Bring Out Your Dead

by Kim Cormack

  Owen said nothing in response. If she threatened her, one of the entities would undoubtedly take it upon themselves to help her, exact her revenge. She knew the drill. She wanted to say, I had a bath last night, you ignorant witch! But she didn’t dare. Her stomach cramped, followed by a wave of nausea. This would be horrible timing for a stomach flu. She’d never live it down if she vomited in front of these two. Why hadn’t she gone home sick after her horrific morning? What was she trying to prove? Another wave of nausea washed over her. It was probably just nervous energy caused by the negativity in the room.

  Her ignorance hadn’t been rewarded by a reaction so Janice took another shot at her, “You should really try using some deodorant Owen. It’s called being polite.”

  In Owen’s imagination, she grabbed a ruler and smoked the evil bully Janice in the head with it. She smiled as another cramp tightened in the pit of her stomach. She should just get up and go. She hadn’t done anything wrong. No…she had to wait until Miss Conner came back from the washroom. She’d tell her she wasn’t feeling good. She’d explain that it really was Darth Vader that gave her the black eye this morning. Maybe if she just gave her the details she would understand that she was telling the truth?

  Derek grumbled, “Just be quiet Janice. You’re the one that got us all in trouble. You could have just kept your mouth shut. Owen likes my birdies. Don’t you Owen?”

  There were too many echoing whispers in the room. She couldn’t listen to anyone or anything anymore. Her eye lids felt unusually heavy. She was so exhausted. Why was she so tired? She could make out some of the haunting echoing whispers, ‘Go to sleep. Just go to sleep now.’ Unable to resist, Owen allowed her eyes to close, but only for a second. Ignore them… ignore them. Their opinions are not important. They don't matter. The world went dark…

  Awake

  Janice started tapping her on the shoulder, “Hey Psycho. Wake up. The teacher didn't come back. She locked us in here. I think the powers out.”

  Owen ominously raised her head and said, “You're touching me.” Janice moved away. The room was pitch black. What was going on? Owen stood up. She heard Derek comically grunting. He was obviously attempting to open the door. He kept cursing. The door was locked, this wasn’t brain surgery. There was the sound of rapid footsteps followed by a loud thud. Was he seriously trying to break down the door? He was going to hurt himself. She heard footsteps followed by another loud thump. He began ranting out a list of what must be every curse word he knew. He ran at the classroom door again. What was this moron trying to prove? He had to stop. His stupidity was stifling her whole thought process. As the weight of his body thudded into the door once again she decided to let him carry on with his show of testosterone. What did it matter to her? She calmly took in what little she could of her surroundings. The power appeared to be out. She thought the blinds were open when she came into the room but maybe they weren’t? She couldn’t be certain. She’d been quite distracted. Was the school on lockdown? Maybe it was an after-hours drill? Owen felt her way through the darkness to the window and raised one of her hands to touch the cold metal. It must be a lockdown drill. When had the metal shutters slid over these windows? Why hadn’t she heard it? “Did you guys hear a siren?” Owen questioned as she moved her hands along the oddly icy metal panel that slid over the windows as she exclaimed, “The schools obviously on lockdown.”

  “I didn’t hear anything. I think we were all asleep,” Janice replied as she clunked around by her desk.

  The story didn't make sense? Why were they asleep? She recalled Miss Conner leaving to use the washroom and ignoring the dimwitted commentary. She remembered feeling tired. Maybe she had just randomly fallen asleep? Had they all fallen asleep at the same time? This was very strange. The sounds of Derek running at the door had ceased. She cautiously made her way across the room in the darkness. As she reached the door she heard Derek’s rapid breathing. He was upset. Owen quietly asked, “Did you hurt yourself?”

  He whispered his reply, “Something’s really going on out there.”

  Not much ever happened in their town so that was highly unlikely. Owen placed her ear against the door. She heard the sound of chaos, loud rapid footsteps, slamming and crashing. It was highly unlikely but something was happening. She questioned, “Do either of you have cell phones?”

