My Zombie Hamster (4 page)

I hate Sundays. I always have.

Well, not always. But ever since I started school I’ve hated Sundays. There is a program here that has been on forever. One of those current-affairs-filled-with-bad-news programs. Every Sunday evening at seven o’clock, its horrible, fateful music starts playing, and that’s when you know your weekend is officially over. That homework can’t be put off for another second.

And you can’t even ignore it at the beginning of the weekend. The makers of the show start pushing out their promos on Friday night. So even before you’ve had a chance to collapse on
the couch and contemplate the glorious weekend stretching ahead of you, a commercial appears with that horrible, depressing music to warn you that Sunday is only a matter of hours away.

It’s like those stores that have back-to-school promotions three weeks into summer vacation. It shouldn’t be allowed.

When I become Grand High Overseer of the World I’ll make sure that kind of thing is banned for good. (I contemplated becoming President, but then thought, why limit myself? Grand High Overseer of the World sounds so much better.)

I’ve started putting a list together of all the things I’ll change.

List of Annoying Things I Will Change When I Am Declared Grand High Overseer of the World

I’m sure there will be more to add.

SNUFFLES WATCH:
Snuffles still sleeping off his out-of-cage adventure. He hasn’t moved much at all since he came back.

MONDAY, DECEMBER 30

9:00 a.m
. Snuffles is dead!

I knew something was wrong when I opened the cage to feed him and he didn’t try to gnaw my finger off. He was lying still beneath all the sawdust, and when I moved him I saw there was a huge lump on his stomach. That must have been what killed him.

He was stiff, but he couldn’t have been dead long, because the Zombie Police hadn’t arrived to collect him, and they usually come within the hour.

I felt really horrible about the poor thing. I’d only had him a few days, but still. I should have been nicer to him. I mean, the poor guy died all alone, just a few feet away from me.

I’ll admit this here, although I’m not sure I should. I cried a bit. And it wasn’t because I was scared of getting into trouble. I cried because I felt really bad for him.

10:00 a.m
. Still no sign of the Zombie Police. Has there been a spate of hamster deaths that they’re busy attending to? Some kind of hamster plague? I checked the news channels, but there was no mention of anything strange going on.

11:00 a.m
. Getting worried. They should have been here by now. Snuffles’s lifechip must have transmitted his death signal ages ago.

12:00 noon
They still haven’t come. Definitely something odd going on. Went to ask Dad where Snuffles’s paperwork was. Said I wanted to keep it safe. He said it was in the kitchen drawer. I winced. Our kitchen drawers are like bottomless pits, filled with dangerous implements no one knows the use for, string that has wrapped around everything in the drawer, Scotch tape that is sticking to everything else, and various other things that no one wants to throw away because they’re convinced
they might need them at some point in the future. (They never will.)

When I finally found the certificates I noticed from the address that the pet shop Dad bought Snuffles from was in a very seedy part of town.

I phoned the pet shop, and a recording kicked in after a few rings: “This shop has been closed down by order of the Zombie Police due to failure to comply with proper pet-handling legislation. Any customers who bought anything from this location are ordered to report to their local detainment facility immediately. Seriously. Like, right now.”

There was a brief pause, then the voice continued.

“Um … I know that sounded a bit heavy and intense, and you’re probably thinking ‘No way I’m reporting anywhere,’ but I promise, nothing will happen to you. Seriously, I promise, and I don’t even have my fingers crossed. So just head on over to the detainment facility and we’ll say no more about it.”

I slammed the phone down and decided to confront Dad.

A look of panic flashed across his face, and he pushed me out into the backyard.

“Not so loud! Your mom will hear!”

I asked him why that was a problem.

“Because she told me to get the hamster from the mall. You know, the big one in the center of town.”

“But you didn’t?”

“I didn’t have time! It was Christmas Eve!”

“So … what were you doing?” I asked. “You were gone all day.”

Dad lowered his head and mumbled something.

“What?”

“I said there was a back-to-back retrospective of the original
Star Wars
movies showing downtown! How could I pass up a chance to see them on the big screen again?”

Ah.
Star Wars
. That explained everything. My dad is a bit obsessed with those movies. To be fair, they are really good movies, and he’d passed on this love to me and Katie. (We didn’t have much choice, really. He used to watch all of them at
least
once a week. We grew up with them.)

Although I have to say we don’t hold the same hatred he does for “the other three movies.”

“Just the originals?” I asked. “Not the prequels?”

Dad’s face turned cold. “Wash your mouth out with soap, son. Haven’t I raised you better than that?”

Yeah.
Star Wars
. Completely obsessed with them. But only the originals. Mention anything after
Return of the Jedi
and he gets a bit crazy. I tried to get him to watch
Clone Wars
one day, and he gave me this sad, disappointed look and left the room.

“Sorry,” I said. “So … Snuffles?”

“There was a pet shop just outside the movie theater. I got him there.” He frowned at me. “Why all the interest?”

“Um … no reason. Bye.”

I sprinted back to my room. That explained everything. The Zombie Police hadn’t come because the hamster probably didn’t even have a lifechip inserted.

I sat down on my bed and pondered the situation. No lifechip meant no Zombie Police. That was something. But how to explain that to Mom? If I told her Snuffles was dead, she’d figure out what Dad had done, and he’d be in big trouble. Plus, they’d both think I couldn’t look after a hamster.

Maybe I could just take care of it myself?
Bury Snuffles in the backyard and tell everyone he escaped? Hmm. That had possibilities. I’d get into a bit of trouble for letting him escape, but it wouldn’t be too bad.

I heard a strange scuffling sound and looked up.

Snuffles was standing in his cage doorway. Staring at me.

I’d been wrong! He’d just been sleeping after all.

But then I saw that the huge growth on his stomach had burst or something, revealing his tiny rib cage.

I froze for a second while the truth hit me. I didn’t want to accept it at first, but as I stared at the poor creature in front of me there was no denying it.

Snuffles had become a zombie!

A zombie hamster.

I had no idea what to do. Nothing in my life had in any way prepared me for a zombie hamster giving me the evil eye.

He was watching me intensely. His eyes were no longer shiny and black. They were now dull and grayish. His mouth was opening and closing,
almost as if he was eating something.