December, 1999

Eddie frowned in the silence. He was only partially paying attention to Fred and Suzie's something-th lover's spat. It's still morning isn't it? And we're in the middle of the first floor hallway... Which has windows at both ends... So why is it so dark?

He found his opportunity to ask when Fred finally stopped talking, and Suzie didn't reply. "Hey guys?"

"What?" Syd snapped.

"Why's it so dark?"

"Because someone turned off the lights, dumbass," Tom told him.

Eddie shook his head. "No, I mean. Why isn't the sun shining through the windows?"

{ { o } }

Syd suddenly felt very stupid. How did I not think of this? How did Eddie of all people, notice it before the rest of us?

It suddenly occurred to her that maybe Eddie wasn't as stupid as he acted. Childish, without a doubt, but stupid...

She wasn't so sure anymore.

"Should we check the windows?" She asked, uncertain.

"No!"

Syd's head snapped towards the sound, even though she couldn't see who it was. Still, it wasn't exactly difficult to recognize the voice as Suzanne's. Syd frowned. "Why?"

"Because she wants us to." Again with that 'she' business. That didn't answer Syd's question. If anything, she was more confused. What the fuck kind of drug was Suzanne even on? And why had Syd never heard of it?

"Who. Is. She?" Fred demanded.

His demand was at first met with silence. Not that this surprised anyone, but the silence didn't last.

That, in and of itself, was a surprise.

"The ghost."

{ { o } }

Eddie's mind at first rebelled against this.

There's no such thing as ghosts!

That was a thing for horror stories and nights around the campfire. Something that made you bug your parents every night because you just knew that there was something in the dark waiting to eat you. It was all fiction. Make believe. Pretend. Not reality.

Except...

He swallowed, thinking it over. He'd always been a 'real things' sort of guy. He liked things he could touch and see, things that were tangible.

Things that could be logically explained.

Like numbers. He'd always been real good with numbers, even if he never did the homework. Money, finances, taxes... That shit he understood. That was real, that was the life he knew his parents would inevitably leave him. And he accepted that.

Hell, if he was stuck with it, he planned to do a damn good job of it. Later. When it was actually his business. Pun intended.

But that was all real.

That was all normal.

This... Well, it wasn't normal, and he sure as hell wished it wasn't real.

How did that rhyme go?

'If wishes were horses, beggars would ride'?

Is that right? It sounded right on the nose. Not that he could remember the rest of it. A ghost, he thought. "There's no such thing as ghosts," he said.

"You're wrong," Suzie told him. Not snapped. Not snarled, or growled, or anything like that. She merely stated it, like it was a fact. In that moment, he caught a glimpse of the cool-headed woman she would one day be, though he didn't know it then.

He swallowed. "You really know how to make a guy feel better, Suzie."

"Wait wait wait. Lemme get this straight," Syd said. "You're telling us that the one who killed Tru and Mr. Hougan is, in fact, dead. And that they — she, whatever — are expecting us to make a run for it."

Silence.

"So now what?" Tom demanded. "Ghost or otherwise, what are we supposed to do? Sit here and wait for that psycho maniac to come kill us?"

"What about the roof," Eddie suggested. When no one said anything, he added, "Just an idea."

"No," Fred snapped. "I'm not going anywhere, not yet. I want to know how you know. None of this makes any sense."

It required no stretch of the imagination to know that Fred was talking to Suzie. And Eddie didn't blame him. He wanted to know what was going on too, at least so long as it kept his mind off of what he'd seen in Mr. Hougan's—

Just stop right there. No need to relive that.

{ { o } }

I can't. I can't tell them. I can't tell anyone. I'm a freak, people dislike me enough as it is. I can't tell them. I can't. Not now, not ever. I can't, they'll hate me. Or use me. I can't.

Suzanne's thoughts kept running in circles around her head. All her fears, her insecurities, her anxiety... And it all kept coming back to that same thing.

I can't, I can't, I can't!

"Why?"

Suzanne jolted. How much of that had she said aloud? Her face burned, and for a brief moment she was grateful for the suffocating darkness. Then they couldn't see her embarrassment.

