The Big Nap Read Online Free

someone's gone zomboid. I mean, what are the signs?"
    The burly possum narrowed his eyes. "Why you askin'?"
    "Uh, it's for my class project," I said.
    "Hmm," he said. "Well, your basic zombie stares straight ahead ... walks all stiff-legged ... talks zombie talk..."
    "Zombie talk?"
    "Yeah, you know, like: 'Books good; modern art bad.' Stuff like that. Also, zombies follow orders like I follow the smell of fine espresso. You dig?"
    I leaned against a chair back. "And how do you make a zombie?" I asked.
    "Well, you—" Cool Beans glanced at the wall clock. "Oh, man, check out the time. I gotta split."
    He headed for the hall behind his desk at a steady amble, which for a possum is like sprinting a fifty-yard dash. "Later, freighter," he said. "It's been uptown, way-out, and wild."
    Cool Beans disappeared into the short corridor. A door opened and closed.
    Curiouser and curiouser.
    From what the big possum had said, both Bo Newt and Eena Moe had all the signs of advanced zombitude. I didn't know how they'd gotten that way. But I knew one thing.
    For a simple librarian, this guy knew an awful lot about zombies—the kind of stuff you can't learn from books. Just ghost to show you: There's no ghoul like an old ghoul.

7. Home, Home, and Deranged
    The library didn't feel so safe anymore. I dragged Natalie off the computer, and we headed for my place to regroup. My sharp detective mind needed some more fuel food.
    Along the way, I filled Natalie in on my encounter with the new librarian and the mysterious sounds behind the closed door. We tried to guess what was happening in the library meeting room.
    "Do you think Cool Beans is making zombies back there?" I asked.
    "And they're what, shelving his books for him?" she said. "I dunno."
    "Whatever it is, he wants to keep it under wraps."
    We strolled down the sidewalk under heavy skies.
The clouds looked as gray as a rhino's rump at twilight and as full of rain as an overstuffed water balloon.
    Natalie ran down her research results. "Man, there's a lot of info out there," she said. "Do you know, I even learned how to make a zombie float?"
    "How do you make a zombie float?" I asked.
    "A glass of root beer and two scoops of zombie!" Natalie squawked. "You sure stepped into that one."
    I took a deep breath. A private eye stays calm, even in the face of extreme aggravation. "Did you pick up anything other than the latest zombie jokes?"
    Natalie hopped off the curb and we crossed the street toward my house. "Absolutely. I learned that most zombies have had their souls sucked out of their bodies."
    "
Eeew,
" we said together. "Soul suckers."
    "They can either be dead folks brought back to life, or living ones who get turned into slaves," Natalie said.
    "And how do you enslave someone?" She raised an eyebrow. "I was just reading that part when somebody dragged me off the computer."
    I examined my fingerpads closely. "Is that so?"
    "But," she said, "hypnosis is one way—that much I know."
    We strolled into my backyard. By this time, my
little sister, Pinky, should've been all over me like brown on a chocolate bar. I looked around. No sign of her.
    "
Shhh,
" I said. "Let's sneak into my office."
    We tiptoed toward the clump of bamboo. My office sat just behind it, cleverly disguised as an old refrigerator box.
    Beep-bop boop,
came a sound from just ahead.
    Either extraterrestrials were phoning home from my office or someone was playing a video game behind the bamboo.
    "Pinky!" I said.
    She didn't even look up from her handheld game. "Hmm?"
    "Pinky, get back in the house." As the firstborn gecko, I had bossing-around privileges. And I never hesitated to use them.
    "Mmkay," she said. Pinky rose obediently and walked up to the back door, still playing her game.
    "Wow. That was easy," I said. "We should give her video games more often."
    Natalie and I entered the office and broke into my stash of sugar-coated cockroach eggs.
Mmm,
life is sweet. I was ready for action.
    "Okay, what do we