The Zahncliff Institute: chapter 4

4

Blood Stories

Destra

Now I knew what I was. Well, not so much. I still didn't know the fine details, like what I could actually do with this 'special ability'. So far, it still seemed like just a lame excuse for brain-splitting headaches. Since I had nothing more to do after the meeting with Adam, I decided to wander around the gardens. Most of the past two weeks had been spent inside, getting used to all the creepy-crawlies, and learning my way around the huge building that was the Institute.

After grabbing a sun hat and some shades, I went out an entrance through the cafeteria, and beheld the glory of some very serious gardening.

As I wandered underneath trees with trailing blue blossoms, I let myself diffuse. I was a normally calm person, but my parents were the one thing that set me off. After what happened to me, I promised myself that if I had kids, I would never abandon them like my parents did me. Or I would just not have kids.

By this time I had meandered over to the other side of the building. This side was left to be a bit more natural. Wild grasses grew with the lavender and mint, and they were left without control. The mint of course took advantage of this, and spread like a thick, scented carpet under the large old willows blowing mournfully in the gentle afternoon breeze. Forsythia bushes sprang up wherever they pleased, the cheerful yellow brightening the otherwise cool color palette.

I eventually ended up at the side of a large pond. It was filled with clear, clean water, and you could see the multi hued stones residing at the bottom. I picked up a small, smooth rock, and chucked at the pond. It bounced once, then whizzed down to join its brothers.

Stupid rock.

I squatted down on my haunches, and let my sneakers sink into the mud. The dull brown fish in the pond swam lazily around, eating algae and blowing bubbles. I sighed deeply.

Crack.

A twig snapped nosily in the quiet of the gardens. Jumping to attention, I stayed low. You didn't want some of the patients sneaking up on you. Especially if you're alone. I silently looked across the gardens, my eyes and ears open.

“What the heck are you doing?”

I gasped against my will, and spun around. A tall grizzled looking man in a pair of dirty coveralls stood behind me. His arms were crossed, and his legs were spread apart in a defensive pose.

“Uh.... Nothing. I just needed to get away....” I stood up. I barely came to the guy's broad shoulders!

“Mm-hm.” He turned back to a rusty wheel barrow toting a variety of seeds and potted plants. He started to push the wheel barrow away, and I moved to walk along side him. He turned to me with a raised eyebrow. His hair was short-cropped salt and pepper, and he had wild hazel eyes. Scars ran across his face, and he had a strong jaw. Even with the older-dude hair, he couldn't have been any older than thirty or so. Overall, he was pretty cute.

“What do you want?” he said. I shrugged my shoulders.

“Oh, nothing. Are you the guy that does all of this?” I Waved my hand in the direction of the gardens, and pride flashed across his face for a moment.

“Yep.” he replied.

“By yourself?” no one dude could do that! There were like, fifty acres! He grinned big at my surprise.

“Certainly. Nickolas Vansluys, Zahncliff gardener.” He presented me with a large dirt-caked hand. I gingerly shook it. He returned to carting his plants, but this time he was far less closed off. Something told me he didn't get much back for all the work he did.

“I'm Destra.” He shook his head.

“I know.” I was about to ask him how, but he beat me to it “The kitchen ladies gossip about everything. Doesn't help that little 'Kenzie has a crush on you.”

He what?

“He what?” I said out loud. Nickolas chuckled, which sounded like a growl.

“Oh ya, 'Kenzie thinks you're something else. He pretends to be dignified about it, but he giggles like a school girl when anyone says your name.”

Name. It was then that I realized what an idiot I was. Vansluys. Duh! That's the same name as the dude who killed the art teacher.

The nut-ball had a brother, and no one told me?

I guess I had suddenly gotten silent, because Nickolas stopped and turned to me.

“What, you didn't get it right away? No headache? Eldridge is my older brother. It's a fact. But I'm not crazy. My brother was a patient; I was a refugee. Don't get us mixed up.” He must have read my mind....

“so you're a--”

“Yep.” he leaned over and put on a pair of garden gloves. “But as I said, don't get us confused.”

He then reached into his barrow, and pulled out a small plant with strange purple petals. He gently placed it into the rich brown soil, and covered the roots.

Wolfs Bane.

**

Destra

Nickolas didn't give me any reason to fear him. He was gruff, and a little bit of a hermit, but otherwise he was a pretty cool guy. He lived in a little brick shack hidden away in the trees. I found this out, because he invited me back to his place for coffee. He could tell I was.... Well, less than comfortable around him, so we sat outside instead of going in. “So that if I go rogue, you at least have some chance of running.” I knew he was joking, but hey, anything is possible. We talked politics, music, books, and trash. I hadn't had a chat with anyone sane for a while now. After a bit, we started discussing families. We got along well, in that area specifically, considering the fact that we both had messed up relatives. His parents left him and his brother alone in the wilds of Alaska when they were just cubs, as he put it, and it messed with his brother's head. He became obsessed with protecting Nickolas, and dragged him across the mountains. When they reached Valdez years later, they boarded a ship, and came to the lower forty-eight. They spent most of their time homeless, because Eldridge didn't trust anyone. Eventually they ended up at the Institute, and Nickolas's then paranoid older brother deemed it safe. Of course, just a few years later, Elvina happened.

