Paula grinned taking his meaning and pulled her shirt back down as she climbed off him. “I look forward to that.”
“Just between us until it’s official,” he warned her while pulling up his pants and zipping them.
“I know,” she replied but maintained her beaming grin of delight.
§
Paula entered the bar only twenty minutes after she had left and wore a devious grin on her face. The five at the table near the jukebox exchanged bewildered looks. Ross glanced at his watch.
“Wow,” Ross announced as his eyes widened dramatically. “That’s got to be a record.”
“Wouldn’t be the first time Paula got it on with some guy in the parking lot,” Tamara informed them while casually sipping her drink. She then considered the comment. “Or the men’s bathroom.”
Tony and Ross gave Tamara a surprised look.
“Why the men’s bathroom?” Tony practically gasped while making a face.
“Less traffic than the women’s bathroom,” Tamara replied.
“Hell,” Ross cried out. “That place is so disgusting; I don’t even want to take a piss in there.”
They watched as Paula joined her brother at the bar. She leaned on his shoulder and said something in his ear. He laughed at whatever she had said. Paula eyed the three women then approached their table. All three women ignored her as she leaned on their table. Tony and Ross couldn’t help but stare at her, obviously still caught up on the men’s room comment.
“I’ve got this job in the bag,” Paula announced while grinning deviously.
Tamara cast a look at her and raised a cocky brow. “Don’t you mean in the sack?”
“Say what you want, but I intend to be rich this time next year,” Paula boldly announced while straightening as she flaunted her cleavage.
“Men will tell all sorts of lies to get a woman into their bed,” Devon informed her.
“Or the back seat of their car,” Ross muttered.
“They’ll even promise jobs they don’t intend to give them,” Devon continued.
Paula eyed Devon and snorted a humored laugh. “Oh, the town virgin is suddenly an authority on men?” She smirked mockingly at Devon. “What do you know about men?”
Ross casually leaned back in his chair and raised an arrogant brow. “Enough to have two male friends who are fiercely loyal to her,” he remarked.
Paula appeared humored and cast a look at Ross, mocking him. “Oh, really? The town idiot and the dead fuck?”
Both men immediately squirmed in their seats. Tony avoided looking at Paula and appeared embarrassed. Ross didn’t look away from her and maintained a serious expression.
“I may be a dead fuck, but I know I never slept with a freaky chick like you,” Ross announced in a loud, brazen tone.
It was difficult to embarrass Ross since he enjoyed embarrassing himself and usually found a way to take everyone else with him. Paula was moderately stunned by the reversal of insults. When she couldn’t come up with a counter-response, she sneered and stormed away from the table. All eyes were suddenly on Tony, who immediately shifted uncomfortably.
“You slept with Paula?” Ross cried out in a hushed tone. “What were you thinking?”
Tony shrugged with embarrassment while avoiding eye contact. “I had too much to drink,” he groaned. “I wasn’t thinking.”
“It’s back,” Tamara scoffed, causing the others to look up.
Paula approached their table while staring at the bar then pointed and smiled deviously. “Hey, Devon, isn’t that your new boss?”
All five looked at the bar. Brant sat in a secluded corner of the bar with his head in his hands while huddled over his drink. Devon and Ross exchanged surprised looks. Brant was supposed to be gone all weekend. What was he doing at the bar?
“Hmm. I think I’m going to seduce your new boss,” Paula announced while tossing her hair over her shoulder. “He looks pitiful enough to be a quick lay. Then every time you see him at work, you can think about him grunting like a pig while fucking me.”
“I think I’m going to blow chunks,” Ross suddenly announced while placing his hand over his mouth and pretended to dry heave.
Devon and Ivy watched Paula leave the table and approach Brant at the bar where she squeezed in next to him. Devon wasn’t sure why the thought bothered her as much as it did, but it would be a horrible image burned into her mind forever. Paula leaned on Brant’s shoulder and said something to him. Brant looked at Paula and responded although they couldn’t hear the conversation through the crowd.
