The Dead Ones (Death Herself Book 3) (10 page)

“We don't have much time!” he shouts.

“Wait!”

No matter how hard I try to convince myself that I'm losing my mind, I can't stop running after him. I reach the edge of the beach-huts and make my way along the row, barely able to see anything at all in the dark, until suddenly I stop as I realize I can just about hear someone muttering nearby. I wait, and I can feel my heart pounding in my chest, but I swear to God the voice is Malcolm's.

“This is impossible,” I say out loud, just to remind myself. “It's just another day in the life of someone whose mind is falling apart. Next stop, a psych ward.”

“They're coming,” Malcolm says after a moment. “There's no time. I can't keep running.”

Making my way past the next beach-hut, I look around the corner and see a dark figure pacing through the darkness.

“They're coming for me,” he continues, stepping closer.

“I -” Before I can finish, I realize I can just about see his face in the darkness. His eyes are filled with fear as he stares at me, but it's him, it's
really
him. Somehow, my ravaged and increasingly frenzied mind is summoning an image of my brother from the depths of my memories. I think I need actual psychiatric help.

“Can't you hear them?” he asks. “They're coming!” He grabs my shoulders and holds me firmly, and I realize that I can actually feel him. “Bonnie, they're coming!”

“I don't hear anyone,” I stammer, turning and looking along the beach for a moment. When I glance back at my brother, I see that he's turned away and has his head in his hands. “Malcolm,” I continue, “please, I know this can't be real. You died the other night, you -”

“Why can't you hear them?” he screams suddenly.

“Hear who?” I ask, taking a step closer. I want to see his face properly, to see whether it's really,
truly
him, but at the same time I'm scared. Either my brother's ghost is panicking right in front of my eyes, or I've completely lost my mind.

“I thought I could run,” he continues, “but I should have known they'd get me. He's helping them, don't you see? He's on their side and he's helping them! They've been waiting for me, all this time! They knew I'd end up here, and now they're going to take me!” He pauses, before turning to me. “You know I didn't see you, right? You know I never... I mean, if I'd known...”

“Known what?” I ask.

“They're coming,” he stammers. “Can't you find a way to stop them? Come on, Bonnie, you were always the smart one out of the two of us! Stop them!”

“Stop who?”

“They're coming!”

I look over my shoulder, expecting to once again see nothing, but suddenly I realize there are several silhouettes coming closer through the darkness. Something about them immediately feels familiar, as if deep down I already know that they're the same figures I saw outside the house the other night.

“The dead ones,” Malcolm whimpers. “Bonnie, I'm scared. I wasn't scared at the prison, they couldn't get to me there, but I'm scared now. Can't you do something?”

Stepping back, I watch as the silhouettes get closer. It's almost as if they're trying to surround Malcolm, and he's making no move to run. Dropping to his knees, he covers his ears with his hands, but when I turn to him I feel as if I might be about to faint again. I've been so worried for so long that I'm losing my mind, and this might be the moment when I finally snap.

“Make them stop screaming!” he shouts.

“They're not screaming,” I tell him, back all the way to the nearest beach-hut. “Malcolm, this isn't real, you're not -”

“He's here!” he continues, his voice filled with pain. “Bonnie, can't you see him? Don't let him get you! Whatever you do, don't let him do the same thing to you! Please, I deserve it but you don't! Once he's got me, he'll come for the rest of you!”

“What -”

Before I can finish, I sense something moving past me, and I see a much larger, much darker silhouette moving through the darkness, accompanied by a foul, overwhelming stench of burning sulfur. The other figures seem to be holding back, as if they prefer to let the larger creature take control, and after a moment I realize that the creature is towering over Malcolm, staring down at him. I can't make out any of its features, but its silhouette reveals strands of ragged skin hanging from its face, and it seems to exude a kind of vast, calm strength. There's also a faint rumbling sound coming from its depths, almost like a low, continual growl.

On the ground, Malcolm is whimpering and sobbing.

“This isn't real,” I whisper, taking a step forward. “This is all in my head, it has to be. It can't -”

Suddenly Malcolm screams as flames burst from his body. I raise a hand to cover my eyes, but there's no heat from the flames, only a roaring brightness that lights up the faces of the figures all around me. The creature, meanwhile, is reaching down with one hand to clutch Malcolm's neck, slowly forcing him to his feet. The flames are everywhere now, burning with such force that I can barely hear Malcolm's scream above the roar. I step forward, trying to find some way to help him, but the inferno flares and knocks me back, and I have to cover my eyes as the brightness intensifies. At the same time, I feel a sudden, heavy pressure slamming into my chest, hard enough to knock the air from my lungs. I try to twist away, but the pressure returns again and again, thumping into me with a kind of rhythmic pulse until finally I let out a gasp and tilt my head back.

