The Dead Ones (Death Herself Book 3) Page 14

  “Then take me!” I shout. “What are you waiting for? Why did you leave me until last?”

  “Because you're the most stubborn.”

  “I'm not going to let you do this,” I reply. “I'm not going to let you burn me the way you burned the rest of them!”

  Hurrying over to the door that leads into the janitor's office, I slip inside and then slam the door shut before looking out the window. Dyson and the creature are coming closer, so I drop down to the floor and try to work out what I'm going to do next. My body is shivering with fear and my thoughts are racing, but deep down I'm starting to realize that there might not be any way out of this mess. I'm all alone, and I can't keep running forever. Putting my head in my hands, I try desperately to focus my thoughts, but all I can think is that I'm out of time. It's inevitable, I'm going to burn like the others.

  “Hey,” a familiar voice says suddenly. “What's up?”

  Turning, I see that Hannah is crouching next to me with a smile.

  “You can see me?” I whisper, suddenly realizing that she must be a ghost too. “You can see me!”

  She cranes her neck to look out the window for a moment. “He's very full of himself, isn't he?” she mutters. “Always has been, but especially now. God, look at that smug expression on his face. He really thinks he's got you cornered.”

  “Are you cold?” I ask, reaching out and touching her arm. “You're not cold!”

  “I'm not like the others,” she replies, turning and crawling across the floor until she reaches the door. Getting to her feet, she takes a moment to wipe dirt from her jacket. “I've been watching for a while. I'm sorry I couldn't step in and do anything earlier, but I had to find the right moment. I couldn't save the others, but I might just be able to save you.”

  “What are you going to do?” I stammer, leaning up and seeing that Dyson is almost at the door, with the creature right behind him.

  “I'm going to fix this mess,” she says firmly, before taking a deep breath and then pulling the door wide open.

  “No!” I hiss.

  “Hello,” she says with a smile, staring out at Dyson. After a moment, she points at me. “Bonnie Bromley's right in here. She's cowering on the floor and she's almost given up fighting. I think she might even have decided that her fate is inevitable. I guess you'll be taking her, then.”

  “What are you doing?” I whisper, before crawling across the floor and hiding behind a cluttered old desk. Peering around the side, I see that Dyson has stopped in the doorway, facing Hannah.

  “You're getting involved with something that's beyond your jurisdiction,” Dyson tells her firmly, his voice filled with spite. “People won't be happy about this.”

  “People love getting annoyed by me,” she replies. “That's what I've always assumed, anyway. I think I'm actually a hobby for some of them. But like I said, Bonnie's right over -” She turns and looks down at the spot where I was hiding a moment ago, and then she looks around for a moment before finally spotting me. “Oh, now she's over there,” she continues, pointing at me as I duck down out of sight. “She's hiding behind that desk.”

  “Thanks a lot,” I mutter, as I glance around to see if there's anywhere else I can hide. I quickly crawl past the desk and duck down behind a set of old crates.

  “Now she's behind the crates,” Hannah adds.

  “Bitch!” I whisper.

  “So go get her,” she continues, turning back to Dyson. “What are you waiting for? You know where she is, you've got your friend with you to get the burning part done, so why are you holding back? There's not something else causing you to hesitate, is there?”

  “You've gone too far this time,” Dyson says after a moment. “There will be consequences.”

  “I hope so,” Hannah replies. “I love consequences.”

  I wait, convinced that at any moment Dyson and the creature will come closer. Looking around, I try to work out where I can run next, but I feel as if I'm finally cornered. A moment later, however, I hear the door swinging shut, followed by footsteps heading this way, and then suddenly -

  “Hey,” Hannah says, reaching a hand down toward me. “It's your lucky day. Get up.”

  “Are you on his side?” I ask.

  “As if. Get up.”

  Peering around the side of the crates, I realize that there's no sign of Dyson or the creature. Slowly, I get to my feet, while still looking around in case they appear from the shadows.

  “You're safe in here for now,” Hannah explains. “He's gone to think things through. We're lucky, really. His species is always notoriously cautious. Eventually he'll come up with another approach, but until then we've got a little breathing space. How are your legs?”

  “Why didn't he come inside?” I ask. “What stopped him?”

  “Well...” She grins. “I mean, I don't want to take all the credit, but I like to think that he wasn't expecting to bump into little old me. I'm sure I put him off his stride just a little.”

  “You talk like...” Pausing for a moment, I can't shake the feeling that she seems to be one step ahead. “The way you talked to him just now, it was almost like you already know him.”

  “I've met him before,” she replies. “Not often, but he's popped up occasionally to annoy me. He's a third-level death spirit, he feeds on lost souls and ghosts. He spends most of his time loitering around the vents between worlds, making as little effort as possible as he tries to consume whatever ghosts he can find. I've got to say, he's being a little more proactive this time. I guess even third-level spirits have ambitions.”

  “I don't know what you're talking about,” I reply, taking a step back from her. “Are you... Are you crazy? Is that it? Are you completely insane?”

  “That'd be nice for you,” she continues, “but no, I'm not insane.” She holds her right hand toward me. “My name is Hannah, and I spend my time dealing with bugs in the system.”

