people hanging around there. Of course, I haven’t been back since I drowned on my idiot jungle expedition. I was Lord Evansham of Hurley, you know. Would have had quite the cushy life, if I had just been able to tread water a bit longer.”

  * * *

  It was the middle of the night, hours before their departure. Grandmother was asleep in bed, snoring loudly. In a corner of the bedroom sat Bao, glowing green in the dark. Bao, like all other ghosts, couldn’t sleep. So night was always a good time to think about everything that had happened in her life. To ask the question that had baffled her from the start.

  Why had she become a ghost?

  Grandmother had explained to her that only about three people out of a hundred become ghosts when they die. Their spirits manage to get only as far as the realm that they call the ether. They are trapped there and no one knows why. No one knows how to free them. They are doomed to spend eternity as ghosts.

  But why couldn’t Bao have gone with her mother and father, her sisters and brothers? Were they all somewhere else, waiting for her, worrying about her? Perhaps with the great spirits up above? Or was there nothing beyond the ether but blackness and blankness?

  Maybe it was a good thing that she had stayed connected to the earth. After all, Johnny had said that if she hadn’t been with them on New Year’s Eve, the whole town of Zenith might have been blown up. And that Grandmother seemed in much better spirits, having Bao around.

  Maybe Bao needed to be here to take care of Grandmother’s heart. The old lady could seem kind of gruff and unfeeling at times. But she had told Bao one day that her son Percy had broken her heart, and she didn’t think it would ever mend.

  Bao wondered why Percy, the son of a good mother, had done all those bad things. Why had he sent the eyeless ghost warrior Burilgi to Zenith? To blow up the whole city and kill a million people? That awful Burilgi had hit Bao, had hurt her. She still had the cuts on her hands from his dagger.

  Percy said his only goal was to help the ghosts by improving their conditions. But to do that, he was willing to kill living people. So, to do good, he would have to do evil.

  Bao had to agree that ghosts had gotten a “raw deal,” as Johnny liked to say. But that was no excuse for trying to murder innocent people. There had to be a better way.

  Bao sighed. There were some problems that she just couldn’t solve. Shaking her head, she glanced over toward the bed and saw that the glowing alarm clock was approaching the hour of four.

  It was time to wake up Grandmother.

  Chapter 5

  “But must you go?” Mrs. Lundgren sobbed. “Again?”

  The Graphics’ ghost housekeeper stood in front of Johnny and Mel, out on the porch. It was still quite dark at five o’clock that morning, with stars twinkling above. Down on th
e driveway, Uncle Louie and Nina were loading up the big Morton Monarch touring car, its convertible top in upright position. Everyone was yawning and blinking.

  “You’ve risked your lives too many times as it is,” the wraith said, dabbing at her eyes with a ghostly lace handkerchief. Never mind that she couldn’t cry a single drop.

  Mel leaned over and hugged the ghost with the apple-doll face. She lightly kissed her on the cheek. “Of course, Mrs. Lundgren, we know. But people are under threat in the Royal Kingdom, and we might be able to help.”

  “Don’t you worry, Mrs. Lundgren,” Johnny reassured her. “We won’t take any unnecessary chances.”

  “Oh, I wish I could believe you, Johnny,” Mrs. Lundgren said, shaking her head. “But I know about that heroic streak of yours.”

  Johnny realized he’d taken a few risks in recent months that could have proven fatal. And he knew that he’d caused a lot of worry for the people—and ghosts—that cared about him.

  “We’ll be real careful, Mrs. Lundgren,” he promised with solemnity. “Honest.”

  “You’d better be, John Joshua Graphic.” Mrs. Lundgren grabbed him and smothered him in a hug.

  An hour later the maroon touring car was rolling west on Superior Avenue through downtown Zenith. Behind it trotted fifteen mounted ghost soldiers of the First Zenith Cavalry Brigade, led by Colonel MacFarlane and his horse, Buck. Sitting in the saddle in front of the colonel was Bao. Her friend Evvie rode with Lieutenant Finn.

