“Seems to me we’re just walking blind. How can you be positive we’re not lost already?”
“You just gotta trust me. I’m tellin’ you, the spot is just down that way.” He pointed into the distance, nodded enthusiastically.
Worm followed as the journey continued. He found himself searching for a weapon as they went, not sure why he was suddenly preparing for violence. But a nice heavy rock in his hand sure would make him feel better.
And then the trees seemed to part, open up. A wide clearing, maybe the size of a football field. Jamal made a run for it, whooping and hollering like a kid in an amusement park. He dove into the grass, cackled and thrashed his arms and legs.
“What did I tell you? Huh? Didn’t I fuckin’ tell you!” Another burst of laughter as Jamal kicked his feet and slapped the ground.
Worm couldn’t keep himself from smiling as he tentatively stepped forward. He searched the field with squinted eyes, and sure enough, there appeared to be holes dug here and there, a few with brown, dried out branches laid over them.
Jamal sat up, dusted his hands off, then hopped to his feet. The excitement appeared to have given him his strength back, and he waved Worm over. “Well, how about we see what we got?”
“Yeah…yeah, that sounds good.” Worm fought to control his breathing—and his growing erection—as he joined Jamal and they began their inspection.
Worm followed Jamal around the clearing as they checked each hole, peering down into the darkness. The holes were deeper than Worm had expected, but so far, each one held nothing but disappointment. Worm shot Jamal an accusatory look, squeezed his hands into tight fists, and clenched his teeth. “Where are they, Jamal? Y-you said they’d be here.”
“Chill out, homie. Still plenty of holes to check.”
But Worm already knew it was useless. He figured if there were any corpses here, they would have heard one of them by now. At the very least, they would have smelled them. But there was nothing. And Worm had a strong urge to shove Jamal into one of the holes and leave him there.
Jamal turned and smiled at Worm just then, as if he had heard his thoughts loud and clear.
Did I say something out loud just now?
“Look, what did I say?” Jamal said as he speed-walked toward the next series of holes. “See, right here. Right…” He peered into the first hole and his jaw hung loose. His eyes darted all around, and he dropped to his stomach and stared into the depth of the hole. “No…ah hell nah! Fuck that shit! What the fuck is this shit!”
Worm bent at the knees, found the biggest rock he could find, then struggled back to standing. He held his new weapon at his side, squeezed it as he stared at Jamal freaking out in the grass.
“It was here. It was right fucking here!”
“I thought you said you haven’t been out here in years?”
But Jamal paid Worm no mind. He jumped to his feet, swung his fists at the air. Strings of curses rocketed from his mouth as he spun in place.
“What the fuck is going on here, Jamal? Be straight with me, man.”
Jamal stopped, chest heaving, and turned so he was facing Worm. Then he reached into his pocket and pulled out the pistol, aimed it dead center at Worm’s face.
“What the fuck? Wh-what are you doing?”
“Doin’ what I gotta do to survive, homie. That’s all.” He scratched his cheek and opened up the blisters there. “But someone’s fuckin’ with me. I had a nice one in here just last week. Was letting it ripen a little. You know the longer you let it age, the stronger that shit gets? Can’t let it sit too long though or it’ll go bad. The meat turns to poison. But you already knew that, didn’t you?”
“Quit fucking bullshitting me, goddamnit.” Worm cocked his arm back and threw the rock as hard as he could. The miniature boulder sailed through the air, but went wide left, missed Jamal’s head by a mile and a half.
Jamal chuckled, gave Worm a hard look and shook his head. He reached back into his pocket and pulled out a small wad of meat. As Jamal’s blackened and crooked teeth sunk into it, Worm’s chest exploded with need. His feet moved of their own accord and he stepped toward the man, wanting nothing more than to suck the masticated meat into his own mouth.
“Stay your ass right there, homie. Don’t take another motherfuckin’ step.” Jamal thrust the gun, then finished off his meat. “I was savin’ that shit. The dead bitch I had in this here hole, she was gonna be prime too. And when I find out who grabbed her up, I’m gonna fuck them up real good, know what I mean?” His fingertips scraped at his forehead and cheeks, ripping open sores. “I can’t believe someone jacked me! In my own fuckin’ spot!”
