Mischiefmakers: Dark Macabre (12 page)

“Mouthfuls of your warm blood are what I hope to gain! It is
with your vital fluid I shall relieve my hunger!” The already terrify-
ing eyes glow with anger.

In one gigantic, swift motion, the huge beast attacks. It launches
itself at Sarah, latching onto her head, gouging at her eyes. The
huge hand rakes itself across Sarah’s chest, opening a wide gash.
Blood flows like a river. Sarah releases a high-pitched scream that
is quickly quieted.

Within the shadows, the chewing, ripping of flesh, and snap
-
ping of bones resound in the darkness. Outlined by moonlight,
the huge hand prepares to attack once more. It slashes at the softest parts of Sarah, ripping out chunks that it flings into its gap-
ing jaws. Other parts are flung carelessly away to the ground. Its
dark claws drip blood that splatters onto the fire escape through
an open window.
The beast shifts its prey toward the open window for a better view of its meal. The pastel moonbeams now outline the
once-hidden monster. Its head, far more massive than any human
head, is covered with thin, spiny quills, resembling a porcupine.
Its teeth, resembling the fangs of a giant king cobra, slice again
through Sarah’s already-open chest like a heated knife through
soft butter.

Sarah releases one last slight moan that is shortened by the
blood filling her throat.
The sound of the beast’s feeding frenzy can only be mimicked
by a starving pack of timber wolves voraciously ripping apart a
small child.
Suddenly, the monster takes a brief pause. Its mouth wet with
blood and flesh, it swallows. Gazing out the window, it begins a
sinister laughter. Dropping Sarah’s body, it wipes its mouth with
one swipe of its massive arm.
After its laughter, it releases a huge roar that rivals that of any
earthly beast.
Outside the building, a shadowy figure scurries down the dark
street. As it comes closer, its holy nature is felt by the sinister
demon inside the apartment.
Father Johns, panting heavily, stops briefly to gather some
breath. His exhaustion is tremendous; his body tries to convince
him to just faint. Fighting off his weary body’s desire, he lifts
himself back into an upright position and continues to run. His
face bursts with perspiration that causes his glasses to fog, rendering them useless. Not exactly sure where he’s going, he glares
left to right, trying to find the building that he has only heard
about.
Without warning, there is a thunderous explosion. The mere
vibration drops Father Johns to his knees. Soon after the erup-
tion, an enormous ball of flames roars from the rooftop of the
building.
Father Johns picks up his glasses, which were blown clear off
his face. Placing them back onto his nose, he looks up, realizing
Sarah is in that building.
Suddenly, the evil shrill that had broken the morning calm some
time ago pronounces itself once more, except this time it rends
the evening sky.
Father Johns looks upward, trying to get a glimpse of the ani-
mal that could make such an evil sound, but the dark sky hides it
well.

ighting the thick white haze embracing her sight, Melissa
squints open her eyes. The pain makes her clamp them
shut again. Peering cautiously through the watery tears, she

