The Dead Ones (Death Herself Book 3) Page 8

  I stop myself just in time. I saw Jenna getting gunned down when the shooting started, and I've replayed that moment over and over in my mind ever since. I saw her die. I saw a lot of people die that day.

  We sit in silence for a moment. In the distance, Shannon and Karen can be heard cleaning up in the bathroom, but I scroll back up to look again at the photo of Jenna. I know she can't have been in the gym with us tonight, but I remember the high school play from last year and I know for a fact that Shannon is not a good actress. Plus, I doubt she'd actually go to the lengths of peeing herself just to prank us, which means...

  Which means she really thinks she saw Jenna.

  The worst part, the part I haven't admitted to anyone else yet, is that the voice I heard sounded like Jenna too. I know there has to be another explanation, but my head is swimming and I don't have a clue right now.

  “This was a very dumb idea,” Molly says after a moment.

  “Tell me about it,” I reply.

  “No,” she continues, turning to me, “I mean it was really dumb! What if we, like, opened a gateway or something?”

  I can't help sighing.

  “Just listen to me!” she hisses. “What if we summoned these ghosts, and now we can't get rid of them?”

  “Sounds like a bad horror movie,” I point out.

  “Are you saying horror movies can't be right sometimes?” she asks.

  “I'm saying there's no such thing as ghosts,” I tell her.

  “Liar,” she replies. “I saw your face back there. You believe.”

  “I got caught up in the moment,” I admit, “but that's not the same as actually believing in ghosts. It's just how people are, we're wired to jump to conclusions any time we -”

  Suddenly there's a loud banging sound from nearby. Molly and I both turn and look, but after a moment I realize that it was just Shannon and Karen in the bathroom.

  “See?” I continue, turning to Molly again. “It's like our minds can't accept when we don't have an explanation, so we leap to some ridiculous conclusion. Whatever happened in the gym -”

  “Made Shannon pee herself,” Molly points out. “Are you saying that Shannon's so easily-scared that she tricked herself into seeing Jenna Cooper's ghost? Do you really think Shannon is that dumb?”

  “Do I have to answer that question?” I ask cautiously, before getting to my feet. I take a few steps along the corridor, before realizing that I can't just walk away. Turning back to Molly, I can see the fear in her eyes. She absolutely believes that we just encountered a ghost in the gym, and I'm struggling really, really hard to keep from thinking the same thing.

  A moment later, I hear footsteps nearby and turn to see Karen emerging from the bathroom with a cowed Shannon right behind her. Shannon has her pants in a bag.

  “I gave her my underwear,” Karen says uncomfortably. “It was... We had to improvise.”

  “What did you really see?” I ask, stepping over to Shannon. “I know it's probably not something you want to think about, but please, just tell me exactly what you saw.”

  “I saw Jenna -”

  “You can't have seen Jenna Cooper,” I say firmly. “Try again.”

  I swear, I actually see tears starting to gather once more in her eyes.

  “Sorry,” I continue. “No-one's angry. In your own words, just tell me.”

  “I saw Jenna Cooper,” she stammers, her voice sounding low and frail. “She was right behind you, and she had a hand on your shoulder and another on your face, and she was looking down at the top of your head.” She pauses for a moment, as if she's reliving that sight. “She had a hole on one side of her... She had a hole here,” she whispers, putting a hand on the side of her face, running her fingers from her jaw to her temple. “Like, half her head was missing.”

  “Didn't Jenna get shot in the face?” Molly asks.

  I turn to her.

  “I mean...” She shrugs. “That's what I heard, anyway.”

  “She was dead,” Shannon continues. “I mean, really dead. She was as dead as... And she was smiling.”

  “Dead people don't smile,” Molly suggests.

  “Dead people don't do a lot of anything,” I mutter, although I can't help thinking back to the little bird in my shoebox. I guess I must have imagined that whole thing. It's the only explanation.

