The Dead Ones (Death Herself Book 3) Page 7

  “It's not working,” Molly says after a moment. “Are you sure we're doing it right?”

  “You've got to be patient,” says another voice. Karen Barnes, I think. “I told you, it takes time. If you try to rush them, you'll scare the spirits away?”

  “Spirits?” I whisper under my breath.

  “We call upon the spirits in this building to answer us,” Shannon continues. “We mean no harm, but we wish to commune with those who have passed on to the other side.”

  Stepping forward, I stay as quiet as possible as I make my way cautiously through the darkness.

  “I don't feel anything,” Karen whispers.

  “Quiet!” Shannon hisses. “Don't disturb the process.”

  Now that I'm getting closer, I can see that the three of them are sitting in a circle, holding hands while candles burn next to one kind of home-made ouija board. There's a part of me that wants to go over and flick the main lights on, or to start banging the pipes to give these idiots a scare, but at the same time I'm too shocked by the fact that they're being such complete fools. Still, at least I know why Molly couldn't hang out tonight, and why she wasn't answering her phone. She must have known that I'd go ballistic if I found out about this little stunt.

  “Are the spirits close?” Shannon calls out. “I think... I think I hear something! I think maybe there's a presence here...”

  “Yeah,” I reply. “Me.”

  They all gasp as they turn, and I step forward so that they can see my face in the candlelight.

  “That's Bonnie,” Karen says with a hint of disappointment. “She's not dead, is she?”

  “No,” I reply wearily, “I'm not. Thanks for noticing.”

  “Hey,” Molly says, getting to her feet. “What... What are you doing here?”

  “I saw your bike outside.”

  “We were just...” She pauses, but it's clear from the panic in her eyes that she knows she can't wriggle out of this. “I mean, we were... We thought...”

  “Trying to contact the dead?” I ask, stepping past her and looking down at the ouija board, which isn't really a ouija board at all. It's a piece of paper with some letters drawn in a vague pattern, plus the words Yes, No and Maybe at the bottom. “And how's that going?” I mutter. “Have you amateur Alistair Crowleys managed anything yet?”

  “Are you angry?” Molly asks.

  I turn to her. “Why would I be angry?”

  “Well, I mean...” Her voice trails off.

  “I don't have any right to be angry,” I continue, even though deep down I know she's right. I am angry that these idiots are turning the tragedy into a game, but I know I shouldn't start lecturing them. “Just because my brother was one of the two assholes who shot this place up, that doesn't give me the right to...” I take a deep breath, forcing myself to stay calm. “How long have you been doing this?”

  “About two hours,” Molly replies. “Tonight.”

  “And before tonight?”

  “We've been a couple of times.”

  “We heard a bump,” Karen adds.

  I turn to her. “Are you sure it wasn't me coming in just now?”

  “It was two nights ago!”

  “Wow,” I mutter. “Success, huh?”

  “It might have been the heating system,” Shannon admits cautiously.

  “Might have been,” I tell her.

  “We don't really know what we're doing,” Molly says.

  “That's not true!” Karen hisses.

  “Yes, it is!” she replies, turning to her. “This is the third night we've tried this, and we're not getting anywhere! Face it, the spirits aren't interested in talking to us!”

  “Maybe you're not a true believer,” Karen points out.

  Molly sighs.

  “Maybe you need a fourth person,” I tell them. “Someone with more of a link to this whole thing.”

  They all turn to me.

  I pause for a moment. This is dumb, in fact it's quite possibly the dumbest thing I've ever contemplated in my life, but it's not like I can go home, and wandering the cold streets doesn't hold much appeal, not anymore. Besides, that incident in Malcolm's room made me start contemplating the possibility that there might be something to the whole ghost concept, and I figure a failed séance is the perfect way to slam that door back shut so I can move on. I'm tempted to tell them about Rudolph the miraculously resurrected bird, but I figure that'd just fry their minds completely.

  “What's wrong?” I ask, with a faint smile. “Worried it might actually work if I'm involved?”

