Dead in Bed by Bailey Simms, The Complete First Book
Read Dead in Bed by Bailey Simms, The Complete First Book Online
Authors: Adrian Birch
DEAD IN BED
By Bailey Simms
The Complete First Book
Created by Adrian Birch
The
following material was discovered on an abandoned blog. It had been hosted by a
teen under the name “Bailey Simms,” though little is known about the author’s actual
identity.
Among
Ms. Simms’s blog posts was a completed serialized novel entitled “Dead in Bed.”
Interspersed within the novel’s segments, updates described events in the
author’s life from the winter of 2013 until the spring of 2015. At that point,
the posts abruptly stopped.
The
blog has since been shut down. Its contents, however, have been retrieved and
reproduced as the series
DEAD IN
BED by Bailey Simms
. None of the blog’s original material has been altered.
Table of Contents
Part 1: Fifty Shades of Gangrene
Part 3: Going Down Six Feet Under
December 27
th
, 2013
1:34 p.m.
First Post!
Okay, here I go.
My first blog post.
Deep
breath
…
So, hi, everyone! Or, I guess I should say: hi,
absolutely no one! Because I’m sure exactly
zero
people are actually going to read this blog, and I’m pretty much just going to
be shouting into the deep, dark abyss of the
internet
.
But whatever.
I don’t care. If I don’t force myself to
start a blog and post segments of my novel to it every week or so, I know I’ll
never actually write it. And I really want to write this novel. Doing it means
a lot to me. That’s why I’ve decided to publically commit to it in this post.
In case someone actually
does
end up following this, thank you SO MUCH for reading!
Seriously. You’re awesome and I love you! Please ignore the fact that I don’t
even know you. You’re reading my blog, so I love you anyway despite that major
flaw in our relationship. If you have any questions, follow me on Twitter (
@
BaileySimms
)
and tweet me or direct message me there. Best way to reach me. I’ll totally
respond.
Anyway, the very first installment of my novel is
coming in the next update! It’s going to be called
Dead in Bed
. So stay tuned.
xxBailey
January 5th, 2014
11:49 p.m.
Fifty Shades of Gangrene
I woke
up in a motel room I’d never seen. No matter how hard I thought about it, I had
no memory of how I got there or what happened the night before.
There were beer
bottles all over the bedside table, not to mention a completely empty eighth of
Jack Daniels. What looked like some kind of fancy, foreign wine bottle—also
drained—was filled with cigarette butts. The TV, one of those old, boxy
sets, had fallen back against the wall, and in the corner an armchair lay on
its side. Feathers were everywhere; one of the pillows was torn open.
I was pretty sure I
was alone.
No one was in bed with
me. When I leaned over to check the floor I saw only more feathers and beer
bottles scattered across the carpet—along with my clothes.
All of them.
My jeans were in a pile against the wall with
my underwear still bunched inside. My bra hung over the one armchair that was
still standing.
It wasn’t until that
moment that I realized I was totally naked.
And I’d definitely had
sex.
I was sore, and not
just a little. I hadn’t felt like this since Shawn and I went at it like
rabbits during my senior year of high school.
But we hadn’t had sex
in months—well, not as far as I could remember, anyway.
I tried not to think
about the fact that there was no good reason I would’ve needed to check into a
motel if I’d been with my husband. I'm only twenty-four, but I live in a really
small town where just about everyone gets married before they're twenty, like I
did. It's just what people do around here.
I looked at the mess
around me. I'd been with Shawn plenty long enough to know that he definitely
didn’t drink wine. Not even whiskey, really.
And yet, despite my
fear about whatever it was I’d done the night before, and despite my apparent
blackout, and the pervasive smell of stale cigarettes, and some
other
smell I noticed now—something
faintly rancid—I felt, well…
great
.
It was as if I’d been
sleeping for days and had woken up completely refreshed. I didn’t have the
slightest headache. I didn't feel a hint of nausea. When I stood up, I
practically leapt out of bed. I pulled on my pants feeling like I had enough energy
to race straight up the face of a cliff.
But I still couldn’t
remember anything.
Other than the bottles
everywhere, there was no evidence that someone else had been with me in the
room. The only clothes I found on the floor were mine, and the bathroom was
empty. The only thing in the minibar fridge, weirdly, was an empty gallon milk
container.
I looked under the bed
and checked my pockets, but I couldn’t find my phone. Had I lost it, or had someone
stolen it? I had no idea.
Outside, it was a
beautiful day—but when I stepped into what I recognized as the parking
lot of the Starlight Motel, I realized it wasn’t morning. The sun was starting
to set. Apparently I’d slept all day.
