Whirlwind by Bailey Bradford (reading the story of the .txt) 📕

His astral body was better than his physical one had ever been too. Not necessarily bigger or anything, but it worked like it should have. When he’d been alive, half the time it had seemed like his brain hadn’t quite managed to tell his arms and legs how to move right. He’d trip and fall, and people would laugh—but that wasn’t a problem anymore.

No, now he was free of the physical chains of the mortal realm. Stefan snorted. He was still a goofball, and he was bored. Maybe I’ll go spy on Conner and the new guy. Or people. With the latest oil boom in Texas the population had nearly doubled. There were buildings thrown up in a rush—hotels, motels, restaurants and bars. Oil workers and rig drivers were all over, too. It was getting crowded.

Even for the dead. The influx of people meant more fatalities on the roads. Stefan didn’t like to think about how many wrecks he’d seen in the past year and a half. Yet no one seemed to learn. People still sped like their ass was on fire, and drinking and driving must have been a competitive sport for some. Drug use was on the rise, too, so yeah, more dead people. A few of them hung around once their bodies had keeled over.

Stefan had friends in his spiritual world, and he had his family in the living one. All in all, he was happy.

He was just… Bored. As. Hell.

Oh well. He’d go to the graveyard, see if he could work out his weird mood, then if he needed a little excitement, he’d go poke Lee in the armpit or something.

Chapter Two

Dead. I’m dead. Gideon Crosby stared down at his body, or what was left of it. Other soldiers were hurt, but him? Dead. Then he saw Jordan Dempsey lying there, gasping, blood bubbling from his lips. No! God, no, please—

How it was possible for him to be dead and still hurt like his heart was literally being ripped from his body was a mystery that Gideon didn’t care to unravel. All that mattered in that moment was that his best friend was dying, too.

Which meant Gideon had failed. “I’m so sorry, Jordan. God damn it, I’m so sorry.” Gideon sobbed, but no one seemed to hear him. There were soldiers shouting orders, soldiers screaming in pain. Even if he’d been alive, would anyone have noticed him, would they have heard the agony in his voice as he watched Jordan’s blue eyes widen with shock?

His own death was nothing. Gideon had already pushed the trauma of it aside as he floated—levitated? What the hell am I doing?—toward Jordan. He wasn’t sure how he did it, but he needed to be with Jordan, then he just…was. Gideon reached for Jordan automatically, the need to stem the blood flowing from his chest irresistible.

But Gideon’s hands went right through Jordan. Gideon gasped, jerking his hands back, sure he’d feel something. Gideon stared at his hands until Jordan made another wet, sickening sound. He looked at Jordan, and to his surprise, found those blue, teary eyes focused on him.

“Jordan?” Gideon rasped, reaching again for his friend, the only one he’d ever had, really.

“Gid… Hurts,” Jordan got out in what was barely even a whisper. Gideon cringed. At least he’d died quickly. There’d been massive pain, thunderous noise ripping through his head, then nothing but confusion as he’d risen above his remains. But Jordan was suffering.

“Let go,” Gideon urged. “Jordan, let go. Don’t fight it. There’s no way—” He swallowed around a tight knot of regret. He’d say it, if it put an end to Jordan’s suffering. “There’s no way they can save you.” Not with the amount of blood Jordan had lost, or the wounds he had suffered. Gideon averted his gaze, staring only into Jordan’s eyes. “Let go, and it won’t hurt. It’ll just—”

Even staring at Jordan, Gideon caught a flash of brilliant white-gold light shooting up from a nearby soldier’s body. He had to follow that light visually. Where was it going?

Up, up and away. Since I’m not going up—and I’m not going down, thank God—what does that mean?

Jordan gasped, or tried to. Gideon jerked his attention back to his friend. “It’ll be okay, Jordan. We’ll figure this out together.” If Jordan didn’t go shooting up into the heavens. Gideon was terrified he would and that would mean Gideon would be all alone in the world, or spiritual plane, whatever it was he was existing on. But he didn’t want to be a selfish bastard, either. If what was up beyond the clouds was better, then he wanted Jordan to go there.

Jordan blinked, and when his eyes opened again, his body gave up the fight. His spirit rose up, jetting high into the air.

“No!” Jordan screamed. He clawed at nothing, and Gideon willed himself to help his friend. He willed it, then he was up there too, wrapping his arms around Jordan’s legs and feeling him.

They began sinking, slowly at first, then it was a sudden, rapid plummet to the ground. “Shit!” Gideon got out right before twisting around so he’d bear the brunt of the fall.

Except they didn’t hit. They just kind of…stopped. Gideon opened his eyes, not even knowing when he’d closed them. “Oh God,” he groaned when he saw that they were almost completely in the ground. It was too close to being buried for him. “Get up! Get up, get up, get up!”

He’d always been claustrophobic. Apparently being dead wasn’t going to change that. It wasn’t until he was panting and shoving his way to his feet that he realized he probably could have just floated right up through Jordan. Jordan had felt pretty solid, that was the problem.

“Jesus Christ, look at us,” Jordan whispered.

Gideon looked at Jordan, thinking the man was speaking of them as they were at that very moment. Jordan wasn’t. He was staring aghast at their bodies.

“Stop looking at it,” Gideon said as he hooked an arm around Jordan’s