All The Pretty Dead Girls

by John Manning

Dead girls.

  No, stop it, Sue told herself again, turning over in bed. They are not dead! They just left school.

  They are not like Lori and Melissa.

  Sue closed her eyes and listened to the wind and the rain. She tried to think about something more pleasant.

  Like Billy.

  She liked him. She liked him a lot. When she was with him, she could forget everything else. He was good—a cocky little showoff, sure—but a good, decent boy. The kind Becca Stansfield had told her didn’t exist anymore.

  Sue was very grateful Billy hadn’t tried anything with her. If he had, if he’d tried to push her into going further, she probably wouldn’t have gone out with him again.

  For the truth was, sex didn’t really interest her. She had no yearning to discover what it was like. When her friends at Stowe had talked about wanting to have sex, Sue had always felt as if they were speaking a foreign language she didn’t understand. She wondered occasionally if there was something wrong with her, if something inside her was missing somehow. Sex scenes in books and movies never did anything for her. Once, her friend Linda Deviney had found her father’s stash of porn videos, pilfering one for them to watch—and it had left Sue repulsed. Watching the blowsy woman with the sagging breasts and the hairy man with the large penis grunt and sweat and make agonized faces had turned Sue’s stomach. This is what everyone is so obsessed with?

  She’d never had crushes on movie stars or pop singers, not really. She could look at somebody like Brad Pitt or Orlando Bloom and appreciate the way they looked, but it was never anything deeper or more emotional than that. Certainly, the boys she met had done nothing for her. Her crush on Tom Parker had been about his mind—about the intensity he had when he talked about astrophysics—it wasn’t about his eyes or his muscles or his butt, the things other girls talked about. For a fleeting few moments a few years ago, Sue had even considered the possibility that she might be a lesbian—but then discarded that notion since girls’ bodies left her even more disinterested than boys’.

  But Billy—he was different.

  Billy made her smile. He made her relax and chill out more than any other guy ever had—or girl, for that matter. When Billy put his arm around Sue’s shoulders in the darkened movie theater, it felt comfortable and right. She felt warm inside, happy. When he kissed her, she liked it. She found herself looking at Billy’s big strong hand as it hung from her shoulder rather than watching the movie. She was mesmerized by the uneven fingernails, the blue veins threading across the top, and the fine white hairs on the outside. When he held her hand as they walked out of the theater, making her laugh and smile as she looked deep into his frosty blue eyes, she wondered if this was what falling in love was like.

  Sex she could live without.

  But falling in love—that she found very nice indeed.

  It was with Billy on her mind that Sue fell asleep.

  And as the thunder and lightning crashed over Bentley Hall, Sue dreamed.

  She and Billy were in his mother’s Toyota Camry on their way back from Senandaga. They’d been to an action movie. Sue had hated it, and she was giving Billy a hard time about dragging her along to watch it with him.

  “Bang bang, shoot ’em up, things go boom,” she teased as they took the off-ramp to Lebanon. “Why can’t boys ever get any further than that? Don’t you guys care about plot?”

  Billy grinned at her. “I care about plot. The movie had a plot.”

  “With holes in it big enough to drive this car through,” she said, laughing more than she would have in real life. In real life, she probably wouldn’t have teased Billy quite so much. But in her dream, Sue had known Billy a long time.

  All her life, it seemed.

  Maybe even longer.

  His hand went from the side of the steering wheel to her knee. She looked down at his hand, and then back up at him and smiled. She felt a tingling where his hand was touching her bare knee, a vague sensation of warmth that started slowly creeping up her leg. “That’s nice,” she barely whispered, catching her breath and looking over at him.

  This is what it’s supposed to feel like, this is what a woman is supposed to feel when she wants a man. I’m not frigid, I just hadn’t met the right guy yet.

  “I love you, Sue,” Billy said, moving his hand further up her leg.

  She felt a strange sensation between her legs, in her lower abdomen, like hot liquid poured all over her.