"Why, Suzanne?" Fred snapped.

She took a deep breath, and she realized that she was trembling. Everything was moving too fast. There was too much going on, with the deaths and the fear and Fred's secret... She needed a calm place, a quiet place, where she could slow her mind and think. She needed to be alone. Except she didn't dare, not with that killer flitting about having the time of her afterlife.

She was taking her time, Suzanne knew. Killing one at a time, relishing each bloody death, reveling in their terror and panic.

I never had this much fun, even when I was alive. Zeh kime'att matsekhiq.

Suzanne scowled. Great, she thought. Now the Jewish bitch is in my head. She shook those random thoughts loose. Focus. One thing at a time.

She knew that the ghost would have one eye on the doors and the other on the windows. After a fashion anyway, she seemed able to divide her attention to cover almost the whole school. Her main focus, as mentioned, was the exits. She knew her prey would try to escape, and like a spider in its web, if she felt a twitch from one direction, she'd pounce on the source. Then she would proceed to trap it and suck it dry.

Because that's what she did: she killed. And she loved it.

Look at the little copper-skinned doll, trembling on the floor like a blubbering fool. I didn't even have to touch this one, her ankle gave out. I can't decide if that takes the fun out of it or if it makes it more fun. Well, she's not going anywhere, let's see what Cliff is up to. Mm. Still trying to empty his stomach, disgusting. And there's the wannabe-minx, trying to break through the window. Now that's entertaining. Let's see, who else do we have? Dan's hiding, and Alan — Oh? It seems some of them managed to stay together. Aw, that's adorable.

What were their names again? Thomas, Edward, hm... Ah! Sydney and Frederick, and... You!? What are you doing!?

Something slapped Suzanne in the face, hard. She swayed backwards a step, her breath leaving her in a sharp gasp. But then she couldn't inhale, couldn't breathe. It was like her lungs had forgotten how to work. Her limbs weakened, her head began to pound, and her vision spotted over.

And then finally she managed to take a long, scathing breath.

She could sense Fred's frustration, his fear. She could sense the barely stifled panic of the others. Though they had calmed somewhat, having been given time to let their rational mind assert at least a little control. She swallowed. She didn't want to tell them.

But she wanted to die even less.

God, she thought, how do I end up in these situations?

She could feel the ghost's shocked attention focusing on their little group, Suzanne in particular. She could feel the interest, the curiosity. The ghost had never encountered someone like Suzanne before.

I need to keep her out, Suzanne thought. How do I do that? Even if she knew how, the ghost was too powerful to block out completely.

So... What to do?

The only knowledge she had at her disposal had all come from fantasy or paranormal fiction. Back when she'd first discovered her abilities and thought it was cool. Until she'd touched the hand of an ex-con, that is. Not to mention the nightmares and fear that followed.

But those books had all been fiction, she didn't know if any of the tricks they'd used in the stories would have any effect in reality. Still. It was that or sit there and wait for the ghost to come kill them.

Her decision made, Suzanne reached blindly into the darkness, her hand bumping into what felt like Fred's jacket sleeve. She latched onto it, and he twitched, but she didn't let go. "Everyone link hands," she said, focusing on that ever-ebbing calm that was Fred's emotions. How much time had passed since he'd demanded to know 'why'? A few seconds? A few minutes? When Suzanne was mucking around in her own head, she could never keep track of time, let alone when she was in someone else's head.

"Why?" Someone — Eddie? — echoed Fred's earlier question.

"Because you all want answers, and I know you all want to get out of the hallway."

There were no further questions. She heard some shuffling around, a few 'whose hand am I holding's and a couple 'goddamnit, don't crush my fingers'.

"If anyone isn't holding two different people's hands, better say so."

"I'm only holding one hand," Tom said.

Neither was Suzanne, but she'd expected as much. "Okay, so you're one end of the chain, I'm the other. Let's start walking. This way," and she tugged on Fred's sleeve, her other hand trailing along the wall. A plan was forming in her mind. It was simple, and temporary, and likely not going to work. But what the hell?

She took a deep breath.

I hope this works...