The pain in Worm’s chest grew spines and spun within him. He shrieked, fell to the ground, and thrashed as if having a seizure. The pain burned him alive, and he no longer cared about anything but death. Even his need for the meat was dwarfed by his desire to just fucking die already. Get it over with. He couldn’t imagine that even the fire in hell could be this bad.
Make it stop. Please make it stop!
Something seized his arm, pulled it so hard he thought it would tear off completely. It wasn’t until he was being dragged across the ground that he realized it was Jamal. The next thing he knew, he was falling. He only had time to think about what was happening for a second before the top of his head met hard, packed earth. His teeth snapped shut and he was vaguely aware of a few more of them breaking free from his gums and his mouth filling with blood.
“Sorry about this, homie. But these days, meat is hard to come by, know what I mean? Everyone’s eating it, so nobody’s waking up after they die anymore.”
Worm was bent in half inside of the hole, his head almost face to face with his crotch. He was able to maneuver enough so that he could stare up at Jamal who was standing over him with the gun pointed.
“P-please…please…”
“Since the dead are so rare now, we gotta make our own. And that’s where you come in, Worm. See, I lied to you before. I didn’t pick you to come out here with me because I was scared. No. I picked you because I could tell the meat was almost out of your system. They always got that same look, you know? The ones that’re almost clean. Like they could fall over and die any second, like every time they move they can barely take the pain. I seen it so many times, I learned how to do it myself. I coulda been an actor, don’t you think?” Jamal smiled, started to giggle. One hand went into his pants and started rubbing while the other still had the gun trained on Worm. “Fuck, that was…that was some good shit. But I can tell your meat will be better. I can already taste you.”
Worm tried to struggle free, but couldn’t unfold himself, was barely able to breath. He spat at Jamal, but it splashed into the dirt wall and soaked in. “Fuck you, m-motherfucker.”
“You ain’t the first to say that, and you for damn sure won’t be the last. Try not to take it too hard, homie. You won’t feel a thing.”
The pistol spat fire, and Worm felt the first bullet enter his flesh. It hit him on the top of the head, but only hurt for a split second. Then everything was numb. Everything was fucking great.
No more pain. No more withdrawal. No more need.
There was only nothingness, and it was absolute bliss. Worm just stared up at Jamal as the man continued to squeeze the trigger, sparks shooting from the barrel. The bullets must have been hitting Worm’s body, but he couldn’t be sure. He tried to move his head so he could look at his own chest, but wasn’t able to manage even the slightest turn. A strange feeling then began in his gut, spread out to the rest of his body. It wasn’t pain. It wasn’t pleasure. It was like liquid pixie dust flowing through his flesh and bones.
And then suddenly he could move again. He was still lodged into the hole, so he couldn’t move much, but he was able to turn his head. The tingling sensation that had spread through him only moments ago was gone. At least he thought it was only moments ago.
How long have I been down here?
His chest was full of blo
ody holes. He remembered then that he had been shot. Shot? Who shot me? Where the hell am I?
“Welcome back, homie. That wasn’t so bad, was it?”
The voice came from above him and Worm could just angle his head enough to look up. A man stood there, still holding a pistol, his other hand in his pants and moving around real fast. Jamal. That was his name. His face was full of tumors and they leaked blood and pus and he had told Worm they could find corpses here. That’s what had happened.
“Unanungh. Ahhngwuahm…” Worm could think clearly what he wanted to say, but his mouth wouldn’t spit the words out right.
“You’re welcome. No need to thank me.” The man—what was his name again?— bent at the knees and leaned forward. He finally pulled his hand out of his pants, wiped his palm on his shirt. His dick looked as hard as the gun in his hand, and just staring at it conjured random memories in Worm’s fading mind.
Ted Fleet. The meat man. Corpse Snuff. Sucking Fleet’s men off for meat. Mouth full of cum. Salted pork.
