As Dead as It Gets

by Katie Alender

  “What are you doing here at this hour?” he asked as he opened it.

  “We need to talk,” I said.

  “At midnight? About what?”

  We were both whispering. I led him into his bedroom and closed the door. He glanced at me, then went to his closet, opened the door just wide enough to stick his arm inside, and pulled out a robe. Then he closed it and…

  Was I imagining things, or did he lock the closet?

  “Talk about what?” he repeated, sitting down on the bed and switching his lamp on.

  I took a huge bracing breath. “About Laina.”

  Jared jerked back as if I’d burned him. He looked up at me, practically twitching. “What about her?”

  “Why don’t you ever talk about her?” Not the most relevant question, in terms of conducting an investigation. But as his girlfriend, it was the first thing I wanted to know.

  He shrugged. “What is there to say?”

  “Well, for starters…how about, ‘I had a girlfriend and she died’?”

  “Why?” he said. “So you could start looking at me like everyone else looks at me? Like I’m damaged? Like I’m a display in a museum?”

  “Of course I wouldn’t look at you that way!” I said. “Jared—me, of all people—”

  “No offense, Alexis, but I don’t think you’re as good at hiding your emotions as you think you are.”

  I sat back, wounded. I hadn’t meant I would have those feelings and hide them. I meant that I, of all people, would understand why it sucks to be looked at like a sideshow freak.

  Jared raised a hand to his mouth and started biting his thumbnail. “So that’s why you came over in the middle of the night? Because you just learned about Laina?”

  “Yes,” I said. “But that’s not a hundred percent of it.”

  He watched me, waiting.

  And I realized—I’d backed myself into a corner. There was no way to take this further without explaining at least a little bit about ghosts.

  “How did she die?” When I saw the look on his face, I said, “Please. Just tell me.”

  Jared stared at the floor. “She died…beautifully. Just like she lived.”

  I held my breath.

  He looked up at me, seeing the alarm on my face. “I don’t mean it in some sick way. I mean, Laina was never the type of person to ask why me? She believed that there was a plan, that everything had a purpose. So once she knew she wasn’t going to make it, she was in a state of complete acceptance. She was…serene.”

  His voice had gotten so quiet I had to strain to hear the last word—especially over the tumult of my own thoughts, which were saying No.

  No, it was wrong. Just like Phil Corcoran’s death was wrong. The wrong kind of death to produce a vengeful ghost.

  Jared continued, his eyes locked onto some invisible point on the floor. “She was staring up at the sky, and she couldn’t speak anymore, but she was praying. Her lips were moving. She never went anywhere without her Saint Barbara medal—protection against sudden death—so she was holding that in her hand. And the sun came out of the clouds and the shadow moved off of her face, and then—”

  He stopped himself.

  “And then…nothing,” he said. “She was gone.”

  “You were there,” I said.

  “Yes,” he said. “I was there. I was the one who found her.”

  “Jared,” I said. “I need to tell you something. And it’s going to sound really strange, but you have to try to believe me.”

  He gave me a wary glance.

  “I think Laina’s a ghost. And I think she’s the one who’s been going after the girls who are missing.” I swallowed hard, not wanting to look up at his face until I’d gotten it all out. “I think she’s coming after me, too.”

  My eyes flickered up to see his reaction.

  But there was none.

  “Jared?”

  “Yeah, I heard you,” he said.

  “I know how it sounds.”

  “You know?” He spun toward me, eyes flashing. “You know how it sounds to have the love of your life slandered—and called a murderer?”

  “It’s hard to explain,” I said. “She’s not herself. Ghosts are different. She’s angry or scared and—”

  “Alexis,” he said, his teeth gritted, “you need to stop talking right now.”

  I did.

  His hands were curled into almost fists, and he raked them through his hair. His jaw clenched as if he were stifling a cry of physical pain.

  “Please listen to me,” I whispered. “She’s hurting people.”

  He seemed to slow his breathing down through sheer effort, and I watched—the way you’d watch a lion if you were trapped in its cage.