“You're next,” a voice whispers in my ear. “What are you waiting for?”

I try to reply, but my whole body is shuddering now and I can't get any words out. I try to open my eyes, only to be blasted by the increasingly strong flames. Malcolm is still screaming nearby, but when I turn and look toward him I see only a wall of light, flickering through the darkness.

And then it's gone.

I let out a gasp as I sit up. The pressure on my chest has begun to fade, and the flames seemed to vanish in the blink of an eye. I stumble to my feet, looking around, but the figures are nowhere to be seen and neither is the tall creature.

“Okay,” a voice says in the distance, echoing through the cold night air. “I think we're good.”

“Malcolm?” I whisper, trying not to panic.

I take a couple of steps forward, but there's no sign of my brother.

“Malcolm!”

I turn and look all around, but it's quite clear that I'm suddenly all alone. I run around the side of the beach-hut and look for some sign of him, but after a moment I realize that the only sound comes from the waves as they crash against the nearby shore. There's a faint beeping noise as well, fading in and out, although after a moment it's gone, leaving just the waves again.

“I'm losing my mind!” I whisper, as a sensation of cold ripples across my chest. “It's finally happening! I'm completely insane!”

***

“Molly!” I hiss, tapping on her bedroom window again. “Molly, wake up!”

I wait, but there's no reply. Realizing that simple tapping isn't going to be enough, I start banging with my knuckles. I know she's a heavy sleeper, but she isn't answering her phone so I need some other way to get her attention.

“For God's sake, Molly,” I mutter, “how -”

Suddenly her drapes are pulled open, and I see a face staring out from her darkened room. It takes a moment, but with a sense of shock I quickly realize that the face isn't Molly's at all. It's an older girl, maybe eighteen or even twenty, and she's not looking directly at me. Instead, she glances around for a moment, as if she can't work out what caused the noise, and then she steps back and closes the drapes again.

I pause.

“Molly?” I whisper finally, before knocking on the window again.

A moment later, the strange girl appears once more, and this time she slides the window open and leans out.

“Hey,” I say, “can you -”

“Whichever one of you assholes is trying to bug me,” she calls out, still not making eye contact with me, “you can just cut it out, okay? I'm not interested! Go to hell!”

With that, she leans back in and slides the window shut. I'm left staring in shock, trying to work out what just happened. Molly doesn't have a sister, and I'm pretty damn sure she'd have mentioned it if her parents had sold the house, which means -

“It's not my room anymore,” Molly says suddenly.

Turning, I see that she's standing nearby, barely visible in the darkness.

“What do you mean?” I ask cautiously, stepping toward her. “Since when is it not your room?”

“I don't think I live here anymore,” she continues, her eyes filled with fear. “Bonnie, I know this is going to sound crazy, but I think I've figured out what's wrong. I think maybe I'm dead.”

Chapter Twelve

“Just listen to me!” she hisses, following me as I march along the dark street. “It actually sorta starts to make sense if you just think about it for a moment! I've been having these blackouts lately, things I don't really remember, but I think they're more than blackouts, I think -”

“You think you're dead,” I mutter, shocked that such a load of garbage could be coming from her mouth. “Well
that
sounds completely logical. I'm glad you've jumped to the most sane conclusion.”

“It's not just me! The same thing has been happening to Shannon and Karen too!”

“Then it must be true,” I reply.

“Bonnie, please!” she continues. “I've been thinking it through and I think I've put it all together. I can't explain everything, there are still some parts I don't understand, but I really think I'm dead!”

“Yeah?” I say with a sigh. “Then how come
I
can talk to you?”

She grabs my arm and pulls me back until I turn to face her.

“How do you think?” she asks, with fear in her eyes. “You're dead too, Bonnie!”

***

“I remember going to school that day,” Molly says later, as we sit with Shannon on a bench in the center of town. It's late, almost midnight, and there's no-one else around. “I was in the cafeteria and I remember hearing screams suddenly, and seeing people running, and then I saw...” She turns to me. “I saw Malcolm and Jonathan with guns.”

“I know,” I reply with a shudder. “I saw them too.”

“And then...”

I wait for her to reply.

“And then what?” I snap.

“And then Jonathan looked right at me,” she continues, her voice filled with fear, “and I heard a loud bang.”

“And then you ran,” I reply. “You've told me this over and over, I know the story!”

“I don't think I
did
run,” she says firmly. “I don't think he missed. I think...” She reaches up and puts a hand on the side of her face. “I feel like I'm going crazy, but I think maybe he shot me. It's like I've known all along, but I couldn't face the truth, and then tonight something changed. Suddenly I couldn't hide from it, not anymore.”

