This book was a fun story that placed individuals with disabilities front and center in the story. While the superpowers allow them to do things they wouldn’t have been able to do otherwise, it is what they choose to do with their powers that makes all the difference. Also, even with their superpowers, their initial disabilities aren’t erased, which I think is important. I liked to development of the characters and how they interacted and supported each other; I only wish the book had been longer so I could have spent more time with them. I am glad that there’s a sequel already published, and I look forward to reading/listening to it.
I had a great time reading Zombie Turkeys. Andy Zach creates a hysterical, fun world where turkeys are at the top of the food chain, right before Thanksgiving. Time for a little Turkey payback and the new sound of terror is gobble.. gobble.
Accidents happen. Especially around zombie turkeys. Then you add zombie humans, and problems proliferate. Mix in some ill-planned genetic engineering, and things get crazy.The insanity continues, from the story where zombies are merged with cucumbers to the one where two basement-dwelling nerds gain access to all video content from the past two hundred years—from aliens.Andy Zach pulls out all the stops on his imagination as he serves up this smorgasbord of silliness. Try it. Laughter is good for your soul
One queen saw the problem more clearly than anyone else. Her king and prince had both drowned only a short distance from the shore because no one saw them signing for help. The queen sat vigil all night long, and in the morning she sent heralds with large signs in every language to all the humans, elves, dwarves, fairies, leprechauns, and even a dragon. She pled with all to find something that would let creatures communicate without signs or gestures when they couldn’t see each other. She promised she would give whatever was in her power to whoever could accomplish this.
I left the air-conditioned comfort of the taxi, and the sights, sounds, and smells of the old bazaar in Jeddah assailed me: a robe-clad man on camel plodded by, an adjacent fishmonger added his smell to the fresh dung in the street, and the hawkers yelled their wares.
I could only speak Arabic at a middle school level, but as I strolled through the bazaar, I heard “Fresh dates!”…”Highest quality rugs!”…”Finest gold jewelry!”… “Ancient books! The rarest in Saudi Arabia!”
My head snapped around. A bald, stumpy man in a white caftan saw me look and said, “Books? You want ancient books?”
“Yes.” I spoke carefully, knowing my poor accent. “Can you speak English?” I didn’t have much hope.
The scene was chaos! I knew immediately I was in a different country, judging by the languages I couldn’t understand. I had also determined this was no modern city—I seemed to be on the outskirts of town amid a swarming crowd. Men were shouting and women were crying; meanwhile, I was still trying to figure out how I had gotten there and where exactly I was. Several seconds later, however, that question was answered.
Now, what was he going to do? Brice Butterworth’s boss just told him to double the productivity of Vegan Inc.’s pickle strain they used for their Kilwowski Pickle brand. That was completely impossible.
But keeping his job required it. Brice was the low man on the genetic engineering totem pole at Vegan Inc., the last one hired and the first one to be fired if another recession hit.
He couldn’t think. He couldn’t face this. So he cruised the internet. “The origin of zombie turkeys? I didn’t know they’d found that. Hmm, a Midley Beacon exclusive, the foremost zombie news source,” he read out loud.
“Whatcha doing, Brice?” asked my boss Wilma O’Reilly after sneaking up behind me.
I jumped. As usual, I was cruising the internet, bored with my job. How awkward.
We worked at Vegan Inc., an agricultural conglomerate. I was their lead geneticist in charge of enhancing the qualities of the corporation’s vegetable products through genetic modification.
He woke up staring out his windshield at the green grass of the highway median. Dully, Anthony listened to the sound of his car’s engine cooling, ticking like a clock. He didn’t know why he was here or how he got here.
“Hey, are you okay in there?” came a voice from outside the car.
Turning his head toward the sound, he realized he was upside down, supported by his seat belt and his legs, which were strangely numb.
“Uh,” he croaked.
* * *
“We’re going to cast your leg,” said the nurse in the ambulance. Her name tag read Louise Tall, but she didn’t seem tall. “What’s your name?”
“Uh, Anthony. Anthony Jones.”