Now that I was out in
the fresh air, things started to come back to me about the events of the night before.
I remembered what I'd
found at the high school with my brother-in-law. I remembered how I’d helped
carry
it, even. I remembered the
stench, and how afterward I couldn’t quite wash off the smell. I wondered if
maybe it was the same scent I'd smelled inside the motel room.
I also remembered why
my car was nowhere to be seen. I live in Muldoon, Colorado, and if you haven’t
heard of it, you’re basically like everybody else in the world
who
isn’t from Muldoon. It’s so
small,
we don’t even have a stoplight. The only exciting thing that ever happens is
the annual fair. The kids sell their livestock, there’s a carnival and a rodeo,
and everyone has an excuse to be drunk pretty much all weekend.
I do the books at this
trucking company whose office is right across from the fairgrounds. I usually
park in the lot there, and when I got off work early yesterday there was this
huge bus blocking my car. It was emblazoned with a massive
Bryce Tripp
logo. He was supposed
to be this up-and-coming coun
try star, but, honestly,
I hadn’t heard of him until a few days ago. I mean, how big could he be if he
was giving a concert at the Muldoon fair? The people in charge of his bus must
have been waiting to get into the rodeo grounds where his concert would take
place, but I couldn’t find the driver anywhere. I couldn’t even reach my
husband—the cell towers must’ve already been jammed thanks to everyone
arriving from out of town.
So I’d asked my boss
for a ride home. I remember now. I figured I’d worry about my car later. I didn’t
really need it anyway because Ian, my brother-in-law, was going to give Shawn
and me a ride to the fair that night so we could drink, and then he would bring
us home later.
That had been the plan,
anyway.
But now I was at the
Starlight Motel, alone, without a car
or
a phone, and still no memory at all of how I got there.
* * *
I tried
to go back and piece together everything that had happened the previous day as
best as I could.
First, I remembered
that when my boss dropped me at home. Shawn was already there, watching TV as
usual. The couch is pretty much the only place he spends time lately when he isn’t
at work. He has a shift at the mill, which I know can be exhausting, but it'd
been months since we’d gone out. And lately he’d started saying he didn’t want
me to go out with any of my friends alone. One of the reasons I’d been looking
forward to the fair for weeks was because Shawn wouldn’t have any choice but to
get off his ass and go somewhere. I’d been hoping that maybe we could have a
little fun again, for once.
“I’m getting in the
shower,” I called out, competing with the blare of Sports Center. “Ian’s
gonna
be here in an hour, remember?”
After a moment, Shawn
yelled back.
“Tonight? We’ll go
tomorrow," he said. "No one really shows up until Saturday anyway.”
I should have seen
this coming. If my husband never wanted to go out at all anymore, why did I
think he would ever go out for two nights in a row without complaining? I’d
thought things would be different during the fair, but I guess I’d been wrong.
I tried not to sound
too irritated. “Everyone always goes tonight.” I leaned into the living room
and found myself talking to the back of my husband’s head. He was only
twenty-six, but his hair was already beginning to thin. “All your friends are
going. And mine. Morgan’s already there
;
she’s waiting
for me. And Ian’s driving all the way
back
during the
middle of Tyler’s football game just to give us a ride. It would be weird if
you didn’t go.”
Before Shawn could
respond, I stepped into the bathroom and turned on the shower. I hoped that by
putting myself out of earshot, he would give up and agree to just go without a
fight.
While I undressed, I
forced myself to look at the mirror. I’d definitely put on a little weight
since high school, but not as much as Shawn had after his accident. But I
looked okay, I decided. Nothing like Morgan, who’d somehow stayed as skinny as
she was at sixteen, but at least I looked okay.
While the water warmed
up, I started considering what my night out would be like if Shawn
did
just
stay at home. I didn’t really mean to let my mind wander in that direction, but
it did. I thought about getting the chance to ride into town with Ian alone. I
thought about taking shots with Morgan, just the two of us. Maybe it wouldn’t be
the worst thing after all if Shawn didn’t come. In the middle of washing my
hair, I actually seriously considered persuading him to stay home.
But by the time I got
out of the shower, I could hear him changing out of his work clothes and
decided not to say anything. I couldn’t. Not after I’d already talked him into
going. I’d feel too guilty. Besides, it would probably be good for us to get
drunk together.
Ian pulled up to the
house just as I was finishing my makeup. I had on a new low-cut top I’d bought
just for the fair and my tightest pair of jeans. Maybe it wasn’t exactly what
they were wearing in Denver these days, but not bad for the Muldoon fair.
