by catt dahman
Trish knew it would take a while. They would rape her several times because Buford was already sporting an erection again. When that was done, she didn’t know if they would butcher her slowly to avenge that stupid Candy Lynn trash or what they would do, but she knew it was going to hurt. A lot.
Trish decided something very brave.
Using her tongue, she maneuvered the rag in her mouth so it was further back in her throat and on her tongue. She curled her tongue and pushed backwards, swallowing hard and sucking at the rag to move it. It was shoved deeper as she worked. Already, it was hard to breathe. She pushed again and swallowed, lodging the rag in her throat and cutting off her air.
She could die instead of letting them torture her. For thirty seconds, she felt glad. Then another thirty seconds passed uncomfortably.
The need for air became great. She tried to remove the rag with her tongue, despite her wishes as she fought for a breath. Nothing. She panicked, fighting the suffocation. Vomit came up, filling the tiny spaces, and she didn’t get air.
She was strong flopping and clawing at her gag, but Amadee hit her and held her arms away from her gag and groaned with happiness as she struggled, twitching, flopping, and moving under him. He finished, and Buford got back on top. Her vision was darkening. She didn’t want to die. She wanted air. She screamed inside and made sounds.
But her movements excited Buford.
He was disappointed when she went slack.
“She’s dead.”
“Shore is. Choked, I think. Meh. Let’s render her and be done,” Amadee said as he shook his head.
They quickly handled her, put the meat away with the rest (and they had plenty now), threw her over board, and cleaned up, scrubbing the boards of the deck and mopping it clean.
It was about the meat because it fed them. But they had enough already. It was about the sex, and both men wanted to abuse Trish. It was about payback for how she had treated Candy Lynn, but Amadee and Buford didn’t hold much with justice or paybacks. It was really about the men enjoying what they did.
Both men slept well that night.
The third interesting event was this: Candy Lynn was not asleep when Buford peeked in on her, just pretending, and she had heard every word the men said as well as the fight. She carefully watched her family members stuff the men away and the show Amadee put on, pretending they fell over the railing.
Later, she saw them cut up the men from the rescue party.
She also saw what they did to Trish. She hated Trish, but what they did was terrible and unforgivable. Was this the big Audette secret? Her dad never touched her, but Candy Lynn thought he touched Belle possibly, and that was the big secret, but she never could find out. Obviously, there was more than one Audette secret.
She escaped that life and had a better life until Landry got drunk and said some things and then he fell….
She barely made it to the bathroom. After she vomited and cried, she washed her face and went back to rest. He didn’t fall. He was cut up and made into food. Did they eat more people? She couldn’t be positive, but she knew in her gut, they had rendered Landry and served him as stew, boudin, gumbo, and dirty rice. Her father and stepbrother and stepmother and sisters, all of them killed and cooked her husband, the man who had taken her out of poverty and given her a good life.
It was their fault she was going to go back to a filthy shack to live, to marry a swamper, and be a cannibal. They stole her future.
Everyone had been critical of her baby’s mixed blood, fighting over that when it didn’t matter one bit. Both sides were stupid. Even Abagail’s family, who defended the bloodline, was foolish. The issue was Candy Lynn and Julia Rose were Audette blood, and that was the horrible part. Blood did matter, but everyone hated or defended the wrong blood.
“Oh, hell no, not fair,” she said aloud, feeling as if she had been tricked and cheated.
Candy Lynn set her jaw and her mind and went over her thoughts again with precision. She was not going to go along with this. They had done the unthinkable, and she was finished with them.
From ashes rose Candy Lynn, a phoenix with a mission.
Chapter Eleven: Ante Up or Leave the Table
The next day brought clouds and drizzle, again, ensuring rescue parties would be delayed more. The water was down a little, maybe a few inches, but the mood was one of abject depression and hopelessness.
Maria came in to sit with Candy Lynn and brought Beau, Toby, and Virgil with her. “I trust Daddy, but he’s ailing with his hand, and Abagail and Theo are busy as can be. That leaves just you all.”
“What’s wrong?”