  “Bugs?”

  “Death usually runs pretty smoothly,” she explains. “People live, they die, they move on. Occasionally, though, there can be certain creases, little accidents, and I have to show up to bang the pipes. That's a metaphor, by the way. Well, except for one time, but that's another story. I'm here right now because this whole school shooting thing caused a small clog in the process, but nothing could really get moving until your brother died. Until then, the error couldn't get corrected.”

  “Error?” I stare at her for a moment, before hurrying to the window and looking out into the yard. Most people have gone to class now, and I feel a shiver in my chest as I turn back to Hannah. “You're not real,” I whisper finally. “I was right earlier, I have lost my mind, and now all the insanity has somehow manifested in some kind of... vision.”

  She raises a skeptical eyebrow. “Vision?”

  “You're not real!” I shout. “You can't be!”

  “I'll take that as a compliment,” she replies, “but for now, could you at least humor me and listen? Or humor yourself, or whatever you think is going on here. I once helped a guy who was convinced the whole time that I was a brain tumor. He never accepted that I was real, but I still helped him.” She pauses, before stepping closer. “And now I'm here to help you, Bonnie. I couldn't help the others, they were too far gone, but I can help you. There's not much time left, but tell me something, how are your legs?”

  “Why do you keep asking about my legs?” I ask.

  “Do they hurt?”

  “No.”

  “Do they feel weird? Numb, maybe?”

  “Sometimes,” I reply cautiously. “Right now, they feel a little heavy.”

  “That's good,” she replies. “As long as your legs feel weird, we've got something to work with. Let me know if that changes at any point.” Turning, she heads past the workbenches and pushes the back door open. She leans out and takes a look around for a moment, before waving for me to join her. “Okay, the coast's clear. Let's get moving.”

  “Where?” I stammer.

  “I'll
work that out along the way. Don't worry, I'm good at improvising. Which is lucky, 'cause I'm terrible at planning ahead.”

  “But you're not -”

  “I'm not real,” she adds, interrupting me, “yes, fine, that's what you think. We've established that, and I don't have time to prove otherwise, but could you at least pay attention to me? What other options do you have? If you try to annoy me, I can be extremely annoying in return. And if you really think I'm just an illusion cooked up by your subconscious mind, then did it occur to you that I might still be useful? Like, maybe I'm your mind's way of processing things and coming up with an answer. Like the doctor.”

  “What doctor?”

  “You don't think you actually went to see a doctor after you fainted, do you?” She smiles. “That was another example of your mind filling in the blanks. Your perspective has been all screwy for a while now, but fortunately the blinkers have finally come off. From this point on, everything you experience should be absolutely real.” She waits for a reply. “You have to trust me. Really, you have no better options.”

  Staring at her for a moment, I realize she might have a point.

  “And we can't stay in here,” she continues. “We have to move.”

  Cautiously, I make my way over to join her. I'm still certain she has to be an illusion, some symptom of my late-stage insanity, but there's just a chance that it might be worth listening to her.

  “I'm real,” she tells me, almost as if she can read my mind. “It's okay, though. I'm here to help you. If I was here to stop you, if somehow I was working against you, that would be the time to worry.”

  “You can't help me,” I tell her. “No-one can. It's too late.”

  “It's not too late,” she says firmly. “You've got one advantage that the other ghosts didn't enjoy.”

  “What's that?”

  She smiles as she pats my shoulder. “You're not dead.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  “I thought I was a ghost,” I stammer as we hurry across the hospital's parking lot. “No-one else could see me, except the other ghosts. I died in the shooting.”

  “Not quite,” she replies, glancing around as if she's worried we might be attacked at any moment. “You were shot, but you didn't die. Right now, your body is in a bed at the local hospital.”

  “But -”

  “You're in a coma,” she continues. “That's why the spirit... Wait, what name is he using this time?”

  “You mean Mr. Dyson?”

  She laughs. “Dyson? Fine. His real name is unpronounceable unless you have at least three tongues, so it's useless in the human world. Obviously he went for a moody pseudonym. Anyway, that's why Dyson needed you to accept your fate and give up. He can't take your soul until you're actually dead. You're hanging on by a thread, Bonnie, but if your soul gives up, that might be enough to push you over the edge.”

  “And my legs -”

  “We'll get to that. You've probably experienced a few weird moments, though, where sensations from the hospital room broke through into your mind. Haven't you heard voices, or felt people touching you?”

  “I heard voices,” I tell her, “and little pinpricks of pain sometimes...”

  “Injections.”

  “And my legs -”

  “Once you wake up,” she continues, interrupting me again, “Dyson won't be able to get you. Well, not without killing you first. Actually killing your physical form would risk attracting attention, but he's like an addict, he craves souls, so he might decide its worth the risk. You can never truly predict how an addict is going to react when his back's against the wall.” After leading me into the hospital's reception area, she stops for a moment. “He's not here. Not yet, at least. We need to hurry.”

  “And do what, exactly?” I ask.

  She turns to me. “What do you think? We need to find a way to stuff you back into your body. Assuming it's not too late already.”

