2
Lock And Load
The next morning, I was running late. My coffee maker had exploded, my dryer over-heated and melted a nylon shirt, and my car didn't want to start. Finally, just to be on the safe side, I unplugged everything in my house, got on my bike (Angrily kicking at it when the chain stuck), and made my way slowly up the street.
When I got there, once more the black iron gates loomed ahead of me. But this time they seemed to signify safety, rather than menace. I once more spoke into the microphone, and once more was allowed in. I think at that moment, I had been holding my breath-- I guess I was afraid that today it would be that yesterday hadn't happened, that I wouldn't be accepted into this strange new world.
Once inside, I was lead once more to the art room (After a quick visit to the utility closet for brooms).
I looked out at its chaotic terror, and steeled myself. This was going to take a while.
**
Adam
Shockingly, working out payment is boring. I wholeheartedly welcomed the interruption from Milly that came shortly after eight. It helped that she brought up a large mug of fresh coffee.
“The Girl knows how to work. Went straight for the broom, and attacked that room like a mad woman! One would think she has Viking ancestry the way she wields that mop...” Milly broke off there, and took in my undoubtedly haggard face.
“Adam, when did you get to bed last night?” I tried to busy myself organizing papers, but she pressed on. She placed her hands on her hips (always a dangerous sign).
“Adam, you will answer me, or so help me, I will revoke your coffee supply.” I looked up at her with what I hoped was an endearing expression.
“Now, I'm sure that's just a bit harsh, don't you think? I mean, I am a grown man, and have been for many years now--” The Northerner glared down at me.
“Time, Adam!” I lowered my head.
“Three, or so.... Maybe a little later-- Or earlier!” deciding it was best to hide myself from Milly's wrath, I mumbled something about checking in on patient fifty-nine, and slipped out of the door as quickly as I could.
**
Destra
Around midday, I realized I had no clue where the bathroom was. I came to this realization suddenly, and immediately abandoned the shovel I had been using to peel up the newspaper. Sliding around the corner, I nearly ran smack-dab into a large, hairy form. I almost had a mini heart-attack, methinks.
“Ah, my dear! I came by to see if you required any assistance with the cleaning! I'm quite adept at cleaning, I think you'll find, as I--” While Munro was talking, I had been jumping back and forth, and making a series of silly dance steps reminiscent of a highland fling.
“My dear, do you need to, ehem, use the Ladies room?” I nodded my head emphatically, and kept my lips pressed hard together. Munro laughed gently, and pointed down the hall.
“One door past the library!” I ran past him, and with great relief found the right door. I have never appreciated the porcelain goddess more.
When I got back to the art room, Munro was ripping up large sheets of paper, peeling away more than double the amount I had managed in six hours of sturdy labor. I stood transfixed, watching him move with such ferocity, and suddenly becoming aware of exactly how fragile humans are. In under twenty minutes, Munro had completely uncovered the floor. It was dusty, and mouse droppings covered the entire surface. The Sasquatch looked at me with a pleased expression on his face.
“Shall I get the mop?” he pulled out a large white handkerchief, and gently dabbed around his face.
“It's alright, I'll get it!” I paused “I think its lunch..... Would you care to join me, before we continue cleaning this rat-nest?” He thought for a moment, then replied.
“My dear, of course I would..... Besides, there are many dangerous scoundrels running about, and I would not put it below them to take advantage of such a delicate thing as yourself.” He smiled kindly.
Of course, I'm hardly delicate.... Well, not to other humans....
When Munro and I arrived at the cafeteria, I saw more of the strange, terrifying, and wondrous occupants of the Zahncliff Institute; Fur, feathers and fangs flashed in every direction I looked. Three women sat in a tub conversing in one of the far corners of the room. I looked again just as a tail flashed out of the water, then sank slowly beneath the water once more.
I felt a childish excitement rise inside of me. Mermaids!
