Resurrection Dreams Page 3

  “Turkey,” Ace muttered.

  Vicki and Ace talked about other things for a while. When Ace’s boyfriend, Rob, showed up, Vicki left her seat and wandered over to Henry’s display. Not because she especially wanted to visit with him. But he was the closest thing Vicki had to a boyfriend, and he was taking her to the senior dance next week so she felt it would be weird of her to ignore him.

  She found him seated at his computer, hunched over the keyboard, avidly pecking out commands that made Humphrey dance and wink though nobody seemed to be watching the performance.

  Humphrey was a marionette, about three feet tall, decked out in a top hat and tails. He did his numbers beside Henry’s computer, and looked somewhat as if he’d been impaled on the plastic pipe that ran from the control box to his rump.

  “Howdy, Humphrey,” Vicki said.

  The marionette waved to her and gave his legs a couple of spastic kicks.

  Henry, seated on a swivel chair, swung around and looked up at Vicki. Behind his glasses, his eyes were wide with eagerness. They always seemed that way, as if Henry were perpetually on the verge of making a startling announcement.

  “How’re things?” Vicki asked.

  “Oh, fine.”

  “Nifty outfit,” she said. Henry wore a bow tie and black dinner jacket. His outfit was identical to Humphrey’s, though Henry wore no top hat. His hat rested on the table beside his keyboard, ready to be donned when the spectators started wandering by.

  “You look very lovely this morning,” he said.

  “Thanks.” Vicki wasn’t especially pleased by the compliment. A day rarely went by that Henry didn’t make a similar comment. But she’d never seen him really look her over. The words just came out like a programmed response to her arrival—as if he realized he ought to feign some interest in her physical appearance.

  We’ve really got a red-hot romance cooking here, she thought.

  But she supposed it was her fault as much as Henry’s. Their relationship had started on an intellectual level when they’d been teamed up as lab partners in physiology last year, and neither of them had made any effort to get physical. They had gone out together at least a dozen times, and never even kissed. It was as if neither of them had bodies.

  Vicki sometimes wondered what might happen if she should embrace him and kiss him hard and squirm against him, really let him know she was a woman, not just a discussion partner. Henry might suddenly turn into a lusting animal.

  The idea didn’t have much appeal.

  So she’d done nothing to change the nature of the relationship—such as it was. She liked Henry, and he did fine in the role of boyfriend until something better might come along.

  Which didn’t seem too likely in the immediate future.

  Of all the guys she could think of, there was not a single one who really interested her.

  Thanks to Paul. When he moved away, it all fell apart.

  She realized that Henry was talking to her. “What?” she asked. “My mind was wandering.”

  “Did it wander someplace interesting?”

  Someplace empty, she thought.

  “No,” she said. “What were you saying?”

  “I thought that perhaps we might meet during the lunch break. We should discuss our plans for next Friday.”

  “Sure. That’d be fine.” She glanced at her wristwatch. “Well, it’s about time for the fun to start. I’d better get back to my rats.”

  “Ciao,” Henry said, and swiveled around to face his computer. His fingers fluttered over the keyboard, and Humphrey waved and winked.

  Vicki walked back toward her table. Ace and Rob were standing in front of the chairs, facing each other, holding hands. Ace was nodding as she listened to him. Though three inches taller than Rob, she somehow always seemed less imposing when they were together, as if his presence transformed her into someone more feminine and vulnerable.

  Vicki didn’t want to intrude on the intimacy she sensed. She turned to her table and picked up her surgical gloves.

  She wished she hadn’t thought about Paul.

  Sometimes she went for days at a time without thinking about him.

  Her parents had called it “puppy love,” which seemed like a way to make her feelings for Paul sound less important. Vicki had thought of it as love, and still did. When she’d been with Paul, she’d felt special and beautiful and full. Whether they were just sitting together in class, or holding hands in a movie, or spending a whole day exploring the woods or swimming or boating on the river, each moment seemed golden.

