Mischiefmakers: Dark Macabre (3 page)

n a dark, narrow downtown alley with a stench that could suffocate a sewer rat, Sarah searches through some trash in hopes
of finding food. It’s been days since Sarah last ate. Her belly

aches. She rummages deeper in the dumpster, shoving aside greasy
fast-food wrappers and empty pizza boxes. Suddenly she sees two
familiar bloodshot eyes staring back at her from behind two black
garbage bags. In a fright, she leaps back.

“What the hell?” Sarah stares hard between the two bags and
the gritty brick wall. Suddenly her body softens. It’s Melissa. Sarah
scratches her head. “Girl, what are you doing here!”

“Huh?” drawls Melissa. She looks around. Slobber hangs down
from her chin.
“Don’t huh me, what are you doing out of the hospital so
soon?”
Melissa, groggy and confused, looks around at her surroundings, then at Sarah. She searches her memory for words.
“They must have let me go. The nurse said something about
tests, then she let me leave.” Melissa’s voice has a low drunken
tone to it at first, but it swiftly disappears as Sarah helps her to her
feet.
“Damn! What, they gave you some tests and new clothes too?
That’s some nice shit you wearin’.”
“Some lady gave me these clothes when I left the hospital, I
think.” Melissa looks down to find herself wearing a red silk shirt
with some relatively new Levi’s jeans and red sneakers.
“Well, you got them now, so it really don’t matter. I’m glad to
see you doin’ okay. You had me worried for a bit. The assholes

wouldn’t even let me come see you, so I kicked the shit out of one
of the guards and ran my ass off.”
“Sarah, when did I go to the hospital?”
“Dummy, yesterday! May 16th, my birthday! I was just about
to remind you before your ass went into damn convulsions. What
was wrong with you anyway?”
“Hey, I’m sorry. Well, I’m feelin’ fine now. I was just kinda sick,
I think they said I had an allergy to somethin’ I ate.”
“Well, you need to stop eating all that crap.”
“How about some wine, so we can celebrate your belated birth-
day?” Melissa’s head begins to clear more and more with each
passing moment. In her mind, she attributes her lack of memory
to medications given to her in the hospital.
“You got some money?” a hopeful Sarah asks.
Melissa reaches into the pocket of her new Levi’s and pulls out
a crisp bundle of twenties and fifties.
“Yeah, I got a little.”
“Damn, girl, the lady gave you that too!”
“I guess so. Let’s get out of here and get somethin’ good to
eat.” Melissa wraps her arm around Sarah as they both walk, smiling and laughing, onto Central Avenue.
Hovering eyes from above watch the two closely. Melissa feels
the strange presence as she briefly stops, turns, and looks up.
“You feel that?”
“Feel what?”
“Never mind, must be all those damn drugs the doctors gave.
They got me feelin’ kinda strange. Come on, let’s go eat.”
Once they are out of view, peering from above, the watchful
eyes drift back into the alley. They spy down on the unknowing women. They float toward an overflowing garbage bin. A
brisk wind removes a pile of newspapers, uncovering the body
of a young Caucasian woman. Her open eyes are expressionless
and completely white except for the black tar-like substance that
surrounds them. Her mouth, frozen open in a stiff pose, steadily
becomes a home for several hungry centipedes and flies that come
and go as they please. Her skin is caked with splattered dry blood.
Cracked blood surrounding her lips looks as if her tongue was
viciously torn out. As she lies there nude in a bed of garbage and
tattered clothes, alone in the forgotten alleyway, the watchful eyes
gaze in an attempt to steal any ounce of her life’s essence that has
survived.
The body is instantly frozen as a fire rages within the ice.
Seconds later the blaze subsides and the ice diminishes. The
girl’s body has vanished. Nothing is left but a running river of
sweltering blood, bones, and melting ice. Smoke floats up from
the river, rising to the sky. The buzzing flies descend on it.
Roaches, maggots, and a host of other insects swiftly emerge
from their hiding places to gorge on the warm nutritious delicacy.

ith deep pockets, the two decide to travel in style on
New Jersey Transit to Bess Diner in Irvington. There
was a time when Sarah was able to cop some CDs out of

Tower Records and sell them downtown. With the money, she and
Melissa would come to Bess Diner for chicken soup with ham,
green salads, and baked potatoes with minimal hassle.

