Mommy Zombie Apocalypse

In a sleepy village in the middle of England, something strange is happening. The schoolyard is empty, the neighbor’s cats are in fear for their lives, and Mrs. Robertson – the English teacher – has taken to sniffing brains.

Will the intrepid gang find out the secret in Boris’ butcher’s shop?

Will Mrs. Mully forgive Cassandra for eating her moggy?

Will Jackson survive the Mommy Zombie Apocalypse?

 

PREFACE

Jacob Smith lay still under the warm bedclothes that he’d twisted into a cozy cocoon during the night. There was a chill in the air, and he was intently ignoring his need to pee, not wanting to leave the warmth before morning.

He squinted open one sleepy eye, just enough to judge the time.

It was still dark.

It must still be ages before it’s time to get up. He decided that he couldn’t wait any longer.

He huffed a sigh and then whipped the bedcovers over to one side, twisting himself out of bed.

He padded out of his room, barefoot, and made his way down the corridor to the bathroom without turning on any lights, trying not to awaken his senses too much.

After his sit-down pee – not confident in his ability to aim efficiently in the dark – and a cursory splash of water on his hands, he pulled the bathroom door shut behind him and began the short walk back to his warm bed.

As he passed the top of the stairs, he noticed a line of light gleaming from under the kitchen door below. He stopped to listen for a second, wondering who could be awake in the middle of the night.

“SCHLURP!”

A wet sound came from beyond the kitchen door.

Well, that’s new! he thought to himself, and he decided to investigate.

He made his way down the stairs and pushed open the kitchen door with one hand. His bare foot pressed into something wet and sticky in the doorway and he looked down, distracted for a moment. He lifted his foot up to get a better look and he could see a dark liquid congealing on his big toe as a drop dripped off it, landing back in the pool on the floor.

A small sound made him look up, and the sight before him froze him to the spot, one foot still lifted in mid-air.

His mum was sitting, splayed legged, on the kitchen floor, with her back against the cupboards, enjoying a midnight feast.

Blood covered the front of her nightshirt and her hands and sleeves, all the way to her elbows. Globules of fatty, dripping matter dangled from her blood-caked hair and stuck to the side of her face. The remains of half of what appeared to be a cat lay strewn across the kitchen floor, and his mum was hungrily crunching down on a furry leg, like King Henry the Eighth at a court banquet.

“Mum!” Jacob exclaimed, incomprehension not yet forming into fear. “What on Earth are you doing to Mrs. Mully’s cat?”

“Oh! Good morning, darling!” Cassandra Smith purred. “You’re up early. Shall I get you some breakfast?”