The cafeteria was a large, well lit room, with a high domed ceiling, and large windows. Along the right side of the room ran the food counter, where an eight-armed woman served multiple patients at once. As we passed one table, the half goat men sitting around it whistled. We passed Cyclops', Minotaurs, Banshees, Elves, Trolls, Goblins, Werewolves, Brownies, Leprechauns....... I couldn't name half of them. Some looked almost human-- but then something about them.... Wasn't.
This was also undoubtedly the noisiest place I had ever been. Hoots, hollers, whistles, grunts, howls, yelps, and insane laughter made it impossible to think about anything other than all those claws. And teeth.
My companion and I finally found an empty table. Mostly. A single person sat in the middle of one of the benches, sipping tea. She was a tall, elegant woman with a slight tan. Her dark hair fell past her hips, and moved gently every time she moved. As we got closer, I realized her hair was a collection of large snakes. Black Mambas.
“Cassandra dear! May we join you?” Cassandra was wearing a pair of thick black shades, and a Bohemian style dress. Multiple gold bangles clanked and jingled around her delicate wrists.
“You may join me, if you wish. Who's this?” Her voice was soft, and she prolonged her S's. She inclined her free hand in my direction. We took our seats opposite of her.
“This is Destra, she's working here now! She'll be teaching the Arts! Music, drama, painting, dance, oh, all that jazz!” I giggled at Munro's cultural comment. Even the Gorgon across the table cracked a smile. Then she went back to quietly sipping. After a moment, me and Munro excused ourselves, and went to line up at the counter. When we had our food (The daily special was great white steaks with snail caviar, seaweed stew, and snicker doodles.... I took the snicker doodles), we returned to Cassandra's table. She turned to us.
“We haven't had an art teacher for many years..... Why are you here?” Her snakes rose up around her, and moved their heads hypnotically. I was silent for a moment, collecting my thoughts into an audible sentence.
I had a question that had to do with the first part of what Cassandra said....
“I needed a job, and this was what was available.......What happened to the last art teacher?” Munro settled his cane next to him, and took up a storytelling pose.
“Ten years back, we had a young man come through. Strange fellow, always quiet. Dark haired, dark eyed.... That boy always had quite the entourage of ladies following him around, I tell you! But he never paid them any heed. He had quite the flair for painting. At that time, a young woman named Elvina Montrott handled art. She was a fair young thing, and the young man had eyes only for her. His name was Eldridge Vansluys. He was of Lycan descent, and those days, the blood still ran true and fast. One moonlit night, the two of them went for a walk in the grounds. The hunger for human flesh overcame his mind, and he turned. He murdered Elvina. Once the moon passed, he realized what he had done, and was distraught. Anger and hate filled his soul, and he took it out on the art room. Using her blood, Eldridge painted that--” Munro broke off here, and shuddered, “That thing. Then, he hung himself. If you look at the picture, you'll see that the people in it are all the same...... They're all Elvina.” he was silent for a moment, and I realized most of the room was listening intently to the gory story. Then a plate crashed to the ground, snail caviar flying everywhere, and the chaotic hubbub returned. I was glad of that. It had been too creepy for my taste.
Munro startled me by continuing.
“The art room hasn't been used since.... Do you know yet what to do with the painting?” His sudden subject change caught me off guard...... I honestly hadn't given it a second thought. It was a piece of the Zahncliff Institute's history, and was painted in someones blood.
Maybe we can just take it down, and put it somewhere else?
**
Destra
After lunch, Cassandra followed us back to the art room, and helped us continue our cleaning. I shoved the dead newspapers in to a big black garbage bag, while Cassandra tore down the window coverings, and Munro swept the floor with a broom two times bigger than the one previously used. While we worked, the painting glared down at us. Finally I couldn't bear it any longer; I stood up, stomped over, and lifted the garish art piece off the small gold hook stuck in the wall. Almost immediately, the room brightened, and the creepy-crawly cold was gone. I opened one of the cabinets to stash it, and a hundred or more bottles of paint attacked me. Luckily, they were all sealed, or I could have wiped myself on a canvas and made a million dollars.
