The Zombie Zone-a to z 26 (5 page)

“Well, I still think Byron did it,” Josh said. He stuck up three fingers. “One, there’s red clay on his shovel. Two, he could have left those huge footprints we saw. Three, he’s a painter, so he could have painted that sign.”

“Byron paints?” asked Ruth Rose’s grandmother.

“We only saw one painting,” Ruth Rose said, “but it was real good.”

Ruth Rose’s grandmother reached for her sandals. “I have a hard time imagining that Jack is involved with grave robbing,” she said. “But I would very much like to meet Byron!”

They flagged down a taxi in front of the hotel. Dink told the driver they wanted to go to the Old Forest Trail.

“Got it!” the driver said as she moved smoothly into the late-afternoon traffic.

Ten minutes later, Ruth Rose’s grandmother paid the driver. “Will you pick us up right here in an hour?” she asked.

“Sure thing,” the driver said. She waved and drove away.

Ruth Rose’s grandmother looked at the dark and dense forest in front of them. “Are you sure there’s a trail in here?” she asked.

Josh showed her the plaque. “Don’t worry about snakes!” he said bravely.

“I wasn’t even thinking about snakes until you mentioned them!” Ruth Rose’s grandmother said.

This time Josh led the way as they hiked the trail. They stopped when they came to the zombie sign.

“That
is
strange,” Ruth Rose’s grandmother said. “Someone definitely wants people to think there are zombies around here.”

“We think it’s the same guy who dug up the graves!” Ruth Rose said.

Her grandmother nodded. “What a busy little zombie!”

They hiked on and soon came to Myrna’s village. No one was around.

“Look, they’re all in that big hut,” Dink said, pointing to the largest of the buildings.

The door was open and the kids could see people sitting on benches. Dink heard a voice speaking firmly.

“They’re having some kind of meeting,” Ruth Rose said. “Maybe it has something to do with the dug-up graves.”

“Is it very far to Byron’s cabin from here?” her grandmother asked.

“No,” Dink said, pointing. “That trail goes to the cemetery, and then you take a little path to where Byron lives.”

The three kids led Ruth Rose’s grandmother down the trail. They stopped at the little cemetery.

“Someone worked hard to dig those graves up,” Ruth Rose’s grandmother commented, pointing to the mounds of red dirt near the two empty holes.

“See, Gram, that’s the same clay we saw on Byron’s shovel,” Ruth Rose said.

“Yes, but I would assume red clay could be found in other places,” her grandmother said.

They continued walking. A few minutes later, they stood in the trees behind Byron’s cabin.

“I don’t see him,” Ruth Rose whispered, peering around a tree trunk.

“Why don’t we just go knock on his door?” her grandmother suggested.

Josh giggled. “I don’t know if he even
has
a door!” he said.

“Come on,” Dink said. He stepped into the sunshine. The foursome walked around the cabin.

Byron was standing in front of his easel with a brush in his hand. Small jars of paint were lined up on the easel’s tray.

“Hi, Byron,” Dink said.

Byron turned around quickly. He had a blob of white paint on his chin. When he saw the kids, he broke into a wide smile.

“This is Mrs. Hathaway, my grandmother,” Ruth Rose told Byron.

Byron picked up a cloth to wipe his hands. Putting out one hand, he said, “Hello, I am very pleased to meet you.”

“I’ve heard a lot about you,” Ruth Rose’s grandmother said with a warm smile. “May I look at your painting?”

Byron blushed. “I have better ones in my house,” he said.

They all studied Byron’s painting. Since this morning, Byron had added something. He had painted tombstones inside the fence. Now Dink recognized the iron fence.

It was the fence at the cemetery.

“I think you are a truly wonderful painter,” Ruth Rose’s grandmother told Byron.

“This is the cemetery, isn’t it?” Dink asked Byron.

The tall man nodded. “I like it there,” he said.

“Do you go there a lot?” Dink asked.

“Bill likes to hunt mice at night,” Byron said. “Sometimes I go with him. I sit by the cemetery. It’s peaceful there.”

“Did you ever see anyone digging in the cemetery?” Dink asked.

Suddenly Byron’s face grew red. He put his brush down. “I didn’t mean to steal it,” he said.

“Steal what?” asked Ruth Rose.

Byron walked into his cabin and came back holding something in his hand. It was a man’s leather wallet.