  “Are you sure about this?” Molly asks, stepping closer to me. “I didn't tell you what we were doing because, well, I thought it might upset you.”

  “Please,” I mutter, slipping past her and sitting next to Karen. “I'm not a pussy. I can handle a few ghosts if they show up.”

  I wait, but the others are clearly shocked and I can tell they're not entirely comfortable with my involvement.

  “Well,” Shannon says finally, “I... I guess...”

  “Seriously,” I reply, fixing her with a firm stare, “what are you worried about? Is it the fact that my brother was one of the killers?”

  “What if...” She pauses. “What if you being here means that... something... comes?”

  “Isn't that the point?” I ask. “Or are you just full of crap?” I wait for an answer, before turning to Karen. “Are you little girls trying to give yourselves a scare, or are you actually trying to contact the dead? 'Cause if this is a game, that's fine, you can just run along. But if you're serious, then you'd better put your money where your mouth is and sit down. Make your mind up, though. I don't have all night.”

  God, it's so easy to wind them up.

  After a moment, Molly sits next to me. “I guess this is what we came for,” she says cautiously, reaching out and taking my hand.

  “What's the worst that could happen?” I ask.

  Slowly, with obvious trepidation, the other girls all link hands. I feel like an absolute goddamn idiot right now, but I need to remind myself that this type of thing is garbage. As we all sit cross-legged on the gym floor, with the candles already burned down to their halfway marks, a kind of uneasy silence falls.

  “Well?” I say finally. “Who wants to do all the spooky talking?”

  ***

  “O spirits!” Karen calls out, now that it's finally her turn to lead. “Come to us and speak of the world beyond life! We are your humble servants, and we wish only to hear your wise words!”

  Silence.

  Finally, I can't help myself and I burst out laughing.

  “Bonnie!” Molly hisses.

  “Seriously?” I reply, turning to her and then to the others. “Is this how a séance is supposed to go? Did you, like, look it up online or something?”

  “I saw a movie once,” Shannon replies, a little defensively. “It was kind of like this.”

  “I've seen movies too,” I tell her. “I'm pretty sure you don't need to talk like a fifteenth century English maiden if you're trying to attract twenty-first century American ghosts.”

  “What would you know?” Karen asks.

  “Maybe a little more than you realize,” I reply. “Do you want to let me take my turn?”

  I can see the fear in her eyes, but I bet she won't turn the offer down.

  “Go on, then,” she mutters cautiously. She's scared, but she's also way too proud.

  “I should warn you,” I continue, making eye contact with each of them in turn, “that there's a chance this might actually work. There have been some strange incidents in the past few days, and they've made me start wondering about things.” Taking a deep breath, I realize that I've managed to get them nicely worked up, which after all is the whole point of this endeavor. It's not like there's any chance at all that we'll contact the dead. “I just want to make it clear,” I add, to increase the tension, “that I'm not responsible for anything that happens in the next few minutes. What will be, will be. Okay, girls?”


  I wait, but they seem too scared to reply, and after a moment I feel Molly squeezing my hand.

  “Okay, then,” I say, staring down at the piece of paper that has been serving as a ouija board. After a moment, I let go of Molly's grasp and grab the paper, before burning it with one of the candles.

  “What are you doing?” Karen hisses. “We need that!”

  “It's getting in the way,” I reply, dropping the remains of the paper to the floor before taking Molly's hand again. “You were letting your minds get distracted by that junk.”

  I wait, and it's clear that I've got them on the hook.

  “We're not little girls,” I point out. “This isn't a game.”

  Again, silence.

  “Close your eyes,” I continue. I watch as one by one they do as they're told, and then I close my eyes too. Might as well join in with the fun. To be honest, I think I have a natural flair for this theatrical baloney. “We're calling out to the dead spirits that inhabit this place,” I say calmly. “We know you're here, we know you're trapped in this space between life and death, and we seek only the chance to help. If you come to us, we will listen. If you speak to us, we will do anything to help you that is in our power. We, the living, seek communion with you, the dead.”

