Resurrection Dreams (13 page)

He looked at the camera and rolled his eyes upward.

Melvin, watching, chuckled at his expression.

Being dead had made her a little weird. Licking the stuff off her fingers had been the first sign of that, but only the first of many.

She started to sit up.

“Lie still,” he told her. She obeyed. Melvin took a moist sponge off the cart. She lay motionless, watching him as he gently swabbed the blood off her body. The Mouth kept leaking. He taped a gauze pad across it, then went back to the shallower cuts. When he was done, the design remained distinct with shiny thread of blood. But the lines didn’t thicken or drip. The bandage made the Face of Ram-Chotep look gagged.

Melvin set the sponge on the table beside Patricia’s hip.

Her hand felt for it. She found it, lifted it above her face, and squeezed it into her mouth. Pink liquid spilled from the sponge at first, then slowed to a trickle. Stuffing half the sponge into her mouth, she began to suck and chew on it.

“Hits the spot?” Melvin asked.

She grunted.

She stuffed the rest of the sponge into her mouth.

“Hey, that’s enough. You can’t eat that.”

She didn’t hesitate for an instant, just pulled the sponge out and gave it to him.

“Go ahead and sit up,” he told her.

She sat up, crossed her legs, rested her hands on her knees, and looked at Melvin as if waiting for the next order. A few little drops of blood broke away from the lines and crept down her skin.

“Try to say something,” Melvin said. “What’s your name?”

She frowned, shook her head, shrugged. “What’s yours?” she asked.

Melvin saw his back go straight.

“You can talk.”

“I guess so.”

She could not only talk, but her voice sounded normal.

“What’s your name?” she asked again.

“Melvin.”

She smiled. “That’s a nice name.”

Melvin looked at the camera and shook his head.

“What’s wrong?” she asked.

“Nothing. Huh-uh. Everything’s fine. Jesus.”

He’d felt as if he must be dreaming. This couldn’t be happening. It was more than he’d even hoped for. He had never really quite believed he would succeed in bringing one of these gals back to life. It was an ambition—hell, an obsession. But even though he’d told himself over and over that he would eventually stumble onto a formula that would work, he’d always doubted he could pull it off.

And if somehow one of them did come back, he’d imagined she would be pretty much along the lines of your standard zombie: bug-eyed, zoned out, a regular retard.

Patricia might not be entirely normal, but she was close. Very close.

“Boggles the mind,” he muttered.

“Do I have a name?” she asked.

“You don’t know?”

She shook her head.

“What’s the last thing you remember?”

“You said, ‘You don’t know?’”

“No, I mean…what did you do this morning?”

She knitted her brow. She chewed her lower lip. She shrugged. The shrugging made her breasts rise and fall. “Nothing, I guess.”

“Do you remember the hospital?”

“Is that where I died?”

“You worked there. You were a nurse.”

She smiled. “Really?”

“Who’s the President of the United States?”

“I don’t know. How should I know?”

“Do you know anything?”

Her smiled widened. “You’re Melvin.” Her eyes lowered. She lifted his bandaged hand. “What happened here?”

“Somebody bit me.”

“Can I?”

Melvin thought he heard something. He pressed the Mute button on the remote. The conversation on the television died.

“Melll-vin,” came Patricia’s voice.

“Yeah?” he called.

“Melvin?”

He shut off the VCR, moved the bowl off his lap, and hurried upstairs to his bedroom. He switched on the light. Patricia, sitting up in bed, looked worried for a moment, then smiled and combed fingers through her mussed blond hair. She had been wearing one of his mother’s nightgowns, but now it lay on the floor. The rumpled sheet lay across her legs.

“Something wrong?” Melvin asked.

“I woke up and you weren’t here.”

“I just went downstairs to look at some television.”

The hand in her hair moved down. It curled over her left breast. Staring into Melvin’s eyes, she squeezed her breast. Then she circled the nipple with a fingertip. The center grew and jutted. She pinched the nub between her thumb and forefinger and pulled, stretching it.

“Do you want to play?” she asked.

“Again?” Melvin asked, grinning.

“I like it.” She twisted her nipple and squirmed. “You like it, too, don’t you?”

“I don’t like getting bit.”

“I won’t.”

“That’s what you said last time.”

