Deader Still: A Bridget Sway Novel (A Paranormal Ghost Cozy Mystery Series)

by Jordaina Sydney Robinson

  “Please don’t,” Hannah said. “If you try that I’ll have to shoot you.”

  “Aren’t you going to shoot us anyway?” Sabrina asked.

  “I’d rather not.”

  “So, the gun is what?” I asked. “The latest must-have fashion accessory?”

  “More like a stick,” Hannah said.

  “No, the log was a stick. That’s a gun.” I turned to Sabrina. “If she kills us, I think it might happen by accident.”

  Hannah sighed loudly. “Not an actual stick, a metaphorical stick.”

  “Why would you swap an actual stick for a metaphorical stick that’s not actually a stick at all but a gun, when you still want a stick?” I looked to Sabrina again and pointed to Hannah. “Is this just me?”

  “Like a carrot and a stick!” Hannah snapped. “A carrot to entice you and a stick to prod you.”

  “Why would a carrot entice me?” I asked.

  Hannah shook her head at me. “It’s an idiom.”

  “What’s up with your voice?” I asked. She’d been speaking for at least two minutes and I was sure her voice was becoming less irritating. Unless I was just becoming accustomed to it. Or maybe my survival instincts were kicking in and telling me to focus more on the gun than her voice.

  “Nothing,” she snapped and the nasal whine came back full force.

  “So …” Sabrina dragged the word out. “You’re not going to shoot us?”

  “I might in a minute!” Hannah did something and the gun made a menacing clicking sound. “Now move away from the access hatch.” Hannah jerked the gun in the direction of the assembly hall, away from the handy log still lying on the floor and our black hole of an escape.

  “Not to appear ungrateful, but why aren’t you going to kill us?” Sabrina asked while moving around the front of the access hatch. Hannah didn’t seem to notice Sabrina’s choice of direction, but I did. I wasn’t sure exactly how far those little prongs that shot out of her stun gun would reach, but I was guessing the distance was too big or Hannah would’ve already been on the floor.

  “I need someone to take the fall for this,” Hannah said plainly. No apology. No anger. Just fact.

  “I’m a scapegoat again?” I asked, aware that it came out more like a whine. That was just so not cool. The whining or the scapegoat.

  “Yes.” Hannah gestured along the corridor with the gun. “Now off you go, up the corridor.”

  Sabrina frowned at me then looked back to Hannah. “You’re just going to let us wander around up there? You’re not going to tie us up or anything?”

  “No, because if I tied you up and the police came before you got free you wouldn’t make very good scapegoats, would you?”

  “I guess not, but …” Sabrina shook her head. “I don’t know. It just seems quite sloppy on your part.”

  “Okay …” I drew the word out and slapped Sabrina hard on the back of the shoulder and she stumbled forward a step. Surely, Sabrina would be close enough to stun her now. “The nice lady isn’t going to shoot us or tie us up. How about we stop critiquing her villainous plan and just say thank you.”

  “Absolutely, but … before we go …” Sabrina threw a glance in my direction.

  I shook my head at her. “I can’t believe you.”

  “I just—” Sabrina glanced quickly, apologetically, at me again, to Hannah, and then back to me. “I need to know.”

  “Okay.” Hannah made a patting motion, the same as the GA leaders did, as if to halt Sabrina’s questions. Maybe it was contagious. “I killed Watson because she made Matthew break up with me and then extended our probation. I killed Gracie because she was the one who told Watson about Matthew and me. I killed Jenny because she suspected me and she was annoying, and I killed Nancy because I let slip about Gracie telling on me and Matthew. Okay?” She gestured with her gun again for us to move along the corridor. “Now, I’d very much appreciate it if you’d move.”

  “Did you use night vision googles to kill Gracie?” Sabrina asked.

  “Yes.” Hannah pointed along the corridor with her gun again.

  “Through the access hatch?” Sabrina asked.

  “No, through the skylight,” Hannah snapped.

  “Did you mean to leave Matthew alive?” Sabrina asked.

  Hannah pointed the gun directly at Sabrina and it made that clicking sound again. How many times could it do that? I might have to get Sabrina to show me this stuff if we survived.