During the 20-minute bus ride up Springfield Avenue, Sarah
tries to converse with Melissa but to no avail. Melissa drifts within
her own thoughts, away from the outside world. Staring through
the graffiti-blanketed window, Melissa isn’t sure what has capti-
vated her attention.

“What’s wrong with you? On the bus, you didn’t even want to
talk. Now you want to get drunk?” responds Sarah.
“Well, I have a new attitude. I feel like things are goin’ to change
for us. We’re gonna get off the streets.”
“We’ll see, let’s worry about gettin’ through this day first.”
“You know how people look down on us just because we got
screwed-up lives, families that threw us out of the house, away
from our sisters, mothers...you know, things gotta change!” Melissa’s attitude shifts from anger to a whimpering cry as she lays her
head hopelessly on the table, and her memory of her last evening with Harry suddenly resurfaces. The waitress approaches the
booth smiling and in a seemingly cheerful mood.
“Are you ready to order, ma’am?”
Melissa, startled, snaps her head back and begins to shout.
“Look! Does it look like we’re ready?! What, you think we don’t
have any money?” For a split second, Melissa’s eyes glimmer a dull
green glow. Sarah and the waitress do not notice, only listen to the
anger that fills her voice.
“Melissa, relax!” Patting her on the hand. “Look, I’m sorry. She
just got out of the hospital, please just give us a minute and we’ll
order,” Sarah says as the shocked waitress shuffles her order pad
and walks away. “What the hell are you doing, when did you begin
hating the world again?” Melissa calms down as the feelings of
rage subside.
“I’m sorry, go ahead and order for the both of us, I’m going to
the bathroom to clean up a little.” Before finishing her sentence,
she rises and walks toward the bathroom. As she steps closer to
the restroom, a feeling of nausea overwhelms her stomach, and
at the same time, she is struck with a dizzy spell, causing her to
stagger. Reaching for the door, her body stiffens. Once inside the
restroom, Melissa rests against the white-tiled wall. She shakes her
head, trying to fight the maddening spell, but it’s hopeless. Falling
to her knees, she embraces the toilet and begins to vomit fiercely.
As she coughs up a mixture of blood and bodily fluids, a black
shadow quietly embraces her.

