by Michael Bray
Nicu grinned even wider and lowered his voice to a whisper.
“Believe me, Mr. Garrett. If we so desired it, we could eradicate your species from the face of this planet within a year. But we choose to live in harmony. Unlike you arrogant humans, we don’t crave war or bloodshed. We exist, instead, in peace, and— more importantly for your species—in secret. Like it or not, this is the best solution for everyone. Facilities like this one exist in order to supply my kind with their…dietary requirements and to stop the certain bloodbath that would occur if my kind had a free reign to feed as they wished.”
“And this facility… what is it? Really?”
“It’s exactly what it says on the door, Mr. Garrett. A supermarket. We collect and store our given quota of human flesh which we then sell to our own kind. We never stay in any one place for long. A few months at a time then we close and re open elsewhere.”
“But surely someone would notice people going missing?”
“People go missing all the time. Many are never found.”
“And that’s you? Your people who are responsible?
“Not for all of them, but I would expect many; the ones who disappear unexpectedly without a trace, those are likely down to my kind.”
“Who keeps order? Who stops everything falling into chaos?”
“Our kind have our own governments, our own social structures, our own rules, and moralistic guidelines. We make sure any investigations are diverted away from our facilities. Those who get too close are dealt with.”
Garrett blinked, unable to process the information.
Nicu chuckled. “Mr. Garrett, did you really think we stalked around in the shadows, drinking blood and snatching people from the streets? No, no. We are a business, an enterprise. And like you humans, we have an economy. A diverse mix of races that have uniquely varied personal tastes. We cater to those races. For over six hundred years, Grueber’s has been able to guarantee the freshest, best quality human flesh available. And like it or not, Mr. Garrett, some of you and those you came in here to save will be sacrificed for our cause before the doors are opened later tonight. There is nothing that can be done to change it.”
“And what if we choose to fight?”
Nicu grew serious, his brow furrowed.
“It’s quite simple. If you fight, you die.”
“What if you’re bluffing?” Garrett said, the tension in the room palpable.
It was then Nicu’s face transformed. He grinned. His teeth were still normal; however, he appeared to have another layer of them pushing through the roof of his mouth from behind, and these ones were anything but normal. They were long and sharp. The word shark entered Garrett’s head and then wouldn’t go away as Nicu’s eyes rolled back to the whites. He was a vision of hell. He opened his mouth, and it was impossibly wide. His gullet was a deep shade of crimson as slick strands of drool hung from his chin.
Terror.
Garrett had always assumed he would be quick to react in a life-threatening situation. He had presumed he would be a man of action, the hero of the hour. As he sat there opposite the foul abomination that used to be Nicu, he realized it was all a lie. He was no hero. He couldn’t even bring himself to move. In fact, he could do no more than grip the armrests of the chair, as if he were holding on to his very sanity, which in a sense he was because his mind—already privy to so much data, so much incomprehensible horror— was ready to shut down, ready to give up the fight and condemn Garrett to a future of mindlessly wandering the aisles of the market, oblivious to his horrific surroundings and festering in his own shit as he walked around, and around, and around. He could feel it coming, the numb feeling of inability to cope. As he watched Nicu, he felt the scream coming, traveling up from his stomach whilst his exhausted brain was still trying to process what was happening.
Nicu’s mouth was still opening, that was an awful enough sight in itself, but now it was also opening sideways. Garrett had heard of snakes with jawbones that were two separate pieces, allowing it to swallow prey much larger than itself, and he thought this must be the same of Nicu and his kind. As Garrett watched, Nicu’s jaw was opening outwards, the skin of his chin pulling taut and then stretching and— yes, he could see more teeth at the bottom, twin rows at either side of his normal human ones. There would be no quelling it this time. No quenching for the guttural outburst of terror which was about to project itself, and he dimly thought if he allowed it to escape, then he would surely die. He brought his hand up to his mouth and bit down hard, hard enough to see white spots dance in front of his eyes. However, it served its purpose, and instead of a scream he let out an anguished groan. Nicu seemed satisfied, and with agonizing leisure reverted back to his more normal self. He looked at Garrett with a teasing half-smile and leaned close. Garrett couldn’t help but flinch away.
“I think now you understand the futility of any uprising, Mr. Garrett. Now go. Go and tell your people their fate is decided. Tell them you have until midnight to decide who will be given to us.”
II
Garrett looked at the people around him, searching their eyes for any kind of a reaction. He had hoped he would feel better getting it off his chest, but if anything he felt worse.
“And that’s it,” he said with a sigh. “I came back and did as he asked.”
“Fuck!” Lee said, standing and pacing.
Donald looked back to Garrett, and once again, his admiration for the old man grew. He still looked concerned— as would anyone— but he seemed to be coping, perhaps better than anyone else.
“How are you feeling, son?” he asked.
“I don’t know. Okay, I suppose.”
“You know we can’t do as he asks. We can’t just stay here and wait for our turn to die.”
“I don’t know what other options we have. The place is locked down tight.”
Donald nodded and then motioned towards the double doors leading out back.
“What about through there?”