I can't help sighing. “This is ridiculous.”

“I think the same thing happened to me,” Shannon says suddenly, “but... I think I was shot in the chest. It's like the memory of that day was somehow lost, but now it's coming back. Something changed, something must have happened a couple of hours ago, because it's like this veil has been lifted and now I can remember everything.”

I open my mouth to argue with her, before thinking back to the moment when I thought I saw my brother bursting into flames. He said something about someone coming for me, once they'd got him, but that was all just in my head. It can't have been real.

“So you really think we're dead?” I ask finally, my voice filled with scorn. “Then explain how we can talk to other people! Explain how I can talk to my mother, or to Mr. Dyson, or -”

“They're dead too,” Molly suggests.

I turn to her.

“Think about it,” she continues. “Ever since the shooting at the school, haven't you basically only talked to the same small group of people? Haven't you ignored everyone else, and they've ignored you as well?”

“When you walk along the corridor at school,” Shannon adds, “everyone blanks you.”

“That's because of who I am,” I tell her. “My brother was one of the shooters, remember? It's natural that no-one likes me! I mean, hell,
I
wouldn't like me if I was someone else and I'd been shot by my brother! My own boyfriend stopped talking to me after it happened!” Feeling suddenly overwhelmed by how ridiculous this whole situation feels, I get to my feet. “Maybe there's something in the water. I don't know what's going on here, but you guys have lost your goddamn minds, okay?”

“You get angry these days,” Molly points out. “Way more than before. I do too. We've all noticed it about ourselves. I think it happens whenever something challenges our -”

“Go to hell!” I sniff, taking a step back.

“I saw Karen go up in flames,” Shannon says suddenly.

I turn to her.

“It happened about an hour ago,” she continues, her eyes filled with fear. “She was right in front of me, she was fine one moment and then suddenly she said something about a noise. She kept asking me if I could hear these people, but I had no idea who she meant. Then she started running, but she didn't get very far before...” She pauses. “It was right in the middle of town, but no-one noticed. No-one seemed to give a damn, it was like she was screaming and burning but they couldn't see her. I don't know what happened, exactly, but now she's gone and I'm scared. I saw the same thing happen to Jenna a few minutes later.”

“We'll go and find them, then,” I stammer. “Come on, Shannon, you're not exactly a reliable witness. You pee yourself at the first sign of danger.”

“Bonnie, please,” Molly continues, “I know you feel it, deep down, we just -”

“I'm out of here,” I add, turning to walk away. “This is -”

Stopping suddenly, I see a figure heading this way through the darkness. For a moment I feel a flash of fear at the thought that maybe the creature from earlier has found us, but when the figure comes closer I see that it's Adam. Of all the people I really don't need to deal with right now, he's pretty much at the top of the list.

“What the hell are you doing here?” I ask, looking past him but not seeing anyone else. “Where are your little pals?”

“They're gone,” he replies, ashen-faced.

“Finally sick of hanging out with a bully, huh?”

“Bonnie, don't,” Molly says, slipping past me as she heads over to Adam. “They burned, didn't they?”

“Right in front of me,” he replies, his voice sounding weak and fragile. “I think there was something in the flames with them, too. Something... something that was enjoying it.”

“You've got to be kidding me,” I mutter.

“You can see me, right?” he continues, grabbing my arm.

I pull away.

“Tell me you can see me!” he hisses.

“I can see you,” I reply. “I wish I couldn't, but I can.”

“I think your brother's execution has something to do with it,” Molly says, turning to me. “That's the only explanation that makes sense. I think somehow we've been stuck here in limbo, and we've been able to exist in this fantasy world where we don't have to face the truth, but now it's breaking down.” She pauses. “Haven't you noticed how cold it's getting?”

“So?” I ask cautiously.

“So we've all felt it,” she continues. “We're all feeling so much colder now. It's like, over the past few hours, the temperature across town seems to have plummeted.”

Staring at her, I realize that she's serious. I always knew Molly had a tendency to veer toward the hysterical, but I thought she always hung onto her sanity. Now, however, I'm starting to think that this isn't some huge prank, that it's actually some kind of mania that managed to infect them all. I was so busy trying not to lose my mind, I didn't notice that everyone else around me was going nuts too.

“I'm not joining in with this,” I whisper finally, taking a step back. “You're all our of your minds.”

“So you don't feel it?” Molly asks. “Something's wrong, Bonnie.”

“I agree with you there,” I tell her, “but the rest of it? No way. You're going too far.”