“Now Trish has vanished. Just…poof,” Marie said, answering Beau.
“She’s gone? She can’t be just gone. Did she fall into the water?” Virgil asked.
“Come on, Virgil. How many people are going to randomly fall over the side like we are being told they are? This is ridiculous, and it’s not true.”
“I went over the side,” Virgil said.
“How? Why? Be honest.”
“Because he was pushing my husband Landry into the water after they butchered him,” Candy Lynn said. She knew she could trust the Theriot group, somehow, she knew Virgil was the best of the bunch, and she had to form a trust bond between them.
“I didn’t butcher him. And I didn’t mean for him or me to fall in. It was really accidental. My sisters fell in, as well; my fault, but I sure didn’t try to do it.”
“They did. Virgil. I know everything. I saw it. I know Buford and Daddy did it. If you tell them, maybe I’ll be next and little Julia Rose. You decide.”
“I’m not telling anything,” he said as he crossed his arms defiantly.
“What do you mean, Candy Lynn? Tell us everything,” Marie demanded, looking from Candy Lynn to Virgil, confused.
Candy Lynn did tell, sparing no details. She added what she suspected, but made it clear that she didn’t believe in her heart that Virgil was a willing participant. “Am I pretty close on the facts? I didn’t see you out there cutting anyone up.”
“’Cause I never did. I never carried a bowl of meat either like Lou, Gee Gee, Belle, and Tam did.”
“They all did this?” Beau asked.
“I never wanted to be a part at all. Amadee is crazy. He’s your daddy, but he’s a nut, Candy Lynn. I refused a few times to help, and if you recall, my mama got some awful beatings. So did the younger ones. That was because I was disagreeable. What could I do? He watches us like a damned hawk and beats us, and Buford, he may be my brother, half-brother, but he’s a sick bastard.”
“Because you were all stuck with him in the shack, I got away.”
“He didn’t want you doing it. We’re all throw-aways, but he genuinely protected you,” said Virgil letting his fury show, “they’re all crazy.”
Marie took this in and was wide-eyed, but it explained a lot. Toby kept shaking his head. Beau looked stunned, “They all do it?”
“Well, not me and not Candy, and my mama only cooks…but...yeah…they do. It’s how it is.
“Cannibals,” Beau said, “why?”
“Family tradition for tradition’s sake, no more and no less. It’s done because it’s always been done way up the freakin’ line. Every Audette patriarch teaches it as a family tradition, and it bonds the family. It also kept everyone fed in leaner times,” Virgil said, his voice dull.
“He had plenty of money. I know he sells meth and ‘shine, too. He built this boat. He could afford food.”
“Maybe they like the taste,” Toby grimaced.
“Just imagine…he beat Mama when we disagreed, and half the cops around us were Audette cousins. For all we know, they do it; who could we tell?” Virgil asked. “I lived in fear he’d beat Mama to death if I complained.”
“That’s still…crazy.”
“He’ll continue with the Theriots, but he won’t render his own, but he doesn’t care either if we die. You heard him talking about Lougenia and Eloi and saw h
ow he was. He didn’t care, long as he has Buford, my mama, Ghislaine, and Tammany, he’s fine. They all work and slave for him,” Virgil said, “I have tried to come up with a plan and tried to decide if I trusted anyone to tell.”
Beau spoke, “This explains Mike’s crew vanishing.”
“They killed Holly, the girl with Mike’s group,” Beau pointed out.
“But the sharks. They aren’t natural. We know this. But we can’t blame Amadee for them. How do we explain them and the bad luck?”
Toby looked at each person, “I know you won’t believe me, but my mama has taught me things. I’m not a healer,” he laughed, “but she told me about magic, voodoo, and good spells like she does which is positive energy and herbs. She also told me about bad spells and evil. Blood sacrifice. Amadee said we have a cunja on us. That part, Mama and I think is true. There is a bad spell here on us, and that explains the sharks and accidents. Whoever is responsible is getting plenty of blood.”
“A curse?” asked Beau, frowning.
“Why? For what?” Marie asked.
