{"product_id":"the-last-kids-on-earth-isbn-9798217318964","title":"The Last Kids on Earth","description":"\u003cb\u003eThe first book of the #1 \u003ci\u003eNew York Times\u003c\/i\u003e, \u003ci\u003eWall Street Journal\u003c\/i\u003e, and \u003ci\u003eUSA Today \u003c\/i\u003ebestselling apocalyptic adventure series, now in paperback with custom-designed sprayed edges!\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eA Netflix Original series!\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"Terrifyingly fun! Delivers big thrills and even bigger laughs.\"--Jeff Kinney, author of the #1 \u003ci\u003eNew York Times \u003c\/i\u003ebestseller \u003ci\u003eDiary of a Wimpy Kid\u003c\/i\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eEver since the Monster Apocalypse hit town, thirteen-year-old Jack Sullivan has been holed up in his tree house, which he’s armed to the teeth with catapults and a moat, not to mention an endless supply of Oreos and Mountain Dew scavenged from abandoned stores. Apart from the hordes of zombies, Winged Wretches, and Vine-Thingies invading his once-quiet town of Wakefield, Jack is content to treat the apocalypse like one giant video game—achieving Feats of Apocalyptic Success, driving around in his new ride, Big Mama, and dodging evil monsters like the eerily intelligent Blarg, who just so happens to be on Jack’s trail. To take on this ferocious beast, Jack builds a team: his dorky best friend, Quint; reformed bully Dirk; Jack’s loyal pet monster, Rover; and the fiercest girl Jack knows, June. But Blarg isn’t the only threat they face in this new world, and there are brutal horrors around every turn. Can Jack and his friends take on the apocalypse and live to tell the tale?\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eTold in a mixture of text and black-and-white illustration, this is the perfect series for any kid who's ever dreamed of starring in their own comic book or video game.\"Terrifyingly fun! Max Brallier's \u003ci\u003eThe Last Kids on Earth\u003c\/i\u003e delivers big thrills and even bigger laughs.\"--\u003cb\u003eJeff Kinney, author of the #1 New York Times bestseller \u003ci\u003eDiary of a Wimpy Kid\u003c\/i\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e* \"Middle-grade readers, particularly boys, will find Jack’s pitch-perfect mix of humor, bravado, and self-professed geekiness \u003cb\u003eimpossible to resist\u003c\/b\u003e. . . . The marriage of text and illustration serves as a \u003cb\u003eperfect \u003c\/b\u003eexample of what an illustrated novel can and should be.\"--\u003ci\u003eKirkus Reviews\u003c\/i\u003e, \u003cb\u003estarred review\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e* \"Terrifically funny\u003ci\u003e . . . \u003c\/i\u003eSnarky end-of-the-world fun.\"--\u003ci\u003ePublisher's Weekly\u003c\/i\u003e, \u003cb\u003e\u003cb\u003estarred revie\u003cb\u003ew\u003c\/b\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e* \"This book provides loads of laughs. . . . A gross-out good time with surprisingly nuanced character development.\"--\u003ci\u003eSchool Library Journal\u003c\/i\u003e, \u003cb\u003estarred review\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"The video-game-like plotting, gross-out humor, frequent pop-culture references, and quippy dialogue make this a great fit for reluctant readers. Recommend to Wimpy Kid fans looking for a horror-lite adventure.\"--\u003ci\u003eBooklist\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/i\u003e\"Young zombie fans will rejoice in this new series that has all the oozing (by the zombies) and heroism (by the kids) that they could hope for.\"--\u003ci\u003eThe Bulletin of the Center for Children's Books\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cb\u003eMax Brallier\u003c\/b\u003e is a #1 \u003ci\u003eNew York Times\u003c\/i\u003e, \u003ci\u003eUSA Today\u003c\/i\u003e, and \u003ci\u003eWall Street Journal\u003c\/i\u003e bestselling author. His books and series include The Last Kids on Earth, Eerie Elementary, Mister Shivers, Galactic Hot Dogs, and Can YOU Survive the Zombie Apocalypse? He is a writer and producer for Netflix’s Emmy-award-winning adaptation of The Last Kids on Earth. Visit him at MaxBrallier.com.\u003cp\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003echapter one\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eThat’s me.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eNot the giant monster.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003ci\u003eBeneath \u003c\/i\u003ethe giant monster. The kid on his back, with the splintered bat. The handsome kid, about to get eaten.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eForty-two days ago, I was regular Jack Sullivan: thirteen years old, living an uneventful life in the uninteresting town of Wakefield. I was totally not a hero, totally not  a tough guy, totally not fighting giant monsters.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eBut look at me now. Battling a gargantuan beast on the roof of the local CVS.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eLife is crazy like that.