Read Online Grave Destinations by Lori Sjoberg - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Lori Sjoberg
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mortality broke her train of thought. Something just triggered the chain of events leading to the inevitable. Ruby closed her eyes, concentrating on the inexorable pulse until she zeroed in on the source.
Ladies bathroom.
“If you’ll excuse me, I need to go powder my nose,” she said as she rose from her chair and made a beeline toward the back of the bar.
The commotion drew her to the scene as much as the quickening pull of imminent death. Pushing open the door to the ladies room, she was greeted by a cold blast of mortality.
“Angie!” A slender, teenaged blonde crouched by her friend’s side. Face pale and visibly shaking, she had a look of sheer terror, obviously not knowing what to do or how to help. She gripped her friend’s shoulders and gave the girl a hard shake. “Answer me, Angie, what’s wrong?”
The girl sprawled out on the tile near the sink was in no condition to respond. The only thing she could do was let out a strangled groan as her frail body racked with spasms.
Ruby knelt down, studying the girl’s symptoms. Pupils dilated. Sweating profusely. Mild convulsions. If she were a betting woman, she’d put her money on drug overdose. God knows she’d seen it enough times over the years. Already, the sharp scent of death hung heavy in the air, waiting patiently to collect its prize.
“Go to the bar,” Ruby ordered the blonde, her voice crisp and commanding. The girl was destined to die, no point in making her friend watch. “Tell the bartender we need a doctor in here. Now!”
Eager for guidance, the blonde took off like a shot, the bathroom door swinging shut behind her.
Angie’s eyes cracked open, glazed but fearful.
“Easy now,” Ruby said as she brushed loose strands of hair away from Angie’s face. The girl’s skin felt cool and clammy to the touch, her panting fast and shallow. It didn’t take a rocket scientist to realize she didn’t have much longer. “I’ve got you.”
“I-I-I don’t want to die,” Angie said between gasps, her voice barely audible. “I just wanted . . . just wanted . . . some fun . . .” Her words trailed off in a muted gurgle as the convulsions grew stronger, her body shaking uncontrollably.
“I know, sweetie.” Ruby shifted so she could lay Angie’s head on her lap. She stroked the girl’s long black hair, the only comfort she was capable of giving. “I know.”
At what point had she stopped trying to make sense of it all? Honestly, she couldn’t remember. So much death, most of it meaningless. Lives wasted. Families destroyed. Potential untapped. It could drive a reaper mad, if she weren’t careful.
Angie’s eyes widened as she gasped her final breaths. She opened her mouth and tried to speak, but managed only a high-pitched, inarticulate grunt. Then the spasms ceased, her muscles relaxed, and her body lay limp on the cold ceramic tile.
It took less than two minutes to harvest the girl’s soul. The young were easy, inexperienced, and frightened, their souls desperate to regain some sense of equilibrium. Ruby felt the familiar rush of warmth as Angie’s soul merged with her body, followed by the barrage of emotions from the recently deceased.
Holy shit, I’m dead? No way! But I haven’t done it yet! Oh man, this fucking blows. If I’d known I was gonna die so soon I would have let Danny Hanson do more than feel me up last Friday. This is such total bullshit. I can’t believe this is happening to me . . .
What a waste. So young, so full of unrealized potential. All of it thrown away with a careless snort and a two-minute high. Her family would be devastated. Her friends shocked. She’d become a cautionary tale that the neighborhood parents passed on to their children, the beginning of a “Don’t do drugs. Look at what happened to poor Angie” lecture. A joke to her friends who really weren’t her true friends. The same friends who would try to garner sympathy by pretending to be devastated by Angie’s unexpected
Ladies bathroom.
“If you’ll excuse me, I need to go powder my nose,” she said as she rose from her chair and made a beeline toward the back of the bar.
The commotion drew her to the scene as much as the quickening pull of imminent death. Pushing open the door to the ladies room, she was greeted by a cold blast of mortality.
“Angie!” A slender, teenaged blonde crouched by her friend’s side. Face pale and visibly shaking, she had a look of sheer terror, obviously not knowing what to do or how to help. She gripped her friend’s shoulders and gave the girl a hard shake. “Answer me, Angie, what’s wrong?”
The girl sprawled out on the tile near the sink was in no condition to respond. The only thing she could do was let out a strangled groan as her frail body racked with spasms.
Ruby knelt down, studying the girl’s symptoms. Pupils dilated. Sweating profusely. Mild convulsions. If she were a betting woman, she’d put her money on drug overdose. God knows she’d seen it enough times over the years. Already, the sharp scent of death hung heavy in the air, waiting patiently to collect its prize.
“Go to the bar,” Ruby ordered the blonde, her voice crisp and commanding. The girl was destined to die, no point in making her friend watch. “Tell the bartender we need a doctor in here. Now!”
Eager for guidance, the blonde took off like a shot, the bathroom door swinging shut behind her.
Angie’s eyes cracked open, glazed but fearful.
“Easy now,” Ruby said as she brushed loose strands of hair away from Angie’s face. The girl’s skin felt cool and clammy to the touch, her panting fast and shallow. It didn’t take a rocket scientist to realize she didn’t have much longer. “I’ve got you.”
“I-I-I don’t want to die,” Angie said between gasps, her voice barely audible. “I just wanted . . . just wanted . . . some fun . . .” Her words trailed off in a muted gurgle as the convulsions grew stronger, her body shaking uncontrollably.
“I know, sweetie.” Ruby shifted so she could lay Angie’s head on her lap. She stroked the girl’s long black hair, the only comfort she was capable of giving. “I know.”
At what point had she stopped trying to make sense of it all? Honestly, she couldn’t remember. So much death, most of it meaningless. Lives wasted. Families destroyed. Potential untapped. It could drive a reaper mad, if she weren’t careful.
Angie’s eyes widened as she gasped her final breaths. She opened her mouth and tried to speak, but managed only a high-pitched, inarticulate grunt. Then the spasms ceased, her muscles relaxed, and her body lay limp on the cold ceramic tile.
It took less than two minutes to harvest the girl’s soul. The young were easy, inexperienced, and frightened, their souls desperate to regain some sense of equilibrium. Ruby felt the familiar rush of warmth as Angie’s soul merged with her body, followed by the barrage of emotions from the recently deceased.
Holy shit, I’m dead? No way! But I haven’t done it yet! Oh man, this fucking blows. If I’d known I was gonna die so soon I would have let Danny Hanson do more than feel me up last Friday. This is such total bullshit. I can’t believe this is happening to me . . .
What a waste. So young, so full of unrealized potential. All of it thrown away with a careless snort and a two-minute high. Her family would be devastated. Her friends shocked. She’d become a cautionary tale that the neighborhood parents passed on to their children, the beginning of a “Don’t do drugs. Look at what happened to poor Angie” lecture. A joke to her friends who really weren’t her true friends. The same friends who would try to garner sympathy by pretending to be devastated by Angie’s unexpected
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