  Silence.

  I wait, feeling a slow sense of calm creeping through my chest. I know this is baloney, it has to be, but at the same time I feel a sense of doubt tugging at me.

  “My name is Bonnie Bromley,” I continue. “My brother was one of the ones who -”

  “Are you sure you should tell them that?” Molly whispers.

  “I'm pretty sure they already know,” I reply. “Keep your eyes shut.” I take a deep breath. “My brother,” I continue cautiously, “was one of the ones who caused your pain. There are eighteen of you, aren't there? Eighteen dead, lost souls trapped in this place. Some of you knew us in life, some of you didn't, but that doesn't matter now. We've seen your faces, we remember your funerals.” In my mind's eye, I can see news videos of bodies being carried out of the gym, covered by sheets, and a ripple of fear runs up the back of my neck.

  Dumb.

  Fear is dumb.

  For a moment, in the back of my mind, I see Jenna Cooper being gunned down in the cafeteria, and I remember the absolute terror that gripped my soul. I also remember making a run for the door, and hearing gunfire all around.

  “If you can hear us,” I continue, “give us a sign. Let us know that you -”

  Suddenly there's a loud bump at the other end of the gym. I open my eyes and turn, filled with a momentary flash of fear, but all I see is darkness. After a few seconds I turn and see the faces of the other three girls, with fear etched into their features as candlelight casts flickers of light and shadow between us.

  “That was just the heating system,” I tell them, even though deep down I don't entirely know what caused the noise. One thing is certain, though. It sure as hell was no ghost.

  I wait, but they seem absolutely terrified.

  “Are we getting on with this or not?” I ask. “ Close your eyes.”

  One by one, they close their eyes and wait. I close mine too, but it takes a moment before I can get my thoughts settled again. I keep seeing flashes from that day in the cafeteria.

  “To whom am I...” I take a deep breath. “Who am I speaking to?” I ask, realizing that maybe we should have kept the piece of paper after all. “Is it the spirit of someone who died in this hall?”

  I wait.

  Silence.

  “Are we in the presence of one spirit,” I continue, “or many?”

  Again, silence.

  And then there's a sudden thud over by the far wall, followed by another, then more and more, little bumps and shudders that seem to be all around us until, after a few seconds, they stop.

  I swallow hard.

  Molly is gripping my hand so tight now...

  “Heating system,” I says firmly, as much to convince myself as to convince them. “That was just the heating system.”

  I pause for a moment.

  “There were eighteen,” Molly says suddenly.

  I keep my eyes shut. “What?”

  “There were eighteen bumps.”

  “So?”

  “So... Eighteen bumps, eighteen spirits.”

  “Eighteen people died here,” Karen points out. “Not counting Jonathan Wilder, obviously.”

  “Let's just keep going,” I tell them. “You're already starting to talk yourselves into a knot again. That sound was just the heating system.”

  “Do you really believe that?” Molly whispers.

  I take another deep breath, trying to settle my nerves. “I do.”

  We sit in silence for a moment. Suddenly this whole situation has changed. I wanted to make fun of Molly and the others, and to prove to myself that this whole ghost thing was nonsense, but now I can feel a sense of fear starting to rise in the back of my mind and I need to strike it down fast. Retreating is no use, so I have to keep going and push through, to show us all that this is a big, stinking pile of baloney. Because it is. It has to be.

  “Are you going to say anything?” Molly asks.

  “Yes!” I snap, before reminding myself to stay calm. “We need a sign,” I say firmly, raising my voice a little. “We need some kind of signal, something to prove that you're here. No more bumps and bangs, nothing that could be the heating system. Let's get it out in the open, give us a real firm sign that can only mean one thing!”

  I wait.

  There.

  That's the kind of challenge no ghost can meet.

  And then slowly I feel something brushing against the side of my neck. I freeze, telling myself that it's not real, but the sensation is moving slowly across my skin, heading up toward the area just below my left ear. Fingertips. It feels like fingertips.

