The Deadliest Institution Collection

by Holly Copella

  Chapter Twenty-two

  Later Monday morning. It was a dreary day outside, and the forecast was calling for heavy thunderstorms throughout most of the day. The rain seemed to be holding off, but the skies were dark and threatening. Devon and Martin entered the diner and looked around for a vacant booth, although there were plenty of empty tables. Martin immediately fidgeted when he saw Marlene was working that morning.

  “This is a bad idea,” he muttered to his sister. “Too soon.”

  Devon gave him a playful shove toward one of the few vacant booths. “Take your spittle eggs like a man,” she huffed.

  They sat at the booth near the window. When Marlene approached, Martin shifted uncomfortably in his seat, uncertain what to expect.

  Marlene smiled almost cheerfully while eying Martin. “Hi, Martin,” she announced in a strangely pleasant tone, surprising both.

  It was obvious it was going to be a sneak attack on the waitress’ part. Devon somehow felt nervous for her brother and waited for the bomb to drop. She’d heard about Marlene’s Jekyll and Hyde personality but had never actually witnessed it.

  “Uh, good morning, Marlene,” he responded while attempting to sound as pleasant as possible. “Uh, how are you?”

  She frowned at the question, causing both to tense and await the explosion that was sure to follow. With Martin’s womanizing ways, he was bound to cross the wrong woman eventually.

  “I’d be better if Jamie had shown up for work this morning,” Marlene scoffed with annoyance. “She left me stranded by myself with the breakfast crowd.” She shook her head. “Usually, she only does that sort of thing on Sunday mornings when she’s hungover. The nerve of her. After having the entire weekend off, you’d think she’d have the decency to show up this morning.”

  Devon and Martin were surprised that her hostility hadn’t been directed at him. Both relaxed, although remaining untrusting.

  “Don’t be too harsh on Jamie,” Martin replied, showing surprising compassion. “She has to help take care of her sister. That’s a lot of responsibility.”

  “It’s a tragedy,” Marlene remarked while frowning then shook her head. “They should’ve left the poor girl go.” Marlene stared out the window, and her expression immediately saddened. “See what I mean?” She gave a nod out the window.

  Martin and Devon looked out the window. Dorothy pushed the reclining wheelchair along the sidewalk with the young woman immobile within it. Chelsea wore a big, gaudy bow in her dull, blonde hair. Her once beautiful face was flaccid and heavily painted with makeup. Her eyes remained open with her usual fixed gaze. Devon looked down at her menu and felt both saddened and sickened by the tragedy that had befallen the girl only two years older than herself. Marlene continued to stare out the window and shook her head.

  “Poor Chelsea,” Marlene announced with a sad sigh. “She was going to graduate just a few weeks before the accident. Had a scholarship and everything.” She attempted to wipe the image from her mind. “Seven years she’s been stuck in that chair without a spark of brain activity.” She shook her head. “Poor girl. So much nicer than her sister.”

  “Jamie’s a spoiled, miserable girl,” Devon huffed without looking up from her menu.

  “You wouldn’t get much of an argument from anyone on that one,” Marlene remarked. “You went to school with her, didn’t you?”

  “Don’t remind me,” Devon scoffed. “She and her friends thought they owned the place.”

  “Didn’t she get expelled for lewd conduct with one of her teachers?” Marlene asked.

  “No,” Devon snapped and eyed Marlene. “She was the victim, as usual. The teacher was fired though.”

  “That girl has nine lives, I swear,” Marlene muttered while making a face. “Around here too. I don’t know how she still has a job. If I pulled half the shit she did, I’d have been fired by now.”

  Marlene and Devon again looked out the window and watched Dorothy and Chelsea until they were gone. Martin studied the menu, no longer interested. Marlene managed a cheerful smile despite her foul mood regarding Jamie’s disappearing act.

  “Can I get you some coffee and tea to start?” she asked while eying both.

  They nodded in response. Marlene left the table to get their beverages. Devon set her menu aside and sank into her own world.

