Cannibal Country (Book 2): Flesh of the Sons

by Urban, Tony

  Allie struggled to free herself, but Franklin held tight. He had her by eight inches and sixty pounds. She had no chance.

  Papa pulled a blade, the same blade he’d use to disembowel Vern, from under the table. “Yahweh demands to be fed and today we acquiesce to his needs! Praise, Yahweh!”

  The crowd shouted, “Praise Yahweh!”

  “Praise Yahweh!” Papa repeated.

  “Praise Yahweh!” The crowd bellowed.

  “Let this blood both wash away our sins and satiate his needs!” He looked down at Allie. “Thank you for your service, my child.”

  Wyatt fought every urge to squeeze his eyes closed and forced himself to watch as Papa slit her throat from ear to ear. Her body spasmed and flailed as the life gushed from her and into the bucket.

  Then Franklin yanked her head back, turning the gash into a gaping wound. Blood rushed out of her like water over Niagara Falls. Her entire body spasmed. And then she went limp.

  When she stopped bleeding, Franklin dropped her body to the side of the container. Papa reached into the bucket, soaking his hand in Allie’s hot blood.

  He then retracted it and turned to Franklin. The man bent at the waist and Papa painted a series of lines and circles across his cheeks and brown. When he was finished, Franklin smiled, pleased.

  Then Papa looked back to his people.

  “Praise Yahweh!” He said one more time. “And come to me.”

  As the community lined up to receive their blessing, Wyatt allowed himself to look away. He dropped to his knees, sobbing. Allie was dead.

  And it was his fault.

  Chapter 56

  Day had shifted to dusk when Wyatt heard the keys jingle on the other side of the door. They were coming for him now. To kill him, probably. And that might be better for everyone.

  He steeled himself, ready for whoever it was to come in and finish him off, only to have Rosario dash into the room as the door opened. Her make-up ran down her face in black rivulets and her eyes were swollen from crying.

  “I’m so sorry, Wyatt.” She swallowed hard, staring at the broken man in front of her.

  Wyatt climbed to his feet. “Did Seth know?”

  Rosario shook her head. “We knew about the sacrifice. But had no idea it would be Allie.”

  “You’re sure about that?”

  She nodded, sending her hair flying around her face. And he believed her.

  “I want to get away from this place,” she said. “I want to go with you, and your mother. If you’ll have me.”

  He barely knew this woman, but he could see in her eyes that she wanted out as bad as he did. “Alright.”

  She stared, wary. “You’ll take me?”

  Wyatt nodded. “Yes. Now go get my mother and take her to the rear gate. Hide somewhere until I get there. And give me those keys.”

  She still held them in her fist and handed them over. He knew they were the master set, the same kind he’d found on Doctor Ramona after she was killed. And they’d do just fine.

  “Come with me,” Rosario said. “Let’s go now.”

  Wyatt shook his head. “I’ll be there in an hour. But there’s something I have to do first.”

  He started toward the door, but Rosario blocked him. “Don’t Wyatt. Seth’s a lost cause. And they’ll kill you if they see you.”

  Wyatt stiff-armed his way past her. “You’re in charge of my mother. I’ll handle everything else.”

  Chapter 57

  Wyatt used the service workers’ corridors and made it to the armory without being noticed. From the sounds, the party was dying down outside, and he heard people shuffling indoors. He had to be quick and careful.

  As he entered the room, he saw Alexander’s locker and almost lost it. What would Alexander have thought about what happened here today? What would he think about him? There was no time for that now.

  He pulled the keys from his pocket and unlocked several of the cabinets. He grabbed a duffel bag and filled it with pistols and magazines. Then he chambered a round in one and tucked it into his belt.

  He wished he could take the AKs, but they were too bulky and he needed to be discreet. Nonetheless, the vision of charging outside and mowing everyone down Tony Montana style was almost too good to pass up. Going out in a blaze of glory didn’t sound bad at all right about now.

  But he had more important things to do, including keeping his mother alive. He zipped the bag closed and almost left the room when he saw an Army green hard case that he’d missed in his earlier visit to this room.