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eRight now, the \u003ci\u003ewhole world\u003c\/i\u003e is crazy like that. Check the shattered windows. Check the wild vines crawling up the side of the building.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eAll of these things are not normal.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eAnd me? I haven’t been normal, well, ever. I’ve always been \u003ci\u003edifferent\u003c\/i\u003e. See, I’m an orphan— I bounced all over the country, different homes, different families, before landing in this little town of Wakefield in December.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eBut all that moving, it makes you tough: it makes you cool, it makes you confident, it makes you good with the girls—it makes you JACK SULLIVAN.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eYikes.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eAlmost got a monster fist to the skull there.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eI’m at CVS because I need an eyeglass repair kit—those little tool sets that dads buy for when their glasses break. I know, that’s a lame thing to need. But I have a walkie and that walkie is busted and to fix that walkie, I need a really really \u003ci\u003ereally \u003c\/i\u003etiny screwdriver and the only place to get a really really \u003ci\u003ereally \u003c\/i\u003etiny screwdriver is in an \u003cb\u003eeyeglass\u003c\/b\u003e \u003cb\u003erepair\u003c\/b\u003e \u003cb\u003ekit\u003c\/b\u003e.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eThis was supposed to be a quick, easy trip to CVS. But one thing I’ve learned about life after the Monster Apocalypse: \u003cb\u003enothing’s\u003c\/b\u003e \u003cb\u003equick\u003c\/b\u003e and \u003cb\u003enothing’s\u003c\/b\u003e \u003cb\u003eeasy\u003c\/b\u003e.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eThis monster here is the foulest, most ferocious, and just plain horrible thing I’ve encountered yet. He’s straight-up—\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eYikes! The monster’s massive fist pounds the roof until it cracks like thin ice. I trip, tumble back, and land hard on my bony butt.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eIt’s time to stop being this monster’s punching bag. See, I’ve kind of been the world’s punching bag for a while and y’know—it just ain’t a whole lotta fun. \t\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eSo I’m fighting back.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eI get to my feet.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eI dust myself off.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eI grip the bat in my hand. Not too tight, not too loose—just like they coach you in Little League.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eOnly I’m not trying to hit some kid’s lousy curveball. . . . I’m trying to slay a monster.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eWell, basically,\u003ci\u003e he\u003c\/i\u003e triumphs.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eThe monster’s massive hand\u003ci\u003e snatches \u003c\/i\u003eme out of midair. I’m a thimble in his gargantuan grasp.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eI try to grab hold of my baseball bat blade (aka the Louisville Slicer), but the monster’s crushing grip pins my arms to my sides.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eHe pulls me in close to his face. Thick saliva, like slime, oozes down his lips. His eyes scan me over and his gaping nostrils flair as he inhales my scent. I feel like that blonde babe in \u003ci\u003eKing Kong\u003c\/i\u003e. Only I don’t think this beast wants to hug me and love me. . . .\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eHe sniffs some more, blowing my hair back as he exhales. I turn my face. His breath, it’s just—\u003cb\u003ewow\u003c\/b\u003e—my man here needs to floss.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eI’ve encountered other freaky beasts over the last forty-two days, but none like this. None that examined me: looking me over, smelling me, studying me.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eNone that felt this \u003ci\u003eterrifyingly smart.\u003c\/i\u003e I have a sick feeling in my gut—a sense—something that tells me that this beast here is 100% pure, beyond \u003ci\u003ebeyond \u003c\/i\u003eEVIL.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eA smile seems to creep across the monster’s face. A sinister smirk that says, “I’m not simply some primal thug. I’m a monstrous villain, a great evil, and I will enjoy inflicting pain upon your tiny human body.”\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eWith a spine-tingling moan, the beast’s mouth opens wide, revealing an army of dirty fangs, with chunks of flesh between each tooth. I kick. I squirm. And, facing imminent death-by-devouring, I at last BITE. My teeth sink into monster flesh and his paw loosens slightly—just enough for me to wrap my fingers around my blade’s handle, rip it free, and—\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eI \u003cb\u003eslam\u003c\/b\u003e the bat into the creature’s thick cranium until he roars—a sound like BLARG!!!