  Finally he looked up at me. “I knew you had issues, Alexis, but I didn’t know it was this bad.”

  The air went out of my lungs.

  His voice was perfectly calm. “I don’t know if it’s jealousy, or…some sort of bitterness, or just…I don’t know, plain old-fashioned craziness. But I can’t sit here and listen to you talk this way. So I’m going to ask you to leave. Please.”

  The weirdest part was, this was the Jared I knew. The Jared who could always coax or convince me to do things his way. This was the same tone he always used with me.

  “I’ll go,” I said, standing up. He stood, too, and moved toward me like a sheepdog controlling a flock. I backed into the hall and walked to the foyer, my legs like jelly.

  “I hope you stop and think,” he said quietly, when I was standing on the front porch. “And realize that you’re hurting people. And that you need help.”

  “Please just tell me one thing,” I said. I took it as a good sign that he didn’t slam the door in my face. “What was Laina’s favorite thing in the world?”

  His face contorted with pain. “Easy,” he said. “Me.”

  I sneaked in the front door, shutting it an inch at a time and keeping my hand against it tensely until the lock clicked into place. Then I crept down the hall and into my room.

  Lydia was sitting on my bed.

  “Were you there?” I asked.

  “No, I was watching Leno with your parents,” she said.

  I sighed.

  “I’m kidding. Yeah, I was there. And I gotta say, Alexis, he clearly loved her.” She nodded thoughtfully. “Way more than he likes you.”

  “Thanks a lot,” I said.

  “You know what I mean. He luuuurrved her. He likes you all right. Mostly because you do whatever he says, in my opinion, but whatevs.”

  “Do you have anything helpful to contribute?” I asked.

  “I guess not,” she said. “Just that it’s weird that he locks his closet.”

  “I know, right?” I said. “What’s up with that? Couldn’t you look inside?”

  She gave me an exasperated look. “I’m a ghost, Alexis, not a magical see-in-the-dark cat.”

  I rolled my eyes.

  “But he’s clearly in denial,” she said. “It has to be her. The dress, the funeral home, the roses, targeting you out of jealousy that you’re moving in on her man…It all adds up.”

  “But what did Kendra and Ashleen do?” I asked.

  “You tell me.” She shrugged. “I wasn’t there.”

  I remembered Kendra fluffing her hair in front of Jared at the nature preserve. And Ashleen simpering over him at her house.

  “They flirted with him?” I said. “That was enough to get them a death sentence? Then how bad is what I’ve been doing?”

  “I’m not sure I want to know,” Lydia said. “Anyway, it seems clear that we’re dealing with the most psycho of psycho ex-girlfriends.”

  “Yeah,” I said. “And the only way to get rid of her…”

  “Is what?” Lydia asked.

  So she hadn’t been at the front door when Jared told me he was Laina’s favorite thing.

  Lydia didn’t know…

  That the only way to stop Laina was to destroy Jared.

  I SLEPT
SURPRISINGLY WELL once I managed to fall asleep, and awoke to see Lydia snoozing lightly above my dresser. I felt energized by the discoveries of the previous night, no matter how dark they were. At least now we had information. A place to begin.

  “Look alive!” I said, patting Lydia on the head. My fingers turned to ice.

  She woke with a start, looking around. I headed out to the kitchen, where my parents and Kasey were staring at a breaking news report on the TV.

  I stopped at the end of the hall, goose bumps erupting all over my body. “What now?”

  “Another local teen is missing,” the female reporter said. “Her parents say they last saw her when she went to her bedroom to study after dinner.”

  I took a step forward.

  “Wait, Lexi—” Kasey said.

  A photograph came onscreen—a smiling girl with a sharp jaw, black eyeglasses, and short curly hair.

  Elliot.

  “No,” I said. “No.”

  Mom rushed to my side. “Alexis? Honey. It’s okay.” Her voice sounded like it was coming through water.

  I began to feel faint, like my legs might give out. Kasey hurried over with a chair from the dinner table, and Mom eased me down into it. Dad brought me a glass of apple juice, which I couldn’t hold because my hands were shaking so badly.