  Wyatt knew cases like this usually housed valuable firearms and his curiosity got the best of him. He knelt, popped the lid, and found something even better than guns.

  The case was full of explosives and he knew exactly how he could use them.

  Assuming every other aspect of his plan went perfect.

  Wyatt jogged down the hallway, toward Franklin’s room. He had no idea if the man was inside but didn’t care. If he wasn’t, then Wyatt would wait until he showed up and blow his brains out the second, he stepped through the door. He wanted - needed - to kill that motherfucker before he left otherwise this was all for nothing.

  As he passed by Papa’s room, he heard movement and voices. He heard fucking. The fat bastard must be having a celebratory orgy in there.

  Wyatt almost changed course and stormed into Papa’s suite, but he knew that would be a mistake. Papa might be a snake, but Franklin was the one who made it personal. Wyatt was certain of that.

  When he came to Franklin’s door, he grabbed the keys, then paused. He could hear crying. And he knew who it was.

  Seth’s door hung ajar and Wyatt didn’t pause as he pushed it open and stepped inside. His brother sat in the main quarters; his back turned to him. His upper body shook with sobs.

  What did the little fuck have to cry about? He didn’t have to watch his girlfriend get slaughtered.

  “The greater good, right?” Wyatt said. His voice was barely a whisper.

  Seth was startled and craned his neck to look around. His eyes were bloodshot and swollen. “Wyatt, I’m so sorry,” he said.

  Wyatt didn’t hear him. When he saw the rust-colored dried blood - Allie’s blood - painted on Seth’s face all he could vengeance.

  He rushed at him and grabbed Seth by the throat. He squeezed, his knuckles flaring white. His nails digging into his skin. His entire body shook as he choked the life out of his brother.

  Seth grabbed at his hands, trying to pry them off. But Wyatt wasn’t going to let that happen. He squeezed harder.

  “Allie’s dead because of you! And I couldn’t do anything about it because you set me up! Did you know that fucking Franklin locked me in a room so I could watch it happen? Did you?”

  He was spitting his words on his brother’s face. He felt the rage course through him.

  “It… wasn’t…” Seth began. Wyatt continued to squeeze. He didn’t want to hear anything his brother had to say.

  Seth shook his head and cried harder.

  Wyatt watched his brother choke. The brother he’d protected for so long. The brother he’d loved.

  Seth’s eyes looked ready to bulge from their sockets. Snot ran from his nose. Drool from his mouth. He’d be dead soon.

  Wyatt released, stumbling backward. Seth dragged in a ragged breath, coughing as he grabbed at his throat.

  “I didn’t know,” he said after he made a partial recovery. “I believed it was up to God until I saw this.”

  Seth reached into his pocket. Wyatt was so distrusting that he almost expected his brother to pull out a gun, or maybe a ninja star, something to kill him with. Instead, he held a piece of paper.

  “What is that?” Wyatt asked.

  “The other paper Papa pulled from the basket. The one in his right hand.”

  Wyatt snatched it away from him and examined it. There was nothing on the front. Nothing on the back.

  “It’s blank,” he said.

  Seth nodded. “I know. They all
were.” His voice cracked in a sob. “It was all a lie,” he said. “There was no choice. No divine intervention. Papa lied to me.”

  His voice dissolved into more crying and whatever anger Wyatt clung to faded away. But he still couldn’t forgive him.

  “We’re leaving. Rosario’s coming too.” Wyatt heard Seth gasp as he moved to the door. “I’ll miss the person you used to be.”

  “Wyatt. I’m sorry about everything,” Seth said.

  “So am I, brother.” Wyatt said, leaving Seth alone in the dark.

  Chapter 58

  Seth sat outside Papa’s room as Keith, one of the new guards, opened the door.

  “I need to see Papa,” Seth said.

  Keith glanced into the suite. Seth looked past him and saw the door to Papa’s bedroom was closed.

  “He’s indisposed at the moment,” Keith said when he turned back to Seth.

  “I’m sure he is, but I have information he needs to know right now. Information that cannot wait.”

