The Dead Ones (Death Herself Book 3) (8 page)

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?”

“Don't take this the wrong way,” Yasmine says cautiously, “but some people have been talking, and apparently...” Her voice trails off for a moment. “Okay, you'll totally freak, but -”

“Spit it out.”

“Mary Wade saw your brother last night.”

I stare at her. “What?” I ask finally. I know I should stay calm, but I can already feel a sense of panic rising through my chest.

“Mary Wade, like, totally saw your brother.”

“Your brother's dead,” Alison adds.

“I know,” I say darkly, keeping my eyes fixed on Yasmine. “Which is why Mary Wade didn't see him.”

“She totally did,” Yasmine replies, her eyes wide with awe. “She saw him running along Fremantle Street at, like, two in the morning or something like that. She said he looked real scared.”

“Come on,” Molly mutters, pulling on my arm. “I told you this was stupid. We should get out of here.”

“What was he running
from
?” I ask Yasmine.

She shrugs.

I sigh. “And where's Mary now?”

Another shrug.

“But...” She pauses. “A few other people saw him too. Apparently he was, like, running through town, crying for help, really screaming.” Another pauses. “I mean, that's what they said, anyway.”

“So this is some kind of game to you, huh?” I reply, stepping toward her.

“Bonnie!” Molly hisses. “Don't!”

“Do you think this is funny?” Grabbing Yasmine's collar, I force her against the wall. For a moment, all the anger that has been building in my chest threatens to come bursting out. “Let me guess, you all got together and cooked up this story, huh? You thought that seeing as my brother finally died the other night, this'd be the perfect opportunity to come up with some garbage ghost story to send a shiver through your panties and piss me off!”

“You should let go of me,” she replies. “You're invading my personal space.”

“I'll invade your face in a minute if you don't shut up!” I hiss.

“Can someone get help?” she asks, turning to the other girls. “My personal space is being violated and -”

Instead of letting her finish, I punch her hard in the gut before letting go of her collar and taking a step back. I instantly regret doing that, but as she gasps and bends double I feel as if she left me with no choice.

“I'm sorry,” I stammer, “I just... You shouldn't say stuff like that about my brother.”

“Why not?” she gasps. “He was a dumb killer! He deserved to die and he deserved for it to go wrong! He deserved all that pain!”

I step toward her, ready to punch her again, but Molly grabs my arm and pulls me back.

“She's not worth it,” she points out.

“Your brother killed my best friend,” Yasmine sneers.

“I thought
I
was your best friend?” Alison mutters.

“Jenna Cooper used to be my
other
best friend,” Yasmine continues.

“You barely even
knew
Jenna,” Molly points out. “She thought you were a dork.”

“Shut up!” Yasmine shouts. “You don't know anything about anything! Dumbass!”

“Hey!”

Molly lunges at her, but this time it's
my
turn to pull
her
back. “She's not worth it,” I tell her, somewhat ironically. “Come on, seriously. Anger issues, much?” I spot Josh and some of his friends making their way past. “Hey!” I call out, but as usual he blanks me, and I feel a flash of regret in my chest.

“Fine,” Molly mutters, stepping back. “I just don't want this bitch claiming she was Jenna's best friend when they barely had anything to do with each other.”

“Just tell your brother to stop haunting people,” Yasmine continues, adjusting her collar. “Tell him that, like, people round here are
glad
he's dead, and the last thing we want is his ass coming back as a ghost. People like him, they should have gone straight to hell when they died.”

“I'm sure he did,”I mutter, turning and walking away. By the time I get to the end of the corridor, I'm damn near ready to turn around and march back to her, but when I turn I almost bump straight into Molly, who it turns out has been following me. “My brother isn't haunting anyone,” I tell her. “I know he's not. It's just garbage.”

“Sure,” she replies, but she doesn't seem entirely convinced.

“He isn't!” I hiss.

“I'm not saying he is,” she continues, “but... Quite a few people say they've seen him since the night he... Well, since he's been dead. And don't you think it's slightly weird how they all say the same thing?”