  But his father was a Master Sergeant in the Marines. Paul showed up at Ellsworth High in the fall of Vicki’s sophomore year. They met at once and fell in love and had just that school year and the following summer. Then new orders came down, and Paul left with his family for a base in South Carolina.

  They’d had almost exactly one year together. It had been over so fast.

  It was as if the best part of her life ended when Paul went away. “You’ll get over it,” her parents had said. She supposed she did get over it. In a way. More like getting used to it. The loss seemed always there, deep inside, a shadow that made every day a little less bright—a loss that would rise to the surface every time she was reminded of Paul.

  A time like now.

  Pulling on her gloves, she felt a hollow ache in her chest.

  No point in getting yourself all upset, she thought. Hell, I’ll probably meet some terrific guy at college in the fall.

  Sure.

  She unscrewed the lid of the jar, lifted out the rat with tongs and placed it on the dissection tray.

  “That’s really disgusting,” Ace said. “Barforama.”

  “Your mold is appetizing?”

  Ace watched over her shoulder as she pinned the rat’s paws to the waxy bottom of the tray.

  “What’s Rob up to?” Vicki asked.

  “He’s taking me to the drive-in tonight.”

  “What’s playing?”

  “Who cares?” Ace said, and let out a couple of cheery snorts.

  Vicki alternated between exposing the vitals of her rat and sitting on the chair to chat with Ace, whose project was a display with no performance. They spent a lot of time watching Melvin ward off curious spectators wanting to see what was hidden inside his enclosure of bedsheets.

  He explained that it was a “one-shot deal” and that they should be sure to hurry back when he made the announcement with his megaphone.

  “He’s sure getting me curious,” Vicki said.

  “Maybe he’s got a guillotine in there and he’ll do us all a favor and lop off his ugly head.”

  “You think he’s got the brains to make a guillotine?”

  “If he had any brains, he’d be dangerous.”

  Vicki was beginning to look forward to lunch by the time the four judges reached the project next to Melvin’s. She checked her wristwatch. A quarter till twelve. At noon, there would be an hour-long break. Some of the parents, she knew from past Science Fairs, would have tables set up just outside the doors with beer and wine for the adults, soft drinks, hot dogs and pizza and tacos—all kinds of good stuff. Though she wasn’t especially eager to spend the lunch hour with Henry, she was definitely hungry. Her mouth had been watering all morning because of the formaldehyde, which simply did that to you even if you were bent over cutting up a dead rat.

  Ace patted her knee. “The moment, ladies and gentlemen, is upon us.”

  The judges stopped in front of Melvin. He climbed off his stool, picked up the megaphone, and flipped a switch. A high piercing whine stabbed Vicki’s ears, then faded.

  “Attention, everyone,” Melvin announced, his voice sounding tinny and loud. “Come one, come all. Come and see Melvin’s Amazing Miracle Machine.” As he spoke, he swayed from side to side and rolled his head. “You don’t want to miss it. Nosirree.”

  “What a moron,” Ace whispered.

  He did have a rather moronic look on his face, which wasn’t all tha
t unusual for Melvin.

  Spectators were beginning to come over.

  “Come and see it,” Melvin went on. “The Amazing Miracle Machine. Hurry, hurry. Step right up. You’ve never seen anything like it. You don’t want to miss it. Come one, come all.”

  Mr. Peters, the principal and head judge, stepped up to Melvin and said something—probably telling him to get on with it.

  Melvin nodded, put the megaphone to his mouth, and said, “The show is about to begin!”

  By now, a substantial crowd was gathered in front of Melvin’s display. Vicki followed Ace’s example, and stood on the seat of her chair. From there, she had a fine view.

  Melvin set his megaphone on the floor beside his stool. He stepped to a corner of his enclosure, hooked back one of the sheets enough to let him slip through, and vanished.

  Nothing happened.

  Everyone waited. More people showed up. There were murmured questions, heads shaking.

  Mr. Peters checked his wristwatch. “We haven’t got all day, Melvin,” he said.

  “Is everybody ready?” Melvin finally called out. His voice sounded flat without the amplifier.

