A Feast of Flesh: An extremely gory horror novel (Flesh Harvest Book 2)

by Jacob Rayne

  101

  Osmo and Campbell knelt before the creature, hands and legs bound with chain, not a weapon between them.

  Things looked utterly hopeless.

  Even Osmo was shaking like a leaf in a gale.

  The creature howled again, spraying a fine cloud of blood from its jaws.

  Dwayne stood over Osmo, his face twisted in a hideous grin. The scythe blade was held to his throat, drawing a thin bead of blood.

  ‘This is the one I told you about,’ one of the tramps said. ‘He ran over our master with a fucking tractor.’

  Dwayne nodded, wincing at the details to which he’d long been spared.

  ‘I think we’ll leave you till last,’ he said, a malicious glint in his eye.

  He smiled at the creature, beckoned it forward.

  ‘Whatever you’re planning, know that there are more of us on the way,’ Osmo said. ‘What we’re gonna do to you will make my stunt with the tractor seem kind.’

  Dwayne smiled at him. ‘You know nothing of threats, of fear, but you will.’

  The creature bent down next to Campbell, greedily sniffing at his face. He thrust his head to the side, slamming his skull into its face in an attempt to get rid of it.

  His efforts served only to piss it off. It ran its foul-smelling tongue over his face, coating it in thick bloody mucus.

  Breath that reeked of blood and death steamed against his face.

  The smell made him retch. It moved in, its jaws opening. He aimed an elbow strike back over his shoulder, mashing the creature’s lips into its teeth. Its cry almost deafened him.

  In less time than it took to blink, the teeth were against his throat, digging in enough to hurt but not enough to draw blood. It stayed there just for a second, seemingly savouring the hunt.

  Then its teeth dug in, rending his flesh with the brutal efficiency of butcher’s knives.

  His blood jetted out into the creature’s mouth, greedily slurped down. It drained him of most of his blood, leaving him weak, aching, and with the hope that he’d die soon.

  It took one more greedy pull then stood back from him, a grin forming on its blood-soaked lips.

  Campbell looked round, his eyes already seeming to take on a different view of the world.

  He felt weak, unable to even scream to voice the agony that coursed through him: the vicious wounds in his throat, the crippling mental trauma of what had happened, the feeling of his veins being filled with broken glass.

  And underneath it all, the raging thirst that had already begun to drown out anything resembling rational thought.

  102

  Dwayne smiled down at Osmo. The tramps had hold of the chains around his arms and legs, and gave them a cruel yank now and then.

  Dwayne stepped in, Osmo’s mallet in his bloody hands.

  ‘Now, we have to make this interesting, so you can’t get away so fast.’ One of the tramps moved in to restrain Osmo’s leg but he lashed out with berserk strength, knocking the tramp away. Two more stepped in to help, pinning the limb to the ground.

  ‘You’re all going to fucking die,’ he spat, blood flying from his burst lips.

  Dwayne laughed. While the tramps held his leg steady, Dwayne brought the mallet down hard on his shin.

  Osmo’s left shin shattered, the bones poking through his skin amid a river of blood.

  He screamed until he thought he was going to pass out, but Dwayne slapped his face to keep him awake.

  All around him in the darkness were the sounds of feeding.

  He squinted through the gloom and hastily wished he hadn’t when he saw a group of tramps gathered round one of the bodies from the cold room.

  They were tucking in greedily, fighting each other to be the first to sample the meat. Blood ran down their chins in thick gouts.

  He was sickened, but the pain in his leg was a more pressing concern.

  ‘Soon, your friend will be joining them,’ Dwayne said, pointing to Campbell whose blood was still flooding onto the floor.

  Osmo’s mouth hung agape as he realised that the creature had spared his friend only to pass on the infection.

  He noticed the pallor that Campbell’s skin had already taken on.

  Dwayne laughed. ‘Yes, he will change soon and you are going to be his first meal. Your best friend is going to tear you into pieces.’

