Resurrection Dreams (5 page)

Pretty darn good, Vicki thought. What speed! What agility!

She dumped the handful of money onto the bureau, then placed the captured bill neatly over the top of the pile.

Something was scribbled across it with a red pen.

Vicki lowered her head and squinted at the writing.

“MELVIN DROP DEAD AND DIE YOU SICK FUCK.”

In her dream, Vicki was sitting in darkness. She didn’t know where, only that it was someplace bad to be. She wanted to get out fast. But she was bound to the chair. She felt ropes around her ankles, wrapping her wrists, criss-crossing her torso like bandoliers.

Gotta get out of here, she thought, close to panic. Haven’t got much time. He’ll be here any second.

She struggled to free herself. The ropes rubbed against her bare skin, but didn’t come loose. Then she realized that her bound hands, resting on her lap, weren’t fastened down. She raised them to her mouth. Her teeth found the bundle of knots. She bit at the first knot and tugged it open, but there was another knot beneath it. She tore that one loose with her teeth, only to find still another knot waiting.

She started to whimper.

He’s getting closer.

When the lights came on, she knew it was too late for escape.

She was seated in the middle of the Community Center arena.

The clamor of a banging door reverberated through the empty auditorium.

He’s coming!

She saw him.

Melvin. He walked toward Vicki from a distant corner, pushing a wheelchair. In the wheelchair sat Darlene. She should’ve been wearing the letter sweater and pleated skirt of her cheerleader outfit. Instead, she wore Vicki’s white nightgown.

So that’s where it went.

I’ll have to throw it away, Vicki thought. I sure can’t wear it after it’s had a dead person in it.

Darlene looked very dead. Gray and withered. Even worse than she did for real.

This is a dream, she suddenly realized. This isn’t happening.

But it sure seemed to be happening, and Vicki wondered if she only thought she was dreaming.

She started biting the knots again, got another one open as Melvin rolled the wheelchair closer, but there was still another knot below it.

Melvin kept coming. Did he plan to ram her?

Eight or ten strides away, he stopped it.

The white bandage around Darlene’s neck appeared to be the same fabric as the nightgown. Through its diaphanous layers, Vicki could see a bloodless, horizontal gash across the girl’s throat.

Let’s wake up now. Come on.

“You’re looking lovely tonight,” Melvin said, tilting his head and nodding.

“Cut it out. Go away.”

“Have you saved yourself for me?”

“No.” She realized she was whimpering again. “Leave me alone. Please. Just go away.”

“Be mine, darling, and I’ll give you everlasting life.”

“No.”

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you? To live forever?”

“I don’t know.”

“Look at Darlene. Look at the face of death.”

Oh Jesus, Darlene’s left eyelid bulged, slid up a bit, and a white worm squirmed out.

It’s time to wake up, damn it!

“Don’t you believe that I can give you life everlasting?”

“No.”

Melvin, leering, raised high the black rubber handles of jumper cables. “Get this!” He bowed and swung the cables down over Darlene’s shoulders. The clamps opened like jaws. They snapped shut on Darlene’s nipples. Vicki heard a crackling buzz. The girl twitched and shimmied. White smoke began to roll out of her mouth. Blood welled out of her nipples around the teeth of the clamps and soaked the nightgown. Blood seeped into the fabric wrapping her neck. Her eyelids lifted. She had eyes, not empty sockets, and the worm was gone from her cheek. She blew out a puff of smoke. Smiling, she opened the clamps and tossed the cables back over her shoulders, where Melvin caught them.

Darlene rose from the chair. She took a few steps toward Vicki. Then, she snapped her body straight and planted her fists on her hips.

“Still think I can’t?” Melvin asked.

Darlene, standing rigid, clapped her hands.

Clap—clap—clap—clap.

She shot a fist into the air.

“WE GOT PEP!”

Her other fist darted up.

“WE GOT STEAM!”

She danced and twirled.

“WE ARE THE GIRLS ON MELVIN’S TEAM!”

