Read Online All Together Now: A Zombie Story by Robert Kent - Free Book Online
Authors: Robert Kent
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with the pressure of a shark's bite.
He snarled and dove his head, jaw first, toward my shoulder.
27
BEN TOBIN , SOPHOMORE, THE GREATEST first baseman in Harrington High history and my best friend since the third grade. I don't have the words to tell you about Ben.
We were in Little League together and his dad worked at Kirkman's, so we've known each other our whole lives.
In third grade, my mother went through a religious phase and dragged Chuck and me to church every Sunday for a year. Everywhere she drove us, we listened to gospel music like "What a Friend We Have in Jesus," "Where No One Stands Alone," and "All Together Now."
Then she got in a fight with the minister's wife and we stopped going.
Anyway, every summer the church sponsored kids for church camp and the summer my mother found religion, I got to go for a week.
We had to memorize a bunch of Bible verses and listen to stories about Jesus, and it seemed like we never stopped praying. But in between all that we went on hikes, played games, practiced archery, had camp fires, and slept in tents.
It was a good time.
Most activities required a partner, and Ben and I were the only two third-graders from Harrington Christian Church, so we did most everything together.
The last day of camp we went canoeing and ours flipped over. That's not quite accurate. I was bent over waving my butt at a canoe of girls and I tripped and capsized our canoe.
We were in a shallow creek. It's not like the counselors took third-graders into whitewater. But I plunged in and the water went above my head, which was unfortunate as I caught my foot in the marsh below.
I was probably only under about 30 seconds, if that, but 30 seconds is a lifetime for a third-grader.
In those 30 seconds I knew I was going to die.
I didn't imagine any bright white light filled with floating angels leading me to a paradise where the streets were paved gold like the Land of Oz.
I knew I wasn't going to be reunited with Grandpa Zack and Jesus wasn't going to be there to thank me for all the songs I sang about Him that week.
The world would keep on going the same as ever, just no me.
Even though Ben could barely swim, he kept one hand on our canoe and pulled me up by my shirt with his other hand. If he hadn't, the counselors who were already swimming toward us would've saved me, but they didn't get there. Ben did.
That night we said a special prayer thanking God for giving Ben the courage to save my life. And the last day of camp when they gave out the camper awards, Ben received the Moses award for "parting the waters and leading me to safety."
Ben and I've been best friends ever since.
Seven years later in the halls of Harrington High School, Ben saved me again.
28
I SAW MR. GOODWIN INTENDED to bite my shoulder before he tried.
Never mind he was a teacher.
Never mind adults, whether they're teachers or not, aren't allowed to bite students.
Never mind Mr. Goodwin was missing half his face and should've been dead or on his way to the hospital.
I jammed my left palm against the portion of Mr. Goodwin's forehead that still had skin and pushed.
He forgot my shoulder and tried to bite my wrist.
I grabbed his hair with my right hand. It was slick and sticky and smelled of blood.
With both hands I held him back, but it did no good.
Zombies are slow and stiff, but they're as strong as they were in life. Stronger, in a way, because they have no second thoughts or moral qualms, and no concern for themselves.
Looking into Mr. Goodwin's milky white eyes, I knew they didn't see me, Ricky Genaro, the kid from his 10th-grade social studies class. Those eyes saw only what they wanted: meat.
He charged.
I could no more hold him at bay than I could've held a grizzly bear. I was driven backward against the lockers.
I did the only thing I could: I let my legs go limp and dropped.
Mr. Goodwin banged his head on a locker door, but appeared not to notice. Instead he
He snarled and dove his head, jaw first, toward my shoulder.
27
BEN TOBIN , SOPHOMORE, THE GREATEST first baseman in Harrington High history and my best friend since the third grade. I don't have the words to tell you about Ben.
We were in Little League together and his dad worked at Kirkman's, so we've known each other our whole lives.
In third grade, my mother went through a religious phase and dragged Chuck and me to church every Sunday for a year. Everywhere she drove us, we listened to gospel music like "What a Friend We Have in Jesus," "Where No One Stands Alone," and "All Together Now."
Then she got in a fight with the minister's wife and we stopped going.
Anyway, every summer the church sponsored kids for church camp and the summer my mother found religion, I got to go for a week.
We had to memorize a bunch of Bible verses and listen to stories about Jesus, and it seemed like we never stopped praying. But in between all that we went on hikes, played games, practiced archery, had camp fires, and slept in tents.
It was a good time.
Most activities required a partner, and Ben and I were the only two third-graders from Harrington Christian Church, so we did most everything together.
The last day of camp we went canoeing and ours flipped over. That's not quite accurate. I was bent over waving my butt at a canoe of girls and I tripped and capsized our canoe.
We were in a shallow creek. It's not like the counselors took third-graders into whitewater. But I plunged in and the water went above my head, which was unfortunate as I caught my foot in the marsh below.
I was probably only under about 30 seconds, if that, but 30 seconds is a lifetime for a third-grader.
In those 30 seconds I knew I was going to die.
I didn't imagine any bright white light filled with floating angels leading me to a paradise where the streets were paved gold like the Land of Oz.
I knew I wasn't going to be reunited with Grandpa Zack and Jesus wasn't going to be there to thank me for all the songs I sang about Him that week.
The world would keep on going the same as ever, just no me.
Even though Ben could barely swim, he kept one hand on our canoe and pulled me up by my shirt with his other hand. If he hadn't, the counselors who were already swimming toward us would've saved me, but they didn't get there. Ben did.
That night we said a special prayer thanking God for giving Ben the courage to save my life. And the last day of camp when they gave out the camper awards, Ben received the Moses award for "parting the waters and leading me to safety."
Ben and I've been best friends ever since.
Seven years later in the halls of Harrington High School, Ben saved me again.
28
I SAW MR. GOODWIN INTENDED to bite my shoulder before he tried.
Never mind he was a teacher.
Never mind adults, whether they're teachers or not, aren't allowed to bite students.
Never mind Mr. Goodwin was missing half his face and should've been dead or on his way to the hospital.
I jammed my left palm against the portion of Mr. Goodwin's forehead that still had skin and pushed.
He forgot my shoulder and tried to bite my wrist.
I grabbed his hair with my right hand. It was slick and sticky and smelled of blood.
With both hands I held him back, but it did no good.
Zombies are slow and stiff, but they're as strong as they were in life. Stronger, in a way, because they have no second thoughts or moral qualms, and no concern for themselves.
Looking into Mr. Goodwin's milky white eyes, I knew they didn't see me, Ricky Genaro, the kid from his 10th-grade social studies class. Those eyes saw only what they wanted: meat.
He charged.
I could no more hold him at bay than I could've held a grizzly bear. I was driven backward against the lockers.
I did the only thing I could: I let my legs go limp and dropped.
Mr. Goodwin banged his head on a locker door, but appeared not to notice. Instead he
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