The Dead Ones (Death Herself Book 3) Page 17

  “Kneel!” he shouts. “You will -”

  Before he can finish, the Flesh Weaver grabs him by the shoulders, sending a rush of fire into his body. Dyson screams, but the creature pulls him closer, and finally the flames become so bright, I have to turn away. At that moment, I hear a loud revving sound and I look over at the far door just in time to see Hannah running back through with a chainsaw.

  “I actually found one!” she shouts. “It's rusty but -”

  She stops when she sees the inferno in the center of the room, and all she can do is stare in shock as the flames flare and then fade away, leaving no sign of Dyson or the creature. Dyson's scream lingers for a moment, however, echoing through the air until it too is gone.

  “Where did they go?” I stammer, getting to my feet.

  “The Flesh Weaver turned on him,” Hannah replies, running over to me with the still-running chainsaw swinging wildly in her hands. “How did you do it? Was there -”

  “Careful!” I shout, ducking down as the chainsaw almost hits my face.

  “Sorry!” She switches it off and tosses it aside, before grabbing me and pulling me close for a hug. “What did you do?”

  “Dyson had put some kind of metal ring around its neck,” I explain. “That was how he was controlling it, he was torturing the poor thing. Once I pulled it away, the Flesh Weaver went straight for him and they vanished in the flames.”

  “Well,” she replies, taking a step back, “I guess that makes sense. If someone had been using a metal ring to torture me, I think I'd want a little revenge once it was finally off.” She looks over at the center of the room, where the flames have left a scorch-mark on the concrete. “Flesh Weavers are usually fairly friendly, but they can get pretty nasty when they're provoked. Wherever he is right now, I doubt Dyson is having a good time.”

  “I need to get to a hospital,” I stammer, reaching up and feeling the burns on my neck and face. “I need to let everyone know that I'm okay. Dad and Josh are there, they're probably terrified that something happened to me.”

  Helping me to stay on my feet, Hannah leads me over to the door, but after a moment she glances back across the room.

  “What's wrong?” I ask. “It's over, isn't it? Please tell me that Dyson isn't ever going to come back!”

  “Maybe,” she whispers. “The whole thing just seems a little too easy, but...” She pauses, before turning to me and smiling. “Come on, let's go find your family. I can think of at least two people who are going to be very glad to see that you've risen from the brink of death.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  Five years later

  “There it is again,” Josh says, putting his arms around me from behind and kissing the back of my neck.

  “Huh?” Realizing that I was lost in a daze again, I smile as I turn to him. I was thinking about Malcolm, but I can't admit that. “Sorry, there's what again?”

  “That look.” He peers into my eyes for a moment. “You still think about it a lot, don't you? All that stuff that happened five years ago...”

  “It's hard not to,” I point out. Reaching up, I instinctively touch the scars on my neck and face. Sometimes, when I find it hard to believe that everything with Hannah and the Flesh Weaver really happened, the scars serve as a useful reminder. I've thought about getting surgery to get rid of them, but I think I need them if I want to remember what happened and,more importantly, to believe it was all real. “Don't you think about it?”

  “You mean the time you suddenly got kidnapped from the hospital and then you turned up alive and well?” He pauses for a moment. “Sure, not a day goes past that I don't thank God that he sent you back to me, but -”

  “But you don't really believe me, do you?”

  He sighs.

  “You don't,” I continue. “I can see it in your eyes.”

  He hesitates, and I can already tell that I'm right. “I believe you were in a coma,” he says finally. “I saw that much. I also believe that some random girl kidnapped you from the hospital and that then you turned up with these burns.”

  “What about the rest?” I ask. “The Flesh Weaver, and the ghosts, and the creepy guy from school who turned out to be some kind of soul collector? And the girl who knew everything... Do you think all of that happened, or do you think it was all part of some fevered dream?”