Shouting “TEAM,” she leaped high, threw back her head, kicked her legs up behind her and flung her arms high. Vicki heard a ripping sound. Darlene’s head went back farther and farther, the bandage splitting, her throat opening like a mouth. Her head dropped out of sight. It appeared behind her kicking legs. It thumped against the floor. She came down, her right foot landing on her face. Balance lost, she stumbled backward. As she fell into the wheelchair, her head rolled toward Vicki.

“NO!”

Melvin laughed.

The head rolled closer and closer.

Its mouth closed around Vicki’s big toe and began to suck.

Yelping, she lurched up.

The bedroom was full of sunlight.

Melvin looked up as headlights swept across the office windows. They belonged to a Duster that pulled up to the self-service island.

There was someone in the passenger seat.

Melvin peered through the window. Looked like it might be a gal, but he couldn’t tell for sure.

He’d been waiting for a gal. He needed one.

His heart started thumping hard.

He folded his Penthouse shut and slipped it into the desk drawer.

The driver climbed out and walked around the rear of his car to the unleaded pump. He was a tall, skinny guy, probably in his early twenties. That meant the gal—if it was a gal—might be a young one.

Too bad she had to be with him. He looked like a hard case, the way he wore that T-shirt with the sleeve cut off, and those blue jeans hanging low and those cowboy boots.

You can’t be too picky, though, Melvin told himself. It wasn’t often a gal would drive into the station by herself, especially not this late at night. The last one to do it had been Vicki, three nights ago.

He’d planned to use her till he saw who she was. She would’ve been just right, coming along at that hour, and all alone. But she was a local, and people were probably expecting her, so it wouldn’t have been smart even if she hadn’t been someone he liked so much.

I’ll just go out and take a look at this one, he thought.

He started to stand up, but the passenger door opened. He settled down in his chair again.

The passenger was a gal, all right. She swung her long, slim legs out of the car, stood up, and said something to the guy. Her hair was short, so it didn’t hang down her neck at all. She wore cut-off blue jeans, and a white tube top that only stayed up because its elastic was hugging her around the middle. It left her midriff bare. Its upper edge was straight across her chest, high enough to cover her breasts completely. Her breasts looked like tennis balls and had been cut in half and stuffed under the stretchy fabric.

Pretty small, but right there. One good tug on that tube top…

He rubbed the back of his hand across his mouth.

The gal shrugged at something her friend said, then started walking straight for the office. She didn’t look where she was going because she had her head down and was searching inside her shoulder bag.

Her cut-offs hung very low. When she entered the office, Melvin saw that she had a small red rose tattooed midway between her navel and right hipbone. Its stem disappeared down the front of her shorts.

He raised his eyes before she looked at him.

She didn’t have much of a face. Too long and narrow, with crooked slabs of teeth and an upper lip that wasn’t long enough to keep her gums out of sight.

Though she looked at Melvin, she didn’t appear to see him. Her face didn’t change at all. It just turned away, and she started inspecting the munchies inside the vending machine.

Typical bitch. Plenty of them did that. Acted like he wasn’t here.

You’re no prize, yourself, you horse-face slut.

She reached out and dropped coins into the machine, then pressed a couple of buttons. Melvin saw a package of barbeque flavored potato chips drop from a clamp. It thumped into the trough and the girl bent down to take it out. The seat of her jeans was frayed just below the right pocket, and pale skin showed through the loose threads. She straightened up, turned around and left the office.

Instead of heading back to the car, she walked past the window and rounded the corner. Looking for the restroom.

Making it easy for me, Melvin thought.

The guy, done filling his tank, came to the office. He stood in front of Melvin and dug some bills out of his jeans.

“Be needing anything else?” Melvin asked. “Got a sale on wiper blades.”

“I don’t see any rain,” the guy muttered, plucking bills out of his hand and tossing them on the counter.

Melvin stood up. First, he checked the windows. Then, he glanced at the computer, saw that he was owed $12.48, and picked up the money. A five and eight ones. “That makes fifty-two cents back to you,” he said.

“You can count.”

“Sure can.”

He stuffed the bills into the left-hand, pocket of his Bermuda shorts, reached into his other pocket, brought out a canister of tear gas and sprayed the guy in the face.