“Who knows? Maybe the person likes misery. Maybe it is just serving death. That’s what I think. I mean, if there is a curse or something,” Beau said.
“But both good and not-so-good people have died.”
“True, Candy Lynn, but death is all about fairness and balance anyway,” Toby added.
“Who is it? Do they have to be here?” asked Marie as she shook her head. “It is just Amadee doing it all.”
“He didn’t bring those fish. He isn’t bringing the storms that keep on. And can he account for the piss-bad luck we keep having?” Toby asked.
“I don’t know. This is a lot to take in,” Marie said.
“It could be anyone,” Toby lowered his voice, “whoever it is that made this curse has brought the sharks here to kill, and it enjoys the killing. The sharks do the work. I think the snakes were part of this, too. Maybe other animals. Maybe that’s why Amadee and Buford are so violent all at once.”
Candy Lynn shook her head, “I can’t let them off with saying they are under some spell and ain’t right in the head and not responsible. They are evil.”
Virgil stared at the ground, “I helped though. I cleaned up, and I was there to help. I’m not possessed by a devil. I did it.”
Marie took his hand, “Are you sorry?”
Virgil looked up at her and leaned over to bury his face in the bed covers beside Candy Lynn as he wept. Candy Lynn wondered if everyone would cry on her bed. Her stepbrother was releasing his guilt, stress, and the horror he felt when he was made to participate in the murders.
Virgil cried out his sorrow and finally raised his head and wiped his face, “You can’t imagine the guilt eating me alive. At least a dozen times I’ve sat down alone in a pirague out in the swamp and held a knife over my veins. Only reason I haven’t cut is fear for my mama. But I hate what she does, too. It disgusts me even if she does it to avoid the beatings.”
“She cooks. Oh, my God, we’ve…the stew and boudin….” Marie got it.
Beau turned white, and Toby gagged. It just now hit them.
“Yes,” Candy Lynn said, “but I ate my own husband. Imagine it. Today, we’ll eat those men, Curry and Larry and Trish, too. How do you think I feel?”
“I can’t eat anymore. Never,” Marie said.
“Then we pretend we have a stomach ailment and can only manage bread and safe food,” Beau said, “but we’ve eaten people all along. It makes me sick.”
“We can ask for veggies and say we crave them.”
Marie looked at Virgil. She had not removed her hand, and he was holding her hand still. “So what about you? How are you going to handle things?”
“I can refuse maybe. Amadee wouldn’t beat Mama or anyone here with everyone around would he? I can kill myself like I want to.”
“Virg, that won’t help us. We need you,” Candy Lynn said.
“I don’t know,” Marie said, “but we also have to find out if there is a spell on us; I can’t believe I am saying that.”
“It’s true though, and how are we supposed to know; I have no idea. I don’t know much about this stuff.”
“What was that?” Toby asked. The houseboat made a slow roll.
Beau looked out the windows and groaned. Another damned storm was headed in, and this one looked rough; the skies were greenish but darkening as black and deep purple clouds rolled in like thick smoke. Wind assaulted the houseboat, drove waves against the hull and over the deck in torrential splashes as rain began to fall in thick sheets, so thick it was like viscous curtains of liquid.
Thunder rumbled as lightning exploded with the sound of bombs going off. Debris slammed the hull. “This isn’t normal,” Toby said, “I said it was a curse. Even Amadee said it. And my mama. They know things even if only one is a cannibal.”
“It sounds like we’re being attacked,” Marie said.
“All the wood, trash, and bodies, all of it is being shoved into us,” Beau said, “You all know this is going to hinder the search for survivors even longer?”
“At this rate, anybody who is alive won’t be soon. I don’t know how long we can make it out here if things keep going like this,” Candy Lynn said, “I just think….”
She trailed off as Beau and Virgil jumped up and stared out the windows. Both ran outside, yelling, but no one could figure out what was wrong until Toby jumped up, looked, and turned. “Stay here.” He ran out the door, too.
“Toby? What is going on?” Marie demanded.
Toby stopped in his tracks as if he just now understood what he saw meant, “The house where Mike’s group is, it’s burning.”