  “And then,” Shannon adds, “she just, like, tilted your head up and then... Bonnie, something threw you across the room. You can't deny that.”

  “Something threw me across the room?” I ask. “Come on, be more precise. What hit me?”

  “There was another one next to Jenna,” she explains. “I didn't see properly, but I think it was a guy.”

  “Two ghosts,” Molly says after a moment.

  “No ghosts,” I reply, turning to her. Damn it, I have to keep my temper under control. Lately I keep flaring up at just the slightest provocation. I wasn't like that before. “I don't know what happened here, but I'm not about to jump to -”

  Suddenly there's a banging sound in the distance, and we all look toward the double doors that lead into the gym.

  “I want to go home,” Shannon whimpers. “Right now.”

  “We all do,” Karen replies, putting an arm around her shoulder before turning to me. “She really needs to not be here right now. Whatever's in that gym, I'm getting her away from it.”

  Sighing, I watch as Karen leads Shannon away, taking her toward the main door that leads back outside.

  “Do you really not think it was a ghost?” Molly asks after a moment.

  I turn to her. “Ghosts don't exist.”

  “So you threw yourself several meters across the gym?”

  “No, but -”

  “We did something really dumb tonight,” she adds, getting to her feet and stepping past me. “The best approach now is to just ignore it and hope that it's over. If we're lucky, there'll be no more repercussions and we'll get away with it all.”

  “And if we're not lucky?” I ask as I follow her. “Swarms of the living dead will come swooping out of a glowing hole in time and space? We'll be haunted for a while and then we'll get dragged to hell?”

  “I know you're joking, but -”

  “There's nothing supernatural here,” I add, glancing at the closed double doors. “We just let ourselves get spooked, that's all.”

  “Then why don't you go back in,” she asks, “and spend the night in there alone?”

  I shudder at the thought. “Because my mind is just as capable of playing tricks as anyone else's,” I tell her. “I'm sure I'd hear weird noises, maybe I'd even convince myself that I'd seen something. It's just how people are, but I don't have to be a slave to it and I'm sure as hell not going to feed it.” As we get outside, I see Karen helping a trembling Shannon onto one of the bikes. “This is pathetic,” I mutter. “It's exactly the sort of thing I swore I'd never get involved with.”

  “Then why did you?” Molly asks.

  “I wanted to prove you wrong!”

  “And how did that go?” Stepping past me, she heads over to her bike.

  “It didn't go so well,” I mutter with a sigh, before glancing back through the door and seeing the entrance to the gym's main hall. For a moment, I consider storming back in there and daring the ghosts, if they exist, to come at me again. I could nip this whole thing in the bud and show the others that ghosts don't exist, but my heart is still racing and I really don't think I have the guts right now. I think the best thing would be to go home and prove to myself that Rudolph the bird is either alive or dead, but not both at the same time.

  “Are you coming?” Molly asks.

  Turning, I see that Shannon and Karen are already biking away, while Molly is waiting for me.

  “I'm walking,” I tell her. “I'll be fine.”

  “Is your Mom drunk again?”

  “I'll be fine. I could use some time alone to think.”

  “Don't think too much,” she replies with a faint smile. “You know what I alwa
ys say. Thinking gets you into trouble.”

  “I'll try to remember,” I mutter, as she turns and cycles away. Once she's gone, I wander to the sidewalk, but I can't help looking back toward the dark school building. I feel like a coward for not going back in there, but there's no point taking unnecessary risks. There's no such thing as ghosts, and I don't need to tie my head in knots trying to prove something so obvious. I guess the theatricality of the whole thing is so powerful, it can push aside rational judgment and make even the strongest of us believe in ghosts.

  As I walk away, however, I can't help thinking back to that voice I heard in my ear.

  “You're next,” I whisper out loud, before forcing a smile. “Yeah, right. Whatever.”