—and his palm opens and—\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eUh-oh. . . .\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eI’m plummeting through the air, down through the hole in the roof, into the CVS. . . .\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eI land in the junk-food aisle. I snatch an Oreo from its package and jam it into my mouth. \u003ci\u003eMmm.\u003c\/i\u003e . . .  The Oreo is a whole lot stale, but whatever—an Oreo is an Oreo, and good snacks are hard to find these days. Plus, since the world ended, it’s pretty much everything for the taking. And I’m not turning that down. No way.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eRising, I examine my predicament.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eOne of the monster’s giant feet fills, like, the \u003ci\u003eentire store\u003c\/i\u003e. One toe in the school supplies aisle, another on top of the hair spray and deodorant aisle. Dashing up and over the monster’s foot, toward the front of the store, I spot what I came for. . . .\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eI shove the kit into my pocket. But then—\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eThe monster’s clawed fingers tear through the roof like it’s nothing. The ceiling collapses around me as I dart for the door. I’d love to stay for a while—flip through the magazines, check the sunglasses spinny thing for cool aviators, eat some Funyuns. But no time for that—y’know, giant monster and all.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eI \u003ci\u003eburst \u003c\/i\u003ethrough the front door—\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eI dash past a crumpled car and through an overgrown yard, and slide beneath the caved-in porch of an abandoned house.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eI pull out my camera. I \u003ci\u003ealways \u003c\/i\u003ecarry my camera. \u003cb\u003eAlways.\u003c\/b\u003e I raise the viewfinder to my eyes, twist the lens, zoom in, and—\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eI photograph every monster I come across, so later on I can study their attacks and defenses and strengths and weaknesses and junk. Also, it’s just rad to say, “I’m a monster photographer.”\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eI give each monster a name, too. But what to call this guy? What to call a monster so terrifying that just looking at him scrambles my insides with french-fried fear?\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eThe big beast roars again, a sound like “BLARG!”\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eHmm.\u003ci\u003e “Blarg.”\u003c\/i\u003e That’s got a ring to it. . . .\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eSuddenly, there’s a racket like a wrecking ball crashing into ten million Legos. The CVS is crumbling, collapsing, as Blarg stomps through its walls into the parking lot. When the smoke clears, I see the monster, fully, for the first time—upright, standing tall on legs as thick as tree trunks, a monumental terror. He is . . .\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eBlarg lowers his nose to the ground and sniffs. He lifts up a car and peeks underneath. Holy crud, he’s on the hunt! He’s searching! For me!\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eHe scans the destroyed, decaying surroundings. He watches the porch. The porch I’m under . . .\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eI gulp. Can he see me?\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eI slowly inch backward, farther into the shadows.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eHe stares at the porch a moment longer, then raises his head to the sky. A deafening howl of frustration erupts from his lungs.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eGuess he doesn’t see me.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eBlarg turns and stomps his way down Spring Street, away from the ruins of the CVS, sniffing along the ground as he goes. He’s like a bloodhound, and now he has my scent. . . .\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eAs I sneak out from beneath the porch, I think, “That was close.”\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003ci\u003eSuper way dangerous close.\u003c\/i\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eBut I’m getting used to things being \u003ci\u003esuper way dangerous close.\u003c\/i\u003e What can I say? Life after the Monster Apocalypse? It’s scary. And also a lot \u003ci\u003eweird\u003c\/i\u003e. But that’s OK. I’m a lot weird, too.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eNow, time to get back to the tree house. . . .\u003c\/p\u003e","brand":"Viking Books for Young Readers","offers":[{"title":"Default Title","offer_id":48233694626021,"sku":"NP9798217318964","price":10.99,"currency_code":"USD","in_stock":false}],"thumbnail_url":"\/\/cdn.shopify.com\/s\/files\/1\/1842\/7735\/files\/9798217318964.jpg?v=1767740137","url":"https:\/\/k12savings.com\/products\/the-last-kids-on-earth-isbn-9798217318964","provider":"K12savings","version":"1.0","type":"link"}