Static (6 page)

"What the hell is that?" I yelled over the
clamor.

Both Chloe and Jamie regarded me strangely. "What are
you talking about?" Chloe asked.

"That noise. What the hell is it?"

"It's Malice, dummy. It was on your iPod," Jamie
said.

Chloe frowned. "I told him I wasn't sure if you'd
want to listen to it, considering."

"This isn't Malice. It can't be." I took my hands off
my ears and moved toward the iPod dock speakers. All I could hear
was the ear piercing whine of static coming through the tiny
holes.

Then when I strained, really strained, I could hear
whispered words.

You are mine...

You belong to me...

You want me beyond all reason...

You will never love someone as much as you love
me...

And then like a slap in the face, the sting radiated
down my body.

Salem, I know you're listening...

I stumbled backwards. Feet tangled, I tripped over
the pile of shoes and magazines on the floor and ended up on my
ass.

Chloe put out her hand to help me up. "What's the
matter with you?"

I stared at her, the whispered words still caressing
my ears like a lover's fingers. "Shut it off."

She hesitated, a look of concern pinching her already
thin face.

"Shut it off!" I screamed.

Startled by my outburst, Jamie fumbled with the dock
but finally managed to pull the iPod out of it, instantly stopping
the music. He set the device down on my dresser. "Holy shit, Salem.
What's your problem?"

"Leave her alone." Chloe pulled me to my feet and put
an arm around my shoulders. "She's had a rough few days."

Still shaking, I allowed Chloe to guide me to the bed
and sit me down. She sat beside me, her hand rubbing my shoulder. I
appreciated her effort to calm me even if it was completely
pointless. Jamie just stood on the other side of the room staring
at us, unsure of what to say. I couldn't blame him.

Neither of us had told him about the incident after
the Malice gig. All he knew was that I got into it with another
girl and ripped out her nose ring. I didn't want to tell him about
the rest. I still wasn't absolutely sure I'd been raped or
assaulted. I'd definitely been drugged, that much I was positive
about, but the rest was still foggy.

There'd been a few times while I was still in the
hospital where I wanted to ask the doctor if he'd examined all of
me and found anything odd. Or if he'd done a toxicology test on my
blood and found RBH floating around in my system. But I'd been too
embarrassed to ask. It wasn't really a good topic for small talk.
I'd also been so eager to get out of the hospital; I didn't want to
give them any more reasons to keep me there.

After a few seconds of silence, Jamie cleared his
throat. "I'm going." He headed for the door. "My dad went back to
school shopping and who the hell knows what he came back with. I
swear to God the dude thinks I'm still twelve."

I didn't respond. My ears still tingled from the
static in the music. I swiped at them, digging my fingers inside.
They itched as if a thousand baby spiders were crawling around.

"Later," Chloe said.

"I'll see you guys at school." He left shutting the
bedroom door behind him.

"Do you want me to call your mom?" she asked.

I shook my head. I didn't want to have to explain
anything to my mom. Because, well, I couldn't explain it. I had no
freaking idea what was happening to me. Maybe I was going insane.
Maybe I'd contracted a serious STD and it was affecting my brain.
Syphilis. That was it. My brain was slowly being eaten away by it.
At least, I thought that was how the disease worked. I didn't
really pay attention in health class.

A violent shiver racked my body. "Just sit with me
for awhile, okay?"

Without a word, she settled her head against mine and
squeezed my shoulder, and I knew she'd stay with me as long as I
needed her to. To the end of days or until I fell asleep, whichever
happened to come first.

Chapter 7

Coming out of a strange and eerie dream that I
couldn't quite remember, I rolled over onto my side to try and get
comfortable. Once Chloe left at around nine, I fell asleep and I'd
been in and out of consciousness ever since. I think my mom checked
up on me when she got home from work, but I couldn't be sure.

Unable to get truly comfortable I'd been tossing off
the covers and rolling up into them alternatively. I didn't know
whether I was hot or cold.

Now, I was definitely cold. Not wanting to open my
eyes, I reached blindly for the covers. If I dared open them then I
might consider staying awake. Being awake meant thinking, and I
really didn't want to do much of that any time soon. Yet, I
couldn't find the damn covers.

