Butcher Road

by Jon Athan

  In a soft tone, Dante said, “Oh, honey, our meal is almost ready. It's a very late dinner, but I promise it's going to be worth it. I have our Clyde in the kitchen right now preparing a little feast for my big man and our handsome guest.”

  Charles said, “Well, you should hurry it up. You know I hate missing my meals. Something's always late in this house and it pisses me off. It gets on my damn nerves.”

  Dante leaned closer to his father and said, “Oh, I'm sorry, darling. I'll make sure it never happens again.” He planted a passionate kiss on Charles' forehead as he glanced back at Austin – he wanted their guest to see. Dante said, “I hope that makes it better.”

  Charles playfully spanked Dante and said, “Okay, okay. Just finish up and bring the food. I'm starved.”

  As he watched the peculiar interaction, Austin stuttered, “Wha–What the fuck?”

  Dante giggled as he walked back to the kitchen with hurried steps. He waved at Austin, wiggling his fingers at the tormented guest. Austin stared at him with a deadpan expression. He didn't know what emotions to convey. He was angry, frightened, humiliated, and disgusted. He did not know if a grimace of disgust would warrant some sort of hate – he was politically correct, even in the darkest crevices of insanity.

  Austin turned towards Charles and said, “You're all insane. But... you know that already, don't you? You just don't give a crap because you're so damn insane. Look at yourself, look at your sons. You don't even know who you are and you have the nerve to kill innocent people for nothing. What the hell is wrong with you, old man?”

  Charles smirked and said, “Wow. I invite you to dinner in my humble home and this is the thanks I get? This is how you repay me for everything I've done for you? Boy, you better learn some manners unless you want to end up like this bitch up here.”

  Charles laughed as he pointed at Helen. Austin shook his head and sobbed. For a moment, he had forgotten about her presence and her unfortunate demise. He grunted as he tried to free himself from the chair. The chair had a grip on him, though, like if he were sitting on a living person who was trying to hold him down.

  Austin glanced at the bay windows to his left and shouted, “Help! Help! He's killing us! Damn it! He's going to kill me!”

  His helpless pleas rebounded back to him from the windows. The shouting did not matter anyway. The closest building was the motel and a motel without guests could not hear. Aid was far beyond his grasps. Austin bounced on the seat, trying to break free. He held his breath as he exerted all of his energy, but to no avail.

  Dante entered the room and exclaimed, “Dinner is ready!”

  Austin shouted, “No! Please, God, no! Not now!”

  Clyde limped into the room, balancing an aluminum tray in his right hand and rubbing the back of his head with his left. There were two bowls on top of the tray. The bowls were made with the top of human skulls. The skulls were scratched, a crack here and there, but the food did not seep through.

  Before Clyde could reach his father, Charles said, “Wait, boy. Feed our guest first. I bet he's starving to find out what's for dinner.” He glared at Austin with deviant eyes and an officious grin. Charles said, “He's eating good tonight...”

  ***

  Clyde grinned as he hobbled towards the opposite end of the table. He dragged his legs with each step – a product of his deformities and the beating he endured. Yet, he was happy to serve. His childlike exuberance glowed beyond his peculiar appearance. At heart, the savage killer was a confused and innocent child – at least, innocent in his mind.

  Austin squirmed away on the chair, kicking and screaming like a child dragged to the doctor's office. With the restraints, he could only move his head so far. Tears gushing from his eyes, the young photographer whimpered. From the furniture comprised of human remains to the peculiar family serving him, he was surrounded by chaos.

  Austin said, “Please... Please, I'm begging you, just let us go. We won't tell anyone. We just want to go home. Please.”

  Charles said, “You're not going anywhere until you try my wife's cooking. As jealous as it makes me, she made it especially for you. Shit, boy, you might even like it. It tastes much better than that crap they serve at the diners down the road. Believe me.”

  Clyde placed the makeshift bowl in front of Austin. The bowl was welling with a dark red liquid and chunks of cooked meat. It could have been a bowl of pozole – a delicious Mexican soup – but that would be too easy. Assuming the worst, flesh of some sort floated in a small pool of blood. Clyde dipped the spoon into the hot soup, fishing for a slab of meat. Austin's bottom lip quivered as he stared at the makeshift eating utensil. The handle of the spoon was made of finger bones glued and tied together.