  “Mine was in my backpack but it’s not under my desk anymore,” Derek replied.

  Owen clarified, “Your backpacks gone?”

  He answered, “It’s not there anymore. I know I had it and that’s where I remember putting it.”

  He probably forgot it in his locker. She knew hers was under her desk. Using only her memory, Owen carefully made her way through the darkness back to her desk. She doubled over as her stomach cramped. What was that? She paused for a second to see if it was going to happen again. When it didn’t, she began rifling around for her backpack. It wasn’t there. What in the hell? She got down on her knees and felt around. Her bag was gone. She accused, “Is this some kind of prank?”

  Janice’s voice sarcastically replied, “Yes... We arranged a lock down with the teacher and gave her all of our bags.”

  She had to be nice. She couldn’t say what she was thinking. Had her deceased frenemies moved their bags? That was completely possible they were always messing with her in some way. She couldn’t ask them. If she opened the connection, she’d open the door to so much more. None of this made sense…How were we all randomly asleep? How is that even possible? Who falls asleep in a group, during a short detention?

  Derek calmly joked, “It's the apocalypse. I bet the place is crawling with dead people.”

  It always was…Owen grinned. She’d rock the zombie apocalypse. She wasn’t afraid of dead people. She was only afraid of what she was capable of making them do. Her world was always crawling with the dead. Finding the humor in their situation, Owen smiled as she replied, “We’re reasonably safe in this room. That’s a sturdy door. We'll be trapped in here until someone lets us out though. I’m pretty sure the lockdown is triggered by a control panel in the office.”

  “So, future archaeologists will probably find our bodies in this room,” Derek commentated in a deep authoritative tone.

  “Not funny!” Janice sparred. “What if we’re being invaded by aliens or it’s some crazy stalker guy obsessed with one of the teachers?”

  Miss Conner could be in trouble. She liked her as a person. Maybe everyone caught rabies and they all went crazy? She’d recently watched a movie like that.

  Something smashed outside of the classroom door. They all startled then nervously giggled.

  “I’m famished,” Derek announced, “I’m going to go check Miss Conner’s desk for snacks. Maybe she has a lighter or a flashlight?” His footsteps shuffled in the dark.

  Janice whispered, “I bet she has a cell phone. Grab me something too.”

  They really weren’t taking this seriously at all. Owen had been quite desensitized by her daily visuals but these two were impressively oblivious. An unplanned lockdown wasn’t a good enough excuse to go into a teacher’s desk to search for snacks. Maybe, if you were starving to death, but not just because you’d been inconvenienced by a lockdown while you were stuck in detention. There was a loud crashing sound outside the door again.

  “What was that?” Janice whispered.

  Owen made her way over to the door, pressed her ear against it. She heard a few whimpering cries.

  Miss Conner’s voice was pleading, “Please don’t hurt them. They’re only children.”

  Owen covered her mouth to stop the sound of her reaction as she gasped. This was really happening. The voices in her head repeated, please… don’t hurt them…please, don’t hurt them. They’re only children. The dead could imitate people’s voices. She knew this…she’d fallen for their tricks before. It had become nearly impossible to tell the difference. Owen stepped away from the door to the sound of approaching footsteps.

  Derek announced, “There
’s a dead cellphone in her desk and a granola bar but no lighter. I didn’t think she was a smoker.”

  “Give me half of that granola bar,” Janice asserted. “We could be stuck in here for a while.”

  They should be quiet.

  Saying his first intelligent thing ever, Derek vocalized her thoughts, “We should be quiet. Owen’s right, we're safe in this room, there’s no way anyone is getting in here until the lockdown is over. You heard me running at the door. We should just sit down, relax and wait it out. Maybe someone got suspended and they’re having a melt down? It’s happened before.”

  “It would make me feel better if we could figure out a way to turn on the lights,” Janice whispered.