  She doesn’t fit the pattern, said the voice inside my head. I shook my head, banishing the voice. I didn’t have the strength to deal with it right now.

  “I’m sure she’ll be all right,” Mom said. “The police will find her.”

  Like they found Ashleen?

  “Alexis, are you all right?” Mom backed away, leaving Kasey to pat my hand. “Let me call the office and tell them I’m not going to make it in.”

  “No.” My voice echoed in the room, as though someone else were speaking. “I need to go to school.”

  “Lexi!” Kasey said. “You don’t have to!”

  “I want to,” I said. “I need to be with my yearbook friends.”

  “I don’t know,” Mom said, but she was disarmed by the word friends. “Maybe you should stay here and—”

  “Stare at my hands? Cry all day?” I asked. “No. I’m going to school. They’ll have counselors there. Besides…you have your board meeting.”

  Mom looked hurt. “Oh, honey. That means nothing. Not if you need me.”

  A couple of years ago, I would never have believed I’d hear my mother speak that way about a board meeting, the holiest of holies.

  Now, as much as I appreciated it, all I wanted was for her and Dad to go to work, and for Kasey to go to school and surround herself with popular kids.

  Because I needed them all out of my way.

  My parents were so used to seeing me take my camera to school that when I came out of my bedroom ten minutes later with my backpack over one shoulder and my camera bag over the other, they didn’t even notice.

  Kasey did, though. She looked up at me incredulously. “You’re shooting today?”

  “Just candids,” I said, even though it felt like a steady electrical current was traveling through my body. It had been there since the moment I’d grasped that Elliot was actually missing—and that I was her only hope of survival.

  “Of what?”

  “People,” I said. “Being candid.”

  “Alexis,” Mom said, “are you sure you don’t want us to drive you to school? Or you can stay home if you want. I know how worried you must be.”

  “I’m fine.” I felt as stiff as the Tin Man before he got oiled. “I want to be there.”

  Kasey had been planning to ride with me (to keep me from having a breakdown and driving off the road, was my guess), but by the time she remembered to call Keaton and tell him she didn’t need a ride, he was pulling into the driveway.

  My sister shot a wary look at me and then grabbed her bag from the couch. “Are you sure you’re okay? Why don’t you just ride with us?”

  I nodded. “I’m fine.”

  Keaton stood in the doorway, wide-eyed and earnest. “We have plenty of room.”

  “No,” I said. “Thank you.”

  I watched them pull away from the house, then went back to my room and shut off the light.

  Lydia appeared. “Why can’t you find a non-drama boyfriend like your sister’s?”

  I felt like I was made of porcelain and might crack up at any moment—and not in a laughing way. “I can’t do this today, Lyd.”

  “I’m just saying. Carter flipped out, Jared’s Mr. Gloomypants—”

  In spite of myself, my spine went rigid. “Carter did not flip out. That was Aralt’s fault.”

  She made a face. “Whatever. Who dumps their girlfriend because she dyed her hair?”

  “Stop. Please.”

  “All right, whatever.” She gave a little jump and sort of floated to the bed, like a piece of paper in a breeze.

  “Forget it.” My nerves couldn’t take any more arguing. “Just forget it.”

  “Let’s go,” she said. “We’re doing the past perfect tense in French class and I don’t want to be late.”

  “You’ll have to get yourself there,” I said, picking up my backpack and camera bag. “I’m not going to school today.”

  “Where are you going?” she asked.

  “For a hike,” I said. “Want to come?”

  “Have you ever thought about writing all of your bad ideas down and selling a book of them? It could be called, like, Alexis Warren’s Surefire Ways to Die Young. Hey, I could be your spokesperson.”

  I didn’t answer, but not out of stubbornness as much as the fact that I was trying to conserve my energy for the rest of the trail. We’d only gone about a quarter of a mile, and I was already completely out of breath. I took another swig of water and then went back to taking pictures.

  “And why do you think she would be here?” Lydia asked.

