“Hell yeah!” Al said.
“Freeze and Frizz!” Tim chanted.
They piled into George’s car, an old four door Saturn, and were at Freeze and Frizz ordering hamburgers, hotdogs, French fries, and sodas within fifteen minutes. Freeze and Frizz was a local mainstay in Spring Valley. Located just off Route 501, it was a family-owned hamburger joint that served great food: hamburgers, hotdogs, steak sandwiches, onion rings and fries — and the best chocolate milk shakes in the universe. The place did booming business in the summer thanks to a combination of its food and atmosphere. It sported plenty of indoor booths, a large grassy area with picnic benches, and a playground for the kids. With the completion of the Main Theater down the street, business was booming more than ever.
They took their food to one of the picnic tables outside. Al had already staked a claim on one of them, and as they sat down and divided up the food, George asked Tim why he thought Eli Roth was over-rated as a director. “I think he’s good,” Tim said, biting into his hamburger. “I like his stuff, don’t get me wrong. Most people either love him or hate him. I thought Cabin Fever was awesome, and the first Hostel definitely had its moments.”
“The scariest thing about the first Hostel film was the Elite Hunt club,” Al said. He dipped his French fries in catsup and chowed down.
“Oh, those guys were the essence of the movie!” Tim said. “I’m really glad he got more into how they operate in the sequel. If you ask me, Hostel 2 was ten times better than the first one.”
George was watching him. “You really love horror movies, don’t you?”
Tim felt suddenly embarrassed. He took a bite of his hamburger, not knowing how to respond, when George smiled. “I dig ‘em too.”
“No shit, me too!” Al said. He took a slurp of his orange soda. “Horror movies, graphic novels, comics — ”
“Novels,” George said, nodding.
Tim grinned. The vibe he got from George and Al was that they were sincere. For the first time Tim felt like he was on the verge of finding real friends in Al and George.
“Hey guys, what’s up?”
The three boys turned at the sound of the voice. Tim felt his elation drop a notch. Gordon Smith and Steve Miller were ambling over. With them were Rebecca Watkins and Susan Snow. Rebecca was Scott Bradfield’s girlfriend, and as far as Tim knew, Susan wasn’t dating anybody. Rebecca tended to hang out with Scott’s friends whenever his old nemesis was occupied elsewhere. Susan was probably tagging along because she was Rebecca’s best friend.
Gordon, Steve and the girls stopped by the table and Gordon sat down beside Tim. “You guys go to the movies?” Steve asked.
“Yeah,” Al said. He and George were nodding at them, exchanging grins.
“See Hostel 3?” Gordon asked.
“You better believe it,” George said. He had wolfed down all of his fries. “That is one mean movie.”
There was laughter all around. Tim felt like he was in the spotlight. Susan sat down across from him, making small talk with Rebecca, who was standing close by. Gordon nudged Tim. “So tell me about that book you were reading the other day. The zombie book.”
“You’re reading a zombie book?” Al asked, the interest obvious in his features.
“Yeah,” Tim said.
“So what happened?” Gordon asked.
Tim took a sip of his chocolate shake. “You mean, what happened in the book?”
“Yeah.”
Tim shrugged, curious why Gordon would want to know the plotline of the horror novel he was reading. Gordon was one of those kids that only read when they were assigned books to read in class. “It’s about a group of guys that basically make zombies so they could be their slaves.”
Gordon looked fascinated. “You shittin’ me?”
“No,” Tim said. Part of him felt nervous that he was talking to Gordon in a more or less civilized manner; this was the only time he could remember Gordon being courteous to him. “I’m at the part now where they’ve got a bunch of them enslaved in this…like…encampment…and they’re going to use them to — ”
“What’s the name of the book?” Al asked.
“It’s called Back From the Dead and it’s by Richard Long,” Tim told Al. He turned to Gordon. “They make the zombies by a combination of black magic…specifically voodoo and this…I guess you could say it’s this powder made from certain herbs that are found from this plant in the ‘Carribean. I can’t remember the name now. And — ”
“So do these zombies eat people?” Steve asked.
Tim realized that they were all paying attention to him now. Even Susan Snow, who’d hardly noticed him since they entered middle school together and was one of the hottest-looking girls in school. Tim took a quick sip of his milk shake to wet his palate. “No. They don’t eat people. At least they haven’t yet.”
“So how do they make the zombies?” Gordon asked.
Tim shrugged. If this had happened back in the sixth or seventh grade he would have been hesitant to tell him. Gordon would have just run off to tell Scott and Steve, then the three of them would tease and make fun of him about it. However, this time, things seemed different. Tim had the impression that Al and George, who were not only interested in hearing about this too, would take his back if Gordon turned into a shithead. “Well, some of this novel takes place in Haiti, where zombies are very real to the population there. How the characters in the novel make the zombies is from a mixture of the herbs I mentioned and certain chemicals found from toad skin and puffer fish.”
“Is that because they’re poisonous?” Gordon asked.
“Yeah,” Tim said. “The hungoun, or the voodoo priest, can make the victim appear dead by putting this mixture in food or blowing it as a powder in their face. The victim ingests it involuntarily, they faint, and people think they’re dead. They have an incredibly slow heart rate and labored breathing, and because people are buried so quickly in Haiti due to the high humidity and heat, this suits the zombie-making process. The victim is dug up within eight hours of burial and by then they’re a zombie.”
“So…they’re not really dead?”
“Not really. Well, in Back From the Dead they are because in the book they die and the voodoo priest uses certain rituals in conjunction with the chemicals.”
“What kind of rituals?” Gordon was looking at Tim as if he was sincerely interested in learning about this.
Tim traded a glance with George. “Well…specifically a black magic rite, more out of Santeria than Voodoo. There’s a formula they follow…certain prayers spoken before the victim is secured…oh, and the ground the victim is buried in has to be consecrated…there’s got to be a special ritual performed over it and a sacrifice made.”
“A human sacrifice?”
“No, an animal. In the book they sacrifice a chicken.”
“Okay.” Gordon looked like he was taking mental notes.
“Anyway,” Tim continued, “Once the victim has been killed and buried, another ritual is performed and then the person comes back from the dead, programmed to do the priests…or, in the case of this story, the protagonists, bidding.”
“So they don’t eat people?”
“Not in Back From the Dead they don’t.”
“And they don’t, like, rot and shit?”
“Well…actually, they kinda do.”
“That’s so cool!” Gordon grinned. “I’ve gotta check that book out. Can I borrow it when you’re finished?”
“Sure,” Tim said, before realizing he was agreeing to loan a book to a kid he didn’t really care for. “I should be done with it by Monday.”
“Cool. Thanks.”