“Do you know your height and weight, Anthony?”
“Five-eleven. Two ten. I need to lose some weight. Ow!”
I need to tell you about my own zombie story. It’s about how my parents became zombies.
As soon as the zombie turkeys appeared in Illinois, I started cultures of their zombie turkey bacteria in petri dishes. When other animals, squirrels, rabbits, and cows began turning zombie, I added cultures of their bacteria. I sought the ultimate source of animal revivification. It was my PhD thesis and my life’s work.
I’ve always wanted to revive animals from the dead. It seemed the secret was through the special bacteria for each species. Naturally, when humans became zombies, I cultivated their bacteria too.
He was dead. At least, his business was. And without his business, his wife would leave him and take their new baby. Then he might as well be dead.
His dad had run the Elysium Fields Mortuary for thirty years and had made a killing at it. The first and only mortuary in their small town of Hillvale, everyone got buried there. He charged normal prices, he was friendly, and he helped their community. His dad said to him when he was a teen, “Irving, after you get your college degree, go to mortuary school, and when you come out, I’ll hire you and then turn the business over to you. You’ll be set for life.”
The Taser hit me in the back. I convulsed uncontrollably, shocked out of sleep.
“Okay, wakey, wakey. Time to go model for your mistress,” squeaked a high tenor.
The bearded hulk who guarded us held his Taser ready, in case Lulu and I weren’t fast enough. He was so hairy, I couldn’t tell where his beard ended and his chest began. We donned the haute couture apparel set before us. He nodded his approval and gestured toward the door. He always followed us with his Taser.
“We’ve been here weeks and we don’t know your name. What shall we call you?” I ventured. I had some vague hope of putting him at his ease so we could escape.
He laughed. “Call me Gronk.” He wheezed when he laughed.
So I got him to laugh. Maybe that was progress. Maybe not. He also laughed when he tortured us with the Taser.
“Let me check you, Sharon,” Lulu whispered. She examined my back, where the Taser had hit my sleeping form. My muscles still ached. “No marks.”
Breeding zombie corgis wasn’t all it was cracked up to be.
Heather Mallorn sighed as she reviewed accounts for Her Majesty’s Corgis in Hanna City, Illinois. Certainly, she made plenty on each zombie corgi she sold. Normally, corgi puppies went for $1,200. She earned double that for zombies. The zombie corgies were invincible guard dogs, and cute too, with bright-red eyes. They were no harder to train than regular corgis, just slightly more aggressive. Well, a lot more aggressive.
Kayla Verdera, disabled 7th-grade student and superhero
“Oh no! Did you hear what I just heard?” Aubrey said as soon as she and I rushed up to Jeremy and Dan coming off their bus in the morning at Maryville Middle School.
“No!” Jeremy said, rolling off the bus in his electric wheelchair. Jeremy Gentle was a spindly kid with cerebral palsy. I’d never looked twice at him when I was the most popular and smartest girl in the school. Then I lost my speech and balance to spinal meningitis last year, and I was put in the special-needs class. After we were together awhile, I learned he was as smart as me.
“Of course I heard,” said Dan, who walked behind Jeremy’s wheelchair while holding the back of it and carrying his white cane. “Do you think I’m deaf as well as blind?”
Enough talking! I sent the thought to them all, using my telepathic power. This is too slow!Our math teacher’s car was stolen last night. Mr. Williamson went to play basketball downtown, and when he came out, his car was gone.
I like my friends, but I wish they’d get to the point. We all attended a special disabled class at Maryville Middle School. Disabled kids used to creep me out. Now I, Kayla Verdera, was one of them.
How fascinating! Dancer thought. This book says there are libraries where hundreds of books live. It also says the fiction books are in order by author name.
Dancer scurried off Your Sixth Year Reader to look at Jeremy Gentle’s bookshelf again. Jeremy was Dancer’s owner and unknowing educator. Ever since he’d taught himself to read by studying the newspapers lining the bottom of his cage, Dancer had craved reading.