  “I love you, too, Billy,” she said, and placed her left hand on his right knee. His leg was solid and strong, yet somehow soft to her touch, and he began to shift a little in the driver’s seat.

  “I want you, Sue,” Billy said.

  “And I want you, Billy,” she whispered back.

  But her eyes were on the dark road in front of the car, and she barely had time to scream—

  —because there was a bicycle in front of them and on it, a girl with long blond hair and a baseball cap, looking back over her shoulder at them, and her mouth was screaming, screaming just like the girl in the window. And then there was a terrible thud and for a brief moment, the girl’s face hit the windshield and her eyes locked onto Sue’s. After that, the windshield was all covered in blood.

  Sue sat up in bed screaming.

  “Sue!”

  Malika’s voice.

  She was feeling around for the light, but the power must have gone out. The digital green clock on the side of Sue’s bed was dark. Outside the storm still raged.

  “Sue, are you all right?”

  Her heart was thudding in her ears. She tried to find the words.

  “A dream,” she mumbled. “A bad dream.”

  “It’s okay.” Malika was at her side now, having gotten out of bed and come around to hers. “It’s probably the storm that freaked you out.”

  Lightning suddenly lit up the room, and then a few seconds later came a huge crash of thunder. The building literally shook.

  “A really bad dream,” Sue mumbled.

  “It’s okay, Sue,” Malika was saying. “Put it out of your mind and go back to sleep.”

  Sue lay back down. Her heart was still racing, but she seemed unable to fight off the sleep that was already overpowering her. She was vaguely aware of Malika going back to bed, and then she was asleep again.

  The dream wasn’t over.

  She was outside. Just where, she wasn’t sure. The night air was cold. There was no moon, and the clouds blocked out the stars.

  “Sue,” came a voice.

  It was Billy.

  And his eyes were glowing red.

  “Billy?” she asked, her voice shaking.

  He laughed—a low, guttural sound.

  Sue’s entire body went cold.

  “Billy, what’s—what’s wrong with your eyes?” she stammered, taking a step away from him. Run, run, you’ve got to get away from him…

  Because suddenly she knew.

  This is what really happened to Bonnie Warner.

  “There’s nothing wrong with my eyes, Sue.”

  Billy’s voice was lower, deeper than it usually was.

  “Come on, Sue, let me take you home…come let me drive you home. Don’t you want to go home, Sue?”

  Her entire body was frozen in place. She willed herself to run, to get away, but somehow she couldn’t move.

  “Come on, Sue,” Billy purred, and he took her hand—only his hand wasn’t warm—

  —it was cold, and it didn’t feel like skin, it felt like scales…

  Sue yanked her hand away.

  “Get in my fucking car!” Billy raged.

  Sue turned and ran. She could hear Billy’s footsteps behind her. She ran hard, she ran faster than she’d ever run before. Something was wrong, something was terribly wrong. She didn’t know what, but all she knew was she had to get away from him.

  He’s going to kill me, just the way he killed Bonnie Warner!

  She saw the gates of the college in the distance. There were lights on in Bentley Ha
ll, warm welcoming lights, safety.

  Almost there, almost safe.

  She heard laughter from behind her, and it wasn’t Billy laughing.

  She glanced back and what she saw—

  It wasn’t human. It was a thing of blackness, of cold, mad hatred and fury.

  Sue screamed.

  And then she was falling, falling hard—having tripped over two bodies on the ground. She came face-to-face with them.

  Joelle Bartlett and Tish Lewis.

  They were dead. But even worse—they looked deflated. Like plastic balloons that had been popped. As if all the life had just been sucked out of them.

  Sucked out—by that—that thing—that was bearing down on her!

  Somehow, Sue staggered to her feet and kept running. She ran through the gates of the college, the hot breath of her pursuer on her neck. In front of Bentley Hall, she looked up at the window of Room 323.

  And yes, there was a face.

  Only the face wasn’t screaming.

  It was her mother’s face—kind and smiling—exactly as Sue had seen her in all those old photographs. Her mother was smiling, gesturing for Sue to enter.