“We have to face the truth,” she continues. “I don't think we can fool ourselves anymore. We're dead, and now at least three of us have gone up in smoke over the past few hours.”

“Four,” I whisper, thinking back to Malcolm on the beach. “He was the first.”

“Who was?”

I open my mouth to reply, before realizing that there's no way I'm willing to add fuel to this crazy idea.

“No-one,” I stammer, turning and walking away. Wrapping my arms around my chest in an attempt to keep warm, I hurry across the street, ignoring Molly as she shouts at me to go back. This whole situation is completely insane and I refuse to listen to their garbage. In fact, by the time I get to the street corner, I feel so much anger burning through my chest that I grab the nearest trashcan and push it over in a desperate, futile moment of anger. This isn't me. I never used to get so mad at things, but something changed after the shooting.

Turning, I hurry away before Molly and the others can catch up. I need to get home.

***

“Mom?” I call out as I enter the house. “Mom, are you still up?”

I was expecting her to be fast asleep, but the lights are on in the front room and I'm pretty sure the house was dark when I left. I head through to the kitchen, worried that she'll have been out to the store and that her little moment of sobriety has already passed. After a moment, however, I hear the sound of someone in the bathroom, so I head to the door and lean through. I know it's dumb, but I need to talk to her so I can make sure that everything's okay, so I can put Molly's dumb ideas out of my mind for good.

“Mom,” I say, trying not to sound too panicked, “can -”

Stopping suddenly, I see that Dad is standing at the sink, washing his face.

“I...”

I wait, but he still hasn't seen me. It must be six months at least since Dad has been here, maybe even longer, and the sight fills me with a strange, tense sense of worry. I watch as he dries his face, and then as he stares at himself in the mirror. Stepping forward, I'm shocked to see that he looks so much older than I remember, with heavy bags under his eyes, and he's lost weight too. Still, it's so good to see him after all this time.

“Dad?” I say cautiously. “What... What are you doing back?”

I wait.

No reply.

Reaching up, he rubs his eyes. He seems totally zoned out, as if he's lost in his own little world.

“It's been so long,” I tell him. “Mom said... Well, Mom wouldn't talk about it, but I knew something was wrong. Where have you been?”

When he doesn't reply, I take another step closer, before spotting his Hazley Town Industries work jacket hanging on one of the hooks. He worked at HTI since before I was born, so I guess it's possible that he just happens to still have part of the uniform, but after a moment I spot his logbooks next to the sink. I guess I assumed when I stopped seeing him that he must have gone away and left everything behind, but now it's like he never even left.

“Did you get your old job back?” I ask.

Ignoring me, he starts washing his hands.

“Dad, say something,” I continue, feeling a flash of panic. I want to believe that he's come back for good, or that he's going to take us away with him, but I know better than to hope for the best. “Dad, what's going on?”

Still ignoring me, he dries his hands on a towel before grabbing his logbooks and heading out of the room.

“Dad?”

I follow him to the kitchen, where he grabs something from the cupboard and puts it into the microwave. Once he's set it going, he takes his phone from the counter and brings up a number. Again, he seems so tired, it's hard to believe this is the same guy who used to give me piggy-back rides around the house. It's as if something has crushed his soul.

“Hey,” he says wearily after a moment, “it's me. Just calling to say I won't need that lift tonight after all. I think my car's working just fine now.”

He waits, listening to someone on the other end of the line.

“No,” he continues, “it's been in the shop for almost a week now, but those losers finally figured out what's wrong. I've got a bill you wouldn't believe, but at least the car's sitting out front.”

Heading to the front room, I look out the window and see that the car is in its usual spot. I don't know why he claims it's been in the shop, though, since I know for a fact that Mom and I have been using it for weeks. Well,
trying
to use it, since the engine hasn't worked properly since forever. As I hear him saying goodnight to whoever was on the other end of the line, I hurry back through and head over to him just as he take his box of noodles from the microwave.

“Dad, listen to me,” I say firmly, grabbing his arm, “you have to -”

I stop as I feel something pushing my hands back, as if some invisible force won't let me touch him.

“What
is
this?” I whisper, trying again but feeling the same thing.

Sighing, Dad wanders to the table and flops down, clearly exhausted. Balancing the box of noodles on his belly, he uses a fork to start shoveling them into his mouth.

“Dad,” I continue, kneeling next to him, “can you say something to me? Can you
please
at least look at me?” With tears in my eyes, I wait for him to respond, but he's just chewing slowly, as if nothing matters in the whole world. This is exactly the same as when I was with Josh at the bus stop.

“He can't hear you,” a voice says suddenly.

Turning, I see Mom standing in the doorway.