  “I’ve explained. No more questions.” Hannah made a sweeping motion with the gun towards the assembly hall. “Please.”

  The corridor filled with that deathly calmness that always precedes chaos and then several things happened at once. I’m not sure exactly what it was about that expression or gesture, maybe it was the voice, or her posture, but all the pieces of information in my head shuffled and slotted neatly into place.

  Just as I’d worked out what was going on Sabrina lurched forward, stun gun extended out in front of her. The two prongs darted out, flying straight for Hannah’s torso. Hannah dodged right and fell awkwardly to the floor, the gun firing on impact.

  The bullet felt like a cannonball when it hit me. And then the world slowed. I stumbled back a couple of steps. I looked down. All I saw was blood. Another uniform ruined. I wondered if Hannah would stuff my body in my own locker. If she did, I wondered who would find me.

  Everything became a little wavy. Like when they used to do those dream sequences or flashbacks and the picture on the television screen went all, well, wavy. Not quite as bad, though. The ground felt a little less than stable, like I was onboard a ship. I knew that could happen when people went into shock from blood loss, but I didn’t know it could happen so fast. She must have got me good.

  I looked down at myself again but the head movement made me woozy. I lifted my head to see Hannah, still lying on the floor, watching me. Obviously not considering me a threat any longer in my wavy mental state, and since I was bleeding to death, Hannah began to swing the gun back in Sabrina’s direction. Sabrina was still trying to force a new cartridge into her stun gun. She saw the gun coming her way and spared me a brief look.

  “Run.” Sabrina didn’t scream it. She didn’t even shout it. She said it calmly. Like when you made someone a mug of tea and announced it as you placed it down in front of them, just so they knew it was there.

  I was pretty sure the woozy-wavy vision meant I was already dead – the least I could do was try and save Sabrina. As long as Hannah didn’t shoot me in the face then I’d still be able to have an open casket funeral. Hopefully it would go better than my last one. Unless Lucy did my makeup. I’d have to try to not die before I’d managed to tell Sabrina not to let Lucy near my dead face.

  I stumbled forward and bellyflopped onto Hannah, pushing the gun in the opposite direction just as she squeezed the trigger. The bullet found the wall with a thump. My awkward attack had rolled Hannah onto her side, facing the wall. She wriggled, trying to jab me with her elbow and shake me off. So I did what every self-respecting girl would do to someone who’d shot them: I grabbed some of her hair and yanked it really hard. Hannah yelped and the gun exploded again. Another bullet buried itself in the wall.

  Hannah tried to twist out of my hair hold but I put my knee in the small of her back, twisted my fist in her hair, and yanked harder. Agony flashed up my side. I felt some hair rip from her scalp and tried not to vomit. If I were her and she’d pulled my hair out like this, I wouldn’t just kill her. I’d kill myself as well so I could find her on the next plane of the afterlife and kill her again. You just don’t mess with a woman’s hair.

  “Bridge! Move!” Sabrina yelled and I let go and rolled away.

  Sabrina shot her stun gun prongs into Hannah before Hannah could swing the gun back in our direction. I lay on the floor watching as a twitching Hannah turned slowly into a twitching Watson.

  “Er …” Sabrina frowned at me and pointed to the woman she was still tasering. “What the hell?”

&nbs
p; “Watson.” I rolled onto my back and let my limbs relax, wondering when Charon would turn up to get me. Charon. He must’ve known Watson wasn’t dead because he hadn’t picked her up. And he didn’t tell me. Well, wouldn’t he have a lot of explaining to do when he finally got here? I hoped he’d bring ice cream.

  “Huh.” Sabrina angled her head to get a look at Watson’s face. “Didn’t see that coming.”

  I waited for Sabrina to stop tasering her. She didn’t.

  “I think she’s incapacitated,” I said.

  Sabrina nodded. “I know, but she shot at you.” Her face loomed over mine. “You doing okay?”

  “She didn’t shoot at me. She shot me!” I said. “And I think I’m dying.”

  Sabrina looked me over and arched an eyebrow. “Uh-huh.”

