After Life

by Jacquie Underdown

  Zoe laughed. Theron’s easiness worked through her muscles and mind, soothing her paranoia. Perhaps she imagined the whole scenario this morning. Rhianna may hold a grudge against her for kissing Theron, simple as that. Nothing more.

  “I shouldn’t complain about your classes. I’m on my way to history to learn about the French Revolution,” he said.

  Zoe screwed her face up. “Horrible. Why did we choose these subjects again?”

  Theron grinned, his eyes shining under the hallway lights. “I’m starting to wonder myself.”

  They strolled side by side down the long hall and out the door to the grassed courtyard. “Which way you headed?” he asked.

  Zoe pointed at the building across from them.

  “I’m over here,” he said, nodding at the big red-bricked building they had their orientation gathering in that first day. She hid a cringe when she thought about what she encountered in that building. Her gaze scattered around Theron for the boy. Again, he wasn’t there.

  Perhaps he was not connected to Theron like she initially assumed. But as she had the thought, a fast moving blur flickered out the corner of her eye. She chased it with her stare, trying to lock on to something.

  Nothing was there.

  “Okay, I guess I’ll see you round,” she said.

  “Actually,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck. “Are you doing anything after class?”

  “I was going to head to the library to do some revision. Don’t want to fall behind.”

  “I had the same thought.” He so obviously hadn’t, but she was flattered. “I’ll meet you there?”

  A smile played across her lips. “It’ll be nice to have company.”

  He grinned wider now. “Great. See you later.”

  She waved and started across the courtyard, her belly flipping and cheeks warming the entire way.

  ◆◆◆

  The Hampshire Co-Ed library filled an entire building. It was two tiers of mahogany timber shelves stacked with rows of books from floor to ceiling. The smell conjured thoughts of time passing.

  Zoe sat with Theron at one of the many small timber tables on the lower floor, lit by a dim side-lamp. She was staring at her iPad, reading and re-reading each line of her biology textbook, over and over again, but unable to grasp a single word.

  How could she possibly absorb anything when Theron was sitting across from her?

  Now and then, she’d feel his stare, look up, and catch a smile. Studying with a hungry shark might have been a better option.

  He leaned closer across the table and whispered, “Finding that interesting?”

  Zoe shook her head. “Not really. How about you?”

  He shrugged. “Not really. Keep thinking about stuff, rather than studying.”

  She wanted to ask what stuff? To see if it was the same stuff she’d been thinking about. Namely, his hot mouth pressed hard against hers.

  Pressure against her ankle—Theron’s foot. He met her gaze, and there was an intense heat in his eyes. His foot gently played with her foot. Blood ebbed and flowed in her body, pooled between her legs and tingled at the tips of her breasts. It amazed her to feel such scorching sensations after almost two years of her perceptions blunted by medications.

  Before another thought could pass her mind, the lights went out, and the room was plunged into darkness, so black she couldn’t see her hand in front of her face.

  She gasped and frantically looked around for something other than blinding emptiness.

  What the hell is going on?

  Soft murmurs and gulps from the other students echoed throughout the otherwise silent library. Zoe stayed still in her chair. Her breaths were coming faster.

  She hated the dark. It petrified her not knowing what was around her. She’d much rather know what she was dealing with.

  Her heart was racing. “Theron?” she squeaked.

  But no answer, instead she felt something creeping around her neck.

  Hands.

  Long fingers found their way around her throat.

  She clawed and tugged at them, but the fingers squeezed tighter. A scream lodged in her throat, unable to find an exit. She could barely draw in a breath.

  Then the lights flashed on with a wheeze and a flicker. She jolted in her chair, trying to adjust her eyes to the bright glow, and looked to see what was there.

  A ghostly man with dark hair and dark eyes was beside her, his hands around her throat. Blood dripped from his skull.

  Zoe screamed, jerked out of her chair and fell to the floor. She scrambled backward, legs and arms scampering, desperate to get away, but he kept coming closer, forcing her back into a corner.