  “Do it, doufuss,” Ace yelled.

  A few people turned and looked up at her, some laughing, others frowning.

  “And now—Melvin’s Amazing Miracle Machine!”

  The sheet across the front of the framework fell to the floor.

  People gasped and went silent.

  Vicki stared. For a moment, she didn’t understand what she was seeing. Then, she couldn’t believe it.

  Surrounding Melvin and his “project” were coils of razoredged concertina wire. A poster at the rear proclaimed. “I AM THE RESURRECTION AND THE LIFE.” In the center, on a platform at least a foot high, rested a wheelchair.

  In the wheelchair sat the corpse of Darlene Morgan. She wore the cheerleader outfit in which she had been buried: a pleated green skirt, a golden pullover sweater with a raised green E on its chest for Ellsworth High.

  Her neck was wrapped in bandages to hold her head on. Her head was tipped back, her mouth hanging open. Her eyes were shut. Her face looked gray.

  Between her feet was a car battery, jumper cables clamped to its posts. Melvin raised the other ends of the cables overhead and bumped the clamps together. Current flashed and crackled.

  Vicki, stunned, felt herself swaying. She grabbed Ace’s arm to steady herself.

  Somebody started to scream. Then everyone seemed to be yelling or shrieking.

  “My God!”

  “Stop him!”

  “What’s he doing?”

  “Melvin, for godsake!”

  “Do something!”

  Instead of trying to stop Melvin, the people at the front of the group were backing away.

  Melvin went on with business as if he were alone.

  He clamped a jumper cable to each of Darlene’s thumbs, then leaped aside, shouting, “RISE! RISE! COME ON, BITCH, RISE!”

  Darlene didn’t rise. She just sat there. The battery charge seemed to have no effect at all.

  “I COMMAND YOU TO RISE!” Melvin yelled. He rushed behind the wheelchair, grabbed its handles and shook it as if trying to stir her into action. “COME ON! GET UP!”

  Darlene shimmied and swayed. Her head wobbled. She didn’t get up.

  “UP! UP! I COMMAND YOU!”

  Mr. Peters leaped over the tangle of concertina wire.

  Melvin jerked the handles up. The wheelchair tipped forward, hurling Darlene from her seat. Mr. Peters yelped as the body tumbled at him. He ducked under it.

  Darlene flopped onto him. Her head came off, rolled down his back, and dropped face-first into the razor wire.

  Melvin gave the screaming crowd a big, idiotic grin.

  HOMECOMING

  Chapter Four

  You’ll be living here, Vicki told herself. You can’t avoid him forever, so you might as well go ahead and get it over with.

  There was enough gas left to reach Ace’s, so she didn’t absolutely have to stop. But that would leave the U-Haul with an empty tank and she needed to drive forty miles to Blayton tomorrow once she finished unloading at the new apartment Ace had found for her.

  Maybe the Arco station at the other end of town would still be open. It used to close down early, but its hours might’ve changed.

  Just go ahead and stop at Melvin’s, she thought.

  Though she was still at least a mile from the Ellsworth city limits, the decision made her heart thud faster. The steering wheel felt slick in her hands. Cool trickles slid down her sides all the way to the waistband of her shorts. She wiped a hand on the front of her blouse, then fastened the two top buttons she had opened earlier to let the air in.

  Maybe he won’t even be on duty, she thought. He could’ve hired a kid, or someone, to run the place. God knows, he could afford to.

  He shouldn’t have come back to Ellsworth. What was he, a glutton for punishment? He’d been an outcast even before he flipped out at the Science Far, and nobody was ever likely to let him forget the Darlene Morgan business.

  When Ace told her on the phone last year that Melvin had returned, she’d been so appalled that she had given a lot of thought to changing her own plans. As much as she looked forward to returning to Ellsworth once she finished her residency, the idea of living in the same town as Melvin made her queasy. Maybe he was “stable,” maybe he would never do anything crazy again, but she knew that every time she saw him she would remember his Amazing Miracle Machine.

