I'd Rather Not Be Dead Read Online Free PDF

that sucked was I did a lot of bad
shit, but not the crime they killed me for.”
    “Was it a woman?” I ask, too
eagerly.
    Laughter meets that. “I wish.
No. My brother.”
    “Your brother?”
    “Yep.” Fray sits beside me. “So,
my brother was worse than your sister. She's a brat, but she'd
never frame you for a capital offense.”
    I swallow. “Yeah. You win.”
    “And, no,” he says. “That wasn't
about a woman either.”
    “Bummer.”
    He nods. “Bummer.”
    Hold on a second... “How do you
know my sister?”
    “Never met her. Either of
them.”
    My scowl doesn't have any effect
on his smile for several heartbeats, then he looks away with a
shake of his head. “I've been haunting this town for a while, Drew.
There aren't many people I don't know about.”
    “You've been watching us?”
    He tilts his head at me. “What
else am I supposed to do?”
    A Cadillac passes through us,
followed by a whole line of people being slowed down by its lack of
speed.
    “I hate it when they do that,”
Fray says.
    “Me too.” I'm not sure if he
meant people driving through us or to people holding up traffic,
but either way I agree.
    He stands. “Ready to go back to
town, luv?”
    No. And I'm not sure I want to
go with him, even if I were. Exactly what has he been watching me
and my sisters do? I get up anyway, but the world sways and my
knees feel like marshmallows.
    “I'm too tired.” I start to sit
again, but Fray reaches out and draws me against his chest. He's
warm and solid and I fight not to collapse against him.
    “Let's not walk then.” His
breath caresses my ear and he holds me tight.
    Thunder claps. A crowd
cheers.
    “Great!” Fray grins. “A football
game.”

Chapter Four
     
     
    There's exactly one place in
Pine Ridge to buy alcohol. There's only the one because we're in
the middle of a dry county, one of the last remaining in North
Carolina, and the hunting club only gets away with stocking a bar
because it's a private club. A private club anyone can join and
which doesn't charge dues, but a private club nonetheless.
    Needless to say, the club's one
of the most popular places in town, especially on college football
game days. A huge chunk of the local population has crowded into
the place to watch the University of North Carolina today, but when
Fray walks toward the bar, the masses part for him. It's like they
can feel he's there even though they can't see him.
    He plops down on a stool and
looks up at the nearest screen. “The Tar Heels look decent this
year.”
    “How did you do that?”
    He looks at me like he doesn't
know what I'm talking about, so I elaborate. “We were on the
Parkway. Now we're miles away. How?”
    “I'll tell you after you've had
a bit of a rest. Go lie down in the back booth. No one ever sits
there. It's haunted.” His smile turns to a wicked grin as he turns
back to the game.
    I want to argue, but I'm too
wiped to even try. I'm tired enough to do what he says despite my
instinctive rebellion against orders and the nagging doubts about
trusting a guy who claims he's a Colonial but who's going around
spreading the word of the British punk movement.
    It should be hard to fall asleep
in a crowded bar, next to the hall to the bathrooms and in the
middle of a sports event, but I sink under before I even get my
head all the way down and I don't wake up again until after the
place has emptied.
    The clock on the wall reads
eleven thirty and the lack of customers indicates the tavern's
closed, which would make it Sunday morning. Even if this is a
private club, they aren't going to be open in the morning on the
Sabbath. They take way too much flack from the conservatives as it
is.
    Fray isn't anywhere to be seen
and he doesn't come when I call for him, so I go to the door and
try to open it. My hand falls through the doorknob, but that's
alright because when I try walking through the wood I glide
through, just like walking though a spiderweb. The door doesn't
really resist,