He hadn’t figured out why he’d started reading. One day he’d noticed patterns in the markings. He saw they repeated themselves in clumps. Then the clumps formed more patterns. He also listened to his owners differently. They also spoke in patterns. “Jeremy” was always called “Jeremy” or “Jeremy Gentle” by his mother, and sometimes by his father.
Diane Newby, George Newby, Lulu Gutierrez, and Sharon Wyndham, privateers
“Arrrgh! Me hearies, eat hearty!” said a short, stocky pirate with an eye patch and a captain’s hat seemingly copied from Cap’n Crunch. The pirate gestured, with a hook instead of a right hand, toward an enormous banquet table laden with food. The one visible eye gleamed red.
“Arrrgh! Where’s the skilly and duff?” said a refrigerator-sized bald pirate with an enormous mustache. His eyes also shone crimson.
“Arrrgh! That be the tacos and enchiladas,” said a small, beautiful pirate with dark hair bound by a red bandanna and smiling blood-red eyes. She pointed with her cutlass toward the Mexican section of the smorgasbord.
“Arrrgh! You be a Mexican pirate?” said a blond pirate with broad shoulders and a Cockney accent. She wore her hair in a long queue emerging from a bloody headband around her forehead. She also had glowing ruby eyes.
“That’s your problem, isn’t it? Try the local apartments. Look for rooms to rent on the internet. It’s not that hard to find a place in Ohio.”
I could tell by his grim expression he was serious this time. He’d been nagging me for nearly a year to move out and “set up housekeeping” ever since I’d graduated from the state university with my BA in video game art and my minor in computer science. I’d managed to wheedle him out of it and delay the date. Until now.
Tell Me What you Think
Let me know what you think of Meet My Characters by clicking here or emailing me at [email protected]. As always, everyone who responds with a comment or email will get a free book from me.
“Dear diary,” Jeremy dictated into his app on his tablet in his bedroom. “Today, I became a superhero.” Jeremy Gentle stopped, uncertain. Was that the best way to start his journal? Might as well just tell the story. He needed to sleep. He had a big algebra test tomorrow at Maryville Middle School.
Yesterday, school went as usual. Same old seventh grade. There were the same handicapped kids in the same class. Same problems transferring to the toilet from my wheelchair. Nothing new.
Oh, I take that back. I had one new, bad thing happen— I fell during physical therapy. There I was, between the parallel bars, halfway done. I tried with all my might to take another step. I couldn’t. My muscles screamed, at their end. My legs collapsed, and I hung like a marionette from the gait belt, held by my therapist, Fred Bernstein.
For once I was glad I was a skinny, twelve-year-old. I’m not even eighty pounds.
I gave up completely and flopped bonelessly. I might as well be on the floor, I thought. And then I was.
Hi, Dan!” Jeremy called to his best friend Dan Elanga as he rolled into the bus from the wheelchair lift. He drove to the wheelchair spot where the driver strapped him down.
“Hi, Jeremy! You sound excited. What’s up?” As usual, a big grin split Dan’s round, brown face. He’d come from Cameroon as a child. He’d been born blind, and his parents sacrificed their successful business to emigrate to the US where they felt he’d have better chances.
“Oh, nothing.” Jeremy wasn’t quite ready to share his secret, even with his best friend. Especially not with the bus driver tightening the wheelchair straps.
“That sounds like you’ve got a secret! C’mon, tell your old friend Dan!”
Jeremy gestured with his head toward the driver and then remembered Dan couldn’t see. As much as he disliked cerebral palsy, he still preferred having that to blindness.
The driver returned to his seat and drove off.
“Okay, but you can’t tell anyone.”
“Sounds like a good one!”
“Everyone will think I’m crazy if this gets out. Or I might be put in a circus.”
“I can’t wait to hear! You know I’ll keep it. Pinky promise.” Dan held out his big fist, pinky extended.
Dan was huge for thirteen, six feet tall and bulky and Jeremy was small for twelve. Jeremy’s small pinky curled around Dan’s big one.
