Picaro

by West, Terry M.

  Binh just stared, like some soulless thing.

  Paul felt compelled to say a few more words. "Welcome to the top of the food chain, Binh. You won't love what you are. You won't despise it. You'll just do what comes natural. You're not going to see me again. And if you do, one of us will get torn apart. Do you feel it yet?"

  Binh did. It was a deep abhorrence that he didn’t have the strength to act on. He gritted his teeth and nodded.

  "Come up with a system. And even though I told you we don't get caught, be careful anyway. There's always a first time."

  Paul dusted off his trench coat and started to walk away. He paused and looked back. "You will never die. And neither will the hunger. Try not to forget your name. Happy trails, partner."

  He took two steps and disappeared in the brush.

  Binh closed his eyes and rested the back of his head against the tree. His stomach churned with boiling acid. He clutched himself and let out painful gasps. He looked to the dead patrolmen. Binh took his clothes off.

  ***

  Binh emerged from the woods and met the lonely lanes of the I-45. He was doing much better.

  The hunger was driven down, but he still felt peckish. He wondered if his stomach would ever know satisfaction again. Binh didn't feel shame over devouring the cops. He didn't feel anything. He was hollow and cold beneath his skin.

  The heat didn't bother him, though he knew it had to be blistering. The afternoon sun was baking the lanes. Hottest damned time of the day. He decided to stick with the trip to El Paso. Binh wondered if Paul was still going that way. He hoped so.

  He walked toward Houston. He figured he'd take the sensible route, as he feared nothing now. He moved forward. Because there was nothing behind him. He didn't see any vehicles headed his way. But when one came, he'd wag that thumb.

  He hoped it wouldn't be long. Binh's appetite was building again. He settled on a system, to keep things fair.

  The first one who stops.

  About the Author

  Terry M. West is an American horror author. His best known works: What Price Gory, Car Nex, Dreg and his Night Things series. He is also the managing editor of the Halloween/horror website, Halloween Forevermore. He was a finalist for 2 International Horror Guild Awards and he was featured on the TV Guide Sci-Fi hot list for his YA graphic novel series, Confessions of a Teenage Vampire. Terry was born in Texas, lived in New York for two decades and he currently hangs his hat in California. www.terrymwest.com

  Check out Amazon.com for many Terry M. West tales!

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  Enjoy this special preview of HONGER

  Terwe Town (Tarrytown), NY

  January 10th, 1679

  "Please, papa, tell us a story!" Alina implored her father.

  "Yes," Alida, Alina's twin, echoed her sister. "A scary one. Tell us the one about the Boeman, papa!"

  Willem Tenner regarded his daughters. They were digesting their mutton stew while gathered near the hearth. They were dressed in their sleeping gowns and their thick golden hair was brushed down. The girls were eight and already tiny reflections of their mother. Outside, the winter wind squalled and pressed against their home.

  "There will be no such tales," Willem's wife, Helena, announced as she found her seat near the fire. She had finished clearing the supper table. She presented her cold hands to the heat.

  Alida and Alina both gave a long and disappointed "Awwwwww…"

  "But why, mama?" Alina asked in a whine.

  "The devil invented questioning," Helena said with a stern look to her girls. "I'll suffer no frightened jongs in my bed tonight."

  "You heard your moeder. And she is the only thing the Boeman fears," Willem teased. He held up his hands and crooked the fingers into claws.

  "Besides, you should both go to sleep soon. We have jam to pickle tomorrow," Helena reminded her daughters. "The wheat crops were good this year. Your papa provided well for us, but we must still do our part. Alle beetjes helpen."

  Willem felt a warm happiness. When they staked a claim to this land five years ago and built a modest house, there had been many tests. Each day brings it own bread Willem had told Helena many times in their early struggles.

  But the last few years had been the most prosperous the family had known. It had taken Willem a spell to become acquainted with the soil. But now he knew the blacksmith's secret and his crops were the most plentiful in Terwe Town. His neighbors often sought his guidance.

  Willem had been able to add to his house. Now his daughters had a room to share and Helena had an earthen fruit cellar below their floorboards. There was even a small area, next to he and Helena's bedroom, for another child, if God saw fit.