  “That's a little harder to say,” he replies. “I think maybe the human mind is capable of imagining a lot of crazy stuff. You were in a coma for so long, Bonnie, and the doctors said it's not that weird for patients in your situation to have very vivid memories of dreams they think they had. I have no doubt that you truly believe it all happened just the way you remember it.”

  “I didn't imagine it!” I say firmly, even though I know I can't really blame him. “It was all real, I swear!”

  “Have you heard from that Hannah girl since?”

  I shake my head. I remember her helping me back to the hospital that day, and I remember the door sliding open, and I remember turning to find that she was gone. I guess I've been expecting her to drop by again to see how I'm doing, but she's probably far too busy. I've looked online, though, and there are a few forums where people discuss a strange girl they met who went by the name Hannah, and who helped them out. I never actually join in with those discussions, but it's nice to know that other people have encountered her, and that she's still out there somewhere. It's like she's some kind of urban legend, and the only people who believe she's real are the ones who've encountered her.

  “Come on,” Josh says with a smile, taking my hands in his. “Aren't we supposed to be going ring-shopping today?”

  ***

  It's Saturday afternoon, so the center of town is pretty busy. Sometimes it still feels strange that I ended up sticking around, rather than following through on my dream of moving far away, but I guess my life is here, and my roots. Besides, now Josh and I are engaged, I've kind of committed to the place. His family is here, and so's his job. Plus I get to be close to my father, who seems so lonely these days. As we pass the memorial in the town square, commemorating the people who died in the school shooting, I can't help looking up at the names and remembering how I saw them burning in the Flesh Weaver's grasp.

  So many unreal, hard-to-believe things have happened in this town.

  “Hey, Molly,” I whisper, spotting her name up there. “I still miss you.”

  “So where do you want to start?” Josh asks as we head across the street. He sounds so keen and buoyed-up, as if he's trying to overcompensate for the daze he senses in me. “I promised you my undivided attention today and I intend to follow through on that promise. Isn't that any woman's dream? A whole day of wedding ring shopping?”

  I can't help smiling. Josh sometimes gets things a little wrong, but he means well and I love him more than I ever thought possible. Glancing at the window of a nearby store, I spot my own reflection, complete with the scars that still -

  Suddenly I see him.

  Dyson, standing right behind me.

  I turn and look, but there's no sign of him. Just the town square with people milling about as usual. Frozen to the spot, I glance at the faces all around me, convinced that at any moment I'll see him grinning at me again.

  “Honey?” Josh says, with concern in his voice. “Are you okay? You look kinda pale.”

  I glance around, but there's definitely no sign of Dyson. I guess my brain must have had a brief spasm, throwing up an image from the past. I've had nightmares ever since the time I spent with Hannah, so maybe one of those nightmares briefly leaked through into my waking life.

  “I'm fine,” I mutter, even though I feel distinctly uneasy. “It was just -”

  “You're next,” a voice whispers in my ear.

  I turn and look, but again there's no-one to be seen.

  “This can't be happening,” I whisper, trying to stay calm. “He's gone.”

  “Bonnie?”

  Turning to Josh, I can see that he's worried. I remem
ber how he treated me five years ago, after my miraculous recovery from the coma. He acted as if I was some fragile soul who might relapse at any moment, and now he has that same look in his eyes. It's as if my worries are reflected in his face.

  “Don't,” I say firmly.

  “Don't what?”

  “Don't fuss,” I mutter, pushing the door open and heading into the jewelry store. “Please, I'm fine. I'm not losing my mind.”

  “I never said -”

  “Let's just look for rings.” I know I'm being mean, and that I should try to stay calm, but I've been terrified for so long that my mind might crack again. Of course, once you start watching out for something like that and putting your emotions under a microscope, you can end up going all the way down the rabbit-hole and thinking yourself into trouble. I've come close to that a few times over the years, but luckily I've always managed to stay just this side of rationality. Heading over to a display case, I pretend to be looking at rings even though I'm focusing instead on my bare hands. Constantly pinching my fingers, I keep trying to find some cast-iron guarantee that I'm definitely alive, and that I haven't fallen into the same nightmare I experienced five years ago.