  “No,” Sue said, backing away.

  “Go ahead, Sue,” came the voice of the thing behind her. “Don’t you want to go home?”

  She turned around. It was Billy. Billy in all his sweet boyishness. He smiled.

  And revealed a mouthful of fangs.

  As he leaned forward to kiss her, Sue didn’t resist. She couldn’t run. Not anymore. She was too tired. Besides, if she gave in to him, she’d get to go home, he promised. And there, her mother was waiting for her. Billy put his arms around her, and placed his cold lips against hers. He smelled of dead things, of rotting flesh, of death.

  Sue surrendered.

  And then she sat up in bed, shivering, just as lightning lit up the room.

  Lightning—but no thunder now. The storm had passed.

  But Sue’s fear had returned.

  25

  In the morning, Sue awoke with a start, even if the power outage had ensured the alarm clock just sat there, blinking uselessly. She lay there unmoving, watching as Malika dragged herself out of bed and into the bathroom. Sue listened as the shower came on.

  A bad dream, she thought to herself. That’s all it was, just a bad dream.

  The dream had been too monstrous.

  You’re just being silly, that’s all, she told herself. It was the storm. And all that thinking about Billy before bed, worrying about the whole sex thing—it’s easy to explain. Anyone with a basic understanding of psychology would tell you that your subconscious mind—fearful of sex—turned Billy into a monster, a threat to you.

  But what about the Bonnie Warner stuff—where did that come from?

  And Mother?

  The shower shut off, and Malika opened the bathroom door to let out some of the steam. “Come on, lazybones,” she called. “Time to rise and shine.”

  With great effort, Sue got out of bed and walked across the room to the window. She looked out onto the campus. The sun hadn’t fully risen yet, and there was a steady drizzle of rain. Dark and gloomy. Sue sat on the sill, wrapping her arms around her knees and leaning back against the wall, watching the water run down the glass.

  All at once, pain shot through her head.

  “Damn.” She tried to stand, then stumbled and fell against the side of her bed. The pain was blinding, intense, like no pain she’d ever felt before. She was aware of nothing except the pain, like her brain was being ripped in two. She held on to the side of the bed, her face twisted, unable to think because of so much pain…

  And then it was gone as suddenly as it had started.

  She gasped, trying to catch her breath. She tried to call to Malika, who she could hear humming to herself in the bathroom as she brushed her teeth. But she found she couldn’t make a sound. She attempted to stand—

  —and then the pain returned, like a lightning bolt through her head. My God, it hurt so bad, as if her brain was being torn apart inside her head, as if something was going on in there that she couldn’t stop or control. She could barely breathe.

  And then it was gone again.

  Except now her stomach was churning. She knew she was going to be sick.

  Like a cannonball, she forced herself to her feet and ran into the bathroom, scaring Malika with her intensity. She fell to the floor before she could make it to the toilet, and she began crawling across the tile, fighting the violent heavings of her stomach just as the terrible headache returned.

  The pain…oh God, the pain.

  The tiles felt cool to her burning skin, and she hoisted herself up through the fog of pain—everything seemed to be tinted red—and hugged the toilet, opening her mouth and retching. The pain in her head didn’t abate as her stomach emptied, even as she continued to heave and vomit after there was nothing left to come up.

  “Jesus!” Malika was shrieking. “Sweet Jesus!”

  Sue slid to the side of the toilet, lying facedown on the floor, the hard yet cool tile feeling good to her burning face.

  And then, mercifully, the pain in her head was gone again.

  “Sue,” Malika called, stooping down and cradling her head in her arms. “Baby girl! What the hell is wrong?”

  “I—I don’t know…”

  Malika made a face and turned her face away from the toilet, even as she managed to reach out and flush away the vomit. “Come on,” she said. “Let’s get you back to bed.”

  She helped Sue to her feet and across the room, easing her down on the bed.

  “My head,” Sue mumbled. “I had this wicked headache—and then—I knew I’d be sick…”

  “Food poisoning,” Malika said. “It looks like food poisoning to me. What did you eat last night?”