  Owen heard the rustling of the granola bars packaging. They were sharing the granola bar as though she were not even in the room. It was quite possible that this wasn’t a drill and something epically messed-up could be going on out there but for these two it wasn’t really happening unless it affected them personally. This made sense considering who they were as people. Her stomach grumbled. Great…for a second she thought maybe they were going to share the granola bar with her and her stomach had leapt on board.

  The voices of the dead whispered, “Look in your pocket.”

  She was hungry now and she wanted to look but it would be the same as answering. She stealthily touched the front pocket of her hoodie and heard the crinkling of a wrapper. Her hoard of ghostly companions always had her back.

  “It’s got to be after four. I bet I’m missing practice,” Derek complained.

  “I had things to do this afternoon too but I guess we can thank Owen for being such a head case,” Janice’s voice bickered.

  Owen had a good excuse for being slightly detached…she’d always had to be. Janice was a horrible person but if she announced her displeasure. Janice would meet with an untimely accident and she didn’t need that on her conscience. She needed to call her mom; she’d be worried about her if she heard there was a lockdown at the high school. Where was her bag? She needed her cell phone. Her mom would still be at work. She sat on one of the desks, thinking up solutions to their predicament that didn’t require her breaking the silence with the dead. It would be much easier if she didn’t have to hide her ability from these two. Neither of them had moved a muscle to help themselves, they just sat in the dark complaining. She wasn’t allowed to complain. One wrong word and somebody would die. The pitch of Miss Conner’s screaming cut through the silence. Her heart caught in her chest. Something large thudded against the classroom door.

  It was real now. They were panicking and crying. She heard footsteps rushing across the room in the direction of the windows. They were trying to escape. They couldn’t. Someone aggressively knocked on the door. They all froze. She could get them out of this but she’d have to admit the truth and if she did, she might lose her fragile grip on reality. Her ghostly frenemies wouldn’t let anything happen to her. They needed her…It was up to her to save these barely redeemable people by sacrificing her sanity.

  The voices of the deceased echoed through the absence of light, “We can help you. We can turn the lights back on. We can get to the office and open the windows. Admit that you hear us. We will make this all go away. We can save you.”

  Owen knew they would do whatever she asked. She had power and she was tired of pretending she didn’t. This false version of her, was only who she pretended to be to slide under the bar of normalcy.

  “We can help you. Admit you can hear us,” the voices whispered.

  She’d been living life as a snuffed-out candle, capable of burning the world alive, yet only puffing smoke into the air. The thumps against the door had become stronger and more frequent.

  Derek whispered, “We have to get out of here.”

  Something enormous thudded into the door almost taking it right off the hinges.

  “The door’s not going to hold!” Janice sobbed. “We have to get out of here!”

  “It’s almost over, the choice is yours…die or survive,” the ominous voices echoed. “Don’t you want to live? Answer us…admit you hear us…”

  Something huge thudded against the door. She couldn’t, she just couldn’t.

  “Oh no! The door’s going to break!” Janice whimpered.

  As the others scurried around terrified and confused, Owen slid down the wall and hugged her knees against her chest as something thumped against the door once again. If she talked to something that wasn’t there in front of these two there would be no more attempting be a normal girl. Something pounded against the door once more, followed by the tinging of metal on linoleum. The fear the others felt was beginning to affect her as the voices only she could hear urged her to admit she could hear them. “I just want to be normal,” she whispered her reply into the darkness. “Why can’t you just let me be normal? Please…please, just leave me alone!” There were too many echoing voices trying to break through. She couldn’t make out what they were trying to say. Something humongous slammed against the door. Derek and Janice were panicking running around the room trying to flee but there was nowhere to go. Owen quietly rose to her feet and took a deep breath. What did she have to lose? For as long as she could remember, the deceased had always been standing there bleeding, pleading their cases. They’d been a plague on her every waking moment. If she was going to be saddled with this gift, curse or whatever the hell it was, this was the moment to use it. Owen whispered, “If you’re going to help us, then just do it. If you all speak at the same time, I can’t understand what you’re saying. One at a time. There’s too many voices.” The pounding ceased.