  It's one of the others, it has to be.

  Or it's -

  Suddenly I feel another set of fingertips on the other side of my body, this time moving down toward my right shoulder. A shudder ripples through my flesh, but I refuse to let myself get spooked.

  “Bonnie?” Molly whispers. “Are you... Are you finished?”

  “Not yet,” I gasp, as I feel the fingertips coming to a rest on the side of my face and the top of my shoulder. “Just wait.”

  “For what?”

  “Just wait!” I hiss. I refuse to let myself get pranked by some dumb idiot. I'm holding Karen and Molly's hands, which means Shannon is the only one who's free to have quietly moved around and done this.

  Cautiously, I open my eyes just a little.

  Karen, Molly and Shannon are all in place, still holding hands with their eyes shut.

  I tilt my head slightly, but the fingertips are still touching me.

  Someone else is here. Maybe this is all a trick, or maybe Adam or some other asshole managed to sneak in and now we're getting pranked.

  “How long do we have to wait?” Molly asks.

  “Not long,” I reply, my voice filled with tension. There's a part of me that wants to jump to my feet and turn around, to see who the hell is playing this trick on me, but I refuse to get baited so easily. “We, uh...” Taking a deep breath, I try to focus my thoughts, even though my mind is racing. “We need to just keep our focus and -”

  Suddenly Shannon opens her eyes opposite me, and I immediately see pure terror in her stare.

  “What?” I whisper. “What do you see?”

  She opens her mouth, but her bottom lip is trembling and no words come out.

  “Is something wrong?” Molly asks.

  “No!” I hiss. “It's just -”

  Before I can finish, the fingertips shift and I feel hands pressing on my face and shoulder. My head is pulled back and I'm forced to look straight up into the darkness, and I see the faintest flash of something before a heavy impact slams into me from the side and sends me skidding across the floor, clattering into Karen. Panicking, I scramble and turn to look bac
k to where I was just sitting, but there's no sign of anyone.

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

  “Who said that?” I shout, stumbling to my feet and looking around. I don't feel anyone touching me, not anymore, but I turn and look at the darkness until finally I hurry across the gym and fumble for the lights. It takes a moment, but after a few seconds my trembling hands find the switches and I push them all, bringing the lights flickering to light one by one above us. Turning, I see Molly, Shannon and Karen standing next to the candles, staring at me with shock.

  “Are you okay?” Molly asks, taking a step toward me.

  “Did none of you hear that voice?” I stammer, my heart racing as I continue to look around. I glance back at them. “Or was it one of you?”

  “What voice?” Molly continues. “Bonnie -”

  “What did you see?” I ask, stepping toward Shannon. “You looked at me just before it happened. Who was behind me?”

  There are tears in her eyes, but she seems absolutely frozen with fear.

  “Tell me!” I shout, grabbing her shoulders. “Tell me right now what you saw!”

  “I...” She stares at me. “I... I saw...”

  “Ew,” Karen says suddenly. “Gross.”

  “What?” I snap, before hearing a dribbling sound. Looking down, I'm shocked to see a wet patch on the front of Shannon's pants, and drops of liquid running down from inside the left leg of her pants.

  “Did you...” Molly steps back. “Shannon, did you pee yourself?”

  “What did you see?” I ask, keeping my hands on Shannon's shoulders. “Just tell me. It wasn't real, whatever it was, but what do you think you saw?”

  “Jenna...” She swallows hard. “Jenna...” she stammers. “I saw Jenna Cooper.”

  Chapter Nine

  “Jenna Cooper,” I mutter, bringing up the photo on my phone. I flinch as soon as I see the image of Jenna smiling for her class photo.

  “I remember her,” Molly says as we sit in the gloomy corridor outside the gym. “She was kinda stuck up sometimes, but then once she helped me with a math problem so I guess she was okay.”

  “She's also dead,” I point out, scrolling down the old news story. “She was one of the first fatalities when Malcolm and Jonathan opened fire. I actually saw -”