Max Brallier - The Last Kids on Earth and the Zombie Parade

Now, I realize in terms of, like, all-time ultimate heroic quests, ‘writing a book’ doesn’t exactly rank up there with Frodo carrying the ring to Mount Doom, but whatever. I learned that just by calling any random old chore a quest, you can make life a LOT more fun.

For example . . .

Separately, our friend Dirk’s quest is to build a vegetable garden. That’s not a joke. Dirk apparently loves fresh tomatoes. He says he can’t maintain his hulking mass by surviving on Wotsits and Snickers alone. Which is BONKERS, since I’m pretty sure those are major food groups.

Dirk’s part of my monster-fighting crew. He was a terrifying bully back before the end of the world, but now he’s a terrifying monstercrushing man . . . with a soft side, as you can tell from his vegetable garden quest.

Dirk told us that if he had some tomatoes, he could probably make some bootleg pizzas over a fire. And I haven’t had pizza – legit or bootleg – in months.

June Del Toro (who is kind of my favourite girl in the world) was in agreement with Dirk on this – she was dying for some non-junk food. Buncha crazies, if you ask me.

Anyway, these two very epic quests are the reason Quint, June, Dirk, and I are at the Circle One Mall right now. It’s the reason we’re racing down the mall’s main corridor. It’s the reason we’re being chased by the Wormungulous. It’s the reason –

KA-KA-KRASSSSH!!!

I crane my neck as my feet pound the floor. Ah, fisticuffs – it’s catching up!

My heart is slamming against my rib cage as I race around the corner, past the fancy-pants Belgian Godiva Chocolatier store, past the Build-A-Bear Workshop, and past the always-tasty Millie’s Cookies stall.

Suddenly –

SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP!

Footsteps behind me. As far as I know, worms – even monster worms – don’t have feet.

I twist my head. I’m both very relieved and supremely annoyed to see that it’s Quint.

‘Quint!’ I bark. ‘I said split up. Why didn’t you split?!’

‘I did split!’ he replies. ‘When I split, I split left. That’s how I split!’

‘Splitting up isn’t difficult, Quint!’ I shout. ‘Everyone just goes in different directions! That’s the definition of “split up”! It’s not rocket science!’

‘Jack, I find rocket science easier to comprehend than your silly action plans!’

I yell at Quint, but he doesn’t hear me. It’s hard to hear anything over the sound of the worm slithering and slicing its way around the corner.

‘Great job, Quint!’ I holler. ‘Because there are two of us, the Wormungulous decided to follow us!’

There’s a KA-BAM as the worm barrels through Foot Locker. The sound of shattering glass, twisting metal and bouncing Nikes echoes down the corridor.

It’s time to try out my newest toy . . .

– The BOOMerang –

(a weapon that goes boom)

Quint, of course, is the designer of this particular gadget. It’s supposed to ‘distract and disorientate’ monsters. I raise my hand, ready to throw, and –

The BOOMerang does NOT come flying back to me in the way it is supposed to – y’know, the one quality that actually makes a boomerang a boomerang. Without the ‘coming back to you’ part, you’re just flinging around curved wood – not much fun.

The BOOMerang does not return, but it does whack the Wormungulous in the face. There’s a BLAST as smoke bombs and sparklers explode. The monster jerks to the left, veers back to the right, and then –

I take that split second, when there’s nothing but glass and metal in the air and wreckage in the worm’s face, to grab Quint and yank him into the closest store. We tumble over a display table and crash to the floor.

‘Stay down!’ I whisper.

An instant later, the Wormungulous barrels down the corridor, streaking past the store like an oversized snot rocket come to life.

I catch my breath, get to my feet, and inch out into the corridor. The Wormungulous left a trail of yellow worm goo in its wake and the floor is now a slick mess. I watch the worm crash into a clothes store and disappear in a cloud of dust as the wall crumbles behind it.

‘I didn’t get a photo!’ I exclaim.

‘PHOTO FAIL,’ Quint says.

I cock my eyebrow. ‘Don’t talk like that, Quint. It doesn’t suit you.’

‘A failure of photographic proportions, friend.’

‘Better,’ I say, slapping my best bud on the back. ‘Now where are we?’

Looking around, I begin to tremble and shake as I realize: WE’RE INSIDE GAME!

‘Dude!’ I exclaim as I begin to walk the aisles. ‘Could I have picked a better place for a last-minute hideout?’

‘Quite perfect!’ Quint exclaims happily.

Near the Nintendo 3DS section, I spot something I want so bad that it causes my gut to tighten up and my extremities to get all warm and tingly.

I’m staring at a giant, life-sized suit of space marine armour from my favourite game, NIMBUS: Call to Action. It’s shiny, practically GLOWING.

There’s a big sign next to it that says, ‘Coming soon! The hottest sci-fi space marine first-person action shooter ever to hit the planet Earth! NIMBUS: Call to Action 14.’

Suddenly, I’m punched in the face by sadness. I’m thinking about how many amazing video games were being designed when the Monster Apocalypse happened. And now they’ll never be released! I’ll never get to play them!

I knock on the chest piece. DONK DONK DONK. It’s definitely metal or some sort of fancy plastic.

Quint’s eyes go wide. ‘I was mistaken!’ he exclaims. ‘This silicone-plastic-Wonderflex is the finest in video game promotion!’

‘I’m totally taking this,’ I say. ‘I’ll be like an unstoppable space marine hero! I’ll stuff some bottle rockets in the side here – any monsters get close and VA-SHOOM! Eat rocket!’

Quint grins. ‘I must agree. It’s quite impressive.’

‘Now,’ I say, ‘where is our transportation?’

A moment later –

After about twenty clumsy attempts, Quint and I manage to get the space marine armour into Rover’s saddle. Rover is my monster dog, and he can haul anything. I pocket a few PS4 games for the road, then step out into the gooey, slippery corridor.