  Osmo lost track of the amount of time he spent in darkness, in agony, in despair, but still the solution to his problem eluded him.

  He could see that Campbell was starting to come round a little. He knew that soon the virus would be transmitted and the need to eat would be almost primal.

  As he thought this, Campbell got to his feet. His face was drained of all colour, the veins dark threads like rivers in a snowy field. He lurched over to Osmo, sniffing the air curiously.

  His eyes fell upon his old friend and Osmo thought he saw a thin sliver of recognition, but the ex-policeman’s jaws were open, his teeth bared.

  ‘It’s me, Officer Campbell,’ Osmo said, meeting his friend’s blank gaze with his face set in a grimace.

  Dwayne grinned.

  His grin faded as sounds of utter mayhem came from down the corridor.

  Campbell still stared at Osmo. It was like he recognised him but was struggling to contain his hunger.

  Someone – it wasn’t clear who in the darkness – ran into the room.

  Osmo saw one of the tramps fall, his head facing the wrong way.

  Seconds later, a second tramp fell, a thick spray of gore flying from his neck.

  ‘You just left her to die,’ came a furious voice.

  Osmo squinted into the gloom and saw the kid they’d tried to kill back at the church.

  In his haste to get to Dwayne and the larger camp of creatures he’d forgotten all about him.

  Brian hurled himself at the next tramp, his teeth digging in hard and tearing his throat open in a hail of flying blood.

  ‘Get me out of here, kid,’ Osmo shouted. ‘I hate them as much as you do.’

  Brian looked round, snarled when he recognised Osmo.

  ‘You can rip my throat out as soon as these fuckers are dead, son,’ Osmo said. ‘Won’t have anything to live for anyway once these things are wiped off the face of the earth. But at least let me help you.’

  Brian backhanded one of the tramps hard in the face, sending him flying backwards so hard his head met the floor with a sickening crunch.

  He ran over to Osmo, a look of utter hatred in his eyes.

  This is it, he’s gonna tear my throat out, Osmo thought as the jagged fangs came closer.

  103

  ‘I’ll let you help, as long as you know that you’re going to pay for your part in my family’s deaths afterwards,’ Brian whispered.

  Osmo looked up into the face with the veins protruding like worms beneath the skin, the huge fangs dripping blood.

  ‘Would I really cross someone as powerful as you?’ Osmo asked.

  Brian thought about it for a second. ‘Guess not,’ he said.

  ‘Well get me out of here then, we’re wasting valuable time.’

  Osmo watched as Brian pulled the key from one of the tramp’s hands and opened the chain.

  His first act as a free man was to stumble over to Campbell and shove the stake into his heart with all of his might.

  ‘Trust me, I’m doing you a favour,’ he told the screaming, writhing, bleeding thing that had been Officer Campbell a mere hour ago.

  He sunk the stake in to the hilt, further splattering himself with gore, then pulled it out.

  Campbell fell, an ocean of dark blood racing from the fist-sized hole in his chest. Thick streams of it poured down from his jaws.

  ‘God have mercy on ya, Officer Campbell,’ Osmo said, his eyes misting with tears.

  He also sunk his palm into the jagged teeth already forming in Campbell’s mouth as he knew he’d need the extra strength that the infection would provide. He’d worry about the consequences later. For now, he would
gladly take any advantage he could get.

  A tramp ran in to gut Osmo with one of the sickles. Osmo would have been powerless to stop the blow but Brian had thrown himself on the tramp’s back and sunk his teeth in deep enough to puncture his jugular and send his blood racing out in a crimson deluge.

  ‘Thanks,’ Osmo said.

  Brian nodded and turned to the creature.

  Osmo followed his gaze. ‘On the count of three,’ Osmo said.

  Brian ran at it, screaming battle cries. Osmo followed, using his good leg to propel him forward. His war cry was arguably more disturbing than Brian’s.

  The creature ran towards them, looking unstoppable.

  The huge creature looked more fearsome with every step the pair of them took. Osmo raised both stakes.