  It's over.

  Hannah took Dyson away, and now everything's fine.

  I just have to remind myself of that fact, hundreds and hundreds of times each day.

  “Can I help you, M'am?” asks the girl behind the counter.

  I stare at her for a moment. “You can see me?”

  She frowns.

  “But maybe you're dead too,” I mutter, turning and seeing that Josh is talking to someone at another counter. “How can I be sure?”

  “Um...” The girl hesitates for a moment. “Is there something in particular that you're looking for? We have some new ranges that just came in last week.”

  Before I can reply, I feel a wave of panic rushing through my chest. When I glance at the window and look out at the busy town square, I can't shake the feeling that something is headed this way, something familiar, something I haven't experienced since that day in the abandoned factory five years ago. A moment later I feel something brushing against my shoulders, and I spin around, convinced that the Flesh Weaver is back. There's no-one nearby, of course, but my mind is racing.

  “M'am?” the girl behind the counter continues. “Do you... Do you need to sit down?”

  “Bonnie?”

  Turning, I find that Josh has come over to check on me, and he's clearly concerned.

  “I'm fine,” I tell him, desperately trying not to worry him, “but... Can't you feel it?”

  He frowns. “Feel what?”

  “It's so cold in here.”

  “I'm not cold,” he replies. “If anything, I think it's a little warm.”

  I look over at a display case filled with diamond rings, and then at another that contains necklaces. They're completely still, of course, but I still feel as if the ground is starting to shudder beneath my feet. Something's vibrating through the air, filling the room as if it's somehow warning of an oncoming presence. If I didn't know better, I'd feel as if all the air is being sucked away, read to be send crashing back around us again like some kind of tsunami.

  “It's everywhere,” I whisper, looking out the window again. “It doesn't feel right, it's almost -”

  And then I see him.

  Dyson is out there, standing completely still as the crowd moves around him, and he's staring straight at me. He looks a little different to before, a little older and much more gaunt, but his eyes are filled with pure hatred. From the way he's staring at me, I can immediately tell that he's here to deal with some unfinished business, and I can't hold back my sense of panic any longer.

  “Do you see him?” I ask, still hoping against hope that I'm imagining the whole thing. “Out there, the man in the dark suit...”

  Josh turns and looks for a moment.

  “Huh,” he mutters. “He seems kind of intense. You want me to go and ask what his problem is?”

  “You can really see him?” I ask, grabbing his arm and turning him to face me. “Josh, you can see that man?”

  “Do you know him?”

  “Are you sure you can see him?” I continue, as my chest tightens with fear.

  “Sure, honey, but...” He pauses. “I think we should get you home. I don't know quite what's up, but maybe if you rest for a moment, you'll start to feel better. And that guy -”

  He turns to look out the window, but after a moment I follow his gaze and see that Dyson is no longer there. My eyes scan the crowd, convinced that he's just hiding, but he seems to have vanished as quickly as he appeared.

  “See?” Josh says with an unconvincing smile. “He's gone. Probably just some local freak.”

  “Where's Hannah?” I mutter, turning and looking around the store. The rumbling sensation is getting stronger and stronger, as if a vast wave is about to burst through the entire town at any moment, and the air feels almost too thin to breathe. “Can't you sense it?” I shout, backing into the corner. “Everyone has to get down! Something's about to happen!”

  Josh and the staff stare at me with shocked expressions, as if I've lost my mind.

  “Get down!” I scream. “He's back! He's coming for me! He's -”

  And then suddenly the rumbling stops.

  I wait.

  Silence.

  “I can barely breathe,” I gasp, taking big, hulking gasps of air that somehow won't fill my lungs. “It's like all the oxygen has been pulled away.”