the middle of her feeding frenzy.
“Hell no, while you been gettin’ that hospital food for a night,
I still been out here scurrying the streets for lukewarm soup. How
you feelin’? Still wanna curse the world?”
“No, sorry about that, I feel better now.”
“What took you so long in there?”
“Nothin’, just feeling a little dizzy, that’s all.” Melissa gazes
around, feeling she is being watched. As she stares at each patron
with a suspicious glare, she sees a black shadow dash through the
room. She spins quickly, but it disappears.
“Girl, what did they give you in that hospital?” Sarah asks, look-
ing up from her plate and observing Melissa’s strange behavior.
“What do you mean?” Melissa sits, while giving another quick
glance over her shoulder.
“I mean you’re different.”
Melissa looks at Sarah and responds, “I’m fine, I’m the same
person that I was yesterday, so relax and eat.”
Sarah is puzzled at the quick change in character, but her hunger pangs don’t allow her to dwell on the subject.
Beyond all the diner conversations, baby screaming, and general
chatter, a small television broadcasts in the background; its picture
is slightly obscured with a thick layer of dust and kitchen grease.
When the words “Special Report” race across the screen, Sarah’s
attention shifts away from her food to the television. Patrons place
their coffee back onto the counter, and others put forks onto their
plates. They all view the TV with curious stares.
“Good afternoon. This is KLEW news. We have a breaking
story revealing a double homicide that occurred at approximately
nine p.m. last night at The University of Medicine and Dentistry
Hospital. We will now go on location with Susan Laird.” The word
“homicide” takes a hold of everyone’s attention. Even Melissa
places her knife and fork down to listen.
“What’s the story, Susan?” asks the TV anchor, who adjusts her
microphone.
“Things are kind of sketchy right now, Katie, but we have
confirmed that two emergency room doctors are dead and two
nurses are being questioned. It seems it all took place behind
closed doors in one of the observation rooms. There is, however, a bizarre twist to the story. Several nurses were on duty who
claim they did not hear a thing. All they can recall is that the doctors and nurses went in, that’s it. One of the nurse’s aides made
the horrifying discovery approximately midnight. The investigation is still underway as to why they were all in that particular
observation room.”
“Susan, do they know the cause of death?”
“It seems one of the doctors is a victim of a stabbing. The
other cause of death is yet unknown. We will continue to bring
more information as it becomes available. This is Susan Laird
reporting to you live from the University of Medicine and Dentistry in Newark.”
As the TV station switches to a commercial, Sarah’s eyes are
still glued to the screen, her jaw dropped wide. She grabs Melissa
and shakes her.
“Damn! Did you hear that? Did you see anythin’?”
“How would I hear or see somethin’?” Melissa responds.
“Because that’s where the ambulance took you yesterday,
dummy. Don’t you remember?”
“Oh.” Melissa nonchalantly shrugs her shoulders and pours salt
on her meatloaf. Then she stabs it with her fork and takes a big
hungry bite.
“’Scuse me,” Sarah responds. She eyes Melissa suspiciously,
wondering to herself what her friend is hiding behind that knownothing grin. Then Sarah gazes around the room at the other diners, grips her knife and fork, and continues with her meal.
Exiting Bess Diner, a warm breeze swarms around them. The
sunlight is bright and almost unbearable. It blinds Sarah’s eyes,
and she shields them with her hand. Melissa stares up, soaking in
the hot beam of the sun.
As they walk, an aged man dressed in tight Swedish knit pants
and a matching yellow shirt steps out from one of the sun’s rays.
Sarah and Melissa quickly mistake him for a 70s pimp, his thick
gold chain amplifying the blinding sunlight. His timeworn face is
filled with ancient character. The deep creases within his tanned
face extend his attempted smile. His sudden appearance makes
Sarah and Melissa stop dead in their tracks. Slowing his pace, he
moves politely toward the two women, trying not to frighten them.
He halts directly in their path, eyes shining bright, his body sup-
ported by his lavishly designed cane; his hard shoes clank against
the pavement.
“How are you ladies doing today?”
“Fine,” Melissa says with curiosity.
“Yeah, we’re cool,” responds Sarah.
“Miss Shelton?”
“I don’t know you.” Melissa turns toward the bus stop.
“Oh, forgive me for being so rude. I’m Mr. Nicholas, but my
friends call me Old Nick.” The man graciously reaches out for
a handshake from the two. “I believe we have a mutual friend, a
Mrs. Harris. She said she met you this morning when you were
released from the hospital.”
“You mean the lady who gave me the clothes and money?”
“That’s the one, sweetie. Look, she and I go way back, so she
thought I might be able to help you out with a place to stay for a
while.”
“Why would you want to help me? I don’t know you or her.”
In a dubious manner, the old distinguished gentleman gestures
lightly, staring directly into Melissa’s eyes. Never breaking his concentrated gaze, he speaks more deliberately.
“I want to help. I know what it’s like to be out here alone. I
have an extra room on L Avenue down Ironbound, and you’re
welcome to it. Building 202. Come by later and I’ll show it to you.
Are you familiar with the area?”
“Yeah,” Melissa answers.
The short conversation takes on a strange overtone. The old
man shows a deep underlying concern for Melissa’s welfare.
Melissa seems medicated by his voice. Sarah is not so easily
drawn in. She never likes being ignored, and this man never looks
in her direction. He remains heavily concentrated on Melissa. His
eyes cover her small frame with a look far surpassing that of any
good Samaritan.
“Okay...I’ll see you later,” he answers, slowly stepping away.
“Mr. Nicholas.” Sarah takes a few steps forward.
“Yes,” he answers quickly, partially displaying his yellowing teeth.
“How did you find us? I mean...we usually hang out downtown.”
He replies nervously as if disturbed by the question.
“Some volunteers at the mission gave me some places where
I might find you. I just got lucky.” Turning away, he and his nifty
outfit disappear into the sun’s glare. His strides are brisk and hur-
ried. Carrying his cane, he never turns for another glance. As if
swept by a gust of wind, he’s gone. The sudden passing of an
Irvington taxicab breaks the women’s thoughts.
“Wow, that was weird, Missy.”
“Yeah, it seems our luck is finally changing. I told you. Let’s go
get our drink,” Melissa responds.
“Sure.”
Watchful eyes keep a close range as they hover above.
The two travel back down to their stomping grounds of downtown Newark. Enjoying the spring breeze, their laughter is more
reminiscent of high school cheerleaders than of homeless hustlers. The disparity of their homeless lives is temporarily displaced
as they approach Home Liquors. Usually a common spot for the
locals, today they don’t have to wait in line.