  The creature seemed to remember him, and one of its hands instinctively went to the vicious scar on its belly, where Osmo had first pierced its hide.

  It screeched with a volume that was in danger of lacerating their eardrums. Osmo almost froze but he knew that it was frightened of him.

  He landed hard on its chest, his stakes digging in a few inches and sending blood spraying out of the holes in its musculature. When he tried to force the stakes fully home, they bent against the creature’s hardened muscles. He stared at the broken stakes in disbelief and realised he was going to have to find another way of killing it.

  It bellowed a cry that threatened to drive him insane and lashed out, knocking him to one side like a man swatting a fly. He landed in a bloodied heap on the floor a few metres away.

  His blurred vision made out someone racing towards him and he saw Baz, his face spider-webbed with dark pulsing veins, his mouth open in a fierce grin.

  The teeth revealed were nothing short of murderous.

  There seemed no memory of Osmo, just the thirst now.

  Osmo picked up a discarded sickle on his way in and took Baz’s head clean off with one neat swing.

  His headless body stood for a second, spraying blood into the air, then it fell to its knees, sending blood racing across the floor.

  ‘God bless,’ Osmo said, digging the tip of the scythe through Baz’s back and puncturing his heart with a wet thud.

  He watched the young lad and his small creature – though it was now much more fearsome than it had been when Osmo had pinned its head under his boot – attacking the larger creature.

  Their efforts were futile, he was certain of that, but they had already drawn blood in a number of places on the larger creature’s hide.

  Its clawed hands lashed out, knocking the smaller creature to one side in much the same way as it had Osmo. It hit the deck hard and didn’t get up.

  The lad fared a little better, using his razor sharp teeth to open a chunk of the larger creature’s neck, but Dwayne pulled him to the floor, grabbed the sickle and set to work with bad intentions.

  Brian’s chest cavity was soon cleaved open in an orgy of flying blood and broken ribs.

  The creature let out a victory cry as it reached into the cavity and pulled the heart loose with a horrendous squelch.

  As it guzzled the engorged organ, the smaller creature began trying to get up.

  Osmo had seen enough.

  He knew he was next, knew he would not be so lucky as to receive a merciful death.

  Out of the corner of his eye he saw the larger creature pinning the smaller one to the floor with its taloned feet.

  The smaller creature let out little cries that made it clear it was in the throes of sheer agony and terror.

  He watched as the larger creature bent down and opened its jaws wide, fitting them round the smaller creature’s head. Osmo winced as the jaws snapped shut, removing the head in a shower of blood.

  He dragged himself forward on his good leg, the wet crunching sounds thick in his ears.

  104

  It was maybe a full two minutes before the creature realised Osmo had gone, but it felt like much less than that.

  Certainly he hadn’t got as far away from it as he would have liked.

  Still, the dark side of the moon wouldn’t have been far enough away from it.

  He found himself in a maze of dark corridors, the creature’s panting echoing ominously in the darkness all around him.

  Footsteps occasionally sounded behind him, no doubt some of the remaining tramps trying to capture him for the creature.

  He had no idea where to go, knowing only that he had vastly underestimated the creature and its unwashed brethren.

  He kept moving, taking a seemingly random path through the tunnels while he tried desperately to come up with a plan.

  Osmo had no idea of how long he’d spent on the run, knowing only the aching in his legs and lungs.

  Every weapon he’d managed to scavenge before he fled the feeding room seemed useless, serving only to slow him down. They all felt woefully inadequate to slaughter the hellbeast that was looking for him.

  He realised that the creature’s breathing seemed to have gotten much quieter and hoped that this was because it had fallen behind rather than being close enough to try and sneak up on him.

  Being eternally optimistic, he took it as the former.

  He put his back to the wall of the corridor as he came to a crossroads.

  Choose carefully, he thought. You could end up going right back towards it.

  He plumped for the road straight ahead. That seemed to be heading away from the breathing that chilled the marrow in his bones.