  Looking out the window of the car, Johnny saw a woman spot the ghost troopers, just as she came out of the Kom On Inn Diner. Her mouth gaped open, and she dropped her giant raised doughnut on the sidewalk. Too bad for her that she was one of the few living people who could see ghosts.

  Johnny couldn’t help himself and burst out laughing, which earned him an elbow in the ribs from his sister.

  “Johnny, knock it off,” Mel snapped. “It’s not funny.”

  But it was. Johnny bit his tongue and tried unsuccessfully to straighten out his mouth. “Whatever you say, Sis.”

  The next opportunity for a good chuckle came when Danny Kailolu embraced and kissed Mel as soon as she got out of the car. They whispered in each other’s ears. Sweet nothings, Johnny supposed, whatever those were. But he knew perfectly well to button up his mouth when it came to mushy matters of teenage infatuation.

  Mel had known since the morning before that their floatplane would be a Gianelli and that their pilot would be her boyfriend, Danny—though she claimed they were “just friends.” Yeah, right, thought Johnny. Anyway, she had been walking on air since then.

  “Johnny,” came a gruff, deep shout. “Come over here.”

  It was Mr. Cargill, standing at the foot of the dock that reached out into the Treport River. With the chief were Dame Honoria and Sir Colin Mariner, as well as Bao and Evvie. At the far end of the dock, a sleek, tri-motor Gianelli Z-509 floatplane gently rocked in the water. This was where they had left from, when they flew to Silver City a few months ago. Maybe this was even the same Zephyr Lines airplane.

  Johnny approached the four grown-ups. “What is it, Chief?”

  “I just want to make sure that you’re going to follow the rules we set down for you,” Mr. Cargill said, as he chewed on his unlit cigar. “You’ve gotta do whatever your escort says. He’s the boss when it comes to keeping you and Nina safe.”

  “Yup, got it, Chief,” Johnny replied. “And don’t forget, Uncle Louie will be with us, too.” The big man had been a boxer years ago, and Johnny figured any zombie who got in his way would soon regret it.

  “Keep your eyes and ears open, and take a lot of notes and pictures. What you find out could be very important for the authorities. And Sir Colin here promises that as soon as the news blackout is lifted, and the censors look things over, the Clarion will be able to publish your accounts before anyone else.”

  “Don’t worry, Chief,” Johnny said. “Nina’s a really good writer. And with my new Ritterflex, I can shoot a lot more pictures.”

  Though Johnny hated to leave it behind, he clearly couldn’t take his bulky Zoom 4x5 camera onto the moors of MacFreithshire. So for this expedition, he’d use his lightweight, twin-lens Ritterflex camera, which could take twelve pictures without reloading. It was a present from Uncle Louie.

  Johnny was still really disappointed to have to postpone the search for his parents. But this zombie adventure was going to be a heckuva big story. He could already feel his adrenaline starting to flow.

  * * *

  It was mid-afternoon the next day when they splashed down at the vast Rowestoft Aeroboat Harbour in the Royal Kingdom. The port stretched over miles of shoreline and thousands of acres of harbor. As they headed for one of the terminals, Johnny was awed by the hundreds of aircraft—from giant Johnson Geese to small floatplanes like their Gianelli—at docks or in the taxiing lanes.

  It was great to get out of the cramped quarters of the floatplane and stretch a bit on the dock. Dame Honoria looked a little crooked, as though her back had stiffened up on her. But she claimed she felt fine.

  Johnny looked around. On the dock to his left, a Zephyr Lines Como Eagle was boarding its passengers. On the other side, a Moeller-Schmidt flying boat was disgorging people dressed in the turbans and robes of the desert countries.

  A few minutes later a slight, young man walked out onto the dock. He had on a brown herringbone suit and a red bow tie. He introduced himself as “Mr. Smith,” bowing slightly from the waist, and said he was there to take them to the Home Office. With that, he led the weary travelers out through the bustling terminal. Danny had already made his farewells to Mel and the others, and taxied the Gianelli off to the Zephyr Lines base.