As the memories floated into Worm’s mind, they popped like overblown balloons and disappeared. He only knew that he was dead. He knew that the man above him scared him, and he just wanted him to go away.
Worm didn’t recognize the other men. They walked up behind the man with the bumps on his face. They all had guns too. The man with the bumps on his face didn’t seem to realize they were there. There was a woman with them too. She was dead. Worm wasn’t sure how he knew, but he could just feel it. Plus, she had red holes in her head and chest, just like him. And when she locked eyes with him, it was almost as if he could hear her speaking.
“Help me,” her eyes said. “These are bad men.”
“I can’t,” Worm answered with his own stare. “I’m stuck and I’m scared.”
“Nanungh,” she said with her mouth.
The man with bumps on his face jumped to his feet when he heard her, looked like he was about to swing his gun toward the other men, but they jumped on him before he could, dirt sprinkling down on top of Worm’s head and face. These men were skinny too, but not nearly as skinny as the bumpy face guy.
The gun went off three times, but didn’t hit anything. One of the new men was on top of the bumpy face man, and was throwing punches into his face until the gun dropped from his hand. The new man’s fists were covered with blood, and he smiled as he kept punching. The other men laughed.
The woman kept her eyes on Worm, and he wanted to be with her, wanted to crawl out of this hole and stand next to her. She didn’t scare him like the men did.
“So it’s you who’s been putting corpses in these holes?” one man said. “We really appreciate that, don’t we, fellas?”
The fellas agreed, laughed some more. The one holding the woman tugged on her arm and swung her out in front of him.
“This one here is nice too,” the man said. “Think I’ll lube up and fuck her first.”
The fellas laughed some more, then the one with bloody hands picked the bumpy face guy up by the back of his shirt. Blood leaked from the bumpy guy’s face, turned the bumps red like cherries growing out of his skin. It looked like he was trying to say something, but he could only cough and spit blood.
“Yo, Brewster. We got us another one in here,” one of the men said.
The man with the bloody hands dropped the bumpy guy to the ground, aimed his gun, and fired. Worm couldn’t see the bumpy guy from his place in the hole, but he was pretty sure he was dead now. But not dead like him or the woman. A different kind of dead. The kind where you don’t wake up again. Worm wished he could have that kind of death. He didn’t want to be awake. He didn’t want to be scared of these men.
The man with bloody hands dropped to his knees and peered into the hole. He locked eyes with Worm and smiled, and Worm quickly looked away. There was only dirt, but he kept his eyes on it. Watched as an earthworm stuck its head out as if checking to see what all the commotion was about before tunneling backward into the dirt. Worm wished he was a real worm so he could dig himself into the ground and get away from the scary men.
“Well, y’all get down there and get him.” The man with bloody hands stood back up, grabbed the woman by the hips, and pulled her close. “Got us a nice haul today. Gonna bring in some crazy cash for this.”
One man lay down on his stomach and leaned into the hole. He swiped with his hand, but couldn’t quite get a hold of Worm. The man’s fingers clawed at Worm’s foot, but he couldn’t grab on. Worm didn’t feel any of it, but watched in horror. He wanted to lock eyes with the woman again, but he couldn’t see her anymore with the man leaning into the hole.
“Grab hold of my feet,” the man called over his shoulder.
Another man came into view, grabbed the first guy’s feet, and lowered him.
Worm did his best to get away. He thought he’d try digging since it seemed to be his only option. But he couldn’t turn his body, and then the man’s arms were wrapped around him and he was being hauled up and out of the hole.
The sight of the trees and the stars above them excited Worm. He wanted nothing more than to break away from these people, head into the woods where he could be alone. Where he could find a place to hide. The trees made him feel at peace for some reason.
The man with bloody hands stepped forward, still clutching the woman by the hips. She reached out for Worm and he reached out for her. Their hands met and fluttered against each other like fighting birds.
“This one’s fresh,” the man said as he ran his fingers over Worm’s face and body. “Look at this shit. Blood is still wet and everything.”