  As he continued on, he heard a noise up ahead in the darkness.

  His usual response would have been to call out to it, try to psyche it out, but he was so far gone he couldn’t even think to do this. Instead he approached silently, dreading every step.

  He saw nothing that would indicate the noise, maybe just the old building’s pipes creaking, he hoped.

  This hope was dashed in a hurry as one of the tramps threw themselves at him, knocking him to the floor in a tangle of flailing limbs and gnashing teeth.

  105

  Osmo was used to hand to hand combat with the things, and knew the basic principle was to attack first – preferably with a blade – and keep attacking until the threat was over.

  For that reason, he was able to remain calm, even when the tramp’s jaws clamped over his throat and tore loose a huge chunk of his flesh.

  Even when his blood raced down to the floor.

  I’ve already been bitten, what’s the worst that could happen now? he thought.

  He plunged the stake up over, sticking it through the tramp’s lower jaw and sealing his mouth shut in a horrifically efficient manner.

  Blood raced from the hole in the tramp’s lower jaw. Osmo kept driving the stake up until a few inches stuck out of the top of the tramp’s skull amid a dark stream of blood.

  He grinned wider with every inch of the stake’s progress.

  ‘Enjoy your last meal, fucker?’ he grinned as the light went out of the tramp’s eyes and he fell back to the floor.

  As the lights up ahead came on a little he saw that he was back in the room with the hanging corpses.

  His heart sank as he once more entered the cold room, a grim testament to the creature’s hunger and brutality.

  Osmo feared he was going to go right out of his mind again when he saw the hanging slabs of meat that had very recently been fathers and daughters, mothers and sons. It was just too much to take.

  One of the bodies moved a little, its eyes seeming to follow him across the room.

  He sunk to his knees and cried for them, for his lost friends, and also for himself.

  He was startled out of his misery by the sound of ragged breathing in the corridor outside. His heart lurched against his ribs with a force that almost tore the breath from him.

  It was obviously the creature, nothing else made such thunder with its every footfall.

  It filled the doorway, rank, blood-covered, horrendous.

  He pressed himself against the nearest body, once more repu
lsed by the clammy feel of the dead flesh, and looked up to see if there was an escape route available above him.

  It gave him an idea.

  Moving faster than he ever had in his life, he fastened his feet to the chains and hung upside down. It was just a matter of holding his breath now to prevent it giving away his hiding place.

  While he had been fastening his feet to the chain, he’d noticed that there were two empty hooks near him and both of them were at the end of their respective lines.

  He realised, in a true light bulb moment, that the chains would go in opposite directions if he could get them moving.

  The place was so decrepit that he doubted he’d be so lucky, but the idea lit him up with hope and defiance once more.

  ‘Just you and me now, fucko,’ he grimaced.

  The stench of blood and death hung in the air between them.

  The creature snorted, seemingly in laughter.

  It padded closer. Then, with a movement so sudden, so violent that it almost made Osmo cry out, it slammed a clawed hand into one of the hanging corpses. The corpse bent double, thick gobbets of blood flying through the air around it, then danced musically on its chain for an eternity.

  Osmo knew it was only a matter of time before it found him.

  But he also knew if he could somehow get it attached to the chains he stood the chance of having it torn apart by the powerful mechanism that sent the carcasses their separate ways into the abattoir.

  It padded closer, swiping another body with a powerful blow. It stood with its back to him, tiny eyes struggling to pierce the gloom.

  ‘Gonna send you to see your daddy,’ Osmo grinned. ‘Down in hell.’ With that, he exploded violently down, onto its back and sunk the butcher’s hook through its face, hooking it round its lower jaw and fastening it back into the links of the chain so it didn’t come free.

  The stench of death intensified as the creature screamed.

  It lunged at Osmo, but he had moved back out of its reach.

  The creature roared in pain as blood ran down its pale torso. It lashed out wildly, but Osmo had rolled under its strikes and come up on the other side.