  Austin whispered, “No, no, no... How could you do this to them?”

  Standing beside Clyde and eagerly watching, Dante said, “Oh, Clyde, darling, make sure it's nice and cool for him. You don't want to burn that young man's tongue. I think it might be good for something else...”

  Astonished, Austin asked, “What the fuck is wrong with all of you?”

  Clyde held his hand beneath the spoon. He gently blew on the scorching soup, ensuring the meat would not fly off the spoon. Like a caring parent, he made a crepitating sound by blowing, fluttering his lips like a horse – as if Austin would allow such an abominable load into his mouth if it resembled a plane or train.

  Austin bit his bottom lip and tightly shut his eyes, then he turned away. Clyde mumbled as he pushed the spoon towards their guest, but to no avail. Austin refused to spare even a single glance. Confused, the heavyset man turned towards Dante – the motherly-figure in his life.

  Dante shrugged and said, “Sorry, sweetie, he doesn't seem to like our food. Such a shame. We spend so much time preparing for this...”

  Dante sighed and stared at his feet, saddened. Clyde glowered and groaned, angered by his sibling's disappointment. He turned towards Austin, then he jammed his stocky fingers into his mouth. He pulled Austin's mouth open, using his fingers as a crowbar. Austin gagged as he tasted the filth lingering on the butcher's fingers.

  Before Austin could say a word, Clyde shoved the spoon into his mouth. He pushed Austin's chin, forcing him to chew the tender meat. Austin coughed and gagged as he quickly swallowed. Clyde followed with another spoonful of soup. The photographer grimaced as he quickly chewed and swallowed. He feared he would choke if he did not comply.

  With a moment to breathe, Austin said, “Please... Stop... Don't do this...”

  Clyde grabbed the bowl, then he dumped the soup into Austin's mouth. Austin coughed and gagged as the boiling soup streamed down his throat and burned his chin and neck. Clyde nodded and laughed, proud of his deed. He was able to feed the man, he was able to please his father, and he was able to redeem his mother's cooking. Dante simpered, then he entered the kitchen.

  Austin spat and shook his head as he recomposed himself. He gagged and retched, but not due to the taste. To his utter surprise, the soup actually tasted good. The stew was spicy and the meat was succulent. If he were in a restaurant, he would feel inclined to leave a positive review. It bothered him, though. It could be anything, but it tasted good, he thought, what's wrong with me?

  Clyde limped towards his father. He placed a bowl on the table, then he stepped aside. Dante returned from the kitchen with half of a lemon – his father's preference. Charles grinned from ear-to-ear as he rubbed his hands together, ready to feast on his delectable meal. Charles slurped, then gulped – loud and obnoxious.

  He said, “This is absolutely delicious, Cheryl. You, too, Clyde. You've really outdone yourselves this time. It's no wonder our guest had to eat so sloppily. I was going to scold him for his lack of table manners, but, shit, I want to do the same.”

  Dante blinked in a kittenish manner. He said, “Thank you, darling. You know we do our best to serve you.”

  “I know, I know. I can get a bit mean at times, but you always pull through. You're a strong woman, Cheryl. I don't kn
ow where I'd be without you. I might have been–”

  Austin interrupted, “What did you feed me?”

  Charles slurped another spoonful of stew. He said, “Well, we served you some soup with premium meat. Cooked to perfection, if I may add.” He winked at Dante and chuckled. Charles glanced back at Austin and said, “You see, some people like to eat this meat raw. I mean, I've seen them eat it raw and I generally don't accept it. That's for savages. But, I let them live as they want to live. Who am I to interfere, right? It's none of my business. Me? Well, I don't eat it raw. No, I'm not a savage, you know. I'm not like those people.”

  Eyes full of tears, Austin shook his head and asked, “What... What did you feed me? What did I eat? What kind of 'meat' was that? Please, just tell me the truth. Stop fucking around with me. Answer me.”

  Charles puckered his lips, then he said, “Cheryl, sweetie, bring out the meat of the day. Show him our finest meat.”

  As he walked out of the room, Dante said, “Okay. Come here, Clyde, give your mommy a hand. I need a real big boy to help me.”