“That woman has no shame,” Tamara muttered, having taken a moment to watch the display.
“She attempted to seduce my father once,” Ivy remarked under her breath and finally looked away. “Just to see if she could.”
“She got mine,” Tamara hissed.
Devon couldn’t keep from glancing at the bar. Brant drained the contents of his glass and pushed it across the bar. Devon watched with a frown, wondering if he could be so easily seduced by the town slut. He seemed drunk enough, and she did manage to corrupt Tony. Paula pressed her breasts against his arm and rested her hand on his shoulder while speaking softly to him. Brant pulled away from her and, judging by his expression, said something unfriendly. Devon stood, prepared to intervene. Ivy pulled her back to her seat.
“He’s a big boy,” Ivy announced. “He can take care of himself.”
They watched as Brant stood, tossed some bills across the bar, and left the tavern. Paula looked at the bartender. They exchanged devious grins. Paula hurried out the door after Brant. Devon sprang to her feet and ran from the bar after Paula with Ross only a few steps behind her. As Devon ran outside, she saw Brant’s car speeding away from the building. Paula was already heading back for the door and smiled smugly at Devon.
“Your boss is a real stud,” she teased.
“You’re such a bitch,” Devon snarled. “You had to embarrass him, didn’t you?”
Paula laughed mockingly as she passed. Devon made a fist and was about to swing when Ross caught her wrist and pulled her against him. Paula hadn’t even been aware how close she was to being sucker punched. Ross didn’t release her until Paula had disappeared inside.
“What’s wrong with you?” Ross demanded while staring into her eyes.
“What’s wrong with me?” she cried out. “What’s wrong with you? How could you just let that bitch treat that poor man that way?”
“Brant’s a big boy. He can fight his own battles,” Ross informed her then glared demandingly. “Besides; did you want me to hit a woman?”
“No, of course not,” she snapped, “but you shouldn’t have stopped me.”
“Let it go, Devon,” Ross announced firmly. “She’s not worth it.”
Devon groaned and headed inside.
Chapter Twenty
Ivy’s jeep pulled up to her small, suburban home. Devon got out of the driver’s seat and helped her drunken friend to the front door. Ivy laughed uncontrollably as she staggered into the house. Her mother was waiting up for her, as she usually did on nights they went to the tavern. Ivy’s mother shook her head in disappointment then helped her to her room. Devon found Ivy’s relationship with her mother moderately humorous. Of course, since Martin spent many overnights elsewhere, that gave Devon plenty of leeway with her evenings out.
Devon returned to Ivy’s jeep to drive herself home, as she did many evenings. Even though she didn’t have a car, she was often the designated driver, since she didn’t drink much. Devon drove along the back road that led past the museum. To her surprise, the lights were on. The jeep slowed, entered the parking lot, and parked near the main entrance. Devon got out of Ivy’s jeep and approached the front doors. She knocked, but there was no response. She turned the knob, and to her surprise, the door was unlocked.
It seemed odd that Brant would leave the door unlocked if he wasn’t within earshot of the door. Devon walked across the lobby and passed through the first floor displ
ays. Several displays now contained the recently refurbished wax people. Devon recognized a few new ones that hadn’t been in place when she and Ross left on Friday evening. Brant had been busy, it would seem. He couldn’t possibly have just gotten back from his parents’ house. As she passed, she took a little extra time to marvel at the newly added wax people.
Although Devon wore soft-soled boots, she could still hear the gentle clomping of her shoes in the frighteningly silent museum. With minimal lighting, the displays were even creepier than usual. She paused before an amazing display depicting Cleopatra. The wax woman had been Cleopatra at the old, dilapidated museum as well. She cleaned up nicely. Devon was actually surprised he was able to get all the dirt from her excessively shiny, black hair. She couldn’t resist and walked into the display. Devon approached the wax woman and studied her hair in particular, although the lighting was dim.