  Martin finally relaxed. “I really dodged a bullet on that one, huh?” he remarked with a nervous chuckle. When Devon didn’t respond, he eyed her and appeared curious. “Is something wrong?”

  “Hmm?” she announced while looking up. “Uh, no. Everything’s fine.”

  “Why don’t you come to the city with me one of these weekends?” Martin suggested. “I’ll take you to my hunting grounds. It’s a place called the Ruby Club. Strictly highbrow people in this place. It’s where I meet all my best dates.”

  “Is that where you met your latest conquest, Suki?” she announced while grinning.

  Martin frowned at the comment and sat back in his chair. “She stood me up.”

  “I don’t think I’ve ever met any of your girlfriends,” Devon informed him.

  “When I find the right one, I’ll bring her home,” he announced then grinned. “No telling what excitement today may bring.”

  “The weatherman says thunderstorms with gusty winds,” Devon teased.

  “You’re so negative.”

  “I have reason to be.”

  “What’s wrong?”

  She shifted uncomfortably. “I didn’t tell anyone, but I went to the museum late Saturday night,” she informed her brother. “I saw Brant trash the workshop and brutalize a wax woman.”

  “Brutalize?”

  “He stabbed it in the head with a sharpened putty knife,” Devon informed him and cringed. “It was very scary.”

  “Maybe you shouldn’t go back there,” Martin announced while shifting uncomfortably.

  “I can’t just call off.”

  “Sure you can,” Martin replied then grinned. “It’s easy. I do it all the time.”

  Ross slid into the booth alongside Devon, startling her. When she jumped, he chuckled evilly.

  “I wish you’d stop doing that,” she groaned.

  Martin hid his smile because he’d obviously seen Ross approaching since he was facing the door.

  “Mind if I join you for breakfast?” Ross announced cheerfully.

  “Depends,” Martin remarked. “Are you mooching off us?”

  “There’s a strong likelihood,” Ross casually replied without emotion.

  Marlene showed up with two cups of coffee and a cup of tea for Devon. As she walked away, Ross leered after her.

  “It’s like she’s a mind reader or something,” Ross remarked.

  “Considering she didn’t take our order, I assume she’s getting our usual,” Martin announced then shook his head. “I hate being thought of as predictable.”

  “You and me both,” Ross muttered while sipping his coffee.

  As if on cue, both noticed the scrapes on Ross’ knuckles.

  “What happened to you?” Devon announced while indicating his knuckles.

  She knew they didn’t look that way Saturday night when she’d left Ross and Tony at the tavern. He eyed his knuckles then chuckled in a jovial manner.

  “Oh, that,” Ross announced and met her gaze. “Well, you know how I sometimes drink too much and say what I’m thinking?”

  Devon rolled her eyes. “This can’t be good,” she muttered.

  “Actually, I think you’d be proud of me,” he remarked while grinning. “I got into it with Joe after you took Ivy home Saturday night.”

  “Joe?” Martin suddenly asked with surprise. “Former ranch hand Joe?”

  “Yeah, that’s the one,” Ross announced cheerfully. “I defended your sister’s honor and gave him quite the shiner as a token of my affection.” Ross made a fist and slow punched in the air.

  Martin shifted in his seat while frowning. “What did the jerk say about Devon?” he pra
ctically demanded.

  “He didn’t say much of anything,” Ross reported. “It was just payback for groping her in the barn.”

  Devon suddenly stiffened and avoided looking at her brother. Martin stared at Ross and appeared ready to explode. He leaned forward on the table and glared at Devon.

  “What does he mean; Joe groped you?” Martin suddenly demanded. “You said he backed you into the corner and kissed you. I never heard groped.”

  Devon met her brother’s gaze and immediately shifted in her seat. “I didn’t say anything because you were already borderline when I told you he kissed me.”

  Martin strummed his fingers on the table and silently seethed a moment. He drew a deep breath, leaned back in his seat, and finally met her gaze.