  “Because she hikes here. It’s her favorite trail. She always talks about it.” I stopped, pretending to be looking off into the distance but really just trying to catch my breath so I could talk. “And the other girls ended up in places they knew. Outside of town.”

  Lydia floated effortlessly beside me. “Why?”

  “I don’t know.” I hauled myself up a set of steep stone stairs.

  “She’s probably dead already,” Lydia said. “If she tried to hike this trail without water…and it’s actually kind of hot today.”

  I silenced her with a pointed glare.

  “Fine, fine,” she said. “I see how you are when it’s somebody you like. Talking about death is only funny when it’s me.”

  “It’s not funny,” I said. “I wish you weren’t dead.”

  She stopped. “Really?”

  “Lydia, seriously?” I said. “Of course I do. Now keep moving.”

  Mercifully, she retreated into thoughtful silence for a while, so I could save the air in my lungs for more important things than talking—like breathing. We made slow progress, stopping every twenty or thirty feet so I could take pictures.

  I hadn’t hiked Maxwell Canyon since seventh grade, and experiencing the trail’s difficulty firsthand just added one more level of awe to Elliot’s already mystical aura of superiority. My thigh muscles screeched with pain, and my lungs would have been screeching, too—if they’d had any air to spare.

  Lydia drifted away, and I kept going. I got into such a rhythm that it took me a moment to realize there was actually a person in my photographs.

  Elliot.

  My heart just about imploded.

  “Lydia!” I called.

  “What?” She came toward me so fast that for a moment she was just a gray blur.

  “She’s dead.” My voice came out sounding sandpapered. “I saw her…She’s dead.”

  I leaned down to look more closely.

  “That? No, that’s not a ghost,” Lydia said. “I can see her, too!”

  I dropped the camera. It swung from the end of the strap.

  We looked at each other.
/>   Elliot was alive.

  I snapped into action. “You go ahead!” I said. “Go up the trail and find her. Stay with her. Don’t leave her. I’ll follow you!”

  Lydia obeyed without a word, hurrying up the trail.

  I opened my cell phone.

  NO SERVICE.

  “No, come on,” I said, shaking it.

  But no bars appeared.

  A minute later, I heard Lydia cry out in a panicky shriek. “Alexis! Alexis, come quick!”

  I was already exhausted, but I forced myself to run, hurtling up the steep incline toward the sound of her voice.

  Lydia intercepted me. “I tried to stop her, but I couldn’t—and it was so weird, it was, like, hot, and—something’s wrong. Something’s really wrong. Look.” She held up her arms.

  Her hands were much fainter than the rest of her body.

  Lydia looked like she was about to throw up. “It’s where I tried to grab her,” she said. “Everything went hot, and then…”

  “Don’t worry,” I said. “We’ll figure it out. But first we have to stop Elliot. Which way did she go?”

  “That way,” Lydia said, pointing with her barely there left hand.

  I took off down the trail. Within a minute I saw Elliot—she was maybe seventy-five feet in front of me.

  “Elliot!” I called. “Wait!”

  She wasn’t running away; she wasn’t even walking fast. In fact, she was stumbling every few steps. Her bare feet were covered with blood and bruises.

  I caught up to her easily, grabbing her arm.

  “Elliot, stop! It’s okay. You’re safe now.”

  But she wouldn’t stop. It was almost like she couldn’t. Even when I got in front of her, she ran right into me. I lost my balance and fell, nearly landing on a cactus.

  “See?” Lydia said. “She just keeps walking!”

  I tried again to pull Elliot out of her stride, but it was useless. She never so much as raised a finger to fight back, but she was so much stronger than I was that she basically shrugged off everything I did to her.

  “Come on,” I cried. “Please.”

  We were on a long straight stretch of the trail, so I got in front of her and walked backward, thinking I’d be able to reason with her.

  But as soon as I got a good look at her face, I knew there was no use.

  Her eyes were glazed over. She didn’t even seem to see me. Her face was streaked with dried-out tearstains. She breathed through her mouth in a shaky, shallow rhythm, and her lips were dry and cracked, the corners coated in a crust of dried saliva, blood, and dust.