“I was sitting by the cemetery last week. It was dark, and Bill was hunting,” Byron said. “Two men came and dug up the graves. They carried the coffins away. When they were gone, I found this in the dirt. I saved it for them, but they didn’t come back.”

“That’s what the guy was doing in the grave last night!” Josh said. “Looking for his wallet!”

Ruth Rose’s grandmother took the wallet and looked inside. “How nice,” she said. “He even has his picture on his business card.”

The kids looked at the white card.

The name Jay Frisk was printed in big black letters. Below the name it said
LAND DEVELOPER
, with a phone number and an e-mail address.

Next to the name was a small picture of the man they’d passed on the path.

“I get it,” Dink said. “This guy dug up those graves to scare the villagers into selling their land!”

“Now everything makes sense!” Josh said. “This Frisk guy is the zombie! He probably put up that sign, too!”

“What should we do?” Dink said.

Ruth Rose’s grandmother whipped out her cell phone. She dialed information, then said, “The New Orleans Police Department, please.”

The next morning, Jack picked up the kids after breakfast. Ruth Rose was wearing pink from headband to sneakers.

“You look like a sunrise,” Jack told her.

“Thanks, Jack,” Ruth Rose said. “Was your baby born yet?”

“Yes!” the proud father said. “It’s a beautiful little girl. Theresa and her mom are sleeping, so now’s our chance to get a peek at the alligator nest.”

A half hour later, they were all hunkered down in some bushes near the water. Jack had brought binoculars, and they were taking turns peering at a mother alligator.

She was lying half in the water with her long snout pointed toward her nest. The gator’s scaly hide was blackish green, ridged and bumpy like a truck tire.

“I don’t see any babies,” whispered Josh.

“They haven’t hatched yet,” Jack said, pointing to a small hill of vegetation. “That mound is her nest. The eggs are buried in that stuff.”

“Why isn’t she sitting on the nest?” Ruth Rose asked. “Won’t the eggs get cold?”

“The rotting vegetation keeps the eggs warm,” Jack explained. “Mama gator is watching the water in case a meal swims by.”

The large mother alligator lay as still as a log. Her mouth was partly open, and every now and then her eyes would blink.

“You kids did a good job figuring out who robbed those graves,” Jack said. “The villagers reburied the coffins and had a nice ceremony. The cops took the two developers in for some serious questions. They won’t be trying to scam any more people.”

“Do you think the people in the village were really going to sell their land?” Dink asked.

“They would have eventually,” Jack said. “My guess is that if the robbed graves didn’t convince them, the scammers would have tried something else next time. They were greedy guys who wanted to build high-rise apartments there.”

“If Byron hadn’t been out with his owl, he never would have seen those men,” Josh said. “Or found that wallet.”

Jack smiled. “Byron told Myrna that he’s been on his own since his parents abandoned him when he was eight years old. Never went to school, just lived in these woods. Myrna and the villagers are building him a new hut near hers. He’s going to live with them now.”

“And Byron gave my grandmother one of his paintings,” Ruth Rose said. “She showed it to a man who owns an art gallery. He said Byron is going to make a ton of money!”

Jack put his finger to his lips. “Listen,” he whispered.

They all heard high, croaky noises coming from the nest.

“Now watch,” Jack said.

The mother alligator began moving toward the mound. When she got there, she scraped away the top layer of the vegetation.

Twenty or thirty tiny green-and-yellow alligators were crawling out of their eggs. As they freed themselves, they wriggled toward their mother.

“Now check this out,” Jack said quietly.

The mama alligator flattened herself on the ground with her jaws opened. The babies scrambled over her bottom jaw, right into her mouth!

“Is she going to eat them?” Josh asked.

Jack laughed. “No, that’s how mama alligators and crocodiles protect their babies,” he said. “They’re safe inside her mouth.”

“Protect them from what?” asked Ruth Rose, taking her turn with the binoculars.

“There are a lot of critters who would love to snack on a baby alligator,” Jack said. “Raccoons, possums, herons, you name it. When Mama thinks it’s safe, she’ll open her mouth and her babies will crawl out.”

The four backed quietly away and headed for the trail.

“Speaking of lunch,” Josh said as they hiked, “I’m hungry!”

“Josh, no one was talking about lunch,” Dink said.

Josh grinned. “Now we are!” he said.

THE END