  Now all the excitement was over, any energy I had drained out of me. Had Lucy bet I would only last three weeks? Or was it Pam? One of them would win the work pool. Which was nice for them. I was glad. Petal would be sad, though. That made me think of Petal sitting in my room writing my essay for me. Of Lucy threatening to tell Oz on me if I didn’t let her help with our investigation. Of Pam soaking my uniforms for me to get the blood out. Of Sabrina dragging me into all sorts of trouble. Of Madame Zorina trying to help with my death shroud. Of Edith patting my knee and telling me I was great. Of my dad wiping the vomit from my corpse’s face. Of my mum slapping Michael-the-cheating-scumbag. Of my mum and dad together again. Of Oz, with his arms around me, telling me everything was going to be all right. Maybe I hadn’t adjusted very well to all these rules, but this was the happiest I had ever been in my entire life. And all I’d had to do was die. It made my heart clench at the thought of leaving it all behind. Or maybe that was a sign it was stopping. I rubbed my chest. It really hurt.

  “Sabrina?”

  “Yep?” Sabrina’s voice came from far away. The buzzing from the taser had ceased, so I assumed she was busy hogtying Watson. “Give me a sec …”

  “Hey!” I snapped. “I’m dying here. The least you could do is pay attention to my last words. You’re supposed to be my best friend.”

  Sabrina’s face came into my field of vision. “Bridge, you’re not dying. She barely winged you.”

  “Are you sure? I feel like I’m dying.” I looked down at myself. Blood covered the whole of my right side from my knee all the way up my rib cage. “That’s a lot of blood.”

  “There’s not that much.” Sabrina crouched down by my head and moved my fringe out of my eyes. I let her because she was obviously trying to make my death easier.

  “Don’t let Lucy do my makeup for my funeral, okay?” I asked.

  “Bridge, you’re not dying.”

  “And please don’t let anyone vomit on me this time.”

  “Bridget. You aren’t dying.”

  I reached over and patted Sabrina’s knee. “You’ve been a good friend to me. At least it doesn’t hurt anymore.”

  “No?” Sabrina arched an eyebrow at me, then leaned over and pressed her palm to my upper thigh. “How about now?”

  The most pain I had ever felt in the absolute entirety of my life and afterlife combined shot out from the nerve endings in my leg and across my entire body. Every part of me felt like it was set aflame. A piercing scream echoed in my ears. It wasn’t until it faded I realised it was coming from me. I lay panting on the ground, a cold sweat prickling over my entire body.

  “Wow, Bridge, I never realised you were such a wimp,” Sabrina grunted. “I’ve been shot before. I never screamed like that.”

  “You’ll be shot again soon if I survive!” I snapped back.

  “There you go. That’s something to live for.” Sabrina patted my shoulder. “Do you mind if I interrogate our murderer now?”

  Pain lanced across my chest. I blindly reached out for Sabrina. I couldn’t catch my breath. It felt like an overweight elephant was sitting on my chest. In my mind, the elephant morphed into The Trollop. I smiled. Until I remembered the imaginary Trollop-elephant was sitting on me, killing me.

  “Bridge?” Sabrina’s voice sounded like a distant echo and full of panic.

  I had the briefest moment of clarity during which I felt a wave of smugness at her doubting the severity of my injury before everything went black.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  “Bridget?”

  I felt fingers on my face. “Charon?” No answer. “Did you bring me ice cream?” No answer.

  “Bridget, it’s Oz.”

  “Oh, no.” I squinted at him, blinking until he came into focus. “Did Watson kill you too?”

  Everything felt painfully bright. Just behind Oz, and blocking my view of the school, someone had erected what looked like a white windbreaker. Like something you'd take to the beach. Only the colour made it look hospital apparatus. The sun lounger I was lying on was definitely not hospital issue, though. It was far too comfy.

  The evening sun was glaring down and reflecting back at me from all the white. I rolled my head back on the lounger to follow the line of the windbreaker. It led all the way behind me and along the other side, making a squished horseshoe shape.

  “Bridget?”

  “Petal will be so upset we’re both dead,” I said, turning back to Oz and blinking a couple more times until he came into focus again.

