Mischiefmakers: Dark Macabre (13 page)

ater that evening, Melissa carefully opens her hospital
room door and peeks through the narrow opening. Looking down the hall, she sees one nurse running to answer

a call for help. Melissa spots another nurse carefully reviewing a
patient’s chart. Other than those two nurses, the hospital hallways
are barren.

With only her hospital gown on, Melissa creeps down the hall,
flattening her body against the cold tiled wall. She cringes at the
feeling of her bare butt rubbing against the ice-cold wall, and her
bare feet ache for a pair of warm sneakers. Steadily maintaining her silence, she passes open doors. Keeping a sharp lookout,
Melissa takes a glimpse around each and every corner before proceeding.

Damn, someone’s coming!
Melissa, hearing the chatter of oncoming hospital staff,
quickly darts into an unknown room. Closing the door softly,
she backs into the darkness as the doctors walk by. Sliding her
hand along the wall, she flicks the light on. Melissa finds herself
in a hospital locker room. Hoping she can find something to
wear, she begins searching through some of the lockers. All she
finds is some hospital scrubs and an old pair of white sneakers
that were tossed in the trash for obvious reasons. The sneakers
are covered with dried blood and reek of a stomach-churning
stench. To make things worse, when Melissa tries the sneakers
on, she gets a toe full of an indescribable organic mess. After
pulling the mess out of the sneakers, she puts on the scrubs
marked with bold letters: “Livingston Medical Center.” Melissa
walks over to the mirror to see what she can do to improve her
looks. Remembering the scene from the movie “True Lies,”
where Jamie Lee Curtis uses water from a vase to slick her hair
back, Melissa pours a handful of water. Hoping this works, she
proceeds to saturate her hair. Using an extra scrub top, she then
pads it slightly dry.
She makes sure the hall is clear before she exits the room. Feel-
ing a little bit more comfortable now that she is out of the patient
clothing, she walks with less concern. After passing a few of the
hospital staff unnoticed, she abandons all caution, looking desperately for the elevator.
“Excuse me, may I help you?” The soprano voice that seems
to have come out of thin air stops Melissa in her tracks. Turning
slowly, Melissa wonders if she should run, bluff, or flat out kick
this woman’s ass and run. She decides to bluff. Considering the
nurse stands about six foot and has to weigh at least 200 hundred pounds, kicking her ass has to be quickly discarded as an
option.
“No, I’m fine.”
“Who are you?”
Melissa struggles to think.
“Who am I?” Melissa answers with a goofy, confused tone.
“Yes, who are you?” The nurse’s patience begins to wear thin.
Melissa senses this.
“Dr. Curtis, Jamie Curtis.” Melissa’s eyes drift to the side, won-
dering what the hell made her say that.
“Why are you up here? What kind of doctor are you?” the nurse
asks. Melissa answers with the only type of doctor she knows anything about.
“Podiatrist.”
The hefty nurse takes a second to think. “Oh, you must be here
for Barns.”
“Barns?” says Melissa.
“Mr. Barns just came in the ER with a broken ankle. You’ll find
him in room four, down on the first level.”