  Keith sighed and Seth knew he’d got his way, as usual. “Alright. But tell him you demanded access. I don’t want him bitching me out.”

  “Don’t worry. When he hears what I have to tell him you’ll be the last thing on his mind.”

  As Seth wheeled himself into the room his mind raced. He couldn’t believe his brother and mother were abandoning him, that they had turned their backs on him. He understood Wyatt’s anger, but they were family. That was supposed to be more important than anything. And Rosario too. In one fell swoop he’d lost almost everyone he loved.

  And now it was time for revenge.

  As he neared Papa’s bedroom, Owen, the other guard, rapped on Papa’s door.

  “Papa, Seth’s here to see you. We tried to send him away, but he insisted.”

  “It’sssss fiiiii...” Papa’s slurred words seeped through and Owen gave the knob a turn.

  Seth pushed it the rest of the way open and found Papa’s gargantuan body sprawled across the bed. His frame nearly filled the queen-sized mattress, leaving just scraps of space for two of his wives who laid nude beside him. Papa himself was clad only in a pair of boxer shots. At least he was wearing something, Seth thought as he entered the room.

  He shut the door behind him, and continued to Papa who watched him with drunken, bleary eyes.

  “I need your counsel, Papa,” Seth said. “And to tell something only meant for your ears.”

  Papa swiveled his head toward his wives, who existed somewhere between sleep and unconsciousness. “They’re not to be concerned with. Come to me, my son.”

  Seth aligned his chair beside the bed. Papa’s body threw off heat like a boiler and Seth saw the bed around him was saturated with so much sweat that it was pooling in low spots.

  Papa reached out and dropped his moist hand over Seth’s thigh. He smiled, the loving, benevolent expression Seth knew so well. This man was his mentor. His hero. The person he aspired to become.

  “Everyone’s leaving me. My mother, Wyatt, Rosario. They’re heading out now unless someone stops them.”

  “Are they now?” Papa asked.

  Seth nodded. “They’re leaving because of the tombola. Because Allie was the sacrifice.”

  Papa gave a melancholy nod, his bottom lip bulging in a pout. “Sad. Very sad. But we cannot question Yahweh’s wishes.”

  “I know.”

  “They don’t understand.” Papa waved his hand, beckoning Seth closer. “Weak people with small minds try to drag everyone great down to their level.” He drew in a hitching breath. “And my boy, my son, Seth, the next in line.” Papa's voice fell back into a drunken garble. “You aaaaaare meant fer… great thingsssss.”

  Seth sniffled, fighting back tears. “I know, Papa.”

  Papa rolled onto his side, an act that stole even more of his breath. “You’re the future for this community. I know that you are meant for thissss.”

  Seth leaned in and put his right arm around the big man, embracing him. He didn’t care that he was almost naked, or that he was a clammy, disgusting mess. None of it mattered because he worshipped him.

  “Thank you for believing in me when nobody else would. When everybody else just saw me as an anchor in this shitty excuse for the world. As someone that could never survive let alone thrive.”

  Papa placed his hand on the back of Seth’s head, stroking his hair haphazardly. “Of course, son. It’s because I love you so much.”

  Seth gave up on holding back the tears. They came freely, raining onto Papa’s skin. “Before I came to see you, I prayed for a very long time.”

  Papa nodded. “That’s good. In times of strife we must turn to Yahweh for answers.”

  Seth wiped at his weeping eyes. “And He did. He answered me.” He stared into Papa’s eyes, trying to remember the last time he loved someone this much.

  “Papa, I have a message for you from God,” Seth’s words came out in a whisper.

  Papa leaned in closer. Their faces were millimeters apart. “Tell me.”

  With his left hand Seth reached into the gap between his leg and the chair. He pulled out the butcher’s knife he’d brought from his room, and sunk it into Papa’s belly.

  The blade plunged into the flesh and Seth yanked the knife toward him as he stabbed. His hand sunk deep into the wound and he felt Papa’s fat envelop his fist, but he refused to stop.