“I promise.”

“Okay.” Melvin turned toward the door.

“Where are you going?”

He looked around at her. She had let go of her nipple, which was a relief to Melvin. He knew that she seemed oblivious to pain, but it had still made him nervous to watch her pulling and twisting so hard. “I’ll come right back.”

“Can I come, too?” She looked worried again. Clearly, she didn’t want him out of her sight. Ever. That morning, she’d actually cried when Melvin explained that he needed to leave her alone. She’d begged to go with him. Finally, he’d locked her in the basement. By the time he returned from taking the car to Vicki, she was hysterical.

This could get to be a real nuisance.

“Just wait here,” he told her.

Frowning, she nodded bravely.

Melvin hurried down the hallway to the bathroom. He took a fresh roll of adhesive tape out of the medicine cabinet, then returned to the bedroom.

While he was away, Patricia had moved the top sheet to the end of the bed and stretched out. Her hands were folded beneath her head.

“Was that quick enough?” he asked.

“I guess.”

He draped his robe across the chair. Patricia, staring at him, licked her lips as he walked to the bed. He climbed onto her and sat across her hips. Her skin was cool under his rump. He felt the tickle of her pubic hair.

The pad of gauze just above her navel had come loose at one end. He tried to lift it for a peek at the wound, but it was stuck to her. He remembered how Vicki had used alcohol to loosen the bandage on his hand. Maybe he would try that. Later.

He touched the pyramid he had carved into Patricia last night, and felt the stiff, thin ridge of a scab.

“I guess you’re healing,” he said.

“Is that good?”

“Sure.”

She bounced gently a couple of times, thrusting herself up against him. “Aren’t we going to play?”

“In a minute.” He peeled a four-inch strip of adhesive tape off the spool and tore it loose. “Close your mouth,” he said.

“I won’t bite.”

“I know.”

She closed her mouth and smiled. She slipped a hand from beneath her head. It slid down her body and touched him. Her fingers curled around him and lightly slid up and down his shaft while he applied two strips of tape. When he was done, her lips were sealed by the big white X. “Isn’t gonna hold you,” he said. “But if you make the tape come off, I’m leaving. Understand?”

Patricia nodded.

“Cause it really hurts when you bite.”

It seemed rather silly to be sunbathing since the lotion would prevent her from getting a tan, but Vicki felt good sprawling on the lounge, the sun hot on her back, the late afternoon breeze sometimes sliding over her.

She supposed she might get some tan, in spite of the screening lotion. She hoped so. She wanted to look good in her new bikini, just in case she should ever wear it to the beach.

Could’ve skipped the sun block, she thought. A little exposure this time of day wouldn’t kill me.

But she knew that without the block she would’ve felt too guilty to enjoy the sunbathing.

Reaching behind her back, Vivki tied the strings of her bikini top. Then she rolled over, folded her hands beneath her head, and shut her eyes.

It had been a fine Saturday.

There may have been nightmares last night, but she’d awakened without any memory of them. Nor had she torn her nightgown in her sleep—because she’d left it off. Smart move, that.

The running couldn’t have been much finer. No Dexter Pollock annoyed her on the way out. A mist hung over the town, muffling the streetlights so they looked like glowing balls of cotton. The mist also seemed to muffle sounds, making the morning seem unnaturally silent and peaceful. The heavy air, while not exactly cool, felt less warm than usual. She wore her shorts and T-shirt. No need for a warm-up suit with Dexter out of the way. She ran fast. The air washed over her. Instead of taking her usual route, she ran south so she wouldn’t have to see Melvin’s car sitting in the clinic lot, wouldn’t have to worry about confronting or avoiding the stranger who’d been in the park those other two mornings.

On the way back, she stopped in the bakery and bought doughnuts with money she had tucked into her sock for that purpose. When Ace got up, they pigged out.

Then she went with Ace to the shop. Ace opened up, and Vicki browsed for a long time, and finally bought shorts and a knit shirt and a skimpy white string bikini—all at the 20% “sawbones” discount.

After that, she returned to the house and spent hours just sitting around, catching up on the medical journals and taking breaks to read a mystery. Ace came home early, leaving Jennifer in charge of the store, and they got into their bikinis to “catch some rays.”

