Uninvited: An Unloved Ones Prequel #2 (The Unloved Ones Prequels) (6 page)

Mr. Goldstein is ramming his shoulder into the door. The wood cracks down the center.

“That is all.”

I let go of the button, and pull the cord from the wall. Outside I can hear the sounds of chaos erupting. I swing the microphone by the cord, and smash it against the desk. At the same moment, the door crashes open. Mr. Goldstein has broken his way through, but it is too late. He reaches for the microphone, and presses the button.

“Students,” he shouts, “students!”

But it does no good. He’s too distracted to stop me from slipping past him and back into the secretary’s office. The secretary is hiding under her desk, I’m not sure why. Obviously, my claims are false. She has the phone to her ear, and I’m sure she’s calling 9-1-1. Outside the door is a wall of students flowing out toward the school exits. The sound of the thousands of panicked teenagers is deafening. It fills the space so completely that the secretary has to shout into her phone, and even then I’m pretty sure she’s repeating herself in vain. I reach down and put on Becka’s coat, which is still in the waiting room chair.

Then I walk toward the open door. The security guard is nowhere in sight. Mr. Goldstein, giving up his attempts to use the microphone, lunges forward to grab me.

“Not today,” I say, and duck out of his reach.

I step forward into the stream of students, and they carry me away.

The school empties out faster than any fire drill could ever hope for.

I am dragged by the crowd out the front steps to the lawn of the school, a dead half-block of grass still covered with patches of snow. I have pulled the hood of my coat over my head, and so far no one has recognized me. It’s not that I wouldn’t want Becka torn apart by an angry mob. I just don’t want to be in her when that happens.

Besides, I need to look for Todd.

I make my way through the crowd, pushing and shoving. Teachers are milling about with the students, and the entire crowd tries to put distance between itself and the school. There is fear in everyone’s eyes, and I overhear the word “bomb” repeatedly.

“Across the street!” I hear Mrs. Paisley yell. She has taken off her scarf, and waves it above her head like a flag. “Everyone, across the street.”

Traffic has stopped at both ends of the street, and the mass of bodies floods out into it.

“Onto to the sidewalk!” Mr. Tandy yells at a group of students. They must be his class. “Keep the street clear.”

I bet he wishes he had his whiskey now.

Even the security guard that stopped me is out here, standing on the far end of the street, waving her hands and directing traffic, both vehicular and human.

But I don’t see Todd.

I cross the street with everyone else. I can see my breath in the air, and other people are shivering, but I don’t feel the cold. Once across the street, the crowd’s fear turns to nervous excitement. I hear Becka’s name mentioned, and I pull the hood tighter around me. More than five minutes has passed. Sirens wail in the distance, and the crowd’s confidence surges.

This is, until a girl screams out.

I turn, and Shelly is pointing at me. “It’s her! It’s Becka!”

There’s no use pretending anymore. I pull down my hood, and throw the jacket to the ground. Nobody pounces on me. Just the opposite: everyone backs away in terror, and I stand tall in the center of the throng. The tension in the air is so thick it feels charged with static, and I feed off of it.

Maybe Mr. Tandy was right. Maybe I am an attention hog.

I hold up a hand, and everyone silences. I can see goose bumps on Becka’s skin, but the air feels fine to me. I don’t know what to say, what the most destructive words would be. So instead I decide to speak the truth.

“I am a threat to you all. I do not deserve to live. I am a despicable human being who should be shunned and—”

“Becka?” interrupts a voice from the back. I look up, and pushing his way through the crowd is Todd. My legs grow weak at the sight of him, and he rushes forward to embrace.

“Oh, Becka!” he says, hugging me to his chest. “Becka, I’m here. It’s okay now.”

It feels wonderful for a split second, and then I hear the sirens, and the moment wilts into something ugly. I push Todd away.

“Don’t you get it?” I scream at him. “I’m a mess. A terrible person. You should be scared of me.”

Todd looks at me with nothing but patience. The crowd doesn’t share his maturity, however, and back away as I near them, leaving me at the curb of the sidewalk with no one behind me toward the street.

“But you’re not a terrible person,” Todd says, stepping forward. “You shouldn’t say that about yourself.”

“You should be with someone like Jackie!” I shout. “She’s good for you.”

Todd shakes his head. “I could never be with someone like her. She’s too…
perfect
.” He says it like it’s an insult. “Don’t you know, Becka? It’s because you’re such a mess that I like you.” He steps forward, trying to get near me again, and I back further away to the curb. “Not like you. I
love
you.”

My hands go to my head and I tear at my hair. “No!” I scream.

“Yes,” Todd yells back. He has to yell over the car horns that are blaring behind us. “I love you, Becka!”

I shake my head, and turn toward the street. There’s a fire truck speeding from the left, its horn blaring, warning people to get out of the way as it runs the red light. My eyes are wide.

He loves her?
He loves her?

I feel Becka fighting what I’m about to do from inside me, but it’s too late. The fire truck is nearing. Todd hears the horn, and reaches out a hand to stop me. I step onto the street. I face the oncoming fire truck head on, and see the brakes smoking as the driver tries to slow the truck. He waves his arms for me to get out of the way, but I won’t budge.

“Becka!” Todd shouts. He jumps out from the curb, wrapping his arms around me. He’s trying to push me out of the way.

But he’s too late.

The truck hits me.

The truck hits both of us.

I wake up screaming in my own bed.

My whole body is shaking, and the bed is wet with sweat. I can’t breathe. I’m coughing, struggling to get air into my lungs. But with the first taste of oxygen, I feel sick. I lean over, and vomit profusely onto the floor.

I am sobbing as I stumble out of bed, stepping in my own mess. I don’t care. There’s no time. I walk through the house, and to the front door.

It can’t be real. It can’t be real. Please, don’t let it be real.

The door is locked, and I unlock it. I step outside, and the cold air nips at my skin. It is deathly cold, and I start to shiver. Nevertheless, I walk outside in my bare feet, over my lawn and out into the street.

“A dream,” I choke. “It has to be a dream.” But even as I am sobbing, I know it’s not.

The school is less than a mile away.

I can hear the sirens from here.

Coming Soon
 

We hope you have enjoyed reading
Uninvited
, and invite you to return for the next installment of
The Unloved Ones Prequels
:

Also By Kevin Richey
 

Kevin Richey's
Zombie Fairy Tales
is a series of short stories set in a dark fairy tale universe plagued by zombies. Surreal and full of black humor, installments feature familiar childhood characters as they encounter a world of stark violence and horror—Cinderella is worked to death before the ball, Pinocchio is made from children's corpses, and Little Red Riding Hood finds more than wolves in the forest.

The series features overlapping elements, characters, and places for a more immersive experience for the dedicated fan, but can also be read as stand-alone entries in any order.

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