  “You’re not dead, Bridget,” Oz said. “Watson shot at you but the bullet just grazed you.”

  “Grazed me?”

  Oz placed a hand on my bare leg. I know he did because I could see it resting on my thigh. I just couldn’t feel it. Just above his thumb was an incredibly angry, raised gash that looked like it had been stitched closed by a blind person wielding the needle with their toes. He briefly stroked his thumb underneath the gash just in case I hadn’t seen it. It was unnecessary. I had definitely seen it.

  Just looking at the stitches made me woozy. At least I couldn’t feel it. I frowned at my bare leg, momentarily confused as to how it was bare. I fingered the flapping material. The butcher who’d stitched me up must have slit the leg of my jumpsuit. All the way up to my hipbone. Another jumpsuit ruined. Though I supposed since it was already covered in blood there wasn’t going to be much saving it anyway.

  “No more shorts in the summer for me,” I said with a sigh. “But since all I have are these jumpsuits I suppose it doesn’t matter.” I shook my head and immediately regretted the movement. “I had amazing legs.”

  “You have amazing legs, Bridget.” Oz fingers curled around the inside of my thigh as his thumb stroked just underneath the stitches again. I couldn’t decide if I was happy or annoyed that I couldn’t feel it. Probably best that I couldn’t feel it. I was woozy enough as it was. “And I’ll get you some shorts.”

  “And some mascara?”

  Oz smiled and slowly took his hand from my leg. “I’m going to take that as a sign you’re feeling better.”

  “Is that a no? ’Cause, I don’t know if you noticed,” I said and pointed to my leg, “but I’ve been shot.”

  “I did notice.” Oz rubbed at his chest as if he were in pain and I suddenly noticed his T-shirt was filthy. Somehow his hands were clean, though.

  “What’ve you been doing?” I asked, pointing to his top.

  “When you weren’t where you were supposed to be I figured there must’ve been a … delay with the assessment, so I came through the tunnels to get you.”

  “In flip-flops?” I gestured to his nearly completely black feet.

  He nodded. “In flip-flops.”

  “Because there was a delay?”

  “Where you’re concerned a delay could be anything. Alien invasion. Zombie apocalypse. Mass murder.”

  I conceded the point with a silent nod. I stared at the mountainous ridge of a bullet wound on my leg. “So, I’m not dead.”

  “No more dead than you were this morning.”

  “Are you sure?” I rubbed my chest. I could still feel an echo of the pain. Made me wonder if Oz had felt it. “Because I was pretty
convinced I was dying.”

  “Sabrina said.” Oz’s mouth kicked up into a smile but it quickly faded. “She also said you were clutching at your chest when you blacked out. The doctor couldn’t find any problems with you when he checked you over.”

  I stared at him. “You let him check me over when I was unconscious?”

  Oz interlaced his fingers and leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “I was here the whole time.”

  “The whole time he was ruining another jumpsuit,” I mumbled.

  “The whole time he was stitching you back together and making sure you were okay,” he corrected. “So what happened?”

  “I don’t know,” I said. Oz tilted his head to the side as if listening to his emotional radar. I reached out and placed my hand over his to get his attention. “I’m telling the truth. I don’t know. Believe me, okay? I hate it when you check up on me.”

  Oz searched my face for a long moment. “I hate it when you lie to me.”

  “I’m not.”

  “This time.”

  “I’ve given our situation some thought,” I said as I took my hand back and rested it on my numb leg. It was weird that my hand could feel my leg but my leg couldn’t feel my hand.

  His eyebrows inched up slightly and I couldn’t tell if it was amusement or suspicion. “Is that right?”

  “It’s obvious we both need something from the other. You need me to be honest with you and I need you to provide me with stuff. So, how about, every time you ask me a question I’ll tell you the truth if you promise not to check on me with your emotional radar and if you promise not to punish me if you don’t like the answer and if you promise to fulfil a request for each question.”

  Oz blew out a breath. “That’s a demanding bargain.”

  “I’m a demanding girl.”

  “How about if you tell me the truth during the entire conversation, which I can check with my emotional radar if I choose to,” Oz said and held up his finger to shush me before I could interject, “you can have one thing off your ever increasing list.”