Some of the wax figures they’d rescued from the old museum were of poor quality, but Cleopatra was in amazingly great shape. The eyes, in particular, were quite realistic. In the dim lighting, her eyes appeared almost teal in color. Devon wasn’t a history genius, but she was pretty sure Cleopatra didn’t have teal eyes. It didn’t matter since the visitors wouldn’t get close enough to notice her eye color anyway.
Devon heard a clunk from deeper within the museum. She jumped with surprise and scanned the creepy surrounding area. She suddenly realized she didn’t want to be alone in the museum. It was almost frightening, even though she knew everything was fake. She left the display and continued along the walkway toward the back. She finally reached the dungeon entrance and headed down the stone stairs.
As she passed the horror displays, she eyed each one. A few of the horror sets also contained wax figures, which was even more surprising. The wax men and women depicted frozen looks of horror in their final fatal moments of existence. Each wax man and woman seemed to stare at her as she walked through, almost as if they were begging to be rescued by the non-existent monster not yet within the display. Devon shivered as she passed. If she found the displays creepy now, what would she think in a month from now when all the horror displays were completed? It was a chilling thought.
Devon approached the partially open workshop door, which had a light on. She peered inside and saw Brant slumped over the counter with his head in his hands. There was a wax head and paint pens on the counter before him. He’d obviously been through a lot that night, and Paula had clearly gotten to him with her persistent advances. Devon felt sorry for him and wanted to console him. She figured he could probably use a friend right about now.
She then noticed that there were more paint pens scattered haphazardly across the floor. She wasn’t sure what they were doing there. Were they defective? Devon was about to announce herself when Brant suddenly cast everything from the counter. Objects flew to the floor with a loud crash, startling her. Brant suddenly sprang to his feet with a sharpened putty knife in his hand and plunged it into the nearest wax woman’s head. Devon placed her hand over her mouth, held back her horrified gasp, and darted away from the doorway.
§
Everyone had left the tavern for the night. It was nearly three o’clock in the morning when Paula shook her brother where he lay slumped on the bar. He was out cold and wasn’t about to go anywhere anymore tonight. Paula shook her head and stumbled from her bar stool. She could barely stand on her own but the walk home in the cool, night air would clear her head. She drunkenly waved to the bartender, who was cleaning glasses.
“Night, Stan.”
“You need a ride home?” he asked.
“No, I’ll walk,” she informed him. “The fresh air will do me some good.”
Stan gave a slight wave as Paula left the tavern. She entered the parking lot and walked toward the dark, back road. She staggered and stumbled her way along the road while humming a tune. Her house was about a quarter of a mile from the tavern at the end of a private, wooded lane. Paula swung her house keys while staggering and giggling the entire way. She turned down the private, wooded lane, which seemed even darker due to the trees. A twig snapped within the dark woods. Paula stopped and looked into the woods. There was no one there. She passed it off and continued along the lane toward her house in the near distance.
Rustling was heard within the woods. Paula stopped and scanned the woods surrounding her driveway. She squinted, attempting to focus in her drunken condition. Although the woods were mostly dark, she didn’t see anything moving. She heard the sound again and looked back. A deer appeared from the woods, stared at her a moment, and then continued across the dirt driveway. Paula laughed while placing a hand on her chest.
“Someone’s jumpy tonight,” she muttered then continued toward the house.
Her family home had seen better days. It was in need of new siding, a coat of paint, gutters, and a new porch roof. In addition to the creepy, dark house, which she’d again forgotten to leave a light on for herself, there were several beater cars scattered along what constituted a front yard. The front yard hadn’t been mowed in years, allowing tall weeds to grow between the junk cars. Joe’s fascination with classic cars led to the junkyard that was once the front lawn, but it was his lack of mechanical skills that kept them there.
As she passed the collection of beater cars, she heard a loud clunk from one of them. Paula turned toward the cars and immediately scanned the area. There was a loud wail followed by excessive hissing as two cats ran across the driveway and darted under the front porch.
“Damned cats,” she muttered and continued toward the house.