After I picked myself up, Munro and Cassandra came over and began opening the other cabinets. Three of them were filled with musical instruments, everything from a small harp to a set of moldy bagpipes, harmonicas to banjos, and several I couldn't have told you about if my life depended on it. Two had more moldy, broken canvas', and the final cabinet had finished pieces of art, and sheet music.
The afternoon wore on, and soon faded into evening. The sun was just disappearing over the trees when we finished our work. The wood floor had been scrubbed, and light bulbs replaced. The windows shone, the easels that were still useable had been set back up in a tidy order, and some of the instruments now sat next to twelve wooden chairs lined up along the left side of the room.
Munro, Cassandra and I sat on the floor, looking at our progress.
“Well, I think that tomorrow would be a good day to open up for business!” I said. The Gorgon's snakes wriggled excitedly, and Munro, even though he was panting heavily, had a wide smile on his face.
“Thanks for helping..... I certainly couldn't have finished this by myself in single day.” I put out my closed hand for a fist bump, and my two strange companions looked at me as if I were the nut-ball.
Suddenly, Adam came into the room. We all jumped, then laughed.
“Sorry to startle you! I came to see--” He had just started looking at the room. He walked over and swept a finger across one of the easels. “Very nice.... Very, very nice. All this? In one day?” he said.
I glanced over at the other two.
“Well, I had help. Do you want me here same time tomorrow?” Adam took one more look-see.
“Yes, I think that will work splendidly. Are there any supplies you need?” I ran through my head a list of all the junk we had come across.
“Oil pastels, paintbrushes, oil thinner, aprons, canvas', watercolor paper, watercolor pencils, graphite pencils, erasers, gouache, ink pens, markers, clay, swivel-arm lamps, more easels, drop-cloth, name tags, scissors, embroidery floss and hoops, needles, white cotton, thimbles, magnifying glasses, tables, a radio, a recorder, some good Bluegrass tunes, Big Band, and classical........and a large rug.” I said with finality.
Adam stood like a statue.
“All that?” he said. I gave him a sideways glance.
“The Arts is more than just painting.... Its a wide range of activities. Count yourself lucky I didn't add the equipment necessary for Black Smithing to the list.” I smirked a little. Just a little. Munro chuckled deeply.
“I can bring some of the stuff in myself, but there is a lot that we still need..... I'll write you out a list.” I added.
**
Destra
The next few days were a blur. My mind was still adjusting to being turned upside-down, and so I couldn't help but stare when on my second day a cyclops asked me to help spell his name. Mostly, it was the subtle things that got me. It was far easier to accept the fact that a dryad could wander free, moss trailing behind her, than it was to accept a Faery.... My third day, Adam took me around to familiarize with the many species contained within the brick-and-mortar walls. I also had my first look at how dangerous this job was;
One of the other staff (A middle-aged balding man with a graying beard named Jackam) was in the cafeteria, when a Pooka decided it didn't like the menu options. He refused to eat, and when Jackam tried to help him sit, he flipped. Turning into its true form, the Pooka rose up on it's hind legs, pawed the air with its hooves, and neighed, spit flying. Then he struck Jackam down. Blood pooled from his ears, and he lay motionless on the ground. Several very pale people off in one corner started to moan, and their eyes turned wild; the nearby wolf-folk howled, and a large group of humans dressed all in black came running from an adjoining room, loaded guns with tranquilizers in hand. They circled the Pooka, and fought back the pale people (Who I found out later were Vampires), and the werewolves, trying to protect the fallen man's body until the medics arrived. Adam came in, took a gun from one of the security detail, and fired the dart into the side of the Pooka's neck. It's eyes glazed, and it toppled over.
I stood transfixed.
Adam then looked around him.
“SILENCE!”