  ***

  By the time I get home, it's almost 1am and the house is dark. I know from bitter experience that darkness doesn't necessarily mean Mom's asleep, or that her alcohol-fueled rage has worn off, so I approach the front door cautiously and take a brief detour to the nearby window, so I can peer into the front room. There's no sign of anyone on the couch, but my heart is racing and the last thing I need right now is another confrontation. The car is parked nearby, so I know she's home. I just can't be certain that she's gone to bed or passed out, not yet.

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

  Turning, I half expect to find Molly right behind me, but there's no-one. The voice sounded real enough, but I figure it must have been a figment of my imagination. Sighing, I head around the side of the house and peer into the kitchen, but there's still no sign of Mom.

  “You're next.”

  “Stop!” I hiss, turning and looking around, but still not seeing anyone.

  I wait.

  My heart is racing.

  “I get it!” I say firmly, just in case someone is pranking me. “Very funny. You don't need to keep doing the same thing all night, though, so knock it off!”

  Trudging around to the back yard, I cup my hands around my eyes and take another look into the kitchen. There's still no-one in there, and all the lights are off, so I guess I might be lucky. Mom might have fallen asleep already, which means I just have to be quiet once I get inside and -

  “You're next!”

  Spinning around, I swallow hard as I wait for some hint of whoever the hell keeps doing that.

  “Why am I next?” I ask, although I immediately realize that it's a dumb question. “Next for what? Your stupid joke doesn't even make sense!”

  Silence, apart from a police siren in the distance.

  I take a step forward into the darkness. My nerves are frayed, but I keep telling myself that someone is just trying to get a rise out of me.

  “Adam?” I say out loud, trying desperately to make sure that I don't sound scared. “Are you guys really so idiotic that you think you can -”

  “You're next.”

  I turn again, but there's still no sign of anyone nearby. In fact, I can see all the way to the fence and there's definitely not another soul in the yard. I reach up and check around my ear, just in case some asshole managed to tape a speaker to me, but of course that's a ridiculous idea. Sighing, I fumble in my pocket for my keys as I head back around to the front of the house. I just need to get inside, so that this freak can't keep bugging me.

  “You're next,” another voice whispers, but I ignore it as I struggle to get the key into the lock. For some stupid reason, I can't get it all the way in, not at first, but finally I manage to unlock the door and slip inside, before slamming the door shut again and taking a deep breath.

  Silence.

  The house stinks of booze and vomit.

  “Good one, Mom,” I mutter, turning and hurrying across the hallway. When I get to the corridor, I see that the door to Malcolm's room is still open. Refusing to let myself get scared, I hurry toward my room, but I can't help glancing into my brother's old room, and I stop when I see that Mom is passed out on the floor in there, having apparently torn the desk apart and moved the bed. Looks like she went on a drunken rampage, and after a moment I spot a fresh hole in the plasterboard, which I guess means she took another punch at the wall.

  I feel sorry for her, but she's snoring so I guess she's not in any danger.

  “Night, Mom,” I whisper, before reaching out and gently pulling the door shut.

  Once I get to my room, I close the door and lean back for a moment, trying to calm my nerves. The more I think about tonight, the more I think that it was just one long, crazy freak-out that I took way too seriously. I refuse to be the kind of person who believes in ghosts or any of that weak-minded garbage, but at least I can see now how easy it is to get seduced into that way of thinking. Spotting the shoebox by the window, I head over and take a look at the lid. Last time I peered inside, Rudolph was alive. Pulling the lid aside now, however, I see his little corpse curled up in the straw I provided for him.

  I pick him up and examine him, but there's absolutely no doubt.

  He's dead.

  Setting him back in the shoebox, I put the lid on and wait for a few seconds. When I take it away, however, he's alive again.

  “No way,” I whisper. “This is insane. I must be losing my mind.”