  Another scream.

  Theron rushed to her side, hand on her shoulder. “It’s okay.” He turned to the man, stared directly at him.

  Can he see him as well?

  “Fuck off, Daniel! You’re scaring her!” he yelled.

  Zoe looked from Theron to the man and back to Theron. She scrubbed trembling hands over her face. “What?”

  “It’s just Daniel being a dick,” he said. “It’s okay.”

  With wide eyes, heart still racing, she peered back at the pale man. He was laughing, and she could see now that it was Daniel. White makeup along with an impressive, but pretend, weeping wound had been applied to his face.

  “This is a…a practical joke?” she stammered. Her lips were trembling, and tears were threatening. She blinked quickly because no way was she crying in front of all these people.

  Theron nodded. “A fucking mean practical joke.” His voice was acidic.

  Zoe shook her head and clambered to her feet. Her legs were weak, shaky. She dusted off her jeans. “A joke?” she repeated, but her aching throat strangled her words. “This is all just a joke.” Rage blistered a path through her body. Her cheeks flamed.

  Rhianna stood beside Daniel. She was laughing hard; tears were wetting her eyes. “I told you she’s a nutcase…thinks she can see ghosts.”

  The old, plump librarian rushed toward them. “What’s going on here? You’re all to leave right this minute!”

  Theron reached out to take Zoe’s hand, but she snapped her arm away, unable to look at him. “Some joke,” she said, then whirled and marched quickly out of the library.

  Outside, she ran across the courtyard, down the front lawn toward the girls’ dormitory. Her lungs burned from running, her chest ached from betrayal.

  How humiliating. How utterly soul destroying.

  Even more so because she screamed and shook like a child, and because she thought that Theron genuinely liked her. But, instead, he lured her to the library like she was lion bait.

  And Rhianna! She wanted to punch Rhianna in her laughing face until her fist hurt. How dare she dredge all this up? She had no right to Zoe’s past. None.

  Now how was she ever going to show her face at school again?

  Chapter 6

  Zoe was sitting in the living room on the lounge watching the television when Asher arrived back.

  “What happened to you today?” Asher asked.

  Zoe shook her head. “Nothing.”

  “Nothing? Like hell it was nothing. The entire school was rampant with rumour. Is it true? Can you see the dead?” Eagerness filled Asher’s every word.

  “Of course not,” Zoe said meekly. “It was some stupid arsehole dressed up as a dead person. It scared me.”

  Asher sat down beside her and sighed. “If it were true, you’d hit the top of my Most Interesting List.” She shook her head. “Damn, I hoped all the way back here that it was true.”

  Zoe didn’t say anything right away. She wasn’t the best liar under usual circumstances and while she was emotionally distraught, she was even worse.

  Asher’s eyes were wide. Excitement shaped her features. “Oh. My. God. You can, can’t you? Can’t you? Tell me the truth?”

  Zoe sighed, and her shoulders hunched. What did it matter anymore? By now, everyone would believe that she could,
so what was the point of dragging this out?

  She pushed to her feet, hands on her hips. “You know what? Yes. Fine. I can. I can see spirits. There you go. Happy now? What do you think about that?” Her breaths were heavy as she awaited Asher’s response.

  “Fuck yeah,” Asher shrieked, clapping her hands and springing from the lounge. She took both of Zoe’s hands in hers and spun her around in a circle.

  Zoe watched Asher through narrowed eyes. When she stopped, Zoe said, “It’s not that exciting. Believe me.”

  Asher released her hands and sat down again. Her leg bounced up and down, and she couldn’t wipe the smile off her face. “So, like, what happens exactly?”

  “There’s not much to explain. I see spirits as though they are as real as you and me.”

  Asher looked around the small dorm with wide eyes. “And what about now? Is there a spirit with us now?”

  Zoe shook her head.

  “Damn,” Asher said, slapping her thigh.