“I knew the patient’s name began with a B, yeah, Barns, that’s
it,” Melissa answers as she desperately attempts to play it off. “I
appreciate your help, I’ll head right down.” Melissa turns and
begins to walk away. She feels the nurse still standing there looking
at her walk.
“Dr. Curtis.”
Melissa’s nervousness shows as she reluctantly turns to face the
huge woman.
“The elevator is down that hall.” The tall, stout nurse points her
in the right direction. Melissa wastes no time quickly changing her
direction.
Moments later, Melissa casually strolls out of the electronic
emergency room doors. The night breeze sends a slight chill
through her scalp as it greets her water-saturated hair. The evening
sky, dark and cloudless, only houses the shimmering lights of the
distant stars.
Melissa’s enjoyment of freedom is short-lived as the grief of
Sarah’s death suddenly overcasts the pleasant evening. In an unfamiliar city outside Newark, she begins to weep when memories of
her best friend emerge. Not even the loud sirens of the passing
emergency vehicles can break her reminiscing as she walks toward
the distant lights of downtown Newark.
“So, you’re going to walk the entire way?” A familiar voice star-
tles her.
Melissa turns, and her tears are greeted with a pleasant smile
from the young handsome fireman. “Still thinking about your
friend?” he asks. Melissa wipes her face.
“What are you still doin’ around?” Melissa sniffles.
“Hey, it’s a busy night, we had a few fires, so I came down to
see a couple of people in the ER. Then I see you scurrying out the
door. You know, you should stay until they release you, to make
sure everything is all right.”
“Everything’s fine.” Melissa continues to walk.
“You going to answer my question?”
“What question?” she asks.
“Are you walking the entire way?”
“Maybe.”
“You know, it looks close, but it’s actually about fifteen miles.”
Melissa slows her stride, following this brush with reality. “Fif-
teen?”
“Yep,” he replies with a grin.
Melissa turns to face the young man.
“So, you givin’ me a ride?”
“Sure, after we get something to eat, unless you’re in some sort
of hurry.”
Melissa’s growling stomach and hunger pangs voice their opinion. “I don’t have any money.”
“Don’t worry about it. We’ll walk over to Don’s 24-Hour
Diner.” After a few more strides with nothing but silence, he stops
and introduces himself. “Oh, by the way, my name is Morgan
Lowery.” He reaches out for a pleasant handshake.
“Melissa Shelton,” she answers nervously, greeting the palm of
his right hand with hers. Reluctantly, she asks a disturbing ques-
tion. “Did they bury Sarah...my friend from the fire?” Her voice is
low and shaken.
“Yes, I believe the city buried her earlier today,” he answers in
a compassionate tone. “I’m sorry about what happened. I know
how it is to lose a good friend. I lost a close buddy during that
huge blaze at the paper warehouse last year.”
“I remember that.” Melissa notices the faint look of grief over
his soft smile. They both take a brief pause from their conversation as they continue to walk.
“I like what you’ve done with your hair. What’s up with the
scrubs? A disguise?”
Melissa just grins, shyly rubbing her hair. She doesn’t answer his
question, but allows him to lead the way with a very faint smile.