After Eldridge killed himself, Nickolas stayed at the Institute, simply because he had nowhere else to go. No family. No friends.

Compared to his life story, mine was practically a fairy tale.

Since then, he had been tending the grounds, and helping control the more wild and dangerous patients. He didn't room inside like the other employees, because when the moon became a complete glowing orb, he would get a bit nutty, and couldn't be around other people for a few days.

Around six, he stood up and stretched, his back popping and cracking impressively, and lit a small fire in the ring of stones just a few feet away. As he sat back down, he turned to me.

“Do pardon the fire; Sometimes patients get loose, and fire keeps a lot of 'em back.” I nodded, and took a sip from the chipped mug in my hand, only to be disappointed when I remembered it was long empty. I sighed sadly. Nickolas spoke up again.

“I wonder why Zahncliff is so concerned about this 'gift' of yours..... There are quite a few patients here who can catch glimpses of 'future occurrences', as he puts it..... I mean, how is your gift different?”

I didn't know, so I didn't answer right away.

“Why do you call Adam 'Zahncliff'? That's his name, obviously, but he's not some sort of senior citizen.” Nickolas gave me a strange look.

“He looks exactly the same today as he did fifteen years ago, the day we came to the Institute. You have to remember, we are a different people. Some folks may look normal enough, but often those are the ones that are the most strange and confusing.” He said.

That made sense. It would explain his old-world feel.

The sun still hung high in the sky, blinding us now, but we sat for a while longer. Then Amy, the blond tennis instructor came through the trees.

“Destra, you're off shift. You can leave now.” if eyes could shoot daggers, Nickolas would be dead as a doorknob. She then stomped back off towards the main building, high ponytail flipping angrily behind her.

“Wow, talk about cold. Is she by any chance part ice-sprite-thingy?” I said, watching the slim blond disappear.

“No.” he laughed “No, she just hates my guts. When she came to work here, she thought I was pretty awesome. Then she heard about Eldridge, and found out what I was, and....... Ya. It got a little messy. Big scene during a patient produced musical. I'll tell you the whole of it some other time.” Now I was curious. That sounded like a fun one.

“well, I'd better go before Icy-Amy comes back with friends. See you tomorrow, and thanks for the coffee!” I said. He raised a hand, and disappeared into his shack. I walked toward the back entrance, feeling much better than I had earlier.

**

Adam

That was probably the strangest meeting I have ever had with an employee. Well, that's not true; there was that time involving pink dye and turnips......

Anyways, it was the oddest most recently. I did not expect Ms. Simmons to get so angry when I mentioned her lineage. Of course, abandonment can do things to the mind.

It was one of those few quiet moments in the hectic life that is an insane asylum for the fantastical. The evening summer sun was slowly moving across the sky towards the west. The paper work had been done for the day. I let my mind unwind, and was very close to sleep. Tomorrow was another weekend. The Monday through Friday employees would go home, and the Saturday through Sunday ones would come in. There were many things that constantly worried me.

When would the next upheaval occur. What would it be. Are the Ogres and Giants properly contained. Do we need to clip all the winged patients again. What if we run out of coffee. What if the electricity goes out. What if the automatic security fails again.

Then a fairly amusing picture crossed my mind: Destra, concentrating on the television, trying to turn it on with her mind. Destra, extending her hand over a magazine, willing the pages to turn. Standing in front of a door, fingers to her temples, glaring at the wood, hoping a hole would suddenly appear in the center.

Of course, that will never happen. The Gift doesn't allow for such things.

I leaned back in my chair, and let my head droop.

Still, it is a fairly entertaining thought....

An hour or so later, Milly came in and woke me up.

“To bed. I swear, if I weren't here, you would live on your own spittle, and be deformed from sleeping in this darned chair....”

“Yes, yes, Milly. Say, do you know any Zebras? Would love to meet one of those.....”

I wasn't awake. I don't normally talk like that. Milly shook her head, and laughingly lead me through the side door and into my personal quarters, where she unceremoniously shoved me onto the bed. She then left the room. I was asleep shortly there after. But my dreams were disturbing, horror films playing over and over in my head, bloody scenes of death and destruction, all involving a fiery female figure who stared down mercilessly at the fallen figures surrounding her. Then she looked at me. I woke, shaking in the pale dawn light, covered in sweat, and terrified by my vision. I had to find the Woman, before she became a threat. Before she destroyed everything.

**

Destra

The next day was my day off. I waited anxiously for the headache to come, but thank the heavens it didn't. I most certainly did not want that to happen again. About one in the afternoon, Grandma Ellen called me up, and asked if I wanted to come over for lunch. She always made the best grub, and all I had at my apartment was chips, cereal, and ketchup. Not exactly substantial. So I climbed into my little Honda Civic, and drove the whopping three blocks to her house. The tall, elegant, steel-eyed woman that was my grandmother embraced me warmly, and immediately I could smell the lavender that she had worn for as long as I could remember. We went in and sat in the old wing-back chairs next to her front window. Once we were comfy, I picked at the orange and green upholstery. Grandma Ellen looked at me disapprovingly. I grinned at her, and stopped.

