The Dead Ones (Death Herself Book 3) (7 page)

“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 back 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 -”

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 always 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.