Slitting my eyes to half-mast, I raised my head to
search for the covers. But they were long gone.

About eight feet below me.

Gasping for breath, I tried to dig my fingers into
the ceiling stucco. Anything to anchor me. My heart pounded in my
chest and I was dizzy and light-headed. I wasn't one for heights.
Vertigo settled in, and it looked like the room was spinning in a
circle below me.

"OhmyGod. OhmyGod. OhmyGod," I chanted over and over
again hoping that somehow it would save me from the harsh reality
that I was stuck on the ceiling and not tucked safely into my bed
on the ground.

Although technically, I wasn't stuck. I could
move.

Carefully turning onto my stomach, I reached for the
light fixture. My fingertips just brushed it. Taking a deep breath,
I sort of bounced/shimmied across the ceiling to get closer to the
light.

Thankfully, I didn't sleep naked. I could just
imagine how it would look if someone walked into my room and saw a
naked girl stuck to the roof. I'm sure it wouldn't be all that
pretty of a sight. Well, maybe for a guy it would. Being seen in my
tank tap and boy's glow in the dark
Sponge Bob
boxer shorts
was bad enough. Plus I imagined rubbing against the hard stucco on
the ceiling wouldn't feel all that pleasant on my body.

I grasped the light fixture in both hands and
wondered how the hell I was going to get down. I had no idea how I
got up here, or why, but really all that mattered was putting my
two feet back onto solid ground. Everything else had to wait until
that glorious thing happened.

I could call out for my mom, but I imagined she
wouldn't be too calm seeing her daughter floating along the
ceiling. Besides that, she'd definitely take me back to the
doctors. Since floating was definitely not on any symptom list of
diseases known to man, going to the doctors wasn't going to do me
any good anyway.

No, this was something else. Something unnatural.
Something even supernatural.

Images of actor Tobey Maguire crawling up a brick
wall in the first
Spiderman
movie came to mind. I lifted my
hand and inspected my fingertips for tiny barbed hairs. Although I
had no delusions of grandeur of becoming a superhero, I pondered
the notion that maybe I'd been infected with something noxious or
alien. But then that just spawned images of zombies running through
London streets circa the movie
28 Days Later
. It was a
stupid notion.

Yet, I had died earlier this week.

I glanced around my room searching for anything that
could help me get down. The desk by my window was my best bet. It
was solid enough that I could grab hold of it and pull myself down
along the wall. Reaching it was another matter.

Testing my limitations, I pulled my legs up. My knees
scraped against the stucco. I knew they'd sting later but right now
I couldn't let it stop me. Still holding the light fixture, I
dragged my knees across the ceiling. The hard plaster ripped at my
skin as I crawled toward the window. Just a few more knee shuffles
and I'd reach the curtain rod, but I had to let go of the light to
get there.

Taking a deep breath, I released my grip on the brass
fixture and, trying to dig my fingers into the ceiling, I crawled
the last few feet to the wall. I grasped the curtain rod and let
out my breath thankful I didn't float away. Now I just needed to
pull myself over to grab the desk. I smiled to myself thinking that
I'd done pretty well so far. No freak outs. No frantic screaming or
passing out.

Hand over hand, I pulled myself along the window
frame until I reached the end. My desk sat along the side of the
window. One hand still gripping the rod, I reached down to grab the
top of the shelving on my desk. Stretching as far as I could, I was
still a good two feet away. I wasn't going to reach it without
pushing off from the ceiling.

It wasn't that I had a fear of falling; it was the
fear of what if I didn't? What if I was stuck to the ceiling
forever?

Maybe my mom could charge a fee for people to come
and see the freak living on the ceiling. Could be an interesting
career choice. I wouldn't have to succumb to the pressure my mom
was giving me about going to college. I could literally lie around
and do nothing. Except I'd be lying on the ceiling and not on the
sofa watching TV.

"Well, here goes nothing." Bracing one hand and my
knees against the ceiling, I counted to three then pushed off.