  “Honey?” Josh says cautiously, taking a step toward me. He reaches out a hand, to help me up. “I really think you're just -”

  Before he can finish, a huge wave of air slams into the building, knocking through one of the walls and bringing the ceiling crashing down. I duck down and put my arms over my head just as the air-conditioning system comes smashing to the floor next to me, and a moment later one of the pipes swings down and knocks the back of my head, sending me sprawling forward into the dust. There are screams nearby and I turn to see Josh on the ground with a patch of blood already soaking through the dust on his face. I reach out to grab him, but a second rush of air hits and I'm sent crashing across the room until I hit one of the display cases. Falling back, I'm covered in shards of glass as the diamonds come spilling out onto the floor. I turn and try to get back to Josh, but the floor buckles, as if something is trying to force its way up into the store.

  “Josh!” I scream. “Josh, are you okay?”

  “Did you think I'd just walk away?” Dyson's voice whispers in my ear. “Did you think it'd be that easy?”

  I turn, but he's nowhere to be seen. I can feel him, though, as if his presence is filling the air all around me.

  “I fought my way back,” he continues, his voice echoing slightly. “It took me a while to subdue that dumb Flesh Weaver, but finally I made him scream as I tore his soul from his body. Trust me, I derived great satisfaction from his miserable demise.”

  I start crawling through the rubble, desperately trying to get to Josh. An alarm is ringing nearby and I can hear people shouting outside the store, but when I get to Josh I see that there's more blood on his face. Reaching out to check for a pulse, I'm about to touch his neck when an unseen force whips me around and smacks me against the wall, and a fraction of a second later I'm tossed through the air until I hit the damaged ceiling. When I crash back down, I land on an overturned display cabinet, and I feel a snapping sensation in several ribs as I let out a grunt and fall to the floor.

  “It would appear,” Dyson whispers, “that you underestimated my determination. I tried the subtle approach, but that didn't work, so now I realize I have to make some noise.”

  I try to cry out, but suddenly my body is pulled through the air. Just as I'm about to crash through one of the store's remaining windows, however, I hit a low-hanging section of the wrecked air-conditioning unit, which catches my shoulder and tears through the skin before sending me slumping once again to the ground. I im
mediately try to crawl away, scrambling behind another of the upturned counters as more chunks of plaster come raining down from above.

  “You're mine,” Dyson continues, his voice tinged with anger now. “You were supposed to die in the shooting, like all the others. I don't know how you managed to cling to life, but I don't really care. I was promised a certain number of souls that day, and I intend to take them all.”

  “No!” I shout, but it's too late. Something grabs me by the waist and starts dragging me through the rubble toward the window. I reach out and take hold of a broken counter, but I don't know if I can hold on for much longer. The counter's edge is razor-sharp and already digging into my fingers, and I cry out even though I know I can't let go.

  “Just accept your fate!” Dyson hisses. “This is inevitable, so stop struggling and give me what I want, and then I can move on. Or do I have to be more persuasive?”

  Spotting movement nearby, I see that Josh's body is slowly being lifted by an invisible force.

  “Leave him alone!” I scream. “Stop!”

  “First, you must give yourself to me,” Dyson replies. “Then, perhaps, I will be lenient!”

  I stare at Josh for a moment, before seeing something else moving on the floor. Looking at the hundreds of spilled jewels, I see that a face is being reflected in every one of them, but it takes a few seconds longer before I realize who I'm seeing.

  “Hannah?” I whisper.

  The face flashes away, but I swear it was her. I turn to look over my shoulder, but suddenly I'm pulled away from the counter and sent slamming into the wall beneath one of the broken windows. At the same time, Josh's body is sent thudding into the wall. I can hear sirens getting closer, but as I struggle to my feet I look out across the town square and see a scene of utter devastation. There are dead and bleeding bodies everywhere, at least twenty or thirty outside the store alone, while the wave of destruction seems to have cut through every store surrounding the square. Feeling a sharp pain in my chest, I finally manage to limp forward, but a moment later something large and dark is tossed to the ground just a few feet away.