“That motherfucker just killed this guy,” one of the other men said, and pointed back toward Worm’s hole. The bumpy face guy lay there, his shirt and face covered with blood. His eyes were open, but he wasn’t getting up. They stared sightlessly at the stars. “Ain’t that some shit?”
The woman kept flapping her hand at Worm, and he was trying to grab it, hold her hand in his. But he couldn’t get his fingers to close the way he wanted them to.
“Look at this,” Bloody Hands said. “I think these two dead motherfuckers got a crush on each other.”
The men cackled, all staring at Worm and the woman with big smiles on their faces.
“This guy’s fresh enough…I wonder if his dick still works.” Bloody Hands reached out and pulled Worm’s pants down. He took hold of the woman’s hand, swung it toward Worm’s lap. “There we go. Stroke him good, girl.”
This caused even more laughter from the men, some of them bent over and slapping their knees.
Worm looked down as the woman’s hand was forced to rub his hanging penis. He remembered that this should have felt good, but he felt nothing. Even the woman seemed to think she was supposed to be liking this—her tongue hung from her mouth as she grunted and stared with concentration as Bloody Hands worked her arm.
“You think when he cums, maggots will come out?” one man said.
After another few minutes of this and no reaction from Worm, the men seemed to grow bored. Worm’s pants were pulled back up, and the entire group began to walk through the trees. Worm and the woman walked next to each other, something Worm was thankful for, but the men surrounded them. He tried to make a run for the trees a few times, but was grabbed and forced forward.
Worm and the woman locked eyes again as they were ushered onward.
“Where are they taking us?” she said with her stare.
“I don’t know. I’m scared. I want to stay here with the trees.”
“Me too.”
***
Once they had made it out of the woods, Worm and the woman were thrown into a van. Chains dangled from the walls, and the men wrapped them around Worm’s wrists and ankles, snapped a lock shut. The woman was next. They stood across from each other, manacled, as the van started moving.
The woman kept her eyes on Worm, but Worm didn’t want to look at her anymore. It was only frustrating him, so he directed his attention out the window
and watched as the trees zoomed by and became concrete and glass and metal.
Another memory surfaced then. The city. The alleyway.
I used to live here.
Even though the city was once his home, he didn’t want to go back there. He wanted to stay in the woods. He wanted to climb back into his hole with the other worms.
The van hit a bump and Worm was thrown off his feet. The chains tightened and he hung from his wrists. The woman had fallen too, but it looked like the bones in her arm had snapped, stabbed through the gray flesh like broken wood shards. She stared up at it and grunted.
Worm wasn’t sure how long they had been driving before the van stopped. The men got out of the vehicle, and seconds later, the back doors flew open. They grabbed Worm first, unchained him, and hauled him out of the van. One of the men held him by the arm, and Worm could tell he was squeezing hard because his fingertips were digging into his flesh, but he couldn’t feel a thing.
The woman was next, her hand hanging by ribbons of skin and meat. One of the men took hold of her from behind, wrapped his arms around her, and squeezed her breasts with both hands. He bit his bottom lip as he kneaded the dead flesh, then one hand slithered its way down between her legs and disappeared under her skirt.
The other men, as they seemed to love doing, laughed. Bloody Hands pulled something from his pocket and bit into it. It moved, pulsated. He passed it to the man next to him, who took a bite, and passed it on to the next.
Meat. That’s meat. I used to really love that. I used to think about it all the time.
Worm remembered how bad he wanted it, but couldn’t remember why he wanted it so bad. Looking at it now, he just felt sorry for the corpse it used to belong to. From the way it moved, he could tell it was scared too. Just like him.
“Fuck, man. She’s dryer than hell down there.”
“You guys are fucking pigs, you know that?” A woman’s voice. Coming from Worm’s left.
Worm turned his attention toward it, saw a small house. A group of women stood in the doorway, the one speaking out in front. She wore no pants, the oversized t-shirt hanging off her breasts, the nipples hard and poking at the fabric.
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