“So, how is your new job? Do you like it?” She said, crossing her legs.

“Well, so far, it is definitely the most.... Interesting job I have ever had.”

“In what way?” Her eyes bore into me, but the old sparkle was still very much there.

“Just stuff..... Fun people, freaky people, classic work place drama.....”

I can't tell her where I really work.....

“Oh? I heard from your neighbor you got a job at Zahncliff.” she paused, “Is that true?”

Darn. Who squealed? Must have been Jamie....

“Yes.” I said.

She leaned back in her chair.

“Right. Well, lunch is in the other room..... Come on, dear.” The subject change was a bit abrupt, but I followed her into her small, well lit, country style kitchen. We sat and dined like queens. Nothing beats grandma's cooking; a sweet potato cheesecake that was just rich enough. Salmon grilled with dill and drizzled with butter. Fries ( or chips, as grandma calls them) that were a beautiful gold color and tasted heavenly. And to top it all off, a big jug of sweet tea, with lemons floating lazily around amongst the ice.

When I thought I was going to burst, I let out a loud belch, and suddenly had room for another slice of cheesecake.

“Destra Marie Simmons! Where are you manners!” I thought my grandmother’s eyebrows were going to disappear into her white curly hair, although I could tell she was ever-so-slightly amused.

“You know, in some cultures, belching is a sign of respect, a compliment on the food.” I said.

“Well, not in this culture, so I would ask you kindly to watch your bodily functions a bit more closely the next time you wish to eat.” She began to put things away, and doing a general tidy-up. As she was filling her stone sink with hot water to wash the dishes, she turned to me casually.

“Do you have a boyfriend yet?” I did a spit-take with my iced tea, and started to laugh.

“Nay, dear granny, males offended be by my bold take, and strong persona.” I laughed a little more quietly. “No, guys don't dig chicks that are able to take care of themselves, it seems. I've met several guys, but none of them seem to be boyfriend material.”

Even Nickolas.

Grandma stopped washing dishes and came over to me.

“None of them? Are you sure you're just not giving them a chance?” I had had this talk a million times before: This was the 'You won't be young and beautiful forever' talk. I wasn't the sort who dated in high school..... Well, no, I wasn't the sort that was dated. Anyways, grandma always assumed I was going to get married as soon as I was out of school, but I disappointed her, and instead worked whatever random jobs I could get, saving up for art school. She wasn't happy with my decision, but supported me none the less. I guess she still had hopes that I would be a normal oober happy cutesy mom.

Hah! That's not happening!

“Trust me, some of them are really cool, but none of them are even close to being 'The One', as so often you put it. I'm just not ready for that, Grandma.” She sighed as if defeated, and shook her head as she returned to the dishes. It was quiet for a while, as it often was after such discussions. Finally we started talking about semi-normal topics, such as fighting over whether Tesla or Edison was more awesome.

Tesla forever, baby!

About four-ish, I drove to the library to pick up some books. I decided to take out some biographies from people who spent some time in insane asylums. Of course, none of the experiences came close to what I was doing, but I thought the behavioral tips might help. I parked under a shade tree in the library parking lot, got out, and entered the cool, quiet building. This was my second home; I had ran silently along these corridors since I was seven.

I grabbed the books I had on hold, and started to browse in the fiction section.

The Novels Of Tiger and Del.... Wonder if that's any good....

As I picked up the book and flipped through the pages, I heard someone moving behind me. I kept looking at the book, but didn't read it. The person moved around beside me, not speaking a word.

You know, typically, this is a normal occurrence at the library, but what bugged me was the fact that they smelled wrong. I could smell sweat, leather, and animal. It was male, and gave off a scary vibe.

My mind started buzzing, and a primal fear rose up inside of me.

“Nice day.” His voice was a smooth and light tenor, but it felt like snakes in my ears. I suppressed a shudder, and attempted a cheery reply.

“Yes, it is.” My voice shook. I risked a glance at him; he was a compact man, not particularly tall, and was wearing a brown leather duster. His shirt and cargo pants underneath of that were ragged and filthy, and bore rust colored stains. His black army boots were the only clean part of the ensemble. When I glanced up at his face, he shot a nasty smile at me. His teeth were yellow and stained, yet very straight. On a second look, I noticed they were ever so slightly pointed. His eyes were wild unnatural green, and stared in a disgusting way. The whole picture made my stomach churn. Other wise, his looks were normal. If you didn't know to look for small differences, he would look like your average homeless Joe. But he wasn't.

I turned back to my book, and did my best to ignore him. He stood there breathing down my back for a few minutes longer, then turned away, his coat swishing behind him, and disappeared behind the far wall. I felt my whole body shaking, and began to grow light headed, so I checked out my books, and left.