  ***

  With few options, Austin sat on the uncanny chair and anxiously waited for the devious pair to return. He glared at Charles from across the long dining table. Charles continued to slurp the stew. He was quick to correct poor manners, but he happily ate with his mouth open – smacking his lips after each loud slurp. He was a hypocrite, but a stern one. He glanced to his left as the door swung open.

  Charles smiled and said, “There you are. Our boy was getting a bit nervous over here. Shaking in his boots.”

  Empty-handed, Dante entered the room and said, “Oh, you know how they get, sweetie. They love to put up a fight until they finally pass away. I wish we'd kill them sooner. It would make everything so much easier.”

  “No, no, no, darling, that's nonsense. The meat is fresher while they're alive. The blood is still pumping. You don't want to kill them too soon. You're basically putting a damn expiration date on them by doing that.”

  Dante sighed, then he said, “Okay, okay. I understand. Clyde, bring the bitch in here and show her to our lovely guest.”

  Austin whispered, “Bitch?”

  Clyde walked into the room, lugging a bone chair in his hands. Anna was restrained to the seat, bloodied and gagged. The gag wrapped around her mouth seemed to be made of tanned human skin. Her head swayed as she barely clung to consciousness. She had a fresh gash on her forehead – she put up a fight.

  Austin shook his head and said, “No, no, no. Why... What did you do? What did you do to her, you sick bastards? Why?! What did we do to you? What did we...”

  Gooey saliva dribbled from Austin's mouth as he hysterically bawled. The image of his injured girlfriend sent him into a tailspin of overwhelming emotions. He was hit with an overpowering feeling of giddiness. He shivered like a man with a severe fever. The chair groaned from his uncontrollable trembling.

  Charles said, “Boy, you're asking the wrong questions. Stupid questions, as a matter of fact. 'What did we do?' Shit, we did what we always do. You... Well, you aren't like us, so you probably have different 'moral standards' or some bullshit like that. I mean, to be blunt, son, you ate the girl. Not like the way you folks eat them in the movies, either. I mean: you ate the girl.”

  Over Charles' devious cackle, Austin shouted, “No! No, damn it!”

  Clyde set the chair down beside Austin, then he stepped in reverse. Austin gazed into Anna's eyes – she was a hollow vessel, operating without a soul. Her white tank top was ripped below her breasts. There as a long and deep horizontal cut on her stomach. Her limbs were drenched in blood. Chunks of her arms and back were missing.

  Austin was shocked by the heinous revelation. The same thought ran a marathon through his fracturing mind: I ate her. I ate her. I ate her. Teary-eyed, he gagged and retched. Thick red vomit splattered on his jeans and plopped on the floor. The chunks of flesh streamed down a river of stew and saliva.

  With downcast eyes, Dante said, “Now, that wasn't very nice. We worked very hard on that meal. How could you just throw up like that? You didn't even have the courtesy to ask for a bathroom break...” He clicked his tongue and shook his head, disappointed. As his eyes widened, Dante said, “Oh, I know! It's not my cooking, is it? You must not like that meat. You want something else. That's it, isn't it? Well, she has plenty of meat on her. Give me a hand, Clyde.”

  Dante smiled as he approached Austin. He was not disgusted by the vomit – no one in the family was disgusted by the puke. Clyde lugged the chair a few inches towards Austin, tipping the seat forward on its two front legs. Anna sat only a few inches away from her boyfriend.

  Dante said, “Let's see what we can grab.”

  Dante pulled Austin's hand closer to Anna's torso. Clyde, being a helpful young man, shoved the chair another inch forward. Austin grimaced as his fingers were forced into the large laceration on Anna's stomach. Anna gasped, awakened by the stinging pain.

  Austin yelled, “No! No! Stop! Please, stop! Don't... Don't do this!” He gazed into Anna's bloodshot eyes. He said, “I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, sweetheart. I love you, Anna. I love you.”

  Dante giggled as he pulled Austin's fingers out. He wouldn't allow the young photographer to have all of the fun. He slipped both of his hands into the thick cut, then he pulled his arms in opposite directions. The skin was torn and blood oozed as the laceration became wider. Anna convulsed and hyperventilated as she gazed into Austin's eyes. She fought for air, but she was overwhelmed by agony. She tried to speak, only conjuring a croak of a word. With the anguish, Anna stopped moving and breathing. She suffered a violent death.