  “Lasagna,” Sue managed to say.

  She and Billy had eaten at their favorite little Italian place near the movie. She could taste the sour bile of half-digested pasta, meat sauce, and cheese in the back of her throat.

  “It must have been bad,” Malika said. “We ought to report them. It could be salmonella.”

  “No,” Sue said. She didn’t know why she was so certain it wasn’t food poisoning, but she was. “It wasn’t the food.”

  “Have you ever had that kind of a headache before?”

  “No, I definitely have not.” She was feeling better—at least, she knew she wasn’t going to be sick again. She managed to sit up, and Malika propped her pillows behind her back. “That was the real problem. The headache was so bad it made me throw up. It was the headache, not the food.”

  “Well, we need to get you to the infirmary,” Malika told her.

  Sue knew she was right, but all she wanted to do was stay right where she was. She was afraid if she moved, the pain in her head would come back. She didn’t think she could take another bout of that pain.

  But finally, she allowed Malika to help her into a pair of sweats and a T-shirt, and traipsed out into the rain with her across the campus to the infirmary. The nurse on duty took one look at Sue and must have seen how pale she was, because she immediately took her by the shoulders and got her to lie down.

  “You can go on to your classes,” the nurse told Malika. “I can take care of her from here.”

  “Is that okay, Sue?” Malika asked.

  “Yeah,” she said, nodding. “I’ll be fine. There’s a test in Dr. Marshall’s class today that I can’t miss. I’ll skip biology and rest up for it.”

  “Okay.” Malika gripped her shoulder once and headed out.

  The nurse, meanwhile, was placing a cold damp cloth across Sue’s forehead. “Want to tell me what brought this on?” she was asking.

  The nurse was a small woman, small yet round in her white uniform, with short dark hair and large breasts that seemed to push the uniform top to its breaking point. Her name tag read POPPY COCHRANE.

  “Well, I’ve had headaches before, but nothing like this,” Sue explained. “A
fter I threw up, I felt better. Just really weak.”

  “It could be an allergic reaction. You’ve never had a problem with the foods you ate before?”

  “No, in fact, I’ve eaten the exact same meal at the same place the last two Saturdays before.”

  “Well, maybe the meat was bad this time out.” Nurse Cochrane nodded her head. She opened the file in front of her, and a frown crossed her round face. “This is odd.”

  “What?” Sue frowned. “What are you looking at?”

  “Your medical history.”

  “You have my whole medical history there?”

  Nurse Cochrane eyed her. “Of course. We have it for all our girls. It’s a requirement. Your grandparents had it sent up before you even arrived.”

  Sue made a face. “How would you know it was my grandparents? Wouldn’t you have assumed it was my parents who sent it?”

  The nurse smiled. “It says it right here. Grandparents are guardians.”

  “Oh. Okay.” Sue sat up, removing the cloth from her head. She was feeling better. “So what’s so odd?”

  “You’ve never been sick.” Nurse Cochrane looked over the top of the folder at her. “Nothing.”

  Sue shrugged. “I’ve had colds.”

  “No chicken pox, no measles, no mumps, no flus, no hospitalizations, no broken bones except for that little trouble with your nose.” Nurse Cochrane closed the file. “You’re a medical miracle, Miss Barlow.”

  Sue shifted in her seat. “So, I’m healthy. Is that a problem?”

  “Well, no, of course not, that’s not what I meant.” The nurse gave her a beaming smile. “It just means you’re a phenomenally lucky young lady. Children, as you may know, are incredibly susceptible to diseases—and most children run fevers, catch colds, get the chicken pox—I don’t think I’ve ever seen a file like yours once in my entire career. And other than regular checkups and flu shots, you’ve never really had to see a doctor in your life. That’s really amazing.”

  “Is that all?” Sue started to stand up.

  “Well, I think I’d like to make an appointment for you with Dr. Bauer when he’s in tomorrow—see what he thinks. He might want you to go up for a CAT scan in Senandaga, just to be on the safe side.”