  Helena took the Statenvertaling from its place on the mantle and put it in Alina's hands. "It is your turn to read scripture tonight, Alina. You need more practice than your sister."

  "But I read quite well," Alina protested, placing the heavy bible on her lap.

  "Better is the enemy of well," Helena teased.

  Before a passage was settled on, the door of their home shook and pounded. It startled them all.

  "Who would come at such an hour?" Helena whispered.

  "Stay here," Willem told his family.

  He put on a brave face and went to the door. When he opened it, a body fell into his arms. The man was tall and thin. He wore furs. Willem pulled him into the house and Helena shut the door on the vicious winter night.

  Willem put the visitor on his back. The man was old, grizzled, and nearly frozen to death. His lips moved, but nothing came.

  "Put a quilt near the fire," Willem told his daughters.

  Alina and Alida did as instructed. Willem lifted the man and took him to the fireplace. He put him on the quilt and called for more. They bundled the man, who continued to shiver.

  "Water," the man asked in a soft voice.

  Helena fetched a cup and gave it to Willem. Willem lifted the man's head and put the cup to the stranger's blue lips. The man sipped it and gave a soft nod when finished. The water had soaked his beard. Willem lowered him down again.

  "Thank you for your kindness," the man said.

  "Today thee, tomorrow I. It is what God would want, and we are all his servants," Willem said.

  "I suppose we are," the old man said. His body didn't quake as much.

  "I am Willem Tenner. This is my wife, Helena, and our girls," Willem said.

  "My name is Basilius De Vries," he said, and Willem could see Basilius' strength stir.

  "Could I offer you some mutton stew, Mr. De Vries? It is still warm," Helena said.

  "No. The mere thought of food turns my stomach. I just wish to rest. I can repay your hospitality with pelts," Basilius said.

  "As my husband said, it is our duty as Christians to nurse you," Helena said.

  "What happened to you, Basilius?" Willem asked.

  "I was checking my traps in the deep woods. Something frightened my horse. It threw me. I struck my head and was unconscious. For how long, I don't know," Basilius said. "When I woke, I stumbled out of the woods and saw your home. My head aches, but I don't think I suffered any serious injury."

  "You are fortunate the wolves didn't claim you," Helena said.

  "Ja, I suppose I am," Basilius agreed.

  "I will take you to the doctor at sunrise," Willem said.

  "Thank you," Basilius said.

  Willem could see the Basilius needed sleep. Imperceptible tendrils pulled at the old man.

  "It is time for bed, girls," he said to his daughters.

  "What about the scriptures?" Alina asked.

  "God will forgive us considering the circumstances," Helena offered.

  ***

  Willem awoke deep into the night. Darkness held outside his frozen window. He didn't know why he had roused from sleep. He heard nothing, save the howling wind. Something felt amiss. He turned to Helena, who was still asleep.


  He left his bed to her, and headed to the den. The fireplace in the distance lit his way, so he didn't need to strike the lamp in the walkway. Willem approached the pile of quilts in front of the fire. They were empty.

  He peered around the room. Where had the old man gone?

  "Basilius?" he whispered.

  "Here," a voice that tickled the back of his neck replied.

  Willem turned around and Basilius grinned at him. The man was nude. There was a deep bite under his left ribcage. The wound was black and purulence leaked from it. Basilius' eyes burned with a ravenous evil. Willem thought the man in a delirium.

  Willem opened his mouth but Basilius clamped a cold hand over Willem's lips. The old man was stronger than Willem would have expected. Basilius pressed a forefinger to his own lips and issued a ssssssshhhhhhhh. His breath was foul.

  The old man gripped him closer and sank his teeth deep into Willem's shoulder. Willem gave a muffled cry of pain. Basilius slammed Willem's head hard against the stone hearth.

  ***

  Willem awoke, burning with fever, in the cellar. A lamp burned near the steps. He pushed himself up from the cold soil. He winced at the pain in his left shoulder. He pulled his nightshirt aside and saw the blackened teeth marks in his flesh. His head swam and his vision pulsed. He took unsteady steps toward the stairs. He stared up them to the floor hatch. Vertigo exploded in his head, and he collapsed back down to the floor.

