knocked twice on Fat Jagger’s lower lip. He understood the signal and opened his mouth just enough for Eleanor to peek outside.
“We made it out of the bay!” Eleanor shouted excitedly.
But her excited expression instantly turned to one of horror. Coming right at them were helicopters, police boats, SWAT trucks and patrol cars, all loaded to the brim with enough firepower to take out a whole family of Fat Jaggers.
Across the city of San Francisco, the residents feared that another Great Earthquake was upon them as the ground shook and rumbled. As cars rattled on their tyres and anti-theft security alarms blared. As windows shattered, causing sleeping children to scream out into the early morning fog. As the entire city pounded to a steady beat like it was sitting atop a huge bass drum at a Rolling Stones concert.
But it was no earthquake.
Rather, it was a huge colossus named Fat Jagger bounding across the city in long loping steps. Crushing mailboxes, trees and parked cars under his massive feet as he ran through streets.
Several helicopters were in close pursuit, including a small SFPD chopper and a dark green military helicopter manned by members of the US National Guard. A stream of large-calibre bullets ripped across the sky and tore into the giant’s back like a swarm of angry wasps.
A second later, a series of missiles erupted from the twin cannons mounted just below the whirring blades of the National Guard helicopter. They zipped across the faded pink sky and connected with the colossus. The colossus screamed in pain, his teeth gritted together to keep his mouth closed.
Inside Fat Jagger’s mouth, the Walker kids screamed as pinholes of light started to appear in his cheeks from the large-calibre machine-gun fire. Cordelia pushed Eleanor down on to Fat Jagger’s tongue, behind a row of molars, as blood pooled around their feet.
They peeked over the gumline and spotted their zombie brother. Not only had becoming a zombie robbed Brendan of his youthful looks, but also his sense of personal safety. He stumbled around Jagger’s tongue, right in the middle of the fire fight. Gunfire exploded all around him.
“We need to help Brendan!” Eleanor screamed over the deafening battle.
Cordelia was about to respond, but it was too late. The National Guard helicopter let loose another burst of high-calibre rounds, sending Brendan sprawling on to Fat Jagger’s tongue.
“Brendan, noooo!” Eleanor shrieked.
Cordelia quickly hugged Eleanor, shielding her eyes. Brendan’s body lay in the middle of Jagger’s tongue.
How could this have happened? Cordelia let her face fall into Eleanor’s shoulder; she was too shocked to even cry. Cordelia thought she might never be able to move again. But then the sound of a low groan caused her to lift her head quickly.
Brendan’s head rolled as if coming out of a very deep sleep. He slowly climbed to his feet to resume the search for a snack. He was much more interested in finding something to munch on.
“What?” Cordelia said.
She had just seen her only brother shot with enough force to stop an elephant, and now he was walking around like everything was fine.
“I told you! Zombies can only be stopped if their brains are destroyed,” Eleanor explained. “You should put down Pride and Prejudice and read The Zombie Survival Guide sometime!”
The two sisters wanted to run and hug their brother, but didn’t since it was likely that he would take a bite out of their faces if they tried.
Suddenly, Fat Jagger rocked violently to the right, sending the three Walkers sprawling once again. Every bullet, missile and rocket impact could be felt inside Jagger’s mouth and a gust of hot air rushed out of his lungs each time he winced in pain.
“I don’t think Jagger can last much longer,” Cordelia said, almost in tears. “We need to get to Kristoff House!”
They held on as Fat Jagger moaned in pain, which only made Eleanor sob more. Through her tears, she spotted Brendan fighting to keep his balance on the increasingly uneasy surface. Eleanor quickly bent down and unlaced her left shoe.
“Cordelia, I need a distraction,” she said as she began working on her right shoelace. “Get Brendan’s attention!”
Cordelia stood up and took a deep breath; her last encounter with Brendan hadn’t gone so well.
“Hey, Dawn of the Dork!” Cordelia yelled as she walked towards her zombified brother.
Brendan cocked his head in Cordelia’s direction. He shuffled towards what he hoped would be his next meal, stopping to groan after each uneasy step – until suddenly his legs wouldn’t move any more. He groaned again before toppling over, a shoelace tied around his ankles.
“Nice one, Nell!” Cordelia said.
Eleanor grabbed Brendan’s arms and tied his wrists together with her other shoelace, careful to avoid his snapping jaws. Even with the future of her family on the line, Eleanor’s confidence surged through her. It felt good to know that she could actually help save her siblings – especially with a plan that was all her own.
Once Brendan was tied up, the two girls dragged him to the back of Fat Jagger’s mouth and nestled him under the colossus’s gigantic tongue for safety. Eleanor almost giggled at the image of zombie Brendan tucked under a giant’s tongue like a pig in a blanket. But the reality of the situation quickly erased her smile.
“I hope your plan works once we get to Kristoff House, Eleanor, whatever it is,” Cordelia said. “There are three lives on the line now.”
“Who’s the third?” Eleanor asked.
“Me,” Cordelia said, holding up her wounded hand, already feeling a little woozy from the zombification process. “Brendan bit me. If my calculations are correct … I should start turning into a zombie in about twelve minutes.”
“How close are we?” Eleanor yelled, as Fat Jagger stumbled again.
He opened his mouth just enough for Cordelia and Eleanor to peek outside. They saw Kristoff House sitting atop Sea Cliff Avenue a few more bounding steps away.
More rockets collided with Fat Jagger’s back as he reached the house. He fell to his knees on the huge lawn next to Kristoff House, groaning in pain.
“Spit us into the attic, Fat Jagger!” Eleanor screamed, tears pouring down her face now.
She knew Fat Jagger was dying. Her only hope of saving him was if her plan worked. But the problem was, now that they were actually here, she was less convinced than ever that it actually would. It was a long shot, and she knew it.
Fat Jagger gently poked a hole into the peaked roof of Kristoff House with his massive index finger. He bent forward slightly and spat the contents of his mouth into the attic. Then he slumped backwards into a cross-legged sitting position like a small child getting ready for story time, exhausted and breathing heavily and barely able to keep his eyes open. But he had done it; he’d finally