For Here or To Go: A Novel of Horror (Our Family Recipe Book 2)

by Christian Burch

  He would not rot away the rest of his life behind bars!

  The door opened behind him and Elena stood in the doorway. Erring on the side of caution, she hesitated, not sure what to say, if anything. When her father was in these moods he became unpredictable. His back heaved up and down with deep breaths and she could tell he was but seconds away from losing it.

  “Anything I can do to help?”

  She kept her tone light and soft in hopes of reaching through his haze of anger and bringing him back to a normal state. Normal for him at least.

  His head lifted and after a few more deep, calming breaths Jameson recovered his composure. Elena kept still as he approached. A fake smile, one that he has perfected with time, surfaced on his face. He put his hand on her cheek, rubbing with his thumb just under her eye. His expression gave nothing in the way of what his response could be.

  It took everything in her not to cringe away from his touch.

  “Always the one to help,” he responded, letting his hand drop away from her face. “I’ll take care of things on this end but do you think you can handle the one out there without too much trouble? He can’t be allowed to stroll out of here and find his partner missing. I’ll leave the choice of how to dispose of him to you.”

  A plan was already taking shape in her mind.

  “I’m sure I can think of something,” she said with a wink.

  Chapter 11

  Gabe paced back and forth in the shade of the trees behind the restaurant. He continued to wrestle with opposing thoughts and emotions. Part of him wanted to just slide under his father’s radar and be the respectful, obedient, and willing son that Jameson clearly wanted. The other part was through with taking Jameson’s shit and was ready for things to change.

  Dust billowed up as he kicked at the dirt. For a split second he thought of getting in his truck and getting the hell out of there. Never look back. Leave this horrible existence and start fresh. A life away from the torture, dismemberment, and killing of innocent people. This wasn’t the first time he’d entertained this train of thought. It was nothing more than a delusion, a false hope that he played out in his head from time to time. A tear fell from his face as he looked upon the place that he’d called home.

  * * *

  Throwing the last of the necessities in the bag on top of his clothes, he went over it in his head one final time. Without proper planning, this would never work.

  Clothes, check. He had enough to last him at least a week and half.

  Food, check. Two cans of baked beans, three cans of creamed corn, some lunch meat, a few bags of chips. Just the bare minimum to get him on the road.

  Money, check. He’d swiped sixty dollars from his father’s wallet the previous night when he was passed out drunk in his reclining chair.

  A sniffling from the doorway interrupted his last minute checks. Gabe didn’t have to turn around to know who he would see standing in his the doorway to his room. His younger sister, Elena.

  She wiped away the tears from her eyes and continued to stare at him, not saying a word. The fighting between their parents had been steadily escalating over the past few months. Screaming, fists being thrown, furniture tossed around. The restaurant business wasn’t cheap and keeping it running was putting a strain on their parent’s relationship. At fifteen Gabe understood enough to keep out of the way, when he could, but still managed to get beatings from his father on a weekly basis, if not every other day.

  He winced as he touched the back of his head. It was scabbing over and still sore from when his father had shoved him outside, causing Gabe to fall and smash his head against the side of the truck just two days before.

  Another sniff from his sister, who was just eleven, stopped his inner musings and brought home the reality of what, or rather who, he would be leaving behind.

  Getting out of this shit hole was one thing. Leaving his sister behind was something that hadn’t even crossed his mind until now.

  “Come here,” he whispered and motioned with his hand.

  Elena entered his room and sat on the bed next to him, fresh tears coursing down her face. She was young but knew what the packed bag implied and wasn’t happy with the notion that he was going to abandon her. Her shoulders wracked with sobs. They sat on the bed together for a few minutes, Gabe’s arm wrapped around her small shoulders promising her everything would be okay.

  That’s when the volume of their parent’s voices started to increase. He felt his sister stiffen under his arm and knew without question that he couldn’t leave her. She needed him.

  * * *

  His mother and sister’s faces danced in the front of his mind, cutting his plan to ribbons. Even after seeing the monster his sister was becoming, he still couldn’t walk out on her. His mother, sweet as she could be at times, was just as much a victim to Jameson’s abuse as he was which left him with just one option. Everything would need to be timed perfectly for Gabe to succeed or the consequences could be deadly… for him.

  Chapter 12

  A few wispy clouds drifted overhead across the light blue sky. A cool breeze ruffled their clothes as they arranged the blanket for their picnic. An older couple walked by, hands entwined, a young woman jogged past with her dog keeping pace by her side, and a little boy of eight years old peered intently at his red and yellow kite that was swaying in the wind above him. Warren and his wife nestled next to one another on the white and blue checkered blanket watching their son fly his kite. There was no place he’d rather be than spending his Saturday off with his wife and son. The edges of his vision started to blur and shake. A ripple effect spread across his field of vision and he jolted to his feet. The scenery melted away.

  How did he end up here? A hospital room. There were flowers on the table next to the bed that was hidden behind the curtain. Warren made his way towards the table, trying to keep his gaze from the silhouette he could just make out on the bed. Upon reading the name on the card, he shut his eyes tight, willing himself not to cry. He was in his father’s hospital room, which ended up becoming his home for his last six weeks of life. Gripping the curtain in his hand, he pulled it back revealing a shriveled, weak old man.

