sundresses, polo shirts, khakis, postal uniforms, construction helmets, bike helmets, and spandex, all dragging their sneakers, sandals, and loafers through the streets.
Ozzie took a step and leaped straight up, grabbing the bars underneath a DONâT WALK sign. Hanging by his arms from a street pole, Ozzie swung back and pumped forward with both legs. Pow! He landed a powerful two-footed kick into the chest of a thickset, middle-aged zombie tourist sporting an entire outfit made out of blue denim. The denim-clad zombie flew back into the impenetrable horde.
As the undead mob continued its slow-footed rampage, Zack felt the bass-heavy thump of pop music coming from a nearby nightclub.
The walking corpses began to twitch in unison, closing in on Zack, Madison, Zoe, Ozzie, and Twinkles. The zombiesâ feet began to shuffle in step to the beat, and their undead shoulders started to swivel.
The King of Popâs voice taunted them: âAnd no oneâs gonna save you from the beasts about to strike!â
As the thickly packed zombie flash dancers corralled them tighter into the neon nightmare of Times Square after dusk, Zack felt a kick of panic in his gut. He looked all around, but there was no escape from the undead flash mob homing in on them from all directions.
Ozzie charged into the crowd as two college-age girls in miniskirts and bright yellow-and-lime-green halter tops latched onto his arms. Ozzie raised his nunchaku to take them out, but as he did, their boyfriends stepped to the forefront of the crowd. The two zombie juiceheads wore tight black muscle shirts that hugged their torsos. The Jersey Shore wannabes shimmied forward, protecting their zombified dates, moonwalking simultaneously between Ozzie and the girls and clobbering him with a synchronized pop of their overtanned arms. Ozzie hit the ground with a thunk , but jumped back to his feet in time to retreat to the rest of the group.
âGuys,â Madison said, her lower lip beginning to tremble. âI really, really donât want to get eaten by these things!â
âWeâre not going to,â Zack said. âIâve got an idea.â
âWhat?â
âSomething about this song makes all people want to dance,â Zack explained. âEven zombies.â
âSo?â
âSo we just have to groove with the music and maybe we can get to the other side of this crowd while theyâre distracted.â
âThat might work,â Zoe said. âBut thereâs just one problem, little bro. . . .â
âWhatâs that?â
âYouâre, like, the worst dancer Iâve ever seen!â
âForget about that,â Ozzie said. âThis songâs almost over. Weâve got less than a minute!â
With that, Zack grabbed the handle of the shopping cart. Zombie Rice wiggled his hips to the beat of the music and bounced his shoulders. As they all busted out their best zombified dance moves, they tried to pinpoint the least congested spot in the most lopsided game of Red Rover any of them had ever played.
Zack carted zombie Rice through the zombie flash mob, keeping his steps in time with the songâs rhythm. On either side of the shopping cart, Madison raised the roof, while Zoe twisted and shouted as the zombified boogie monsters hand-jived around them.
âItâs working,â Ozzie said, shaking his booty at an undead moonwalker gliding his feet across the sludge-coated blacktop.
Suddenly the familiar pop song ended and a different song drifted out from the nightclub. The zombies stopped dancing for a moment and snapped out of their trance. Now the four of them were stuck in the middle of a massive herd of flesh-craving gluttons. But they had made it far enough.
âLook!â Zoe cried, pointing across the street. âThe subway!â
And with no other choice but down, they raced over to the steps of the subway station and descended underground, lugging
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