  Zoe sat beside her. “Asher, I can see that this is really exciting for you, but, honestly, this has made my life a living hell. My parents thought I was mentally ill, so much so they had me hospitalised. I’ve been on every psych drug available to treat everything from schizophrenia to psychosis. I was…” her throat tightened as her past plucked the present’s strings. “I was bullied. I’ve not been able to have real friendships with people.” She scrubbed her hands over her face. “It’s been rough.”

  Asher frowned and wrapped her arm around Zoe. “I didn’t realise … didn’t know. I’m sorry.”

  Zoe shook her head. “I didn’t want anyone to know. I wanted things to be how they used to be before all this started to happen.”

  “How old were you when it began?”

  “Fifteen.” The memory of that night, the first time she ever saw a spirit, was so fresh in her mind, it could have happened yesterday. She told Asher how she was alone one night, her parents and brothers had gone out and weren’t home until late, and she had fallen asleep in front of the television in the living room.

  Something thudded against her nose, cold like an ice-cube, hard enough to hurt.

  Zoe dragged her eyelids open, anticipating the kind face of her father as he woke her to go up to bed. But she found something else.

  Feet.

  Zoe blinked.

  Pale feet hung in front of her face, swinging subtly in the air, hitting her nose with stiff, icy toes.

  She gasped.

  Her heart thumped hard and fast, yet her muscles solidified, holding her in place. The odour of stinking flesh found her nostrils and curled in her belly.

  Zoe’s wide gaze worked upwards: bone white legs mottled with thick blue veins; a long cream shift, damp and loose around swollen shins; dark hair drooping around a girl’s pallid face.

  Dead.

  Blue and black smudges rimmed the girl’s eyes and tarnished the flesh around her neck where the thick noose squeezed tightly. Her head lolled downwards, eyes closed, facing Zoe.

  Dead. Dead. Dead.

  Zoe jerked her knees up and staggered along the couch like a cornered crab, unwilling to turn her gaze too long from the girl dangling from the ceiling fan.

  Breaths were hard to draw in. A dull hum echoed in her ears.

  She searched the living room for an escape route, head jerking back and forth, then peered up at the girl’s white face.

  The lights flickered and dimmed overhead, and the girl’s eyes snapped open.

  Glaring down at Zoe, she bleated, “Help me!”

  Zoe’s breath wheezed from her lungs. Her heart hammered hard. She looked into the girl’s bloodshot eyes, the irises faded to ghostly grey, and a long shiver coiled up her spine.

  “Help me!” The shrill voice of the girl painfully vibrated Zoe’s eardrums.

  Zoe screamed until her chest could burst and her throat was raw. She lurched from the couch and sprinted to the staircase at the back of the living room. Not looking back, she threw her hands over her ears and ran up the stairs, two, three, at a time.

  She tripped at the top and busted her knee against the edge of the stair. As pain bit hard, she groaned.

  “Help me!”

  This can’t be happening. This can’t be real.

  Zoe’s knee throbbed, but she didn’t falter. She dragged herself to her feet and bounded upwards. At the landing, she didn’t slow, too afraid the pale-eyed ghost was creeping close behind her, long claws ready to scratch at her ankles.

  She skidded around the corner, sprinted to her bedroom, and slammed the door shut. Feet barely touching the ground, she leapt onto the bed and yanked her duvet over her head and the pillow over her ears to drown out the horrible screeching.

  Zoe explained to Asher how the girl remained for months and months afterwards moaning that she needed help. Then other spirits appeared in parks, shopping centres and even followed her at school.

  “So when you moved here, the spirits didn’t follow?” Asher asked.

  “I don’t think so.”

  Asher narrowed her eyes. “How don’t you know?”

  “If I ignore the spirits, they gradually fade away.”

  “Fade away,” Asher repeated and looked off into the distance. “Where do you think they fade to?”

  Zoe shrugged. “Don’t know.”

  “Do you think they may fade out of existence?”

  A shiver ran up the length of Zoe’s spine. “I hope so.”

  Asher stared at her for a long moment.

  Zoe shifted in her chair. “What?”