  Putting the lid back in place, I listen for a moment, but there's no sound coming from inside the shoebox. I need to figure this out, but I'm too tired right now and I feel as if I might finally be able to get some decent sleep. As I slip out of my shirt, I make my way across the room. I'm hungry, but I don't dare go back through to the kitchen, not when there's the faintest chance that Mom might rise from her drunken heap on the floor. I just need to sleep. Tomorrow's a new day, so I head to the window and grab the drapes so I can pull them shut across the patch of cardboard and glass.

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

  I freeze, but before I can react I realize that there are people standing outside in front of the house.

  Lots of people.

  A shiver runs through my chest as I start to worry that maybe some of the locals have finally decided to come and tell us that we should move away, but after a moment I see that most of the silhouetted figures out there look young. I quickly count them and see that there are eighteen in total, and I can already feel my heart pounding in my chest. As my eyes get used to the dark, however, I start to see patches of blood on their shirts, and what looks like thick wounds on their faces.

  “All in my head,” I whisper, forcing myself to pull the drapes shut. I stand in darkness for a moment, telling myself that there's no way those people are out there.

  “You're next,” the voice hisses, closer to my ear than ever before. “You've got it coming.”

  Chapter Ten

  When I open my eyes, I see that morning light has begun to break through at the edges of the cardboard. I blink a couple of times, and slowly the events of last night come back to me. Looking down, I see that I'm still curled up in the corner of my room with a bread-knife in my right hand, ready to defend myself in case someone comes through the window. I don't remember exactly what happened, but I think -

  Someone was in here.

  I scramble to my feet, filled with panic, but when I look around I realize that there's definitely no-one here now. Someone came in last night, though. I remember going to bed, and then I saw someone in the corner, and that's how I ended up curled in the corner, not daring to make a noise, telling myself that I was just having some kind of psychological breakdown, and then...

  There was definitely a figure in my room.

  Not just any figure, either. It was Alan Boone, one of the guys who was shot dead by my brother. He came closer and closer, and then...

  I fainted.

  Just like before, when I saw someone standing in the street, I lost consciousness. I glance around the room, but nothing seems to have been touched, and then I head to the window. Looking out, I see a woman walking past the house, pushing a baby in a buggy, but there's no sign of the figures who were out there last night. My head feels muddy, the
same as the last time I fainted, but I tell myself that it must have been a coincidence. After all, there's just no way that any of those things last night were real. I take the lid off the shoebox and see Rudolph's corpse, then I put the lid back for a moment before removing it and seeing the little guy moving about. Still not able to work out what's happening with him, I put the lid back in place and take a deep breath.

  I'm losing it.

  After trying so long to stay sane, I'm really losing my mind.

  Checking my phone, I find a text message from Molly:

  You okay? Shannon's still acting weird. Expect trouble at school.

  I close the message and set my phone down.

  “Great,” I mutter with a sigh, before hearing a bumping sound from my brother's room. I feel a flash of panic, before I realize that it's just my hungover mother stumbling through to the corridor. Sure enough, a moment later I hear her vomiting in the bathroom.

  ***

  “Shut up!” Molly hisses, glancing at me as I get closer. “Guys, shut the hell up!”

  The other girls turn and see me, and they immediately fall silent.

  “What?” I ask as I reach them. “Carry on. I'm pretty sure I've heard it all before.”

  “It's nothing,” Molly says firmly, but I can tell she's trying to hide the truth from me. Grabbing my arm, she tries to lead me along the corridor toward the school library. “Wanna go study? Let's go study!”

  “Now I know you're panicking,” I reply, pulling free and turning to the other girls. “What's wrong? What am I not supposed to know?”

  “It's just...” Yasmine Wallace hesitates, before glancing at the others as if she needs their approval to speak.

  “Is it about last night?” I ask. “I guess you all know about us breaking into the -”

  “They don't know about that!” Molly hisses, nudging my arm.

  “Breaking into the what?” Alison Birch asks.

  “Nothing,” I tell her, before turning back to Yasmine. “So what's the big secret?”