  With a quivering lip, Austin asked, “Anna? Anna, are you okay?” A single tear streamed down his cheek. He said, “I'm... I'm sorry, sweetheart. I should have kept driving. I shouldn't have... I shouldn't have picked him up! It's all my fault!”

  With his fake fingernails, Dante ripped a piece of Anna's intestine from the wound. He giggled as he examined the piece of flesh with inquisitive eyes, like an archaeologist marveling over an ancient artifact. The small slab of human anatomy was considered a delicacy in the household. Although raw flesh was not approved by the patriarch, Charles made an exception for the night.

  Dante rubbed the bloodied organ on Austin's sealed lips – teasing him, tormenting him. Austin wriggled on the chair. He pushed up against the restraints with all of his might, exerting all of his energy to escape. His strength surged with the sound of a bone cracking – escape and vengeance were possible.

  As he tortured their special guest with the meat, Dante said, “Oh, come on, sweetie, open up. Clyde enjoys his meat raw, maybe you will, too. Please, open up for mama. You don't want to make mama angry, do you? No, you wouldn't like that... You'll end up like this whore if you make me angry.”

  Austin's breathing intensified as he scowled at the eccentric man. Dante, the savage hitchhiker, was the source of the pain. If Austin had never picked him up, the couple would have been in Las Vegas – drinking, eating, gambling, living. Although the entire family was in his crosshairs, Dante was the prime target.

  Austin glowered as the armrest and rope snapped off the chair. With the sharp end of the splintered armrest, Austin stabbed the bone into Dante's throat. The bone penetrated Dante's jugular with ease. Blood jetted from the wound, like crude oil erupting from a blowout. Wide-eyed, Dante plummeted to the ground.

  Charles yelled, “Cheryl! Goddammit!”

  Charles rushed to Dante's side. He examined the bone protruding from his neck and tried to stop the bleeding. Clyde teetered left-and-right, mystified by the attack. The pair had emerged from countless encounters unscathed, he did not know how to handle a fatal blow. As the family gathered around Dante, the photographer untied the restraints on the chair – one-by-one.

  As he unwrapped the final rope, Austin took one final glance at Anna. He leaned forward and planted a kiss on her forehead – a final goodbye. Filled with reluctance, Austin quietly walked towards the ot
her end of the table, then he glanced back. Oblivious, Charles and Clyde argued indistinctly near Dante – a one-sided argument, of course. With one swift lunge, Austin escaped from the room.

  Chapter Fourteen

  The Great Escape

  Austin stood towards the center of a hallway with his feet firmly planted on the dusty floorboards. He glanced around his newfound environment, trying to form an escape plan on the spot. He was not quick on his feet, his mind was not agile. Each plan led to a dead-end and a second wasted. The butchers would be hunting soon, he thought. The simple thought gave him enough reason to run – run, run, run.

  Austin inhaled deeply, then he rushed down the hall. The sprint felt endless, like if he were hurtling through a nightmare. The walls were smeared with bloody handprints and scuffed by fingernail scrapings. Skin was plastered on the walls at regular intervals, treated like elegant paintings – Charles had the eye of a modern artist.

  Austin shouted, “Shit!”

  Recklessly lurching forward, he took a tumble only a few doors away from the dining room. He crawled ahead as he glanced back. He tipped over a makeshift console table. Instead of tipping over his own feet, he tumbled due to a set of human leg and foot bones. The appalling sight only made him crawl faster.

  As he staggered to his feet, he pondered Anna's ultimate fate if the butchers survived the night. She was set to be reduced to a chair or a console table, or perhaps a foot rest. He could imagine Charles lounging on Anna's pile of bones after a long day's work. The image was despicable – unacceptable.

  Austin muttered, “I can't let that happen... No, I can't let them do that. They have to die. They all have to die...”

  Austin ran down the hall, wiping the sweat glistening on his brow. The hallway became longer with each step. He had lost count of the doors he passed. He felt like he was sprinting through a madhouse or running through a surreal realm – the world felt illusory. His mind was muddled by the atrocious night and his horrible memories.