  Seth jerked the knife from one side of Papa’s stomach to the next, then watched as his guts tumbled free. They rolled off the bed and splashed onto the floor. Gallons of intestines and blood and organs.

  Through it all Papa never said a word. And he never broke eye contact with Seth.

  Only when Seth pulled the knife free and dropped it into the steaming pile of innards, did Papa’s head fall back onto the bed. He gave three brief, gasping wheezes. And died.

  Seth looked to the wives who were still enjoying their alcohol-fueled slumber and hadn’t heard a thing. Then he turned his chair and wheeled himself to the bedroom door.

  When he opened it, he saw the guards sitting at the kitchen table playing a game of cards. He made certain to hide his gory left hand as they glanced his way.

  “Papa’s in the bathroom and would like some privacy. I don’t think today’s feast is sitting well,” Seth said.

  Keith wrinkled his nose. “Must’ve been those damn enchiladas.”

  They returned their attention to the game of seven card stud and didn’t give him so much as another look as he rolled out of the room.

  Chapter 59

  Sirens blared as Wyatt loaded the weapons and supplies he’d stolen into, of all things, a shopping cart.

  “Hurry, Wyatt!” Rosario said in a voice between a whisper and a shout, if such a thing was possible.

  He could hear voices and he knew they were heading their way. He turned to his mother who handed him case after case of canned goods for him to deposit into the cart. “This is like old times, huh mom?”

  Barbara nodded and, to his surprise, smiled. She looked more alive, more alert, than she had since he’d returned to the casino. Maybe this was what she needed, to get away from this awful place, in order to find herself again. He could hope, anyway.

  Just a few cases to go. Almost there.

  Supper barked, frenzied and excited. The bark he used when he saw someone. Shit, Wyatt thought, we only needed a few more minutes.

  “Trying to run off without me?” A voice asked.

  Wyatt recognized it, but he had to be wrong. His ears were playing tricks on him.

  He turned and saw Seth racing their way, as fast as his arms could push. “I know I told you to feel free to leave me behind if shit got real, but I didn’t think you’d actually do it,” Seth said.

  Wyatt didn’t know what to think. His brother sounded more like the Seth he’d grown up with and loved than the disciple he’d become the past few months. But could he trust him?

  “This because of you?” Wyatt pointed to one of the overhead sirens which wailed incessan
tly.

  “Yeah, but probably not how you’re thinking.”

  “I’m thinking you ratted us out.”

  “Shit, brother. I’m a lot of things but I ain’t no snitch.”

  Seth held up the knife and his bloody hand. “I killed Papa.”

  Wyatt again couldn’t believe that he’d hear, but Seth’s arm was soaked with blood from his fingers to his elbow. And it clearly wasn’t his blood.

  He wanted to say something but, before he could, Rosario ran to Seth and threw her arms around him. “I’m sorry. I didn’t think you would ever--”

  “I’m the one that’s sorry. They got inside my head,” Seth said.

  Rosario kissed him and Wyatt smiled. Finally, something good was happening after these months of hell.

  And then came the gunshot.

  Rosario fell into Seth, collapsing against him. She slithered down his body in slow motion before dropping to the pavement.

  Seth stared at her, panicked and confused. Wyatt peeled his eyes off his brother and Rosario and looked past them.

  And saw Franklin.

  A leering grin was plastered to his face. “Damn, you Morrill’s are unlucky in love.” He pointed the pistol at Wyatt. “What is that o for three?”

  “You motherfucker!” Seth screamed. He went to spin his chair around but only made it halfway before Franklin trained the gun on him.

  “Ah, ah, ah. Don’t try it, boy. I’m a good shot. If you don’t believe me, ask your girlfriend.” He laughed. “She might be slow to answer though.”

  Wyatt watched, trying to decide when to make his move, but someone else made his decision moot.

  Supper soared through the air, jaws chomping down on Franklin’s wrist. As the dog’s teeth ripped at his flesh the man dropped the gun which skittered across the concrete.

  With Franklin trying to fight off the dog, Wyatt grabbed a pistol from the shopping cart and chambered a round. He aimed, but the tussle between Franklin and his dog was too crazed to take a shot.