The Zombies of Mora Tau
Grandfather looked pretty racy driving around town in his new Golden Hawk. For sixty years Pop had been known for his conservative ways as a banker, but now in retirement he was tooling around in his bright red Studebaker sports car. It was a two-door hardtop with eight-inch fins on the back.
As he pulled into our driveway, I asked him, “You enjoying that new car, Pop?”
“Absolutely love it!”
“Can you drive me downtown?”
“What are you going into town for?”
“I want to go to the matinee at the Met.”
“You’d better go tell your mother I’m taking you.”
“Okay.” I ran into the house to grab some change out of my hidden sock. Mom was ironing some clothes in the kitchen. I told her, “I’m going downtown to see a movie. Pop’s taking me.”
“Just be home in time for dinner,” she replied.
I hopped in the passenger bucket seat admiring Pop’s sporty machine. The leather smelled new. It growled as he hit the gas, throwing me against the seat.
“Wow, this thing is fast!”
“Yeah, I’ve got to watch out that I don’t spin the tires.”
“You mean burn rubber?”
“Oh, that’s what they call it now?”
“Yeah! Let’s burn some rubber, Pop.”
“No…that wouldn’t be setting the right example.”
A few minutes later we pulled in front of the Met Theater.
“Thanks for the ride, Pop!” I waved as he left the curb.
The Zombies of Mora Tau was billed as a horror movie. I wasn’t quite sure what zombies were, but they turned out to be creepy dead pirates living under the water—always coming up slowly through the surface—sneaking up behind their victims to strangle them. Supposedly, they were protecting a boatload of jewels from a sunken ship, by killing anyone who visited their island. Kind of dumb, but the zombies were scary.
After the movie when I walked back outside, it was already dusk. I started meandering down Washington Avenue admiring the rock candy and chocolates in the front windows of the Princess Café. I walked through downtown not paying much attention to the other stores, continuing down the hill past the bowling alley. By the time I reached the museum, I only had a few hundred yards until the Washington Bridge.
Just then, I heard noise up ahead in the trees. Something was moving up there, right near the river. My heart started to pound. I slowed my pace and started paying careful attention to what was ahead of me. It was completely dark now. The street lights had come on, but I couldn’t see what was in those trees. I envisioned zombies coming out of the Iowa River, staggering slowly up the bank to the trees. I decided my imagination was running wild…when…
There it was again…that noise! I know I heard something!
It had to be zombies!
Maybe I should cross the street…or go back to the bowling alley.
I decided to just wait on the corner under the lone street light across from the museum. Must’ve stood there for fifteen minutes—it was probably only five—not moving—listening. Nothing was coming out of the woods.
They must be hiding…waiting…
I couldn’t stay in this spot forever.
Mom’s gonna’ start worrying. I should be home by now. I’ve got to make a break for it!
I took a couple of bold steps forward and then broke into a full run. I rounded the sidewalk past those trees sprinting—my arms pumping up beside my face.
There’s the bridge…just make it to the bridge!
Once I passed the cement marker for the bridge I didn’t look back. I was in the homestretch.
No slowing down now!
I was running for my life across that concrete, still not looking back until I passed the light post in the middle of the bridge. Even then it was just a quick glance over my shoulder to see if they were right behind me. I didn’t see anything behind me but didn’t slow down.
If they’re coming…they can’t move this fast!
I flew across Foster Boulevard, up our steps, across the porch, throwing open the front door and slamming it shut. As I stood by the door wheezing, I felt relieved that I’d escaped them.
Mom looked at me, surprised. “What in the world is going on?”
Bending over to catch my breath, I gasped, “I was being chased…”
“Chased? Chased by whom?”
“Zombies!”
“What!?”
I repeated, “Zombies.”
“Donny, what are zombies?”
“Dead pirates who come out of the water.”
She looked at me strangely. “I’ve never heard of anything so crazy.”
“I just saw them in the movie.”
“Oh, so that’s it. You’re always pretending to be in the movies, aren’t you?”
“Yeah, I guess so.”