oments later, the two sit in a comfortable booth at Don’s
Diner, reviewing the menus. Melissa takes a slight moment
to take a good look at the man who’s treating her to this

meal. She methodically reviews his entire face and upper body
with a slow probing stare. Being sure not to miss anything that
may identify him as a possible lunatic, she makes a mental note of
every distinguishing mark.

Nice face, cute smile, I see he has a tattoo, I see it peeking out
the arm of his T-shirt, I wonder what it is. If it’s a heart or his
mom’s name or somethin’ like that, that’s fine, but if it’s a picture
of the devil or a skull and cross bones, I’m outta here.

Looking at his right shoulder and lifting his shirt, uncovering
the colorful picture, he replies.
“It’s a Capricorn, that’s my sign.”
“Oh yeah, when’s your birthday?” asks Melissa.
“December 28th.”
“Mine is the 31st,” she responds.
“Well, Capricorn is the best sign to be, I mean, that’s what they
say.”
Melissa can’t help but acknowledge the humane nature of
this young man who came out of nowhere. He seems like the
type of companion she’s longed for. The type of companion
Harry pretended to be. The thought of that monster fills her
stomach with nausea, but luckily her hunger pangs stifle the
brief sensation. Her mind shifts between the death of her best
friend and this kind-faced man opposite her, blinding her with
mixed emotions.
“You can order anything you want.”
“Thank you.” Melissa picks up the oversized shabby menu, then
shifts into a comfortable position.
The diner is clean and designed like any other city diner. The
floor is tiled with multi-colored mini squares. The booths have
cracked bright red leather seats that are tightly stitched into more
mini squares mimicking the floor. The high stools surrounding
the counter are a brightly polished silver, topped with the same
cracked red leather.
The cook is intense as he flips his hamburgers with precision.
He seems to be proud of what he does. Happily finishing each
order, he rings a tiny bell with his oversized spatula, then hollers, “Order up!” He fills the diner with a pleasing aroma of fried
onions, crispy home fries, and a host of other delightful scents
that immediately cause the patrons’ mouths to water.
The waitress’ hair is pulled up into a big blonde sixties beehive,
which houses all her writing utensils and probably her car keys.
Dressed in a sky-blue uniform with a food-stained apron, she
eventually comes to their table. Smacking on a wad of DoubleMint, she is surprisingly cordial as she takes their orders.
“So, why the visit in the hospital and the meal?” asks Melissa.
“We’ll call it a rookie learning the hard way that he can’t change
the world.” As he clasps his hands in front of him with his elbows
on the table, he starts to explain, “I’ve only been in the fire depart-
ment for a year now, and I can’t help but see victims every day. I’ve
seen entire families wiped out. I’ve seen situations where all die
except a young child, protected by his or her car seat.” He takes
a brief pause, honoring the victims of tragedy with a respectful
moment of silence.
“Most of the firemen have learned over the years not to get
emotionally involved, but I guess I haven’t learned that yet. I can’t
help but notice when I’m fighting a fire there is someone who is
about to lose everything. I try day after day not to think about it,
but I do anyway. I feel that if I am able to do something, then why
shouldn’t I?”
“So, I’m a charity case?” Melissa asks, looking at him with a
gun-fighter stare.
“No, that is not what I meant. After I put you in the ambulance, word got through the crowd that your friend was killed. I
heard people saying things like, ‘Now she has no one’, and ‘Who’s
gonna look after her now?’ ‘Not me!’ someone answered. As I
said before, you asked for my help, so I decided to help you. You
would have gotten away if I hadn’t seen you sneaking out the
ER.”
“How do you plan to help me?” Melissa’s eyes are situated in a
pessimistic glare.
“Well, for starters, I could give you a place to stay for a little
while, at least until you can get yourself situated with a job.”
“How am I goin’ to get a job?”
“Well, see, here is where your luck gets even better. Before I
became a fireman, I spent a few years teaching high school. I held
a special after-school program where other teachers and I assisted
students with anything from college applications to job interviews,
and the program always has room for an aide, no experience necessary.”
“What makes you think I want a job?”
“That’s the only way you’ll get off the streets. Do you want to
get off the streets?”
Melissa turns her head to the window that parallels their booth
and contemplates his question. She just stares aimlessly at the illu-
minated parking lot. Morgan just sits quietly, allowing her some
time to think.
Two hot plates of sizzling burgers and fries slide directly in
front of them.
“Y’all need some ketchup?” Without waiting for an answer, the
waitress plops a fresh bottle in the middle of the table. “Anything
else?” she asks, placing two full glasses of bubbling Sprite on the
table.
“No thank you, we’re fine,” answers Morgan.
The two eat quietly, analyzing each other. Periodically Melissa
lifts her face from her plate to take another gaze at the handsome young fireman. Thoughts of Sarah quickly invade this
pleasantry.

Another gesture of concern from the gentle fireman. Melissa
tries her best to fight the desire to give in to this stranger. Sarah is
no longer around to give motherly advice. Melissa has no one else.
As her mind swirls with questions and mixed emotions, she turns
to the waiting fireman.

Melissa opens her mouth slowly. Her soft, shaken voice
emerges.
“This is for real, no jokes?”
“None,” he answers promptly.
“What do you want in return?”
“Absolutely nothing,” he states, opening his palms wide and
raising his hands to further gesture his sincerity. Melissa nods,
mildly motioning acceptance of the young man’s offer.

The night is peaceful with the city sounds far away and
drenched within the distant lights of downtown Newark. Melissa
hasn’t felt such a tranquil place since her young days in Erie, Penn-
sylvania.

