The first cases of resurrection had been reported a few years after my family and I had died.

To begin with they were few and far between, coming in from various places around the world. And, at first, people were incredibly sceptical. But as more and more cases were reported, investigated, and ultimately proven, it gradually became an accepted part of everyday life. Within a few months, the reappearance of lost loved ones had become a daily occurrence and society started to adapt accordingly.

Five years and 150 million worldwide resurrections later and still no one was able to explain why it was happening, or why some people resurrected and some hadn’t.

It didn’t happen in any sort of logical order either. Sometimes the resurrectee was someone who had died years or decades previously; sometimes it was someone who had died only a few weeks or months earlier.

What all those returning did have in common was that none of them had died before 4th September 1983, none of them had died of old age and none of them came back with any sign of what had killed them – be it trauma or illness. They returned perfectly healthy and very much alive, the same person and the same age as when they’d died.

And when they came back, each person appeared in a place that had been “special” to them, naked and with no recollection of the time between their death and reappearance.

I was no different. One minute I was screaming in terror as our out of control car smashed into a large oak tree. I experienced an overwhelming explosion of pain...

... and then I was sitting up in bed in what had been my bedroom, hyperventilating, the Indian teenage boy in bed next to me understandably freaked out.

Luckily for me, the UK had a fairly decent system in place, and the boy’s parents made a quick phone call. I was soon in the care of the authorities, being looked after and having everything explained to me.

From what I’d since seen on the news a lot of other countries did little or nothing for those coming back and their new lives were horrific.

Not that the UK wasn’t finding it hard to cope with the vast numbers of those reappearing. It was. The government had had to build us housing, and had to provide food and clothes until people could get a job, and the whole country was struggling.

The resurrected became second class citizens, stuck in our estates. We were blamed for the lack of jobs, and for the strain on the health service and other public services. Everyone seemed to hate us.

***

The Headmaster, Mr Simpson, was a tall grey haired old man with glasses. He clearly wasn’t happy to see me, frowning as I was shown into his office. He sat there behind his desk, and studied me for a moment.

‘Sit down.’

I sat, feeling sick in my stomach, wondering what he’d been told. The two teachers who’d bundled me across the playground and into the school had made me wait in the corridor for ten minutes while they’d talked to him.

I hadn’t meant to hurt Julie, but the things she’d said... I’d seen red and lashed out. I wiped my eyes with my sleeve. How had my first day gone so horribly wrong?

‘Well Katherine,’ he said in a gruff voice, ‘This is exactly the sort of behaviour I should’ve expected from one of your sort.’

‘Pardon?’ I said, not quite believing what I’d heard.

‘You’ve only been in this school for four hours and you’ve already put one of the other students in hospital. Typical mindless thug like behaviour that perfectly demonstrates your underlying bad character.’

I was lost for words. I’d hoped I’d at least get a chance to try and explain what had happened. To maybe make him understand that I’d reacted the way I had because of what Julie had told everyone about my Dad and how we’d all died.

My astonishment must’ve shown, because Mr Simpson sighed. ‘These are dark days Katherine. Very dark days. The scriptures warned us that when hell was full, the dead would resurrect and herald the beginning of the End of Days.’

He paused for a moment, letting that sink in, before continuing, ‘I’d rather hoped this school would be spared the presence of yet another of those cast out, but here we are. Stuck with each other.’

Diane had warned me that a number of religions claimed the resurrection phenomena was a “sign”, and that those with fanatical beliefs would be less than welcoming to those of us who’d come back.

I’d been prepared for the odd bit of abuse in the street. I hadn’t expected my own Headmaster to be so openly hostile towards me. I was starting to realise just how sheltered from everything I’d been on the estate over the last few weeks.

Mr Simpson looked at me sternly, as if expecting me to speak up, but I didn’t say a word. I had no idea how to react what I’d just been told. I knew he was wrong to say what he had, but he was my Headmaster and I was a fifteen year old who’d just attacked a fellow pupil.

Mr Simpson regarded me for a moment longer, then said, ‘Well, if my faith and worthiness is to be tested, so be it.’

