She Never Dies: The Rose Miller Trilogy, #1

By Erik Handy

INTERSTATE GHOST STORY

 

Interstate Four. A major thoroughfare for the living . . . and the dead!

 

Witnesses claim to have seen a woman in a white dress standing along the highway. Photographic evidence yields only blurs of light where she stands. Skeptics scoff at the very notion of such a roadside phenomenon.

 

For a group of curious college students, there is no question whether the I-4 Ghost is real or not. Each one has been caught in the spirit's web of blind vengeance!

 

The second book from Erik Handy, She Never Dies continues the legendary horror traditions of The Ring and The Grudge!

• Language: English
• Publisher: Erik Handy
• Release date: May 22, 2013
• ISBN: 9781497763104

Erik Handy

Erik Handy grew up on a steady diet of professional wrestling, bad horror movies that went straight to video, and comic books. There were also a lot of video games thrown in the mix. He currently absorbs silence and fish tacos.

Book preview

Read the Full Dark Series from the beginning!

1. The Hell of the Dead Saga

Hell of the Dead

Hell of the Dead 2

Hell of the Dead 3

Hell of the Dead 4

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2. The Rose Miller Trilogy

She Never Dies

Macabre

She Never Dies: Part 2

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3. The Malice Below

4. The Creeping City

5. Terror Rising

6. Rot House

7. Full Dark

PHOTO FUELS URBAN LEGEND

A local gas station manager has what he claims is evidence that ghosts exist. Surveillance cameras at the ANC Gas N Pass at the I-4 Semoran exit captured what appears to be a transparent human figure. The manager, who declined to be identified for this article, contends that the camera was operating perfectly and the lens was clean. Skeptics, such as Burt Savoy from the fact-finding group Truth From Fiction, aren’t impressed. This is a still photo, Savoy said. It’s the easiest evidence to doctor. I don’t believe this or any other so-called proof that suggests the highway is haunted.

– from The Orlando Post, July 14

Chapter 1

Is it real? Joe asked Bobby. He leaned on the counter in a vain attempt to add gravitas to their conversation. You can tell me, man.

Bobby smiled like he knew the world’s biggest secret.

Come on, Joe tried again. I gotta know.

It’s real, Bobby answered.

Bullshit.

If I’m lying, I’m dying and I ain’t dead yet. It’s real.

Looks like a mosquito flew in front of the camera.

Bobby’s smile widened. Wasn’t a mosquito.

What the hell was it then? Joe insisted. I won’t tell anyone.

Bobby considered Joe’s request for a few moments, letting his buddy stew with anticipation. He looked around, but he and Joe had the whole gas station to themselves.

All right, man, he finally said, gesturing for Joe to come around to his side of the counter. You can’t tell anybody I told you.

Bobby stopped the live recording of the pumps’ exterior cameras and pulled the tape out of the VCR. It wasn’t a mosquito. From behind the small, black television monitor, he pulled out another video. And it wasn’t a ghost.

Well? Joe impatiently replied.

Bobby grinned and pressed PLAY. Look at the car that pulls up.

Joe watched a white station wagon pull up to a pump. Its wipers swished back and forth once. That was when the ghostly spot appeared on-screen. It quickly and eerily took on the form of a human body.

I went outside afterwards, Bobby continued. A little bit of mud flew off the windshield. One in a trillion shot.

Joe shook his head in disbelief.

What do you think? Bobby said.

Son of a bitch, was all Joe could manage.

Bobby shrugged as if it was no big deal, but it was. He had fooled his boss, the local news, his friends, and some believers of such paranormal nonsense. It was almost too easy. People who wanted to believe in ghouls and goblins were so gullible when shown flimsy evidence.

Neither man said anything as Bobby switched the videos.

Joe built up the courage to say, You believe the road’s haunted?

This road here? Bobby replied.

Yeah.

Bobby swatted a gnat away from his face.

Don’t get me wrong, this world’s a strange place, he said, pausing for dramatic effect. But no. I don’t. The area around mile marker 110 is. Or so they say. I don’t believe that crap. People like to tell scary stories and people like to hear them. He let that hang in the air as if it was the most profound statement ever.

All right, man, Joe quickly said. I’m heading out.

Bobby let a smirk slip through. All right. I’ll see you later at Nolan’s?

Damn straight. Later, man.

As Joe walked away, Bobby’s attention was drawn to movement at the back of the store. Someone might have come in when he was talking to Joe and he just missed it. But the front door was right by the counter. One of them would have looked up and noticed someone.

He let his mind piece together what he thought he saw:

A woman.

At the back of the store.

Watching them through the shelves of overpriced chips and sodas.

Her hair, dirty and messy.

When Bobby caught sight of her, she ducked down.

Shit, he said, looking at the internal security monitor tucked below the pump surveillance unit. That’s all I need. It’s been quiet all evening and now this homeless chick . . . .

No one was inside the building.

He looked back up at the store.

Wait.

There –

HONK!

He jerked around.

Joe was driving away, shooting a peace sign at him.

Someone else sat in the backseat.

Joe should have been alone.

Bobby couldn’t make out who the person was or if the image was just an optical illusion created by the bright fluorescent lights and distance.

Too many ghost stories, he thought. Maybe I’m the one starting to get freaked out by them.

Bobby, caught up in trying to figure out if his eyes were betraying him, didn’t respond to Joe’s goodbye. He just watched his friend drive away, up the on-ramp, and onto the darkening highway.

***

Joe zoomed onto the interstate, radio blasting some generic rock music made for the masses. He had a party to get to. A party loaded with drinks and girls.

It was just another school night.

This semester was a breeze, Creative Writing and Film Appreciation. They were fluff courses meant to give him some easy credits. No problem. They didn’t cut into his social life at all and he appreciated that. However, he dreaded the next semester’s offerings. He would have to step it up if he wanted to graduate before the decade was out.

Maybe I’ll take three classes then.

A light somewhere off the side of the road grabbed his attention. Someone was out there with a flashlight in the wooded area lining the interstate.

Bums, he thought.

Or ghosts.

He laughed that off.

Ghosts are bullshit. They have to be. Bobby proved it.

He noticed he was going twenty over the speed limit, but the sooner he was away from this area, the better. Even with a modern highway cutting a path through this patch of wilderness, there was a base vulnerability that gnawed on Joe’s nerves – a gut feeling that urged him to keep moving.

I’ve got a party to get to, he said, looking back on the road ahead. Shit!

A woman was on the hood, squirming like a salamander up to his windshield.

The impossible sight blinded Joe. There wasn’t much left to see anyway. His freezing brain mercifully allowed him one final action.