  “Since Ross already punched him, and Dad fired him, I’m willing to let it go,” Martin remarked, although his eyes still looked devil red. He finally relaxed and stared into her eyes. “Please tell me dad doesn’t know. He’d kill him for sure. Even now a month later.”

  “No, dad doesn’t know,” she practically gasped and stared at him with a horrified look. “I definitely wasn’t going to tell dad. He knows all the good spots to bury a body.”

  Martin sighed with relief and gently rubbed his temples. “Okay,” he announced and nodded. “Let’s just avoid talking about Joe for a while.”

  Devon finally relaxed and nodded. “Agreed.” She then glared at Ross and smacked him on the shoulder.

  He yelped in surprise. “Don’t be mad at me,” Ross cried out. “You two talk about everything. How was I supposed to know you hadn’t told him?”

  “Because, you idiot,” she snarled. “Joe came out of it without any broken bones.”

  Chapter Twenty-three

  Martin’s black blazer pulled up to the front steps of the museum in the pouring rain. They were lucky to leave the diner and reach his truck just before it started to downpour. The rain didn’t appear to be letting up. Since Devon was going to be soaked regardless, she jumped out of the blazer and darted for the porch. She entered the museum and wondered if any part of her wasn’t soaked from her short sprint. She removed her wet jacket and hung it on a large rack just inside the lobby. As she ran her fingers through her wet hair, she wondered how bad it looked and wished she’d gone with a ponytail that morning. Devon turned to see Brant standing only a couple of feet away with a cup of coffee in one hand and a towel in the other. He offered Devon the towel, which she gladly accepted and dried her hair.

  “Beautiful day, isn’t it?” he teased.

  “This is just the beginning,” she informed him. “There’s a massive thunderstorm coming this way. There will be some flooded roadways tonight.”

  Brant frowned and looked toward the lobby window at the black skies beyond the glass. “I hope the power holds out,” he announced then made a face. “I’m afraid we won’t get much done if it doesn’t. We need a new generator. The old one died during the last power outage.” He drew a deep breath then managed a smile and handed her the cup of coffee. “It’ll just be the two of us today, so we’ll see how much we can get done before we lose power. Ross is running some errands.”

  “We had breakfast this morning at the diner,” she remarked then cast a look at him. “He mentioned he was running for more paint pens, although I thought we had plenty on Friday.”

  “Yeah, we did, but I used them rather aggressively yesterday. Would you like to see what I’d finished over the weekend?” Brant asked while grinning.

  Devon fidgeted slightly while staring at him. It seemed like a good time to ask him about the weekend he didn’t spend at his parents’ house.

  “I thought you were going to be gone all weekend,” she remarked.

  “I had a disagreement with my mother,” he informed her while frowning. “I’m lucky I made it through dinner on Friday night.” His grin then returned. “I got a lot of work finished though. Not a bad tradeoff.”

  She didn’t have the heart to mention seeing him at the tavern on Saturday, and she certainly wasn’t going to bring up what she witnessed at the museum in the early morning hours.

  §

  The vampire display was eerie with its crypt and tombs surrounding the cemetery setting, which was dimly lit with fake torches. Naturally, it was a nighttime setting, since vampires preferred it that way. Devon lingered around the set and took in all the amazing details while Brant eagerly awaited her reaction. A lavishly dressed male and female vampire attacked a cemetery full of men with swords and stakes. It was a gruesome scene depicting men with torn, bloodied throats.

  Devon recognized one of the wax men as a reconstruct from the old museum. She remembered uncrating him. She couldn’t be sure, but she swore he was supposed to be Teddy Roosevelt, even though Ross had heavily debated that theory with her. So Teddy Roosevelt was now a vampire-hunting villager. It was slightly amusing. Once Brant turned on the special effects, the vampires moaned and hissed. Teddy Roosevelt stood with his sword prepared to decapitate the vampire attacking his friend.

