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burglar, so I opened the window.
    He looked like a boy, grown real big. He had glasses and floppy yellow hair. Jermaine just sorta stared at him. Guy pulled himself into the bedroom. Okay, I helped him a bit. It’s a tight squeeze. He grinned like a big kid. He waved the badge at me. It was gold and had the letters BURP on it.
    “I’m from the government, and I’m here to help you!”
    I stared at him. Jermaine stared at him. The man flashed another smile. “My name’s O’Hara. Could you spare a few minutes of your time?”
    Jermaine nodded, like he was in shock. He pointed at the window.
    “Oh, yeah, that,” said Mr. O’Hara. “I didn’t want to disturb your parents. It’s standard procedure in these cases.”
    “Cases?” blurted out Jermaine. “What cases?”
    I didn’t see any cases. Maybe Mr. O’Hara had left them at the bottom of the ladder.
    “You know, when kids spot a
paranormal event
, it’s pretty common that adults aren’t immediately aware of it,” said Mr. O’Hara. “So when I got the alert—when you typed in that search for zombies in Acorn Falls we automatically got a call—I just swung by to, um, chat.”
    Chat
, I thought.
You want to chat about the zombies all over our town
.
    “See, I’m from the Bureau of Unusual Recurring Phenomena. That’s a long name for the people in charge when we get your basic cryptozoological problems—vampires, werewolves, little green men—that sort of stuff.”
    “I never heard of that before,” said Jermaine.
    “Well, you wouldn’t have. We keep it pretty low-key,” said Mr. O’Hara. “It’s best not to have it on the TV news channels. Those people could really exaggeratea minor alien invasion like you wouldn’t believe. It’s as if they want to scare the citizens of these United States.” He shook his head, like it was all amazing to him. “We operate out of a store in the back of a strip mall off North Main Street. We also sell dictionaries. Nobody wants to buy dictionaries anymore, so it’s a perfect cover.”
    I guessed that was true. I’d never bought one.
    “Anyway, here’s the thing. It’s me that needs the help. We’ve had budget cuts at BURP. We are what they call a ‘shoestring operation.’ So, right now, it’s just me.”
    “Just you?” I said, kinda stupidly.
    “Yup. I’m it for this whole area. So I could use some assistance. Let me tell you what we—I—know. Can I sit down?”
    Jermaine nodded. Mr. O’Hara sat on the edge of his bed. It creaked.
    “You want the good news or the bad news?”
    I hate those sorts of questions. There’s no right answer.
    “The good news is that the people in charge tell me this strain of zombie-ism isn’t a permanent state.It’s curable. There’s a serum under development that will return people back to their normal selves, and they won’t remember anything about what occurred.”
    “Well, that’s a relief,” said Jermaine. “How long before you have some?”
    “Ah,” said Mr. O’Hara. “That’s the bad news. I don’t know. They gave me about a thimbleful of the stuff. It’s green and goopy. And even if I had a lot, like I told you, it’s just me. I can’t go around with a needle jabbing zombies on my own. They’d get me in a minute. I’m not as fast as I used to be.”
    I nodded, like this all made sense.
    “So, here’s what I need from you kids. First off, don’t get bitten. I can’t say that strongly enough. Fight them if you have to, but don’t get bitten. Second, just bop them on the head. Don’t, like, blow them up or push ’em into mulching machines or—”
    He stopped a minute to think of other things we might do that maybe we shouldn’t. It’s not like Jermaine owns a machine gun. “Don’t do it, anyway.”
    “Is there a way of, um, keeping them away?” I asked.
    “The only thing we’ve found that works at all isa chainsaw,” said Mr. O’Hara. That was no help. I’m ten. Nobody lets a ten-year-old have a chainsaw.
    “You said