All she can see is white. The walls and ceiling are white. Even
the man near her is a blur of angelic white.
“I see you have decided to wake up.” The handsome man gently smiles at the groggy woman. “You have been asleep for a few
days now,” he says, standing up from the chair next to the bed.
“Where am I?” asks Melissa.
“Livingston Medical Center,” he answers.
“Not another damn hospital!” Melissa attempts to get up when
a fierce pain rips through her arm. She accidentally snatches one
of her IV lines out of her vein. “Shit!”
“Hold on...relax, let me get a nurse to put that back in.” The
man walks toward the door in order to summon one of the
passing nurses. As he sticks his head out the door, Melissa takes
a closer look at her visitor. She pulls back the hospital curtains,
observing his big bulky jeans, big boots, blue T-shirt, and bright
red suspenders. He is six foot, well built, with dark hair.
“Who are you?” asks Melissa.
Pulling his head back into the room, he turns, smiles, and walks
over to the bed. Placing each hand on the guardrails at the side of
Melissa, the handsome man hovers over her, and she notices his
captivating brown eyes.
“I am the man who risked his life to get you out of a burning
building. I’m a fireman as you can see.” Melissa notices the big
boots and red suspenders. But she immediately has questions.
“A fire?! What about Sarah, my friend, is she here, too?” Hear-
ing Melissa’s question, the man’s pleasant smile vanishes.
“I’m sorry, but your friend did not survive the explosion.”
Melissa feels her stomach twisting into painful knots. Her eyes
become watery, her sight unclear. An enormous feeling of emptiness overwhelms her. She becomes very quiet, allowing her head
to drift onto its side, looking away from the handsome young
man. She gently closes her eyes, hiding from the glaring sunlight
that pours into her room.
Almost as if he feels her pain, the young man stares at Melissa
with a passionate look. Reaching out to her, he kindly strokes the
back of her head.
“Someone lost an IV in here?” The nurse’s voice startles the
man.
“Yeah, right here, she yanked it out by mistake.”
The nurse dressed in typical nurse uniform proceeds to reinsert the IV.
“Is she okay?” the nurse asks as she searches for a vein.
“Yeah, she recently heard some bad news.”
“All right, well, I’m all done here. Any other problems, just hit
that little green button off to the side, okay?”
“I’ll be sure to do that, thank you.”
“Don’t thank me. It’s what I get paid for. You have a good day.”
The young man sits back down on the hard wooden chair, picks
up the sports section of a nearby paper, and begins reading.
Melissa’s mind is throbbing. She feels her thoughts racing back
and forth inside her brain, banging around, and causing her to feel
great pain. She grabs the pillow and shoves it down over her face,
and tries to smother the pain, as her mind pulsates and thumps
and takes her on a memorable journey.
She remembers Sarah. In her mind, she can see Sarah’s kind
face, gracious smile, crazy laughter, and gentle attitude. She
remembers the laughs they often shared over a gallon of rum or
over whatever they could steal or afford. Sarah was Melissa’s rock.
Sarah was always there for Melissa. She wonders who will be there
for her now. She can’t go home; she barely knows where home is
or who would even be there. It’s been almost eight years. Melissa’s
mind goes into a whirlwind frenzy, trying to grasp the reality of
her situation. She wants to reach out, to cry out to somebody. She
attempts to speak to Sarah through her thoughts.
Sarah...Sarah...can you hear me? I can’t live without you, Sarah,
you’re all I have, there is no one else. Please come back to me, I
didn’t get a chance to thank you for all you’ve done for me. Please,
say something to me. But there is no voice to comfort Melissa’s
cry.
Remember you said you would never leave me, we would always
be together. That’s what you said! Melissa’s closed eyes begin to
overflow with tears of grief. I’ll miss you, Sarah. I’ll miss you more
than you could ever know. I love you, Sarah, good-bye. Saying her
last good-bye and with her lips tightly shut, she squeezes out all
remaining tears.
“Are you okay?” the young man asks.
Melissa rolls her head back in the direction of the young man as
one last tear glides down her face.
“What happened? How did the fire start?” asks Melissa.
“Well, it seems that the vacant building where you and your
friend were staying sprung a gas leak. We think it was residual gas
left in the pipes when the gas was shut off during the first fire, and
somehow it ignited. You were brought here due to smoke inhalation.”
“The building we were staying at wasn’t vacant. There were
some other families living there.”
“What other families?”
“I don’t know exactly, I mean, I never saw them, but the owner
said there were other families.”
“You met the owner?”
“Yes, I met the owner,” Melissa answers with an irritated tone.
“Look, I’m not trying to bug you, it’s just that we fought a fire
there over six months ago, and, if I’m not mistaken, the owner
died in that blaze along with several other people. The apartment
you were staying in was the only one with a floor. The rest were
gutted out months ago.”
“The place I was staying in had never been in any fire. You
must be in the wrong goddamn room.”
Suddenly there is a knock at the door. A man with a stern,
unshaven face and unpleasant demeanor comes through the door.
His thick striped tie, off-white shirt, and polyester pants wouldn’t
win him any praise from a fashion critic. Flashing his shiny gold
detective badge, he arrogantly smiles as he steps toward Melissa.
After he scratches what is left of his hair, he pulls out a small pad
and pencil.
“You are the woman from the fire down Ironbound?”
“Yes.”
He nods as if he already knew the answer. He turns to the
young man.
“Could you please give us a moment? Alone.” With a crude
tone, he gestures for the young man to leave.
“Sure, no problem.” He leaves the room.
“So, you and your friend enjoy playing with matches, setting old
abandoned buildings on fire?” he asks with a slight chuckle.
“Who are you?!” Melissa asks.
“I’m sorry, was I rude?” he asks with sarcasm. “Detective Peter-
son, Arthur J.”
“We didn’t start no fire.”
“Not according to the fire department. All other possibilities
have been ruled out; you two were playing with fire and ignited a
gas-filled pipe. That’s all there is to it and according to our report,
your friend died fuckin’ around.”
“We didn’t light any fire. Maybe one of the neighbors did!”
The slightly overweight detective bursts into laughter.
“The neighbors, what neighbors?! You mean the other bums
that stayed with you, were those your neighbors?” He changes
back to his serious face. “Look, stay out of the buildings! I would
fine your ass, but what’s the point, you ain’t got shit! If I ever see
your white trash ass in any of those vacant buildings, I’ll throw
your ass through the jail!” Pointing at Melissa, his stern voice is
loud and clear.
Calming his tone slightly, he has one more statement to make.
“Hey, do us all a favor, you know, the taxpayers, and get your-
self a job and stop soaking up all the welfare! You people make
me sick!” He shoves his notebook and pencil into his torn shirt
pocket. Giving Melissa one last stare, he turns and leaves.
Melissa’s face steams with pure rage as she watches the arrogant
cop exit the room. She is so numb with anger she doesn’t realize
she is biting her bottom lip before a small droplet of blood forms.
All she can imagine is grasping his shiny 9MM that is tightly
strapped to his side and putting it to his face, then without any
haste, unloading the entire clip. Melissa imagines the blood splattering all over the white walls and ceiling, causing a dazzling array
of red droppings.
“Hello, hello in there.” The young man, unnoticed by Melissa,
has re-entered the room. Looking directly into her eyes, he tries to
break her trance. “Hey, I think you bit your lip.” He pulls from the
box of tissues sitting next to the phone and proceeds to wipe the
blood.
“What the hell are you doing?!” Melissa’s daze is broken as she
pushes his hand away, knocking the blood-tainted tissue to the
floor.
“Just trying to help,” he says while taking a step backward.
“Who the hell are you? You been in here all this time like we’re
related or somethin’! Look, if you want to help me, help me get
the hell out of here! Other than that you’re just another useless
man, and at the moment, that’s the last thing I need.”
“When you get out of here, where are you going to go?”
“You nosy bastard! How’s that any of your business?”
“Look! My friends at the station said don’t get involved. But,
when I found you in that back room choking on black smoke, you
asked me to help you. In fact, you kept asking until we loaded you
into the ambulance!” Taking a deep breath, he calms his irritated
voice. “I’m only doing what you asked me to.”
Melissa slams back into the hospital bed, pouting like a child.
“From the information we’ve gathered, you spent a lot of time
at the mission downtown. Your only friend was the woman killed
in that fire; others you associated with cannot be found. You have
no one else.”
“Is any of this your business?”
“I guess not,” he answers, indignantly snatching his wrinkled
newspaper and storming out of the room.