  His father.

  The look in his eyes spoke a thousand words. He didn’t recognize Warren as his son. Alzeimer’s had robbed his father of his physical strength and mental prowess, turning him into a shell of his former self.

  “Where is Martha? I need to talk to Martha. Or my son Gabriel. Where are my wife and son?”

  Setting his jaw, he shattered his father’s world.

  “I’m Gabriel dad,” he says in a comforting tone, “And Martha’s gone. She passed away six years ago.”

  Watching his father break down was too much and he turned away, shutting his eyes to the burning sensation of fresh tears.

  Upon opening them, Warren found the location and time frame had changed once again. A part of him understood that he was dreaming but it had all the feelings of reality. He struggled through the fog of the dream, hoping to wake up. No luck.

  The bedroom was sparsely decorated. A wedding photo on the dresser, a picture of the same young couple in front of a beautiful lake, and a framed picture of the woman in graduation garb beaming, her husband next to her just as proud. The bed was made, gray sheets tucked in, pillows propped on top and white comforter folded neatly at the foot of the bed. Tidy room when one ignored the blood.

  It saturated the sheets and mattress in the center of the bed. Brain matter decorated part of the wall behind the bed. One of his first cases. A suicide. The wife had died of cancer and the husband couldn’t deal with the pain of her loss anymore and decided to eat a bullet. Another ripple started through the room followed by a pain in his abdomen that caused him to double over. One hand on the bed he kept himself from falling to the floor. It felt like someone had taken a gut shot on him but he was alone in the room. More pain in his chest and stomach caused him to utter a groan and fall back against the wall. Everything started
to swirl in a blend of colors and fade to black.

  Chapter 13

  Following the third kick, Warren moaned and stirred slightly, curling more into himself. His reflexes caused him to make himself a smaller target and protect his vitals. Pain was all he knew upon waking. The room was dark, making it difficult to figure out his location, but he saw a figure standing above him.

  The figure grunted as he rolled Warren over onto his back. Blood dribbled from his nose due to the stock of the shotgun becoming intimate friends with his face. Warren coughed and dragged himself into a sitting position, painfully. The man yanked his arms behind his back and secured them with Warren’s own handcuffs. In one motion, he hauled him to his feet.

  Still groggy, Warren fought to clear his head. The man in front of him looked to be in his early fifties. Dirty white shirt, torn jeans, and medium build with a graying head of hair. Warren flexed his arms and figured he could overtake the man if given the chance. Handcuffs or no, he still could hold his own and was prepared to prove it.

  Jameson stood in front of him and sneered, reading the name badge on his chest.

  “You have to know that I can’t let you go Officer Warren. It’s very simple. I need you to listen and do so carefully.”

  Without warning, Warren smashed his head into Jameson’s face, connecting with his left cheek. Jameson staggered back, off balance. If he hadn’t turned at the last second, he would have broken his nose again.

  “How does that feel you son of a bitch?!?

  Warren’s senses returned in full force along with an attitude.

  Jameson reached tentatively for his cheek and winced. Fueled by rage and pain, Jameson tackled Warren to the floor and rained blow after blow upon his face and body. The handcuffs prevented Warren from fighting back so he used another tactic and just gave his attacker a bloody smile.

  Jameson only stopped when he felt Warren’s body go slack. Breathing heavily, Jameson stood up and regained his composure.

  “The feisty ones always get special treatment. I’ve got just the thing for you.”

  Back in control, Jameson smiled, picked Warren up from underneath his armpits and dragged him across the room. One eye swollen shut, a piece of a tooth on the ground, and probably more damage that was unseen made him look like a fucked up human pinata. Muscles cording, Jameson got Warren up to a standing position in front of the two dangling hooks that hung from the ceiling. They were a foot in length and the curved points were always kept sharpened. Jameson lifted him up and dropped him onto the hooks.

  The hooks pierced his flesh, entered through his back, went under the collar bone, and exited at the top of his chest. The sensation of the hooks grinding against his bones was enough to bring him back from the edge of unconsciousness.

  Warren’s eyes shot open.

  Unintelligible sounds escaped his mouth as it opened and closed. The pain enveloped his brain and he could focus on nothing else. Jameson stood in front of him with a glint in his eyes, watching his reaction. Biting down on his lip hard enough to draw blood, Warren was determined not to give the bastard the satisfaction of hearing him scream.

  He settled with grunting and blowing his breath out in rapid succession. He couldn’t move an inch without waves of agony from his back and chest. The pressure on his collarbones was excruciating and put him mercifully on the verge of passing out. He was having little success in slowing his heart rate and breathing. The thought of killing the man standing in front of him kept him conscious and gave him something to hold onto and keep from being swept away with the tide of pain that was threatening to overtake him.

  “Care to say something?”

  With as much venom as he could muster Warren replied in a menacing tone, “There’s no getting… away with this. If I don’t get to… I will take pleasure… knowing that someone else… will kill you!”