The room obeyed. He then turned and gave a command to the detail, and a separate one for the medics. The former lifted the Pooka, who was now slowly turning back, and carried out of the room, followed shortly be the latter, bearing a now white Jackam on a stretcher. Then Adam, giving a final glance over the room, stormed out. The room was quiet for a few more minutes, then returned to its usual hectic pace. But that moment was forever burned into my memory. I doubt even a professional psychiatrist could have helped. After lunch, I headed to the hospital wing to see if anyone could possibly live after such a blow. When I arrived, Adam was pacing up and down, his eyes darting every which-way. He barely registered me when I entered. Then a man dressed in white from head to foot came in. Blood soiled his pristine uniform.
“Jackam will live, but he may have some vision problems..... It was an impressive amount of force. Any harder, and he would be dead. Also, he may suffer some memory loss for the next few days. We can't currently know if there will be any lasting effects. We've used all the skills at our disposal, and have notified his family. His wife will be here shortly to see him.” I let myself breath again, and all of the sudden I felt shaky.
“Thank you, Rob..... Would you mind sending someone up to room 64 with some more Haloperidol? I want to make sure that doesn't happen again.”
“Of course, Adam.” Rob inspected the young man in front of him. “Insomnia again?”
Zahncliff nodded his head in my direction, and Rob dropped it immediately.
What was that about?
“We'll leave you to your work..... We'll continue on that other subject later.” Adam turned, and left the room. Not know what to do, I bobbed politely to Rob, and wandered back towards the art room.
The next two days were pretty quiet, considering. No butt-smacking satyrs in the hallway, no banshee uproars, and no Pooka gone wild. Jackam recovered nicely, and was visited often by his red-haired wife and kids. I finally noticed that the family all had pointed ears. As I said, the little things get me.
I headed toward the bathroom feeling light headed.
I am NOT going to barf..... I am NOT going to barf!
Stupid gag reflex.
After I finished puking up my lunch, I felt like a total idiot. Why was I so affected by little things like that? The big things were nothing! I could handle Centaurs, Pegasi, and a small dragon, but noooo, not things like Elves, Cyclops, and Faery..... Why?
Then the blessed weekend came. I rode back to my small apartment in a sleepy haze, and hit the bed as soon as I arrived. I think I woke up sometime around 8:20 on Saturday morning. Hunger hit me like an anvil in the stomach (Which, by the way, is not humorous, as indicated by many kid's programs), and caused me to leave my oh-so-cozy warm covers, and weave my way toward the kitchen. I pulled a box of Cinnamon Toast Crunch out of the cabinet, and sat down at my rickety dining table. The remote was sitting near by, so I flipped on my little TV, and shoved my hand into the box of cereal, relieved to finally have normal food. But I choked just a few minutes later; on channel 8, a story was being aired about a recent murder. The victim was barely recognizable as human: it's face was practically ribbons, it had no stomach, and it lay in a twisted pattern on the cement.
“.... Police and special investigators are on the scene, and are doing their best to identify the human remains. This is Camille Longston reporting from 5th street.” I pushed the power button of the remote, and the screen went black. I sat back for a moment, horrified. Then the headache hit. Just the gentle thrumming, the starting of it. Then my mind began to make the connections.
5th street...... 8th street...... Blood...... Zahncliff!
I realized with a jolt that no human could do something like that without a weapon, and the police had yet to find one. I knew they wouldn't. I raced to the other side of my apartment, and snatched up the phone. Quickly I dialed the Institute's number. It seemed to take ages for them to answer, and each ring threatened to split open my skull. As soon as they picked up the phone, I demanded to talk to Adam, hastily giving my name. I was patched through. At this point I was losing vision, and sound were sharp and harsh. Blood pumped heavily through my heart, and I was getting sick to my stomach.
“Destra, is something wrong? Milly said you sounded quite urgent--” Tears streaked down my face.
“Adam, someone's been murdered.... I think it was one of them!”
“One of who? Destra, one of who?”
“One of the..... The.......:” My mind went blank. I barely felt myself hit the floor. I didn't hear anyone break down my door. I wasn't aware of being carried on a stretcher, and placed in the back of a car.
My mind let go, and I didn't dream for many hours.
**
No comments:
Post a Comment