Devil In A White Dress

The Epilogue

Nine hours later, there was a heavy rainfall where a Mexican diner was situated. On the TV, the headlines of the KN. News Is Emma Woodburn Dead?, displayed to everyone's perfect eyesight. Everyone except Eye Sore, the disturbed woman who'd fled the asylum. Clumsy, she spilled a cup of coffee on a fellow customer's laptop.

"Puta de mierda!", he barked, "como ser estar yo la partida a trabajar ahora!"

Just when Eye Sore had the urge to pick up the fork and plug out his left eye, her companion Mama came by with the red card. She stared him dead in the eye.

"Maldecir en su un mas la hora," she growled, "la voluntad ser hemorragia en su la portatil!"

The man marveled, then disappeared from sight with his laptop.

"What did you say to him?", Eye Sore inquired.

"I told him if he cursed at you one more time, his ass will be bleeding on the damn laptop," Mama confessed with pride.

"I wanted to stab the fucker's eye out, man," Eye Sore said, "Thank you for saving him from my violent nature. You are a true heroine."

"Ain't no need to thank me, Eye Sore. I've always gotcha back, girl."

"I don't condone you calling me that name though," Eye Sore shot back, "We're not in the damn institute anymore."

"Okay. My bad," Mama replied, "You look beautiful, Mrs. Torres."

"Queenie. Just call me Queenie, Ivana."

"Yeah, well it's better than the damn Devil in WHITE. Can't believe the woman got out without anybody noticing. I mean how freaky is that?"

"Emma's killed a lot of people back in the institute, though. Don't judge a book by its cover. And don't judge Emma by her looks. She's got nothing to lose. She can kill anybody because she's free."

"And now she's dead? That doesn't add up."

"No. It doesn't," said a voice from behind. Bridget, the young man who freed Emma on a mysterious night. The man who let the Devil out of the cage, emerged in the diner to join Eye Sore and Mama for breakfast. Him and Lazarus Five were both having the New York Bulletin in their hands. Bridget could barely take a sip of his Cappuccino because of the sour look of disappointment in his face.

Lazarus Five, Pope Apocalypto, Eye Sore, Mama, Spider Woman and Bridget himself were now fugitives. Wanted for their escape from the asylum and several homicidal activities.

Bridget's impression was clear. He had failed a friend.

"She wanted to find out what made her sane," he whimpered softly, "But look at the result. Just look at it. I failed her, Lazarus. I failed her horribly."

Lazarus Five, the man with five faces, a man with different angry personalities found it hard to console this poor soul. So, he let one of his alters take the light and do the job.

"It wasn't your fault, man. Emma Woodburn is in better place now. That woman was too sick. She had been writing letters to her dead husband and son. Have you forgotten her condition, man?"

"It's not about her condition. It's....."

He couldn't continue. Bridget just wouldn't let it out.

"Oh. Were you in love with her?"

"Yes!", Bridget cried, while smiling at the same time, "I wanted to tell her how I feel. We have been very good friends, man. I can't believe she's....."

"It's going to be alright. Besides, there are far more worse things to worry about. We are fugitives. If the authorities track us down after all the shit we did back there, you wouldn't be weeping for a nihilistic cannibal who got out and died on the fourth day of her freedom."

" I guess you're right. I am overreacting a little. It's very sad."

"Why's that?"

"I'm not crying because she's dead. I'm crying because I'm thinking that if I ever told her how much I loved her, I'd only end up dead as Peter Woodburn himself."

Both men broke into laughter. Cackling so hard, the whole diner shot stares at them.

"To a new life," Bridget said, raising his mug of Cappuccino.

"To new life."

Both men made the toast, but something bothered them.

"Now that the entire Woodburn family has vanished from the face of the Earth, and now that we're out of the bird cage, What now?"

"What do fugitives do when they want to start a new life together?"

"Rob and kill to survive?"

"Nah. Try again."

"Find new identities?"

"Wrong. Good answer, but wrong."

His usual temper was starting to rise. He banged the table, then gritted his teeth.

"What?", he hissed with bulging eyes.

"Oh, poor Mr. Dubois," Bridget smirked selfishly, "They stick out for each other. That's the correct answer. But if we're gonna have to protect our "new family", we're gonna have to go the Emma Woodburn style, know what-I'm-saying?"

"No. I don't know what you're saying."

"I'm saying we're gonna have to kill a lot of people if we wanna keep our 'family' safe."