  “I desperately want to study, probe, question, prick and examine you. I was going to do a twenty-four-hour challenge in an abandoned hospital for new content on my blog, but now I can base it on you instead.”

  Zoe shook her head, pulled out of Asher’s arms and stood. “No way. I’m not a lab rat. I spent enough time being prodded and questioned by so-called professionals. I won’t do it again.” Her tone was hard, her words were clipped.

  Asher lifted her hands up. “Fine. I get it—”

  “And I understand where you’re coming from too. I know how much this interests you, but I’m tired of being examined. I just want to be normal.”

  Asher frowned. “I’m not sure that’s something you could ever be.”

  Zoe sighed and sat down again. “Of course I can. As long as small-minded bitches called Rhianna stop digging up my past.”

  “You can’t hide what’s inherently you.”

  Zoe shrugged. “Maybe not, but I’m sure as hell going to try. So you can’t tell anyone about what I just said. And you definitely can’t put anything on your website. Promise me?”

  Asher didn’t answer right away.

  “Promise?” she repeated louder. “Not your teachers, not your friends, no one.”

  Asher nodded. “Fine. Your secret is safe with me.”

  ◆◆◆

  Asher opened Zoe’s bedroom door the next morning. Zoe covered her head with a pillow and groaned. She’d barely slept all night. Her mind wouldn’t shut down. She kept replaying the incident in the library and how she could have handled it better—firstly by not freaking out.

  “Don’t you have a little thing called class to get to?” Asher asked.

  “I’m not going.”

  “Bullshit. Get up. You’re not going to end up cleaning toilets for a living because of some arsehole students who have nothing remarkable happen in their lives, so they have to fuck up others’ for a little excitement. Head up. Be proud to be different. Because I’m jealous as hell.”

  Zoe pulled the pillow off her head and looked at Asher with her black skinny jeans, boots and black jacket. She wore dark red lipstick today and ripped black gloves. If anyone was proud of being different, it was Asher.

  Was she truly jealous of Zoe, though?

  “I don’t want to be different. That’s the entire point of me moving here.” In truth, Zoe would love for it all to go away, all the things she could see to vanish, never to retur
n. And then she could go on with living her life, not worrying about the dead.

  “Fine, Super Freak. Then be a sheep. Just make sure you're a sheep while continuing with school. But, either way, I’ll know the truth and still think you’re the most interesting person I’ve ever met.”

  “Did you just call me Super Freak?”

  “Yep. And you better get used to it because from now on that’s your name.”

  Zoe smiled.

  “That’s more like it,” Asher said, grinning. “Now get up, Super Freak, you’ve got ten minutes before we’re leaving.”

  ◆◆◆

  Marching down the hall to her form class, Zoe spotted Theron with his shoulder leaning against the wall near the only door into the room. The little boy was standing beside him with wide dead eyes.

  “Damn it,” she mumbled when Theron’s gaze met hers. She could turn around and walk away or she could get this over and done with.

  Seeing Theron standing there, waiting for her, a memory was sparked. She’d experienced almost the same scenario back at her old high school.

  Parker, her first and last boyfriend, stood against her locker in the school hall. His arms were crossed over his chest, and he had a scowl on his face that she had never seen before, especially not one directed at her.

  A week earlier, she had broken down in the science lab when a spirit of a misogynistic old man taunted her during class, telling her all the things he was going to do with her vagina—though that wasn’t the word he used.

  Zoe walked up to Parker, unsure why he was looking that way, with such intense disdain in his eyes, and all the while hoping he was directing it at someone other than her. But when she stood before him, and his face didn’t soften like it usually did, she knew he was angry at her.

  His eyes glossed, and his lips trembled slightly as though he was on the verge of tears. He leaned in close, familiar, like he would when they were about to kiss, but there was no tenderness today.

  His words hissed from his mouth like a serpent’s insult, ‘Why didn’t you tell me you were crazy? How do you think this makes me look now?”

  All the air rushed from her lungs like she was a balloon that had exploded under an enormous weight.