Got him right in the eyes. He squeezed them shut and grabbed his red face and staggered backward, bending over and going “Uhhh uhhh uhhh.” He was on his knees by the time Melvin cleared the counter. The kick caught him in the ear and knocked him onto his side.

Melvin heard the faint sound of the toilet flushing, so he stomped the guy’s head against the floor a few times. That seemed to do the trick. Maybe didn’t finish him off, but at least he was out cold. Melvin grabbed him by the boots, dragged him around behind the counter, and sat down.

The gal probably could’ve seen him as she walked past the window, but she was busy using her teeth to rip open her package of potato chips. She didn’t give the window even a glance. She just walked back to the car, got into the passenger seat, and shut the door.

Probably figuring her friend had gone to take a leak.

Her friend, Melvin noticed, had taken a leak. The front of his jeans was soaked pretty good. He was also taking a leak out of his left ear, but that was blood. It dripped into a little puddle on the linoleum under his head.

The gal sat in the car, eating.

After a while, her head turned. She must be starting to wonder what was taking the guy so long. He wasn’t coming, so she went back to her chips.

Melvin opened the bottom drawer of his desk. He pulled out a box of plastic wrap, stripped off about a yard of the cellophane, and tore it free. He checked the gal. She wasn’t looking. He lifted his shirt, held it up under his chin, and spread the filmy plastic sheet against his belly. It clung to him. It went most of the way around his back. He let his shirt fall, covering it.

Then he put the box away and watched the girl.

Finally, she climbed out of the car. She stood beside the open door, frowned toward the corner of the building, and brushed her hands on her shorts.

Melvin guessed her patience had lasted about as long as the potato chips.

She headed for the corner of the building. Just to make sure she wouldn’t look into the window and spot the guy on the floor, Melvin stood up and stared out at her. She caught a glimpse of him, and did as he expected—she looked the other way. He kept gazing at her, turning around when she reached the corner, and she kept looking elsewhere until there was no more window between them.

This was working out just fine.

Melvin figured she would come back into the office when she couldn’t find the guy in the restroom, but he preferred to take care of her out back where he wouldn’t have to worry about anyone driving past the station or stopping in for a fill-up.

He hurried out of the office and around the corner. Walking alongside the building, he heard her knocking. Then her voice. “Rod? What’re you doing in there?”

He reached the rear corner and stepped past it.

She was facing the men’s room door. She knocked on it again. “Rod, you either answer me or I’m coming in.”

Melvin stood motionless. She hadn’t noticed him.

“All right for you, I’m coming in.” She turned the knob and pulled the door open. The light had been left on inside. She stood in the glow of it for a moment, then stepped through the doorway.

As the door swung shut, Melvin started moving. When it was completely closed, he ran.

He jerked it open and rushed in.

The gal whirled around, letting go of the toilet stall’s door.

This time, she didn’t try to avoid his eyes.

Pretty hard to ignore me now, Melvin thought.

“Get out of here,” she said. Her voice was high-pitched. She didn’t seem angry, yet, just surprised and confused as if she couldn’t believe he’d blundered into the restroom with her. “I’m in here. Get out.”

“You’re in the men’s,” he said, and smiled.

“I know that. I was looking for someone.”

“Rod’s in the office.”

“Okay.” She flapped a hand sideways, gesturing for him to step out of the way.

Melvin didn’t move.

Her head turned a bit as if she figured that glaring at Melvin from the corners of her eyes, instead of straight on, was somehow more intimidating. “You’d better just let me by.”

“Gonna tell Rod on me?”

She tipped her head back and kept staring at him. “I’m warning you.”

With a shrug, Melvin stepped aside. He swept an arm toward the door.

“That’s better,” she said. She walked toward the door, watching him with narrow eyes, looking sure of herself and eager to tell Rod about this creep who’d given her a hard time in the john. As she passed Melvin, she turned her face toward the door. She reached out and grabbed the knob. She pushed and the door opened.

Melvin snatched her hair and jerked. She yelped. Her hand, still on the knob, slammed the door as she flew backward. He swept a foot out from under her, gave her hair another yank and let go and watched her go down. Her back slapped the tile floor and she skidded.