Garrett glanced toward the doors he had fallen through earlier and his mind filled with images of dismembered carcasses and severed limbs and the huge, mountain of a butcher busy disjointing Arsenio’s troublesome knee.
“I didn’t see any exits. All I know is it’s some kind of… butchery.”
“Staffed?” Donald asked as Lee crouched down to listen in.
“Yeah, the butcher was in there earlier.”
“Think we could get past him?”
“I doubt it. The guy was huge. And besides, who knows what it would take to subdue him. I’m not sure we can do it.”
“Then we will have to kill him.”
The cold tone in Donald’s voice shocked Garrett, who was finding his nerves were already frayed to beyond breaking point.
“I doubt sharpened brooms will get us very far. Or didn’t you hear what I just told you?”
Garrett instantly regretted saying it, more so the helpless tone in his own voice. Even to himself, he sounded like he had given up. Donald let it slide, and Garrett rubbed his eyes.
“Sorry, Donald, it’s just... a lot to take in.”
“Forget it, son. This situation is stretching us all to the breaking point.”
The word stretching brought back horrific images of Nicu’s gaping maw opening impossibly wide, and Garrett felt his stomach do an involuntary somersault.
“You can say that again,” he said, hoping nobody had noticed his moment of horrific recollection. “But I suppose escape through the back is as good an idea as any. Tell me what you have in mind.”
“Well, I was just thinking about the front door.”
“Go on.”
“Well it’s a low door, right? Narrow. Access wise it’s not very efficient.”
“I agree, but don’t see the relevance.”
Donald held his hand up and now he, not Garrett was the center of attention.
“Look around you, son. The shelves are filled with stock. I’m not talking about the ‘other’ stock; I’m ta
lking about the stuff all stores hold.”
“Yeah. Sorry Donald, but I’m struggling to follow here.”
“Deliveries, Ray. Deliveries. No way would they receive them through the front. I’d bet my house on there being a back door we could slip out of.”
“All of us?”
“No,” Donald replied carefully. “We need to be realistic. Just us.” Garrett opened his mouth to respond, but Donald cut him off.
“Now I know it’s not ideal, and I know it’s not going to be easy to live with if we do make it, but let’s be realistic. Those other people have made their choice, and like it or not we have to look after ourselves now and forget about saving everyone.”
“And you could live with that?” Garrett whispered.
“Yeah.” Donald nodded. “Yeah, I think I could. I’m old, Ray, and I have seen some horrific things over the years. But I’m determined not to die here. Not like this. Not without a fight.”
“And you all feel the same?” Garrett asked, looking at the group. Lee nodded. As did Helen. Garrett looked at khaki guy.
“What about you?”
“Yeah. Count me in.”
“Okay. You got a name?”
“Cody. Cody Ellison.”
“Got it,” Garrett said, giving the briefest of nods.
“That just leaves you.”
Garrett looked at the Hispanic, acne-faced man with the bad mustache and greasy hair. He shifted uncomfortably and then stood.
“I’m sorry,” he said in a heavy Spanish accent. “I have a wife and four children. I... can’t risk it.”
“You stay here, fella, and you are as good as dead anyway,” Lee said, looking the man up and down.
“I can’t risk it. At least here I have a chance, what you suggest...is suicide. I’m sorry,” he repeated, and then he walked away without looking back.
“And then there were five,” Lee muttered under his breath.
Garrett turned back to Donald.
“Okay, so let’s assume there is a back door to this place. That still leaves us a huge, butcher-sized problem.”
Donald looked towards Lee and tipped him a nod.
“I think our friend here might have that covered.”
Lee opened his jacket and showed them the gun. The group let out a simultaneous gasp as if Lee had just performed some kind of incredible magic trick instead of revealing the silver handgun sitting snug against his chest in its holster.
“Okay,” said Garrett. “Maybe it’s worth a shot. It sure as hell beats sitting here and waiting for them to decide when and how to pick us off.”
“Then we should do it soon,” Donald said.
“Agreed.” Garrett looked at his watch. “It’s just after ten now. Let’s say half an hour to prepare, and then we make a break for it. Everyone okay with that?”
Heads nodded, and frightened eyes looked on.
“It’s important we keep this quiet,” Garrett added.
“Why?” asked Cody, wringing his hands nervously.
“Because,” Garrett said glancing across the room to Bernard’s ever growing group. “There are certain people in here that wouldn’t want to see us try for it.”
“Maybe we shouldn’t wait, and just do it before we have a chance to back out,” Helen said weakly, linking hands with Donald.
“I need to do something first,” Garrett said, smiling as best he could manage at Helen. “I need to speak to Mark and give him the chance to come with us. It’s the least I could do.”
“Son, you don’t owe him anything. He made his choice,” Donald said firmly.
“Regardless of that, some of what he said was right. I need to do what I can. Just give me a few minutes.”
Garrett stood and stretched. He couldn’t believe how exhausted he felt.
“Lee,” he said quietly.
“Yeah?”
“If it comes down to it, if we need you to… are you prepared to use that thing,” he said, nodding to Lee’s jacket.
“Don’t you worry about that, pal. You put any of these fuckin’ things in front of me, and I'll drop em' down. That I guarantee.”