As they walk, she actually hears the crickets chirp, a sound
she’s failed to pay attention to for many years. The smell of
freshly cut grass still looms within the night air, filling her lungs.
Her vision is slightly hindered by the evening shadows, but she
can still catch a small glimpse of the colorful gardens that surround each house. Each flower looks as if its every need is ada-
mantly tended to by its owner. They bloom with such brilliance
that even the evening darkness cannot fully engulf their magical
splendor.

Melissa begins to enjoy the quiet neighborhood around the hos
-
pital. Even as she steps into Morgan’s car, she stares at the beauti-
ful evergreens that line the streets. Morgan makes no attempt to
interrupt her thoughts. Looking at her occasionally, he smiles.

Melissa leans her face out the open window, enjoying the fresh
clean breeze that passes through her hair. Watching the streetlights
breeze by, she makes silent wishes, wishing for her nightmares to
cease, the nightmares of homelessness, of friendlessness, despair,
and poverty--she wishes them all away.

Please, God, help me. Then suddenly a sharp pain rips through
her abdomen, stifling her breathing. She places her hand over her
stomach to try to dampen the pain, but it stops as quickly as it
began. It only lasts a few seconds, but its memory lasts longer.

As the streetlights begin to slow their swift pace, Melissa notices
Morgan making a turn into a long driveway.
“This is where you live?” asks Melissa.
“This is it, me and my grandparents.”
“Aren’t they going to mind me staying here?”
“Naw, they’ll be gone the rest of the summer, fall, and most of
the winter. They have another home in Orlando, Florida, so they
spend a lot of time down there.”
“Oh.” Melissa gazes up at the yellow colonial style home. Like
the other homes, it also has an immaculate garden. It sits pushed
back from the street, and thick evergreen bushes graze its outer
boundaries. Its white columns support a spacious balcony that
extends from one of the second floor rooms.
As they continue up the driveway, Melissa smiles at the garage, a
cute miniature version of the home.
“This is a beautiful home.”
“Thank you. You’ll enjoy yourself here.”
The two exit the vehicle and enter the house through a side
door. Once inside, Morgan finds the light switch and illuminates
the kitchen. With its marble counter top, dangling copper cooking utensils, and brightly polished pots and pans, Melissa recalls a
similar kitchen in the Better Homes and Gardens magazine. She
has only fantasized of such a place. Opening her eyes wide, she
takes a mental snap shot of all its beauty, just in case this is some
sort of dream. Even though she feels exhaustion overwhelming
her, she methodically visits each room. She has no need for Morgan to give her a tour; she allows her senses to guide her through
the impeccable home. The beauty of each room captivates her.
Finding each light switch, her mouth gapes in awe.
Realizing the street life has adapted her senses to much less pic-
turesque surroundings, Morgan allows her to wander.
Stopping at one particular dark room, Melissa searches the wall,
looking for the light switch, when suddenly a strong arm reaches
over her.
“I see you’ve found your room.”
Smiling, Melissa turns.
Morgan switches on the light, then gestures goodnight with
a simple nod of his head. He steps back into the doorway and
with a mild-mannered grin, he closes the door in front of him.
The room is just as colonial as the outside. The carpet is a satiny
peach tone that comfortably covers the entire floor. One dresser
sits lonely in the far corner, attractively topped with tiny animal
figurines. The tiny sculptures sit upon a pure white lace cloth that
loosely drapes off the sides of the dresser. Wallpaper with a light
bouquet pattern covers the wall with the whisking shadow of a
ceiling fan crossing it. Melissa gazes at the soft flowery patterned
ceiling fan crossing it. Melissa gazes at the soft flowery patterned
watt bulbs lighting the room. The oversized pillows line the head
of the bed, their deep, fluffy appearance inducing a huge yawn.
Melissa waltzes toward the bed, performing a private strip show.
She ends up unclothed before reaching the foot of the bed. Slipping her nude body between the dark, floral patterned sheets, she
lays her head gently. The puffy down-feathered pillows swallow
her. Too tired to even attempt to get up and flip the light switch,
she just buries her head even deeper before closing her eyes.