The Dead Ones (Death Herself book 3)
“I must have counted it twenty times since I left the house after dinner, but I figure it's a good way to clear my head. It's late, and the whole town seems subdued tonight, as if everyone's holding their breath.
“You getting on or not?” asks the driver.
Looking up, I see that he's waiting impatiently.
“Yeah,” I tell him, making my way up the steps. “Just out to Cotton Road.”
“Huh.” He eyes me with a hint of disapproval. “That's a busy stop tonight. Kind of morbid, if you ask me....”
Checking my watch, I see that it's a little after 9pm. “Yeah,” I mutter. “Morbid.”
As I take a seat, I glance around and see that there are several other people making the same journey. One of them is tapping excitedly at his phone, and I recognize him as a guy from school who thinks he's this big-shot citizen journalist. A little further back, there's a woman whose daughter was paralyzed in the shooting, and when she glances at me I can see the anger in her eyes still.MoreLess
“You getting on or not?” asks the driver.
Looking up, I see that he's waiting impatiently.
“Yeah,” I tell him, making my way up the steps. “Just out to Cotton Road.”
“Huh.” He eyes me with a hint of disapproval. “That's a busy stop tonight. Kind of morbid, if you ask me....”
Checking my watch, I see that it's a little after 9pm. “Yeah,” I mutter. “Morbid.”
As I take a seat, I glance around and see that there are several other people making the same journey. One of them is tapping excitedly at his phone, and I recognize him as a guy from school who thinks he's this big-shot citizen journalist. A little further back, there's a woman whose daughter was paralyzed in the shooting, and when she glances at me I can see the anger in her eyes still.MoreLess
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