  Still, Ellsworth was home. Even though her parents had moved to Blayton during her first year at medical school, it was Ellsworth that she longed for: the quiet, familiar streets of her childhood, the shops she used to visit, the woods and river, her friends. It was where she had been carefree and happy and where she had fallen in love.

  Knowing that Melvin Dobbs had returned there after his release from the institution took away some of the town’s nostalgic glow.

  It might have been enough to make Vicki change her plans about returning. Except for one thing.

  A $25,000.00 loan from Dr. Gaines, offered to Vicki, and accepted, on the condition that she return to Ellsworth and help him in his family practice until the loan was paid back. A great deal, especially since she had always hoped to practice in Ellsworth. And she’d looked forward to working with Charlie Gaines, a charming old guy she liked a lot.

  Her obligation to the doctor removed any real possibility of avoiding Ellsworth, where she wanted to live anyway, so she had resigned herself to an eventual encounter with Melvin.

  The encounter had been eventual a year ago.

  Now, it was imminent.

  Vicki felt sick.

  Calm down, she told herself. It’s no big deal. He’s not going to do anything to me.

  Rounding the bend in River Road, she saw the lighted service station ahead. There was Melvin standing slouched in front of a car, apparently writing its license plate number on a credit card receipt.

  The way he was dressed, he might have looked ridiculous. He wore a baggy, bright Hawaiian shirt, plaid Bermuda shorts and dark socks that sagged around his ankles. But he didn’t look ridiculous; there was nothing funny about it. Vicki doubted that anything about Melvin, however odd, could ever strike her as amusing.

  Her courage faltered.

  Go to the Arco tomorrow, she thought.

  But that would only postpone the inevitable. Better to face a nasty situation than to put it off and keep dwelling on it.

  She slowed down, let out a shaky breath and swung off the road. The car was pulling away from the full-service island. She started for the self-service pumps, then changed her mind. This would be bad enough without having to get out of the truck. Especially the way she was dressed. So she drove to the full service area and shut off the engine.

  Melvin hobbled over to her window, peered in, and tipped his head to one side. His lower eye narrowed. Up close, his face looked heavier than she remembered. Uglier, too. His eye
s seemed bigger and farther apart, his black eyebrows bushier, his lips thicker. His long hair was combed straight back over the top of his head, and slicked down.

  “I know you,” he said.

  “Vicki Chandler. How are you doing, Melvin?”

  He leaned closer. He’d been eating garlic. “Vicki. Gosh.” His head bobbed and he smiled. “Last time I saw you, you was standing on a chair looking green.” He chuckled, puffing his garlic breath into her face.

  She wondered if it was a good sign that he could talk about that day, laugh about it.

  “Well,” she said, “I was a little shocked.”

  “I guess you wasn’t the only one.” He winked. “That was the whole point, you know.”

  “The whole point?”

  “Giving Darlene a jump-start like that. Shoot, you don’t think I thought it’d work, do you? No way. Only a crazy person’d think it’d work. Dead’s dead, know what I mean?”

  “Sure looked like you were trying,” Vicki said, astonished that he was discussing this with her, explaining himself.

  “Put on a good show, didn’t I?”

  “Why’d you do it?”

  “Got tired of being pestered. You remember how the kids used to pester me. You was always nice. You was about the only one didn’t used to talk mean or knock me around. I figured it this way. I figured they was always after me on account of me being kind of different, so what I’d do, I’d shock their pants off and they’d be so scared of me they’d leave off.” He sniffed, and rubbed his nose. “Course, I learned my lesson. I shouldn’t of done it. Made me look like a crazy person.”

  You are a crazy person, Vicki thought. Or at least you were.

  “I’m sorry about your parents,” Vicki said.

  “Thank you. They was pig vomit.”

  “I could use a fill-up, Melvin. Unleaded.”

  “They left me sitting pretty, that’s about all the good I can say for them. Want me to check under the hood?”

  “No, that’s all right.”

  He left the window, and Vicki took a deep breath.

  Whatever they did to him in the institution, she thought, it sure hadn’t changed him much.