Read Online Over Your Dead Body by Dan Wells - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Dan Wells
Tags: United States, Suspense, Literature & Fiction, Paranormal, Mystery; Thriller & Suspense, supernatural, Thrillers & Suspense
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splurging again. This was a special occasion, right? But no. At the rate Brooke flipped personalities, Marci might not even be around until morning. I rubbed my eyes and pointed toward the empty drive-in theater. “I was going to try that, but if you want to head further into town maybe we can find a … I don’t know. A YMCA or something.”
“In a place this small?” asked Marci. “Come on, John, I’m, like, the outdoor queen. We have a tent?”
“Just open air.”
“Sweet,” she said. “Let’s do this.”
We walked to the gate of the drive-in, and I couldn’t help but study the way she moved. Was she walking like Marci? That slight sway of her hips—was that Marci or had Brooke always walked like that? In my memory Marci would swagger around, sensual and confident. Was that gone now, replaced by Brooke’s physical mannerisms? Or had I exaggerated it all in my mind, remembering a girl who would never walk anywhere, ever again?
The gate was locked and not especially climbable, so we followed the fence around, looking for an easier access point. Despite Marci’s statement that it was the middle of the night, it was only 9:30 or 10 at the latest; if the theater were still in use, there’d have been a movie playing. We found a pair of broken boards in the wooden wall and slipped through to find a wide, flat field full of four-foot metal poles, parking spaces between them. The top of each pole held a small speaker on a curled cord—or at least they did back when the drive-in was still operating; now most of them were broken, dangling, or missing altogether. The inside of the wooden fence was covered with graffiti—no murals or gang signs, just scrawled names and cuss words. The ground was littered with broken bottles.
“Looks like it’s been abandoned for a while,” said Marci.
“And we’re not the only ones to use it since,” I said, looking at the garbage. “Let’s hope we’re the only ones who use it tonight.”
A low brick building stood in the back, just inside the gate, and I walked toward it. “Careful of the glass, Boy Dog,” I said. We walked silently, worried about disturbing other squatters, but I couldn’t imagine a little place like Dillon had a lot of those. The building was closed and locked. It had a metal door, and a wide metal plate with hinges at the top, which I assumed used to swing open for the concession window. The short wall closest to the gate had a ticket window; its glass was broken and the opening was blocked by metal bars. I rattled the padlocks, but they were all solid. “We need a—”
“Whooooooo!”
The loud holler soared across the empty lot, and I looked up just in time to see a glass bottle smash into the ground. Someone had thrown it over the wall, and a figure was coming in through the same fence hole we’d used.
“Stay quiet,” I said, but Boy Dog barked at the intruder. “Dammit.”
“Dog!” shouted a voice, and the figure by the hole stood up abruptly, looking for the animal.
“Since when do they have a guard dog?” asked another voice, and another figure climbed through the hole.
“Get behind the building,” I whispered, but the first figure pointed to us.
“It’s not a guard dog, it’s just more people. Hey, people!” He waved, and a third person came through the hole. “You got any booze?”
“All three male,” said Marci, though I couldn’t see any of them clearly. “Teenage boys, it looks like.”
“Be careful,” I said, watching the figures approach. We were trapped, though they didn’t appear to be intentionally cutting us off—as quickly as my paranoia had thought “someone followed us,” I discarded the idea. This was just three teenage guys out for a good time.
Though that could be just as dangerous.
6
Boy Dog barked again, and Marci whispered under her breath, “I don’t like this.”
The three boys walked closer, coming slowly into focus. I guessed they were about our age, probably seniors in
“In a place this small?” asked Marci. “Come on, John, I’m, like, the outdoor queen. We have a tent?”
“Just open air.”
“Sweet,” she said. “Let’s do this.”
We walked to the gate of the drive-in, and I couldn’t help but study the way she moved. Was she walking like Marci? That slight sway of her hips—was that Marci or had Brooke always walked like that? In my memory Marci would swagger around, sensual and confident. Was that gone now, replaced by Brooke’s physical mannerisms? Or had I exaggerated it all in my mind, remembering a girl who would never walk anywhere, ever again?
The gate was locked and not especially climbable, so we followed the fence around, looking for an easier access point. Despite Marci’s statement that it was the middle of the night, it was only 9:30 or 10 at the latest; if the theater were still in use, there’d have been a movie playing. We found a pair of broken boards in the wooden wall and slipped through to find a wide, flat field full of four-foot metal poles, parking spaces between them. The top of each pole held a small speaker on a curled cord—or at least they did back when the drive-in was still operating; now most of them were broken, dangling, or missing altogether. The inside of the wooden fence was covered with graffiti—no murals or gang signs, just scrawled names and cuss words. The ground was littered with broken bottles.
“Looks like it’s been abandoned for a while,” said Marci.
“And we’re not the only ones to use it since,” I said, looking at the garbage. “Let’s hope we’re the only ones who use it tonight.”
A low brick building stood in the back, just inside the gate, and I walked toward it. “Careful of the glass, Boy Dog,” I said. We walked silently, worried about disturbing other squatters, but I couldn’t imagine a little place like Dillon had a lot of those. The building was closed and locked. It had a metal door, and a wide metal plate with hinges at the top, which I assumed used to swing open for the concession window. The short wall closest to the gate had a ticket window; its glass was broken and the opening was blocked by metal bars. I rattled the padlocks, but they were all solid. “We need a—”
“Whooooooo!”
The loud holler soared across the empty lot, and I looked up just in time to see a glass bottle smash into the ground. Someone had thrown it over the wall, and a figure was coming in through the same fence hole we’d used.
“Stay quiet,” I said, but Boy Dog barked at the intruder. “Dammit.”
“Dog!” shouted a voice, and the figure by the hole stood up abruptly, looking for the animal.
“Since when do they have a guard dog?” asked another voice, and another figure climbed through the hole.
“Get behind the building,” I whispered, but the first figure pointed to us.
“It’s not a guard dog, it’s just more people. Hey, people!” He waved, and a third person came through the hole. “You got any booze?”
“All three male,” said Marci, though I couldn’t see any of them clearly. “Teenage boys, it looks like.”
“Be careful,” I said, watching the figures approach. We were trapped, though they didn’t appear to be intentionally cutting us off—as quickly as my paranoia had thought “someone followed us,” I discarded the idea. This was just three teenage guys out for a good time.
Though that could be just as dangerous.
6
Boy Dog barked again, and Marci whispered under her breath, “I don’t like this.”
The three boys walked closer, coming slowly into focus. I guessed they were about our age, probably seniors in
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