“Good enough for me.”
“Let’s just hope the arseholes don’t get up again.”
Garrett hadn’t even considered that as an option and forced himself not to dwell on it for too long.
“We will have to cross that bridge as and when it happens. One step at a time until then.”
Lee nodded. “Go do what you need to do, fella, and then let’s get outta here. Meantime, I’m gonna go for a piss and grab another beer for the road. Want one?”
“Get me two,” Garrett said, clapping Lee on the shoulder. “I shouldn’t be long.”
Mark
Garrett could smell him before he saw him. He was standing in the corner and staring blankly at the wall. The little girl, Ellie, who had taken a shine to him slept under a clothing rack, blankets pulled up to her chin, face turned to the side. As Garrett moved close to Mark, he noticed he had fouled himself but either didn’t care or hadn’t noticed.
“Mark,” Garrett whispered, leaning as close to him as he dared.
Still, he stared, eyes looking through the wall, mouth hanging open. It was a tremendously sorry sight. The young man with the deliberately messy hair and aviator glasses and that confident, self-assured swagger was gone. In his place was a haggard, broken thing, festering in its own stink and waiting for death to come. Garrett wondered just what it was that had sent him over the edge.
“Mark, it’s me. It’s Ray.”
There was no response. Not even the merest flicker of recognition.
Garrett waved his hand in front of Mark’s eyes, and clicked his fingers by his ears, but Mark failed to respond. A surprising and overwhelming sadness swept over Garrett, who leaned even closer, doing all that he could to ignore the smell.
“Mark, listen to me. We’re getting out of here, or we’re gonna try it at least. What do you say?”
He put a hand on Mark’s shoulder. “It’s not too late. Don’t just give up and die like this.”
Mark turned his head slowly, first looking at Garrett’s hand on his shoulder, and then with what looked to be a monumental effort, looked him in the eye. Garrett somehow kept his expression neutral, but inside, he wanted to scream. Mark’s eyes were empty, dull voids. His Adam’s apple moved, and he opened and closed his mouth. With incredible effort to force himself to speak, the words coming in a dry, grating whisper. Garrett leaned close and listened to the cracked words and felt his heart sink as they registered with him.
I deserve to die here. Look after Leena.
“I understand. I’m sorry,” Garrett said softly.
He hoped to see understanding or even forgiveness but saw only that blank, vacant stare. He was about to walk away when Mark grabbed onto his arm, his dead man’s voice, this time, uttering just four words.
I kept my promise.
Overcome with both guilt and sadness, Garrett found himself choked up at just how confused and disoriented Mark had become.
“I’ll look after Leena. I’ll do my best to get her out of here, okay? I promise.”
Garrett was close to breaking down and realized then that his plan was the right one. Because even though the odds were small, it was better than becoming an empty shell like Mark and the others who had given up or just weren’t able to cope anymore.
“I’m sorry. I really am.”
“It doesn’t hurt this way.”
The words cut Garratt deep, and yet made sense. Like some of the others, Mark had chosen to shut himself off, to find a place to await his death and accept it on his own terms. Although they were relative strangers, Garrett couldn’t help but feel a bond, one which he’d hoped they would share for a little bit longer. Taking a last look, Garrett turned and headed back towards the others.
Negotiations
Lee walked into the oak-paneled restroom, leaned against the sink and let out a deep breath. Away from the prying eye
s of the other people who were trapped in their own unique kind of hell, he could drop the act of being a thick-skinned tough guy and acknowledge his fear. He splashed water on his face and looked at his reflection in the mirror. He thought that under the circumstances, he was doing okay, and was certainly holding up better than some. Even though he was doing his best to remain calm, he couldn’t ignore the giddy somersaulting sensation of nervous terror which was bubbling in his stomach. He was grateful at least to have the gun. He could feel the comforting weight of it strapped under his jacket, and even though he had only fired it once, he was glad it was there. He had already decided that if it came to it –and their planned escape failed—, then he would turn it on himself.
Suicide wasn’t something he had ever considered, and in fact, in the past, he had always had a real problem with those who turned to it as a means of escape. But the last few hours caused him to reassess his opinion because the thought of becoming a slab of shrink-wrapped flesh on sale in this hell hole made the idea of putting a bullet into his brain seem like the easiest decision in the world.
For the first time, he thought he understood a little of why people who without any warning, one day decided to go and find a quiet place to hang themselves, or take a full bottle of prescription pills washed down with booze and drift off into the ever-after. He could even see how those unfortunate victims of the 9/11 terror attacks in New York found it inside themselves to leap to their deaths rather than stay in the burning buildings. Lee realized when it came to the inevitability of death, it was perhaps better to decide when to bow out on your own terms rather than let somebody else do it for you.
He thought about his daughter, his beautiful baby girl, who might not have all the lights switched on upstairs, but at least he could still look into her eyes and know there was someone in there, someone loving and aware, wondering why life dealt such a devastatingly cruel hand. He wondered if he could do it. If he could find it within himself to leave her alone in a world that contained these…things that had trapped them. A world so bitter, twisted, and cruel that it thought nothing of taking good people and then chewing them up and spitting them out again.