He cleared his throat, as if the previous few minutes hadn’t occurred, picked up a pen and opened the notebook on his desk.

‘Now then Katherine, because a pupil has been hurt, and because we had to involve the emergency services, a report needs to be completed on what happened in the playground today.’

‘You were seen punching Julie Watterson in the face, breaking her nose in the process. Unfortunately, she was too distraught to tell us much before she was taken to hospital. Can you explain what happened? Why you assaulted Julie in such a sudden and vicious manner?’

I started crying, but between sobs managed to describe what had happened, telling Mr Simpson everything that Julie had said, and admitting that I’d struck out at her in anger.

Mr Simpson shook his head sadly, ‘Katherine, none of what you’ve told me excuses your behaviour. You should have walked away, or spoken to a teacher.’

‘But she said my Dad was drink-driving,’ I said, as I stood up, my voice raised.

‘Sit down this instant.’ His tone made it clear this was not a request.

I stood there for a second, and then sat down, angrily, arms folded. I was shaking.

I wanted to scream “He wasn’t drunk!”, but I sat there fuming as he continued, ‘She shouldn’t have taunted you about it, and I will speak to her about that once she’s well enough to return to school. But physical force is never the answer, and the use of it will not be tolerated in this school.’

‘But she...’ I started.

‘Quiet!’ He slammed his right hand down on the desk, his face like thunder. He paused, took a deep breath and then, in a softer calmer voice, said, ‘This will go on your school record, and I will be speaking to your support worker. Maybe she can talk some sense into you. Now, do you have anything else to say for yourself, before you go back to your lessons?’

I shook my head, not trusting myself to speak without getting myself into more trouble.

‘Pardon?’

‘No Sir,’ I managed through gritted teeth.

‘Right. Well, I’ll be watching you, Miss Donnelly. You need to have a serious think about what you’ve done today and change your behaviour accordingly. You never know, it may not be too late to absolve yourself of your sins. But I warn you, any more trouble and I will have you expelled. Do I make myself clear?’

‘Yes Sir,’ I replied simply, knowing that nothing I could say would change anything.

‘Good. Now get out and don’t let me see you here again.’

I rose and left quickly, my thoughts a buzzing hornets’ nest of fury and frustration.

***

If I’d thought things couldn’t get worse I was wrong, because the rest of the day was a total nightmare.

Word of my retaliation on Julie had quickly spread throughout the school and when I joined the afternoon physics lesson there was a lot of hushed whispers and fearful looks. The blood splattered blouse I was wearing didn’t help.

Mrs Jones, the physics teacher, told me to sit next to Gemma, near the front of the class. Gemma looked at me briefly, her expression unreadable, and then carried on with her work, ignoring me.

‘Back to work everyone,’ ordered Mrs Jones and the whispers died down, but I could feel everyone’s eyes on me for the rest of the lesson.

Afterwards, as we made our way to the next class, Gemma just said, ‘Come on,’ and wouldn’t even look at me to see if was keeping up.

Pupils passing us in the corridor whispered to each other, and I caught snippets of what they were saying

‘...psycho...’

‘...punched her...’

‘...there she is...’

‘...bloody rezzers...’

‘...covered in blood, look...’

‘...poor Julie’s in hospital...’

The next class, maths, was no better than the physics one. When Gemma and I entered the room everyone else stared, including Laura who gave me an evil look.

Once we’d sat down Gemma ignored me again, making it clear she didn’t want to be associated with me. I couldn’t really blame her.

I was exhausted after the come down from the earlier adrenalin rush of the fight, and I hadn’t had time to eat lunch either, so it was a struggle to concentrate on my work. I got several fairly easy equations wrong, which just added to my general humiliation.

It was a long afternoon.

***

As soon as the last bell sounded I got the hell out of there.

Outside of the school grounds the other pupils could say what they wanted, and I got a lot of abuse shouted at me. I kept my head down and walked away quickly, worried that some of them might confront or even attack me for what had happened.

Once I was away from the school and out of harm’s way, I slowed down to a more plodding pace, not especially anxious to return to the depressing confines of the estate.

It was the last place I wanted to be, but I had nowhere else to go.

Next Chapter: Chapter 3