  ***

  “Either I'm completely insane,” I whisper a short while later, standing at the foot of a hospital bed and staring at my own body connected to a series of machines, “or the world is insane. This just can't... I mean, this can't be happening.”

  “It's happening, alright,” Hannah mutters as she examines the machines. “Your numbers aren't actually too bad. From what I've overheard, it sounds like they're not sure why you haven't been able to wake up. I think you could do with a little more saline solution, though.” She adjusts one of the dials, and then she turns to me. “Obviously they don't know that your soul is wandering around.”

  “So I've been here ever since the shooting?” I ask, still struggling to believe that this is really happening.

  “Physically, but not mentally. Your mind reached out and joined the ghosts who'd been left scattered across town. Usually they'd have passed to the next realm almost immediately, but Dyson was able to keep them here while he waited to start his meal. He needed your brother to die first, though. A curious set of coincidences led to a truly bizarre situation.”

  “So are all coma patients wandering about like this?”

  She shakes her head. “My theory is that the presence of all the ghosts meant that you were teased out.”

  “But how could we not have realized?” I ask. “We thought we were living normal lives.”

  “Your minds were papering over the inconsistencies,” she replies. “Self-delusion is one area where humans really excel. It never occurred to any of you that you were dead, so you literally altered the way you saw the world so that it fit with what you believed to be true. Just small things, here and there, but they were enough. You even imagined entire phone conversations. That's how realistic the delusion became for all of you. The human mind is fragile in some ways but undeniably powerful in others.” She pauses for a moment. “Then your brother was executed, and once that had happened the floodgates were opened. Your delusions could no longer hold back reality.”

  “But if -”

  Hearing footsteps nearby, I turn just in time to see Josh coming into the room. I stare in shock as he sets a bunch of flowers on the table, and then he heads over to the bed and leans down to kiss my forehead. The moment is so unexpected and tender, I can barely believe it's really happening.

  “He's been coming to see me all this time?” I ask, as he grabs a chair and pulls it over.

  “Cute, huh?” Hannah mutters.

  “I thought he hated me,” I continue, watching as he squeezes my unresponsive hand. “I thought he was just like everyone else, but all this time he's been visiting me? I saw him taking a bus to the hospital the other day. I should have realized.”

  “He comes every day,” Hannah tells me. “I know I can be cynical sometimes, but this... This is pretty devoted. It's almost as if he loves you or something.”

  “Do you really think so?” I ask, taking a step closer to the bed.

  “You won't believe what my crazy parents have done this time,” Josh says, talking to my prone body. He's still holding my hand, stroking it gently as if he hopes I might notice and wake up. “Well, it's my father, really. He's bought an apartment maintenance company. Like, a whole, actual business. He thinks he can get loads of contracts from some people he knows who work for the county, and obviously he wants me to tool up and get involved.” He pauses for a moment. “I guess maybe I'll get the hang of it. At least I know I have a job lined up, and he seems keen for me to take over one day. Maybe we could even think about getting an apartment together, although...” He pauses. “You need to wake up for that to happen, Bonnie. Is it really that hard? Just hear my voice and wake up.”

  “I'm right here,” I tell him, with tears in my eyes as I head over and try to grab his arm. Somehow, however, an unseen force holds me back, just as I was also held back last night when I tried to get my father's attention. “I want to speak to him,” I continue, turning to Hannah. “Help me speak to him!”

  “You need to wake up first,” she replies.

  “So let me wake up!”
>
  “It's not my decision,” she continues. “These things are complicated.”

  “Can't you tell him that I'm here?”

  She shakes her head.

  “Why can't he see you right now?” I ask.

  “Because I don't want him to.”

  “But what if I don't make it?” I ask, watching as Josh continues to talk to my comatose body. “What if I just slip away?”

  “That's a distinct possibility.”

  “I'm here,” I say firmly, crouching next to Josh and looking up into his face. “I know this is crazy, but you have to listen, I'm right here. Just focus for a moment, you'll be able to sense me.”

  “It doesn't work like that,” Hannah says, as Josh keeps talking. “Sorry, but the power of eternal love isn't so useful here.”

  “I'm right next to you,” I continue, convinced that Josh has to be aware of my presence. “I'm going to find a way to wake up. I don't know how, not yet, but I'll get back to you, I swear. There's no way I'm going to give up.” Reaching out, I try to put a hand on his knee, but of course once again I can't actually touch him.

  “That's what I like to hear,” Hannah says after a moment. “You're going to need every ounce of that determination.”

  “Please hear me,” I whisper, leaning closer to Josh. “Please...”

  He keeps talking to my comatose body for a few more seconds, before suddenly pausing. For a brief moment, it's almost as if somehow he has noticed me, but then he starts talking again. Hearing someone nearby, I turn and see my father in the doorway.

  “Sorry,” Dad says, scratching his stubbly chin, “I didn't know you were here. I can come back later.”

  “It's cool, Mr. Bromley,” Josh replies, getting to his feet. “I just had a free period, so I thought I'd drop by a little early today.”

  “The doctor said there's been no change,” Dad continues. “He still keeps hinting that we should consider...” He glances over at the machines. “He said we might be putting her through too much, and that the kindest thing might be to -”