Kayla Verdera screamed in frustration as she lost her balance and fell from her walker. Not this again! She had been wiping the drool from her face with her handkerchief and as she placed it in her purse at the side of the walker, she overbalanced and fell down. Her helmeted head bounced off the floor next to Dan Elanga.
“Oh, Kayla, are you all right?” asked their special ed homeroom teacher, Bonita Fuller. Worry creased her face.
“Let me help her get back up,” Dan Elanga offered. He gently picked her up from where he heard her fall and placed her back in the walker. Guided by Mrs. Fuller, Kayla sat at her desk. The other students, Jeremy and Aubrey, watched with concern.
“Thanks, Dan,” said Mrs. Fuller. “I can pick her up, but not as easily as you. Kayla, are you all right? Do you need to go to the infirmary?”
Kayla signed “Okay” and then shook her head. She lost her power of speech and her balance when she contracted spinal meningitis last year. That also caused her to drool at times. Her fingers flew over the tablet on her desk. A female voice spoke from the tablet. “Sorry. I lost my balance.”
Kayla carried her tablet everywhere. It hung in easy reach on her walker. She used it to talk to people, picking out words and then sending them to her voice app to speak them. She could pick any voice she wanted, and she used the pop star, Mackenzie Ziegler.
My Disabled Superheroes – Aubrey Wilcowsky
Aubrey Wilcowsky – has super strength
Aubrey towered over her, big and burly, a kind of tomboy and athlete. Kayla felt small and skinny next to her. Aubrey could talk a knob off a door and was outgoing and friendly to a fault. Kayla only talked when she had to. Now I can’t talk at all.Aubrey just muddled through school. She was a year older but still in our grade. Even though I was quiet, I had been popular with popular kids in school—until I started using a walker.Aubrey just hung around with the sports crowd.
They became friends as Kayla tutored her. Their friendship survived Aubrey’s double amputation. She’d just been fitted for prosthetic legs when Kayla got her spinal meningitis. Aubrey didn’t care. She was a brick.
Jeremy has cerebral palsy and uses a wheelchair to get around. He is in a special education class with Dan, who is blind, Kayla, who was mute and used a walker, and Audrey, who lost her legs and uses crutches. One afternoon, when conducting experiments in his laboratory, Jeremy accidentally gives himself superpowers. Specifically, he gains the ability of telekinesis, which he can use to help himself walk, cause his wheelchair to travel at much higher speeds, and even fly. Not wanting to keep this discovery to himself, Jeremy tells his 3 friends about it and gives each of them superpowers as well. But now that they have superpowers, what should they do? Following the words of Uncle Ben of Spiderman, they decide they must use their powers for good, beginning by trying to solve a case of a stolen car, and keep their identities a secret, modeling their costumes on the Incredibles.
This book was a fun story that placed individuals with disabilities front and center in the story. While the superpowers allow them to do things they wouldn’t have been able to do otherwise, it is what they choose to do with their powers that makes all the difference. Also, even with their superpowers, their initial disabilities aren’t erased, which I think is important. I liked to development of the characters and how they interacted and supported each other; I only wish the book had been longer so I could have spent more time with them. I am glad that there’s a sequel already published, and I look forward to reading/listening to it.
An uplifting tale of how four students find that within disability is ability. Looking past who others think they are was the way the four came together to make a difference not only in their own lives but the lives of those around them. The main theme of this tale is practice, practice, practice.
Can young teens with disabilities be super heros; In Andy Zach’s Secret Supers they can!! We meet Jeremy, a middle school student with cerebral palsy who is wheelchair bound and struggles in physical therapy but does not struggle with anything STEM related. While running an experiment in his basement lab he gives himself a super power. When he tries the experiment again he gives his best friend Dan, who is blind, a different power. Soon Jeremy, Dan, and their friends and classmates Kayla and Aubry are all super powered and fighting crime! They also end up fighting against their special ed. classroom being shut down and separated into several different schools.
This story gives kids with disabilities a chance to see themselves as superheroes and a way for teens without disabilities to see disabilabled classmates in a different light.