All in all, a great way to spend a Saturday. Vicki couldn’t remember the last time she’d spent such a peaceful, relaxing day.

As she lay there thinking about it, she heard the shower go on. Though she wasn’t eager to move, she knew that she would shower after Ace got out. That would feel good. The plan, then, was to linger over a batch of margaritas and fire up the grill and make hamburgers for supper. Then, they would head into town, pick up two or three movies at the video store, and spend the evening in front of the television. Sounded good to Vicki. Sounded perfect.

The telephone rang.

Ace in the shower.

Sighing, Vicki flung herself off the lounge. She raced barefoot across the patio, jerked open the screen door, and rushed through the kitchen to the wall phone. She snatched up the handset. “Hello?”

“Who’s this?” A male voice. Familiar.

“Vicki. Alice can’t come to the phone, right now. Would you like to leave a message?”

“Hi, Vicki.” Suddenly, too familiar.

“Melvin?”

“Thought you might be there. How you doing?”

I was doing just great. “Okay. I wish you’d stop over at the clinic and pick up your car.”

“I got no use for it. You go ahead and keep it.”

“I don’t want it, Melvin. Honest. I appreciate your gesture. It was very thoughtful, but please.”

“You don’t like it? You want a different kind?”

“There’s nothing wrong with the car. I just can’t accept a gift like that—not even as a loan. Okay? So if you’d just take it away again, I’d…”

“I can’t. You’ve got the keys.”

You dropped them down my dress.

“Do you have another set?” she asked.

“Nope.”

“Okay. Then I’ll drop the car off at the station.”

“I’m home. You wanta bring it here?”

“I can’t do it now, anyway. I’m pretty busy right now. I’ll just take it to the station sometime, maybe tomorrow or Monday. Okay?”

“Okay.” He sounded disappointed. “Vicki?”

“Yes?”

“I’m sorry. I only just wanted to help. I figured you could use a car, you know? I wasn’t trying to cause you no trouble. Guess I messed up, huh?”

“No, you didn’t mess up.”

“Are you mad at me?”

“No. You were just being nice. I understand that. I just can’t go around accepting gifts like that.”

“From me.”

“From anyone. Don’t put yourself down, Melvin.”

“Why not? Everybody else does.”

“I’ve really got to go, now. Have a nice evening.”

“You, too.”

“Bye.” She hung up, slumped against the wall, and muttered, “Why me, Lord?”

Hearing the water shut off, Vicki went to her bedroom. She picked up her robe, sat on the edge of the bed, and wondered what to do about Melvin.

The car business wouldn’t be the end of it.

What next? Would he send flowers, ask her for a date?

She wanted nothing to do with him, damn it. But she didn’t want to hurt his feelings. God knows, he’d spent his life getting dumped on.

Through the doorway, she saw Ace leave the bathroom. A towel was wrapped around her head. Another, tucked together between her breasts, hung down just far enough to cover her groin.

“Save me any hot water?” Vicki called, rising from the bed and stepping into the hall.

“I took that shower so fast I hardly got my butt wet.”

“Why the hurry?”

“I got me a powerful thirst.”

“Did you hear the phone?”

“One of my myriad admirers?”

“Melvin.”

“No shit?” Grinning, she leaned sideways against the door frame. “He’s tracked you to your lair.”

“You may think it’s funny.”

“I think it’s love.”

“You’d be smirking out the other side of your face if it was you he had the hots for.”

“I wouldn’t be smirking at all, hon, I’d be barfing.”

Vicki leaned against the wall, the robe draped over her forearm, and stared at Ace. Ace stared back. Her grin slipped away. “So what’re you gonna do?”

“I don’t know.”

“You scared?”

“A little, I guess.”

“Never should’ve been nice to him. That was your first mistake. You take a loser like that and treat him nice, you’re asking for it. You can afford to be nice to somebody normal, a normal guy isn’t gonna blow it all out of proportion and fall in love with you and get crazy. A guy like Melvin, you’ve gotta either ignore him or treat him bad. That’s the only way to play it safe.”

“Yeah, well the damage is already done.”

“Tell me about it.”

“What’ll I do?” Vicki asked.

“Tell him to fuck off.”

“I can’t do that.”

“Want me to do it for you?”

“No.”

“Don’t want him mad at you.”