Unfinished Business (The Shades of Northwood 3)

by Wendy Maddocks

  I’m too late.

  Everything… it’s all too late.

  The words kept repeating themselves is her mind, haunting Katie long after she had opened her eyes on a pale grey wall with one harsh white strip light in the middle. So… hang on. What kind of wall had a light on it? She curled a stiff finger, making sure her muscles were still working, and the sudden pull of gravity told her she was staring up at a ceiling. Her neck was stiff to move. Craning her eyes around the parts of the room she could see showed she was alone in a room that felt cold and empty. And she hurt, it came on all at once – stinging slashes along her arms and legs – and her lungs felt as though they were in the middle of collapse. There wasn’t enough oxygen, it seemed, to inflate her organs. And then there was the new feeling of knowing gasping herself into hyperventilation was pointless. Strips of gauze itched the skin of her left hand and Katie struggled to sit up to rip it off. Pink healing skin threatened to rip apart and the cold rushed to meet her. Damn, what the hell happened to pain relief? And where is everybody. The unearthly quiet, the stink of cleaning fluid and antiseptic, the clinical feel of this room, all indicated she was in the hospital. Her friends should be here fussing around her bedside. So where were they? Suddenly finding them was more important than lying on this uncomfortably hard and cold bed without even a sheet to protect her. Her feet landed on the frigid tiles and she glanced around for the door. Nothing else in the room interested her; just the solid door with a button on the frame you had to push to get the door open.

  She had just raised her hand to push the button when it swung open and a man in a white lab coat scampered through, head down, and headed towards the bed she had just vacated. Only, it didn’t feel much like a regular bed in a regular room. It felt like…

  No, that was ridiculous.

  She slid through the closing door and could see a gang of her friends sitting together on some plastic chairs at the end of the short corridor. Katie started walking towards them, waving. “Hey guys.” Jaye was sitting on the chair nearest the open door, looking longingly out every few minutes. Marcie was kneeling on the floor in front of Adam who was in another chair. Dina was sitting beside him, half dozing on his shoulder but starting herself awake every few seconds like she was afraid to let herself sleep. She thought she saw a flicker of something near the window but no amount of blinking or squinting could bring it into focus.

  “We’ll have to tell her parents.”

  “Whose parents? Tell them what?” But Katie had a feeling she knew.

  “What are we meant to say? Hi Mr and Mrs C. Sorry, but your daughter’s dead. Love ya!”

  “We’ve got to tell them soon”

  “They won’t be expecting her to call for ages. We can wait a while.”

  “What for? It won’t get any easier.”

  “Guys. I’m right here,” but nobody heard her. Far from making her pissed off and confused, the ignorance only made everything clearer.

  At that second, Jaye looked right at her. Locked eyes with Katie, seeming to see her when no-one else did.

  Because she’s dead too. She understands.

  And then Jaye dragged her gaze away and got to her feet, touching Marcie on the shoulder. The older woman turned her face up and Katie noticed how her eyes matched all of the others – shiny with unshed tears, red raw with the fallen and shadowed. “I – I need some air,” she said and waved vaguely at the door.

 

  Katie followed Jaye through the corridor towards a side exit in silence. Neither of them knew what to say. She glanced over her shoulder at the shrinking people in the corridor. They needed to know she was okay, she was safe. For one heart breaking instant, re-assuring them was the most important thing in the world. Nobody deserved to feel so empty or so guilty. It’s not your fault. Don’t blame yourselves. But no-one answered. She felt hot tears burning the back of her eyes and her throat begin to close up. Once outside and settled in a corner of the medical centre grounds, Jaye broke the silence. Sort of.

  You know what happened to you?

  I think so. I died. Didn’t I?

  We tried to bring you back but you kept pushing us all away. There were things you needed to do.

  There were?

  You don’t remember. It’ll come back to you. You’ve only just woken up.

  I lost.

  Jaye laid her hand over hers. For the first time in… how long… she was touching something real. No, you won Katie. You killed that man and you fought the darkness. I can see it in you now, you’re light again. Absolutely pure and good.

  The spell. Katie held her hand out and flexed her fingers around the raw tissue. It burnt the darkness out of me.. it was gone by the time i got to the club. I just remembered it well enough to pretend it still owned me.

  But that means you killed him in cold blood?

  There was a pause as the idea sank in. Somehow, Katie thought it was worth risking her innocence for.

  I remember the dreams. The ones where the zombies were trying to get me. And then I let them. And my family were there and I couldn’t save them. Jaye, what were my parents doing in my nightmare?

  I don’t know. I don’t know the first thing about dreams. But… maybe it’s ‘cos you’re always thinking of them. You’re always trying to protect them from the monsters.

  That’s why I couldn’t touch them. I can’t save them like this.

  The telepathic messages between them died out for a few minutes. Katie lifted a hand and looked at it wonderingly. She wasn’t solid like any of the others. She was real enough that she could see her own body, her bloody hospital gown and bare feet. But she was, at the same time, transparent enough that she could see the trees swaying and people walking or cycling past through her own hands. And questions came as she stared and enjoyed this new peace. How was she going to find Jack? Did dying mean she could have this inner quiet forever now? What about school and running? Could she ever see her parents and sister again? But the concerns seemed very distant. Not insignificant or irrelevant. Just… not urgent.

  But one question was shouting… demanding to be asked.

  Jaye, how do I do this? How do I be dead?

  About the author

  Wendy Maddocks lives in Birmingham, England, with her slightly crazy family. She blames them for her twisted imagination. Sanity is not her friend. She enjoys reading and studying, working out and eating cake, which makes her fat and in need of yet another gym session. (Yes, I’m a masochist!) She also has a fear thing about sheep. After graduating from university, Wendy began publishing her own work online and is always working on new writing projects. What will happen when she runs out of ideas?

  No, let’s not wonder that.

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