  Light cracked from the hatch and a shadow peered at him.

  "I know the agony you are going through," Basilius said to him. "You need more rest. When you awaken, you'll need to eat, Willem. After that, you'll have the strength to come up here and we'll have a proper discussion."

  Willem fought the dark cloud that spread across his brain. He lost.

  ***

  He saw his family in a dream. It was a sunny day. His girls chased each other as he tilled his land. Helena emerged on their front step, a water pitcher and cups in her hands. She beckoned them. As Willem went to the house, mopping his brow with his forearm, his daughters circled him in their game. They had no faces, but he could hear them giggle and tease each other.

  Willem woke again. The refilled oil lamp burned. His mind was a little clearer, but his shoulder was still on fire and his stomach lurched with nausea. He sat up and noticed that he wasn't alone on the earthen floor. A body, hidden under one of Helena's quilts, lay next to him.

  He straightened up and scooted to the corpse. Willem opened the quilt. Helena's nude body was the pearl at its center. He could see bruises on her throat. He groaned, and came closer to her. She looked at peace. There wasn't pain or fear on her quiet face. She was empty.

  Willem put his hand on her blue cheek. He knelt close enough to kiss her. His blood drummed in his ears. He panted and the hunger in his belly twisted. Willem put his mouth over Helen's nose. His teeth bit deeply. He had to twist his head to break the cartilage. He arched up and swallowed the meat. Willem looked down at the desecrated face of his wife. If there was any remorse in him, blood lust had buried it. He gripped her abdomen with his hands and opened her. He exhaled, excitedly, as her dark blood flooded over his fingers.

  Willem bent his head into her stomach, closed his eyes, and fed the evil inside of him. He thought of nothing except suffocating the need. He raised his head only when there was nothing left inside, save a wet spine that was licked and gnawed clean of meat.

  He then started on her limbs. He bit deep gashes out of her flesh and used the red entrances to grip inside and strip her bones. He fed on her for hours. When there was nothing left for Helena to give, he abandoned her bones and started up the cellar stairs.

  ***

  The bloodied man emerged from the hatch that sat between the dining room and den. Basilius was waiting for Willem. The old man sat in Willem's reading chair. He was clean and dressed in Willem's clothes. He read from the Statenvertaling.

  "Hello, Willem," Basilius said, not looking up from the bible.

  Willem snarled hatefully at Basilius. He felt drunk from eating his wife. The pain had subsided, somewhat, but the demon inside still howled for a meal. "What have you done to me?" he demanded, his voice darker than it had ever been.

  Basilius put the book aside and regarded his gore drenched host. "I have cursed you, boy. I have given you the hunger. De onheilige honger."

  "What am I?" Willem said, pushing the urge to eat the old man aside, if only long enough to get answers.

  "I don't know what we are. I don't know if there is even a name for it," Basilius replied. "I came to this soil fifty years ago. I was one of the first settlers here. I was checking traps with a friend in the woods. A savage from the Weckquaesgeek tribe attacked us. He bit me and threw me into a crevasse in the earth. After watching me twist with the infection, he pushed my friend's corpse into the hole with me."

  "And you ate him?" Willem guessed.

  Basilius nodded. "It took two days for the hunger to wear me down, but yes. I ate him. And then I had the strength to crawl from my hole. The savage was waiting for me. He offered me a smile and his throat. He fed me next. There was no notion of revenge in me when I killed him. I was still starving. When the hunger has you, there is no regret or horror in what you do. A hawk doesn't feel remorse for the hare."

  Bailius pointed an arthritic finger at Willem. "As you are now you shall always be. You're frozen. Time has abandoned you. I was seventy one when I was bitten. So many years ago. And I am still seventy one. The bite I gave you is also eternal. It will never heal. It will remain forever. As fresh as the day it was stamped. It is a kiss from your father that will linger. It is a birthmark that will never fade from your skin."

  Basilius raised the shirt Helena had sewn for Willem and flashed the wound.

  "I wandered after the bite. As you will. I was a slave to the monster inside. It has to feed every season. It takes three, sometimes four people to satisfy it. And you can't eat any other type of meat. It only increases the fervor. I found that out the hard way. There are many things you should know. But I won't be able to teach you. You'll have to discover them on your own."