“I know so! Remember, the movies are just make-believe. You should realize that by now…go, get ready for dinner.”
“Okay.”
It seemed like all the weekend matinees in October were black and white horror movies made a long time ago—movies like Frankenstein and Dracula. My favorite monster was The Wolf Man. I was amazed watching Lon Chaney change before my eyes, growing hair all over his face as he transformed into the werewolf. That was my costume this Halloween—a cheap mask that looked like a wolf.
I’d glued some additional black hair-like globs all over it to make it more realistic—did the same with a pair of dad’s cloth work gloves, so my hands sticking out of my shirt sleeves looked hairy. It was an easy costume and it seemed REAL! It turned me into a snarling animal.
By now, Jack and I had done this Halloween thing a few times. It was pretty simple…put on a costume and go beg for treats. Jack had a white sheet draped over him with two holes for his eyes and one for his mouth, over which he wore a Casper the Ghost mask. We knew the exact route of our once-a-year candy haul. Next to Christmas, this was our favorite holiday. We took off down Foster Boulevard as soon as it was dusk carrying grocery bags. We hit every house down the street and then back-tracked up Sarah Avenue. We didn’t walk casually like the rest of the kids…we ran, taking short-cuts across lawns.
The highlight of our first leg was always Mrs. Steenrod’s house because she handed out caramel popcorn balls wrapped in cellophane with a little tiny ribbon tied in a bow. We hit her place early so as not to miss out on those. Our bags were already filling up, so we headed back to our house to pick up a second empty grocery sack. We didn’t want to appear greedy by holding out a bulging bag of goodies. We hit Mrs. Steenrod’s house a second time for another popcorn ball. She had so many visitors she didn’t have time to even look at the costumes.
We continued west all the way to West Side School. Every house gave us a full-size candy bar, which cost a nickel. In two hours, we’d collected three grocery bags full—dozens, no, hundreds of candy bars.
As it got later in the evening we decided to head home. We were walking on Washington Avenue when a car stopped and a couple of high school kids jumped out on the grass between the sidewalk and the street. We stopped in our tracks as one came towards us.
“What have you got there?”
I could tell immediately by the tone of his voice this guy was up to no good. We didn’t stand a chance.
“Run Jack!”
He bolted to the left down an alley while I took off straight ahead on Washington. Again, I was running like a sprinter, only this time I was carrying a grocery bag full of candy. I looked over my shoulder to see if he was chasing me when I realized their car had followed Jack down the alley. By the time I got to the corner, I realized he wasn’t chasing me.
Oh no… Jack’s going to be killed.
I retraced my steps back to the alley and proceeded slowly. There was no car that I could see. I whispered into the darkness, “Jack!”
No answer. I couldn’t see anything until I finally reached a driveway with a small back porch light. “Jack, where are you?” All sorts of things were running through my mind.
Jack could be kidnapped. How would I tell Mom?
Suddenly, I heard a whimper. “Over here!” From behind a tree the little white ghost appeared. He had his Casper mask on top of his head and was munching on his popcorn ball.
“Why are you eating that now?”
He answered, “If I got caught, I didn’t want to lose this thing.”
“Did they get close to finding you?”
“No. They went past slowly, but I hid behind this tree.”
“It worked!” I exclaimed. “We didn’t get killed or lose our candy.”
“I want to go home.” He didn’t have to say that twice. We both ran straight to the house.
As we neared our house, I said, “Don’t tell Mom what happened.”
“Why not?”
“Because she won’t let us trick or treat on our own anymore.”
She greeted us at the door. “Did you have fun?”
“Oh yeah, look at all the candy we got! We’re going upstairs to count it all.”
We sorted the candy out on our beds, putting all the brand name candy bars in stacks. Then, we traded each other for our favorites. Jack loved the Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups. I liked the Salted Nut Rolls. Several mothers gave us freshly-baked fudge squares which were even better than the candy bars. Those were the first items to be eaten because the candy bars would keep longer in their wrappers. What a sugar rush that next month was!
Why don’t they do this holiday every month?