  Despite the noise and movement within the set, Devon took time to study Teddy’s eyes. Whoever had created the wax figures from the old museum certainly had access to the most realistic looking glass eyes. The eyes Brant provided looked good, but not nearly as good as the reconstructs.

  “Honestly, though,” Brant announced. “He looks like Teddy Roosevelt, right?”

  Devon looked at him with surprise then laughed. “That’s exactly what I’d been telling Ross when we uncrated him,” she announced. “He argued with me half the day over it.”

  “Yeah, me too,” Brant replied. “I think Ross needs glasses.”

  They were about to continue across the loud, animated display when she paused to look at the other villager victims. Despite the dirty blonde hair, one of the men looked a little like Karl. It was uncanny how so many of the wax men and woman looked like famous people or people she knew.

  In the next scene over, there appeared to be a man plunging a stake into an open casket. Devon heard the bone-chilling pounding of the stake supposedly entering the vampire’s body. The vampire flew up within the coffin with the stake in its chest and his long fingers clutching the wooden projectile. Devon jumped with surprise then placed her hand on her chest. She wasn’t expecting the hydraulic actions of the vampire, and it seemed unfair that Brant refused to share that information ahead of time with them. She was almost certain it was because he enjoyed scaring her. As she studied the vampire with the stake through his heart, there was enough gory detail to make her cringe. Brant did fine work on the stake through the heart and the gruesome corresponding wound.

  “What do you think?” Brant asked cheerfully.

  “It’s very, uh, realistic,” she informed him then shivered at the gruesome detail. “I’m guessing our younger visitors will have nightmares.”

  “I can live with that,” Brant teased with a pleased look on his face.

  She couldn’t stop thinking about what she’d seen on Saturday night within the workshop. After casting several looks at Brant, she finally turned to face him.

  “I wasn’t doing much over the weekend,” Devon informed him. “You could’ve called. I would have gladly come in.”

  Brant fidgeted slightly and managed a tiny smile. “I wouldn’t have been very good company,” he muttered while running his fingers through his hair.

  Devon returned her attention back to the violent, loud display. Brant turned off the scene with the remote control from his pocket and left the room. Devon looked around, realized he’d left, and hurried after him.

  §

  Devon and Brant sat at the counter in the workshop that afternoon and worked on a full-sized zombie laid out before them. The zombie required a lot of decay on his exposed fleshy parts, so they tag teamed the job. Brant seemed less enthusiastic than usual with his work and was forced to correct half of what he did. He used enough turpentine to fill the room with fumes, making Devon slightly lightheaded. She eyed him several t
imes while working on the zombie’s lower leg.

  “Would you like to talk about the party?” she finally asked.

  “I wouldn’t want to bore you,” he muttered with little enthusiasm.

  She looked back down and concentrated on her work. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to pry.”

  “It’s not prying,” he quickly chirped then looked up and fidgeted. “I don’t mind really.” He drew a deep breath, tossed down his rag, and stared at the wax zombie before him. “My mother’s always playing matchmaker. She thinks she has to bring women to the house in hopes I’ll find a suitable mother for my children. Needless to say, it didn’t start off very promising and gradually got worse.” He groaned and shook his head. “This one was so much like my mother; it was almost frightening.”

  Brant collapsed into his chair, snatched a paint pen, and worked on the zombie’s hand.

  “So my weekend sucked,” he announced with a sigh then eyed her. “How was yours?”

  “Uneventful,” Devon replied. “As usual, Ivy got drunk, and I had to drive her home.” She hesitated and considered her next comment carefully. “I, uh, saw you at the tavern on Saturday.”

  He looked at her with surprise then managed a humored smile. “Then you knew I wasn’t gone the whole weekend.” He casually shrugged. “I needed a few drinks after my Friday night fiasco. If I lived closer to my parents, I’d be an alcoholic by now.”

  She was too embarrassed to look at him. “I wasn’t sure I should mention seeing you at the tavern,” Devon remarked.

  He finally looked at her and appeared surprised. “Why not?”

  “Because you were sort of busy at the time,” she announced timidly.