“In this rain? Impossible,” Marie said.
“But it is. The roof will go out or not burn, but inside…it’s burning.”
“Lightning. Maybe it hit the house?”
“Sure,” Toby muttered. He ran out into the rain and around the deck to where others stood. The house was on fire, greasy smoke filling the sky to join the clouds.
Amadee watched the fire with Leonie and Buford.
“Who is in there?” Beau yelled again.
“Ya kid brother, Frank’s wife, dat black woman, and da man, my Tammany Olivia, Mike and his crew, dem. One of de lanterns knock over maybe or de lightning.”
A shape became two and three as figures emerged from the smoke and fire. Beau, Virgil, and Toby scrambled over and to the balcony.
“Little help, Buford?” Virgil asked.
Buford grumbled and joined them, “It done over. Der no way outta dat.”
Beau started to tell him that was really stupid since three had gotten out, but he paused, looking them over. One was a man with Mike’s group and how he was walking, no one knew. He was mostly charred, but here and there, raw burns showed, and in places, his flesh looked melted. His lips were burned together, but he made a low humming noise as he shambled along, naked and with his flesh steaming in the rain.
Blinded, he walked until he fell off into the water, sending steam boiling upwards. A fin slid along; he wasn’t seen again.
Abagail lurched from the smoke and grabbed one of the blackened figures. “Help me,” she called. Beau ran and reached for the person; to his horror, skin sloughed off in chucks and sheets of ebony; the figure cried out. Leonie threw over wet sheets, and Beau used them with Abagail’s help to wind up the person like a mummy or like a shroud. He then carried the pitiful victim across with Abagail following.
The last figure slumped to the balcony boards and squealed when Virgil tried to wrap her; Virgil thought it was a small woman.
“Where’s Daddy?” Toby asked his mother.
Abagail waved back at the inferno and moaned, shaking her head, “It’s too late.”
Toby ignored her and ran into the flames, leaping over burning boards and debris. He avoided burning furniture as he searched. He pulled Emeline free of a beam that lay across her; her hair was burned away, her beautiful face blistered, and her hands black
ened claws that she couldn’t open or close. Behind him, Virgil slung her over his shoulder, despite her screams of pain, and ran back to the boat.
Toby couldn’t breathe, and his hands felt hot from the fire. The smoke was so thick that he couldn’t see anything. He didn’t want to give up. He had to find his father, but it seemed hopeless.
He turned and trudged out, shocked as Virgil tackled him.
“What the hell….”
“You are on fire, sorry,” Virgil said, “your shirt, I mean.”
“Time to bug out; ain’t nothing we can do with dis now,” Buford said.
“My father….”
Virgil helped Toby to his feet and shook his head, “Toby, there’s nothing you can do. Look at your hands.”
Black soot covered Toby’s hands. He was going to say he was fine but didn’t since he was coughing. They carried the third figure away, back to the houseboat. The figure was a woman, they thought, one who had been with Mike’s crew. Her hands were mostly burned away, and what were left were tiny flippers at the end of her blistered and charred arms.
The rain slackened, and Amadee untied the rope keeping them connected to the house. On the front deck, they had the charred things that hardly looked human and were unable to determine the gender, but they were strangely still alive. Emeline lay next to them, crying pitifully.
Abagail sat and sobbed, her hands and legs too burned to help anyone. She gave directions but could do nothing more.
Marie and Leonie helped Emeline inside to a bed that they had stripped to just a sheet as Abagail had ordered. Bandages would stick. After removing her clothing, most of it already burned away, they covered her with a loose top sheet. Leonie used some of the supplies left by the medical team to give her a shot that knocked her out.
Maria took the time to clean Frank’s wound, finding the half-bitten hand looked worse with acute swelling and bone shards peeking out of the flesh. She cleaned it well and gave him antibiotics and a painkiller before leaving the boathouse.
“Buford, help Abagail, would you?” Virgil asked.
“Don’t you touch me, murderer, pervert,” the old woman snapped. She could not swat Buford’s reaching hands, but she did pull away.