  “If you start talking to yourself like a psychotic loser, I'll have a mental breakdown!” Janice rudely spat under her breath.

  Derek stayed silent for a moment and then he said the unexpected, “Can you really see dead people?”

  Janice hissed, “Shut up you jerk! Nobody sees dead people except a demon! She’s a damned soul! I know exactly what she is!”

  The girl’s words tapped into her deepest insecurities. Her father had staged an exorcism before she’d gone into the hospital. She’d been confused but not fazed by it. He’d said things like, ‘evil spirits be gone. Save this child from damnation.’ Her father thought she was something evil but she was only a little girl. She played with toys and believed in God. It just so happened that she also played with dead people. Her imaginary friend was not a giraffe or a purple dinosaur. Her imaginary playmate was also a child. A five-year-old boy named Peter with glassy eyes and a slit throat but children aren’t choosy. She’d drawn a picture of them playing one day. It was a hideous picture of Peter in the sandbox with her house and ten other bleeding people standing in the background. The picture hadn’t been a hit with her teacher and parents. This madness was ordinary to her. She hadn’t known everyone else didn’t see these things. The gift became a little too real as people who annoyed her began to have random accidents. She was just a kid with specter backup. Was she damned? Was she a demon destined to burn in the flames of hell? She sure in the hell hoped that wouldn’t be the case.

  Derek came to her defense, “What qualifies you to be anyone's judge and jury? How can you condemn someone and claim to be religious? How do you know she wasn't sent here to save everyone? Science can back up psychic anomalies. She’s just using a larger portion of her brain. I read about it online, they say what she can do is evolution.”

  There was a deafening silence in the room for a minute. The bane of her existence had come to her defense. She wasn’t a psychic but she wasn’t going to argue over terminology. He may have even redeemed himself in the eyes of the dead. Owen could see both sides. She’d only felt evil when her undead friends had begun to sort out her openly verbalized issues with people. Owen hadn’t felt evil while her father had attempted to exercise her demons. She hadn’t screamed or cried out when holy water was thrown on her. The cross he’d laid on her forehead hadn't burned her skin. Her father had judged her and then he’d left
her. Tears trickled slowly down her cheeks. She felt the moisture of the tiny stream as it curved when it reached her chin. She lifted her finger and touched it. She tasted her salty tear as it trickled over her lip. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d allowed herself to cry.

  Derek took her hand as he whispered, “Do whatever you need to do.”

  They heard another loud crash against the door followed by muffled screams. Maybe Miss Conner wasn’t dead. Derek clutched her hand in the darkness as the doors frame began to give. Owen whispered, "We need to hide. I’ll try to find out what’s happening, once we're hidden. It’s hard to understand what they’re saying. The voices echo when they all speak at the same time. What about those sliding cupboards in the back of the room? We can just toss everything out.”

  Derek announced, “Janice, if we can't see you. The silent treatment is obviously not going to work. Whatever is outside the door is coming in. You need to hide.”

  The group began to feel their way along the row of desks until they reached the last one. Owen held her hands out in front of her until she felt her fingers touch the rough wood of the long narrow cupboard that spanned the back of the room. She knelt as she slid it open with both hands and frantically tossed everything out onto the floor. She could hear Derek. He was right beside her rifling things out of the one beside her. She breathed a sigh of relief as she heard the ruckus from further across the room. Janice may not be speaking to them but she could hear her clearing out a cupboard. They each climbed inside and the sound of three cabinet doors sliding shut followed.

  Derek whispered through the thin particle board that separated the two cupboards, “If there’s anything that you can do to help us, now would be the time.”

  The door cracked loudly again as someone or something tried to bust through. The amped up voices echoed and she couldn’t understand what they were trying to tell her. Owen whispered, “If you speak at the same time. I can’t understand you. Your voices are echoing. I know you want me to hear you. Only one of you speak. Tell me what’s happening out there.” Owen was answered by the sound of the spirits whispering amongst themselves.