I hung in mid air for a moment, and then felt myself
being sucked back upwards. Scrambling I snatched a handful of
hot-pink curtain to keep from sticking to the ceiling again. My
face was pressed against the glass of my window.

And that's when I saw the boy sitting on a large
branch in the old oak tree right outside my window. His face was
illuminated by moonlight and he didn't look too happy.

Yelping in surprise, I fell to the floor.

Nothing broke my fall and I landed virtually
unscathed on the carpet. Although I did knock my head against the
windowsill as I dropped. I also managed to knock all the air out of
my lungs.

Head starting to throb, I rolled over onto my back to
take a few deep breaths. I rubbed at my forehead making sure there
was no blood, then sat up, albeit slowly and carefully. My whole
body ached. God, I was going to be sore tomorrow. I glanced down at
my knees and winced. They were shredded pretty good. Blood dotted
the carpet where I'd landed.

I struggled to my feet and peered out the window
again. Tree boy was still there. What the hell? I had a peeping Tom
sitting outside my window. I wondered how long he'd been there and
what exactly he'd seen.

Pissed, I slid the window up and stuck my head out.
"What the hell are you doing?"

He didn't respond, just sat and stared at me, his
hand wrapped around one of the tree branches.

"I'm going to call the cops, asshole."

"I can help you." There was something about his voice
that gave me pause. It was familiar. Not the voice itself, but the
timbre of it. The way it moved and undulated. The way it flowed
right into me. I liked the way it made me feel inside. All warm and
gooey, like a freshly baked cookie—chocolate chip, my favorite.

My hands were shaking, but I kept up my chin. I
didn't want him to see that I was one part scared and one part
turned on. "Help me what? Undress? Pervert."

"I know what's happening to you."

It was then, that I recognized him by the way the
moonlight danced across his face. A perfect pale face with sculpted
cheekbones and strong jaw that I'd seen before.

"You were there, at the party."

"Come with me. And I'll tell you what's going
on."

I wanted to go with him. The urge pulled at me
violently. So violently I wanted to jump from the window without a
care of how or where I landed. My teeth even ached from the
pull.

Shaking my head to clear my mind, I said, "I'm not
going anywhere with you. I don't even know you."

"My name is Trevor."

"I don't care what your name is," I stammered.
"You're freaking me out and I want you to leave."

"It's going to get worse before it gets better. You
need to be prepared."

"Prepared for what?"

"To lose your mind."

I wanted to laugh but the way he said it, so serious,
so solemn, made my heart thump hard. My throat ran dry and my whole
body iced up. I'd never felt so cold in my life.

"Just please leave."

"Don't be stupid. Listen to what I'm telling
you."

"You haven't told me anything," I huffed. "You're
sitting in a tree outside my window like a stalker. Why the hell
would I listen to you?"

"Because I know what you're becoming." He smiled, but
there was no humor in it. My knees turned to rubber. I had to grip
the windowsill to stop from collapsing to the floor. "I know,
because I'm one of them."

"One of what?"

My bedroom door opened and my mom shuffled in.
"Salem. It's three in the morning. What are you doing?"

I whipped around, trying to cover my knees and the
window all at the same time. "Nothing."

"You're sure making a lot of noise for nothing." She
moved further into the room and flipped on the main light. "What
are you doing at the window?"

I turned back to the glass worried that my mom would
see Trevor in the tree. But I didn't have to worry. He was gone.
Vanished.

I glanced down at the yard and the street beyond, but
didn't see his shape walking away. It was as if he misted into the
shadows themselves. I shivered again, and then turned back to my
mom.

I shrugged. "I thought I heard something
outside."

She sidled up to my side to look out the window. "Was
there anything?"

"No." I shook my head and ran a hand over my rat
nested hair. "I must've been dreaming."

"Okay, hun." Yawning, she patted a hand on my head,
in her usual manner. "Back to bed. You have your first day of
school tomorrow."

Nodding, I slid the window shut, and then padded
across the room to my bed. I slid in between the blankets and
pulled them up to my chin. I no longer had to worry about being hot
then cold. I was like a frozen burrito through and through.