  Back outside, they all climbed into a big, black limousine. Johnny knew that they drove on the wrong side of the road over here, but it still felt strange. More than a few times during their drive, he cringed in anticipation of a crack-up that didn’t happen. They rolled through the countryside for a while, with its lovely green hills and dales. Then came interminable suburbs, with their armies of little bungalows on tiny lots.

  Finally, they entered Royalton, the capital of the Royal Kingdom. The city was crammed with tall apartment buildings and townhouses. The sidewalks were crowded with people. Lots of ghosts, too. Johnny spotted a couple of mounted knights in armor, trotting up busy city streets. Medieval peasants. Soldiers from different wars. Priests. A wraith in a toga, wearing a crown of bay leaves—seventeen hundred years old at least, Johnny bet. At last, the automobile glided to a stop in front of a vast, gloomy office building, blackened by decades of sooty smog.

  “Welcome to the Home Office,” their young guide said, ushering them all into the ornate marble-and-granite lobby. Dame Honoria had explained that this was the ministry that dealt with internal security and law enforcement in the Royal Kingdom. They went up the grand central staircase, amid scurrying workers, turned right, and were deposited in a small meeting room.

  A few minutes later, Johnny saw a ghost walk through the hallway wall. A thin, aristocratic man in an officer’s uniform from the Great War. But not, Johnny realized, a uniform of the Royal Army. The specter had a narrow face, clean-shaven, with dark, intelligent eyes. Over his heart was pinned a bloody cloth target, punctured by several bullet holes.

  As soon as Dame Honoria saw him, she jumped up out of her chair. “Rex Ward, as I live and breathe.”

  “Honoria!” the ghost said with a grin.

  Much to Johnny’s surprise, Dame Honoria embraced the ghost. Fortunately, there was no kissing involved.

  “Everyone,” Dame Honoria announced, “this is Captain Rex Ward, an old family friend. He’s now a liaison officer of the Special Ghost Service of the Home Office. Or the SGS, as everyone calls it. And I believe he has our marching orders.”

  Okay, Johnny thought, this is it. We’ll find out what’s going on.

  Nina had quickly put on her etheric goggles and was carefully watching the ghost. Lucky for her,
she had earned a merit badge in lip reading, as a member in good standing of the Woodland Guides, Zenith Troop 27. She couldn’t hear ghosts, but with the goggles she could at least pick up some of what they said.

  The ghost took a seat at the table. “The home secretary expresses his gratitude that you’ve offered your assistance. But I’m afraid things have gone all topsy-turvy up north. A peculiar fog has developed up there, slowing down all manner of travel. The attacks have intensified. And to make matters worse, trains sent north with army and police units have been purposely derailed. So, unfortunately, I don’t know when Master Graphic and Miss Bain will be able to travel north with Mr. Hofstedter. Could be as much as a week.”

  Johnny sure didn’t like this turn of events. If it took that long, all the action might already be over with by the time they arrived on the scene. He scowled at Rex, as if that would do any good.

  “But there is an alternative,” the ghost continued, “if Honoria is willing to talk to a particular old friend of hers.”

  “Of course I will,” the old lady answered. “But to whom are you referring?”

  Rex floated over and whispered in her ear. She nodded, but her expression revealed nothing.

  Rex wafted back to his chair. “As agreed, we expect that Honoria and Miss Graphic will provide profiling information on Percival Rathbone. We want to know what makes him tick.”

  “Of course, Rex,” Dame Honoria said. “But I must admit, right now I’m more concerned about understanding how he has managed to reanimate those ancient bog men.”

  “And why would he want to?” Mel added. “Can’t he find fresh corpses?”

  “That’s what we’re counting on you and Honoria to figure out,” replied Rex.

  “I’d like to know why these kids are being taken,” said Johnny. “I mean, what does Percy want with them?”