Another cat sat in the driveway and casually washed its paws. She smiled and bent down to pet the cat, nearly falling in the process. The cat suddenly hissed at her and puffed twice its normal size. Paula straightened with surprise and struck something behind her. She spun around with a startled gasp and saw the phantom standing directly behind her. He placed his gloved hand over her mouth, spun her around, and pulled her against him while she attempted a muffled scream. She weakly thrashed against his hold, but she was too drunk to effectively defend herself.
He dragged her toward one of the beater cars, opened the mostly rusted back door, and tossed her into the back seat. She attempted to gather her wits and reached for the opposite door as he jumped into the back seat with her. The door wouldn’t open and the handle came off in her hand. She screamed and turned onto her back to face her attacker. The phantom was already on top of her. He clutched her throat with one hand and squeezed until she could no longer scream. Paula gasped, attempting to catch her breath while struggling to loosen the grip on her throat. She could barely move her legs, unsuccessfully trying to toss him off balance.
When he revealed the large dagger in his right hand, her eyes widened in horror, and she managed a weak, muffled gasp. He thrust downward with the knife and struck her in the chest, easily penetrating her bone with the sturdy blade. He ripped the knife free with some difficulty while keeping his hand on her mouth to muffle her screams. She stared at him while enduring the pain as she faded fast from the blow. The phantom sneered and thrust the knife a second and third time into her chest while staring into her eyes. She stared back but no longer moved. He removed his hand from her mouth, allowing her involuntary breath to escape.
The phantom wiped the blood from the knife on the back of the front seat, moved off her, and climbed out of the car. He casually shut the door and replaced the knife to his sheath. He looked down and saw a small kitten purring as it rubbed against his black boot. He reached down, affectionately scratched the kitten’s head while it purred, and then straightened. He turned and walked away.
Chapter Twenty-one
Three o’clock Monday morning. The museum was mostly dark and peaceful. Two outside lights remained on; one in the front and one in the back as a security measure. Someone slipped through the shadows and approached the back basement door. A crowbar was used to pry open the less secured door, allowing the intruder to slip into the dungeon. The intruder
set the gas can he’d been carrying on the floor. He shut the door behind him then turned and shined his flashlight around the dark workshop. The light fell upon a policeman.
“Holy hell,” Karl exclaimed while jumping back in alarm.
When the officer didn’t move, Karl took a closer look at the policeman in the uniform from the 1920’s and realized it was just a wax figure dressed the role. It was probably Ross’ idea to stake a wax cop at the back door in the event of a break-in, which obviously worked. Karl smirked and shook his head at his own paranoia. He was about to pick up the gas can when he heard a clunk from within the lower level of the museum.
With all the lights off, there couldn’t be anyone else inside. He reconsidered picking up the gas can and opted to check out the sound first. Karl used his flashlight to hurry across the cluttered workshop and approached the interior door. He doused the light and slipped along the walkway. There were a few security lights on, which barely provided enough light to keep from running into objects and only allowed him to see the walkway before him. The displays cast creepy shadows, sending a chill through him.
After walking through three displays without hearing any further sounds, it was apparent he was alone. He turned on the flashlight and looked around, no longer concerned with giving away his location. He shined the light on the vampire display and saw a wax woman lying on the fake grass. He held his breath at how realistic she looked then was about to turn when he saw a flashlight not far from the wax woman. The flashlight puzzled him. He scanned the display with his own flashlight.
A large blur suddenly came at him. Before he could cry out, he was tackled to the floor. Karl was momentarily winded from the hard tackle. Despite having lost his breath, he recovered quickly and raised the flashlight to strike the attacker on top of him. In that brief flash, he saw his attacker’s face and appeared surprised. Karl was punched several times in the face by the intruder’s gloved hand, nearly knocking him unconscious. The gloved hands clutched his throat and squeezed. Karl attempted to fight off the killer, but he wasn’t strong enough. His eyes momentarily bulged while staring at his attacker as he gasped for air. His eyes eventually rolled back, and Karl became still. He was then grabbed under his arms and dragged across the display.
The Deadliest Institution Collection Page 52