I could tell my
brother-in-law was in a hurry to drop us off and catch the end of the high
school football game before heading over to the fair grounds
himself
,
but he was too polite to say so. As we came out of the house, Ian sauntered
over to Shawn and slapped his shoulder, all with his truck idling in the
driveway.
“Hey, buddy, you all
ready for tonight?”
“Yup,” Shawn said. As
always, Shawn was a little quiet—Ian intimidated him. “Ready to go.”
“
Hiya
,
sis!” Ian gave me a quick hug, then just as quickly let me go and hopped back
into his pickup.
Ian was in a good
mood. On the way over he told us that Tyler got a touchdown, and besides being
happy that his son had played well, he was looking forward to being out at the
fair tonight, too. I could tell.
“You sure you’re okay
not drinking?” I asked him. “I’m glad I’m not the one stuck driving.”
I was grateful Ian had
offered to give us a ride, but the truth is I also liked how Ian got after a
couple drinks. He’d been a medic in Iraq, and now he worked as an EMT at our
tiny, local hospital. When he got back from the war, I used to worry he’d break
down or something if he drank, but he never did. Mostly he’d just get less
serious and his sense of humor would come out. I’d laugh at his wry jokes, and
he always laughed along with me his kind and warmly boyish way.
He’s actually really
attractive—way more attractive than Shawn. Sometimes I think my sister
doesn’t even realize it.
“Who says I can’t have
a beer?” Ian winked at me. “It’s fair time. I’ll nurse one for a little while.”
He nudged Shawn’s arm. “Just don’t tell Danielle.”
I was pretty sure Ian
really wouldn’t have more than one drink; I don’t think I know anyone who’s
more responsible. Besides, if he did, my sister would find out
one way
or another and kill him.
I was about to ask
whether he was planning on letting Haley, his youngest, stay up late at the
carnival, but then his phone rang.
The gruff,
semi-garbled voice on the speakerphone must have been a hospital dispatcher. “Ian,
you there at the school?” the voice asked.
“Just left,” Ian said.
“I guess someone had a
fall in the girl’s locker room or something. Bernice was real worked up about
it, but she got cut off before she could give me the details. Could you check
it out? Ambulance is still stuck here at the hospital.”
Ian switched off the
speaker and brought the phone to his ear. “Yeah, I’ll be there in a couple
minutes.”
He hung up.
“You don’t mind if we
make a little detour, do you? It’s probably nothing, but I
gotta
check it out.”
“That’s all right,” I
said.
In truth I was feeling
selfish and a little disappointed that Ian couldn’t just drop us off at the
fairgrounds. What kind of town only has one ambulance? Ian’s SUV must’ve been the
sole backup.
Ian pulled right up to
the door of the girl’s locker room. The second half of the football game had
already started. I could hear the hum of the crowd over at the field, but the
gym was deserted. Shawn stepped easily from the pickup with his medical bag in
hand, but—in old high school habit—he was hesitant about going into
the girls’ locker room. I found that kind of sadly funny, as if he were still
just a kid.
Ian hurried to the
door. “Come on in, if you want,” he told us. “We’re a little understaffed.” He
laughed. “Maybe you could give me a hand, if I need it.”
I hadn’t stepped into
the locker room for years. Bernice Whipple, my old P.E. teacher, was even there
in her office. It was like she lived there.
“Hey, Mrs. Whipple.” I
gave her my best version of a friendly wave, but she didn’t even register my
presence.
She was distraught,
expressionless. She went right for Ian, grabbed his jacket, and then led him toward
the showers.
“Here,” she said,
whispering. “
Here.
It’s here.”
I followed behind,
trying to stay out of the way.
When I first saw what
was on the tile floor—the same place I’d stood showering a hundred times
in high school—I thought maybe some kid was playing a joke, trying to
scare the cheerleaders or something.
There were shards
glass all over the shower, and, right above, one of the big frosted windows had
been broken.
And lying amidst the
broken glass was a person.
There wasn’t any
blood.
Just a naked body lying face down.
It wasn’t a
high
schooler
at all, but a grown man, his bare ass
in the air, his skin unnaturally pale from head to foot.
He was very obviously
not alive.
I’d never seen a dead
body before—not ever—but I was sure no living person could lie that
perfectly still.
This definitely wasn’t
what Ian had expected when he’d invited us in. He rushed to the body and knelt
beside it. In what seemed like one motion, he opened his medical bag and
snapped on a blue latex glove. He pinched one of the body’s wrists, gently—checking
for a pulse, I guess—and then pressed two fingers to the body’s throat. I
had the feeling he wouldn’t find anything.
He must not have found
what he needed because he put on the other glove, grabbed one of the shoulders,
and turned the whole body over. It jostled onto its back and lay face up.