  Jameson shrugged his shoulders and left the room, leaving Warren alone with his torture. A moan of pain mingled with anger escaped him after the door closed. With the blanket of darkness to comfort him, he prayed that Mac would head out to the car, see the busted out window, call the cavalry, and come in guns blazing.

  Chapter 14

  He wiped his chin with a napkin upon taking his final bite of the fantastic stew and sat back in the booth, stomach pleased. If the other items on the menu were as remotely good as the stew, Warren wouldn’t complain. Maybe it would even brighten his mood a bit. Thinking of Warren, his hand drifted down to his radio to turn it on and check on him. The motion stopped as Elena strolled back into the dining area from the kitchen.

  Mac was prepared to order whatever she suggested; she had that kind of sway over him already. He knew his weakness and wasn’t ashamed to admit it.

  “The stew was incredible. You weren’t kidding! Probably even better than my aunt makes back home but I’ll keep that secret between you and me.”

  She stood next to him, and laid a hand on his shoulder.

  “Have you decided on what you want to order for your entree?”

  With difficulty, Mac directed his eyes back to the menu. He was leaning towards a burger with the works but wanted to ask her what the Jameson’s Catch was because she’d suggested it earlier. From the description on the menu, it sounded damn good. A combination of steak, shrimp, and the customer’s choice of fish.

  * * *

  As the officer turned his attention back to the menu, Elena slid her left hand across his back so that it rested against his opposite shoulder. She was practically leaning all of her weight into him. The fishing wire in her hands had gone unnoticed.

  “You mentioned the Jameson’s Catch earlier, what sides…”

  He never finished the question. Standing up abruptly, she slipped the wire under his chin and pulled. He failed to get his hand under the wire in time and it bit deeply into his neck. The menu flew off the table, his eyes bulged out of their sockets, and he flailed his arms trying to get a grip on Elena. The erratic movement caused blood to spray in spurts from his neck as the wire sunk deeper into his flesh. His hands scratched shallow grooves in her arms but the table prevented him from being able to stand and get any decent leverage.

  Lifting her leg and doing a little hop, she positioned herself behind him, on top of the booth, so his hands couldn’t find purchase. Pushing with her legs, she pulled harder. Within twenty seconds the fighting stopped and his body fell to the side.

  Chapter 15

  Normally Eleanor kept her thoughts to herself when it pertained to what went on in the restaurant and the methods that Jameson used in getting the meat. But this time it was different. Things were starting to spiral out of control. Her husband had one man locked in their store room and another was in the dining area, not forty feet away, murdered at the hands of her own daughter. Her nerves were frayed.

  “It’s gone too far. These aren’t just two random people who you picked up on the side of the road. They’re police officers and their disappearance will not go unnoticed like the others. All these years and not once have we had anything come back to bite us in the ass, but that’s not the case here. What are you going to do with their vehicle? What happens when people come around looking for them?”

  Jameson rested against the counter examining his nails, seeming to ignore her.

  “And not to mention what happened out there,” she motioned to the dining area. “The things you do are one thing but you are corrupting our children and that has to stop. Elena’s becoming a monster.”

  Jameson lost it as the word monster left her lips. Rushing over, he closed his hand around her throat and shoved her into the wall, knocking over the utensils and rattling the bowls and plates. He leaned in close, putting his face inches away from her own.

  “Don’t you ever speak of my daughter that way again,” he whispered in a threatening tone.

  It wasn’t lost on Eleanor that he referred to Elena as “my daughter” and not “ours”. Fighting the tears doesn’t help; they fell regardless. The realization that h
er husband was an evil man had always lurked in her mind like a shadowy figure behind the scenes but she’d been afraid to admit it. There was no denying it now.

  Moving his hand up to her cheek, he kissed her roughly. She turned her head and pulled away, disgusted. Shaking his head, he stood back from her and headed into the dining area.

  “A pathetic excuse for a wife,” he muttered under his breath, just loud enough for her to hear.

  Fresh tears spilled over and she fell to the floor sobbing because of her own weakness at not being able to stand up to him. She was trapped. A sense of helplessness washed over her.

  Chapter 16

  The thoughts boiled in his head as he left the kitchen. He’d done everything he could to provide for his family and this was how he was repaid. An ungrateful wife, disappointing son, and…

  That train of thought vanished as he entered the dining area and his anger subsided. Elena was draped across the clearly dead officer’s lap. His body was propped in place against the rear of the booth and the wall, keeping him firmly in a sitting position. Hand entwined in his hair and twirling, Jameson can hear her whispering to him. Occasionally she pulled the head back, opening the cut across his neck seeming to create a two-way conversation between the two of them. Lowering her tone, Elena replied for him.

  As the neck was opened, Jameson glimpsed the white of bone so he knew it was pretty fucking deep. Blood covered the table and a good portion of his uniform. She was a chip off the old block and had the drive and ability to do whatever asked of her. At a young age she had shown what she was capable of.

  * * *

  The night was upon them. Jameson had been personally dreading it and hoping that Elena would change her mind. He knew what happened on prom nights and he’d be damned if she was going to be another statistic and lose her virginity tonight.