“And what do they say?” I ask.

“That he's...” She pauses. “That he's scared. That he's running from something, and hiding, like he's being chased.”

I stare at her for a moment. “Is this because of last night?” I ask cautiously.

“Last night?”

“The whole ghost thing in the gym? Are you suddenly a paid-up believer in the supernatural?”

“You can't deny what happened,” she replies. “What Shannon saw -”

“Shannon saw what Shannon wanted to see!” I hiss.

“Shannon saw Jenna!”

“Then Shannon's a dumb idiot,” I reply, although I immediately realize that I might have been a little harsh. “You know what I mean,” I continue. “She's easily-led, she scares easy, and she gets way over-excited. You saw what happened, she
literally
soiled herself! Doesn't that suggest to you that maybe she isn't entirely in control of her own reactions to things?” I wait for a reply, but suddenly I realize that Molly is staring in horror at something over my shoulder. “She's not behind me, is she?” I continue cautiously, before turning.

A few feet away, Shannon is staring at me. And not just Shannon, either. Mr. Dyson is right next to her.

***

“So you actually broke into the school last night?” Mr. Dyson asks as he shuts the door to his office and turns to me. “Bonnie, seriously -”

“Why am I here?” I ask.

“I just -”

“Why did Shannon and Molly and Karen get away with just being told not to do it again,” I continue, “and I had to come here with you instead?” I take a step back, trying not to panic.

“I thought,” Mr. Dyson says calmly, “that given your personal circumstances, it would be better if you spoke to me. I'm trained to help people who are struggling with specific issues, and obviously the link to the situation with your brother -”

“There's no link,” I reply, interrupting him. “I think I'd rather be in the principal's office. I don't want special treatment.”

“How was the execution?”

“The -” I pause, before realizing that he's just trying to trick me. Usually I'd have anticipated his little games, but I've been so busy lately, I never found the time to plan ahead. “I didn't go.”

“Yes you did. I saw you.”

“You were
there
?”

“I was watching it online,” he continues. “During the news report, there was a shot of the crowd and I saw you shivering out there in the cold, all alone.” He takes a step toward me. “I damn near drove out there to fetch you, but I knew it was too late. I hope you realize that from a mental health standpoint, going to the prison was a pretty huge mistake. Something like that has the potential to set your recovery back by a significant margin. How did you even get there, anyway?”

“Bus,” I admit reluctantly.

“And how did you get back so late?”

“Bus.”

“I thought there were no buses after -”

“Me too, but I was wrong. There was one late bus that I managed to catch.”

He eyes me cautiously. I know he doesn't believe me, but hopefully he won't push too hard. Sure enough, he comes closer and finally puts his hands on my shoulders. I immediately flinch.

“You're a uniquely troubled young lady,” he says finally.

I swallow hard, resisting the urge to pull away. “I am?”

“You're a pariah in this town. A social outcast. People project their feelings about your brother and his actions, and they treat you as if it's somehow your fault. They enjoy being angry, it makes them feel as if they're more alive.”

“I get by.”

“You should do more than that,” he continues. “You're being robbed of a normal childhood.”

“There's no such thing as a normal childhood,” I tell him. “It's all a mess, whichever way you look at it. That's the same for everyone. I'm not special, and I don't want to be treated like some kind of delicate little flower.”

“Come here.” He pulls me close for a hug, but I resist. “What are you afraid of?” he asks. “Are you so damaged, you can't even handle basic human contact?”

“I'm not afraid of anything,” I reply, although the stench of his cologne is pretty over-powering. “I just think I should get to class.”

“How's your mother?” he asks. “Still drinking heavily?”

“She has her moments.”

“And your father?”

“He -”

“He's gone, Bonnie,” he continues. “I know you don't want to admit it, but I can see it in your eyes. Every time you're forced to acknowledge his existence, you seem lost. Let me guess... Did he skip town, abandoning you and your mother, leaving you to rot?”

“He...” Pausing, I feel a crackle of pain in the back of my head. “I don't know, he's just... gone.”

“Gone where?”

“I don't know.”