  "Why have you visited this upon my house, je bastaard?" Willem said, through red gritted teeth.

  "I cannot die," Basilius confided. "I have suffered an arrow through the heart. I've drowned. I was hit by a coach. But still I rise, I walk, and I feed. I am tired, and alone. I can know no man for too long a period. I wish for the charade to end now. But as the savage who cursed me proved, I can only die by one of my kind. I believe he turned me to end his torment."

  In spite of the painful protest in his gut, Willem shook his head. "No. I won't release you, duivel."

  "You may think I am evil, and you might be correct. But I am also desperate for the peace the darkness has to offer. You haven't eaten enough. You can barely restrain yourself. I think I may have the motivation you need."

  Basilius pulled a grain bag from behind the chair. He upturned it, and a pile of small bones fell to the floor.

  "Your daughters," Basilius said. "They saw me strangle their mother. And then Alina watched as I ate Alida. They may have looked identical, but they tasted quite different from each other."

  Willem sprang at Basilius. The old man gave a startled smile as Willem knocked him and the chair over. He bit into Basilius' neck. The old man clutched at Willem's shoulders, as if urging him on in passion. Willem wet his face again. He sprang up and looked at Basilius' face. The old man proclaimed something, but only a faint gurgle crawled from his lips. Willem jammed his fingers deep into Basilius' eyes. He granted the murderer the darkness he had asked for, but life would still carry the pain. For a few minutes, at least. Willem's vengeance vanished in the feast.

  ***

  He had cleaned himself with well water and bundled his body for the cold, though he hardly felt it. The hunger was gone, but the bite Basilius had left him still ached and throbbed.

  Willem took a final look back at the home and the life he and his family had
made. The loss should have crippled him, but it didn't. His heart was black now, of that he was sure. Willem served only the hunger, and he would obey when it called on him again. He left the house and the bones it held to legend.

  The sun was drawing down. Willem walked toward the woods. He was a nomad with an appetite only the devil could appreciate. Hell plagued his every step.

  Now available from Morbidbooks!

  WARNING: This story contains scenes of extreme violence and gore. Not for the squeamish or easily offended. Reader discretion is strongly advised.

  Hunger knows no friend but its feeder…

  Piermont, NY

  Winter 1997

  Chloe Grant is a homeless junkie and prostitute. After being taken in by Willem Tenner, a kind and shy bachelor who works at a local video store, Chloe finds herself in the center of a battle between two immortal monsters. Chloe inherits the bite that never heals. De eeuwige honger. The eternal hunger. Relying on a diary left behind by Willem to guide her, Chloe must now feed the monster inside.

  Honger 2 is a direct sequel to Honger.

  Available 08-25-17

  Pre-order Now!

  Order here!

  “Those who can make you believe absurdities, can make you commit atrocities.”

  ― Voltaire

  Any record of the 45th that does not recognize him as a prophet is propaganda and a lie. False history. The truth is with the 45th. His word is absolute for it is God's word…

  Hundreds of years after the great cataclysm, the Ministry of the 45th survive in a network of scientific bunkers. The last bastion of the old holy order, the 45th are bent on rebuilding the scorched earth and eliminating God's enemies. The Ministry wages a war against the mutant topsiders that occupy the dead states of the Soviet Union of America. Defending the 45th are the Red Guard, genetically engineered soldiers who are programmed to obey through their lifebrand. Dr. Morgan is a serviceman for Unit 468 of the Red Guard. His lifebrand being medicine, Dr. Morgan is the longest surviving field medic to serve. But Dr. Morgan is a deeply conflicted man with violent fantasies that contradict his pledge to preserve life. After escaping an abduction by the topsiders, Dr. Morgan's faith is cracked. During a furlough in the high Chancellor's bunker, Dr. Morgan is hailed a hero and taken off the front lines. But he soon realizes that someone has altered his lifebrand and lifted the veil that concealed the greatest deception ever perpetrated. Dr. Morgan has just become the most dangerous man in the wastelands. And when he discovers who the real enemy is, the revelation unleashes a fury strong enough to destroy what is left of the earth.