All tension, all feelings of guilt, gone in an instant.
Meg had smiled, supped her tea, and unfolded the morning paper, her eyes scanning the news.
That had been three years ago, and the two girls had been inseparable ever since. Nothing had ever come of Slim’s lustful feelings – Meg was as straight as they came – but neither had they driven a wedge between their almost symbiotic love and respect for each other.
Their friendship had endured.
Though Slim was far gone and out.
Madly in love with her straight girlfriend.
Still, Meg was ever-respectful of her feelings, and never exploited her. She was careful to avoid placing Slim in any situations that could lead to discomfort, or damage her self-esteem.
It only made her love her, all the more.
“So, am I right?” Meg’s voice tickled her ear where she held the phone.
“Huh? Right about what?”
“About the book, dumbshit! You’re reading him, aren’t you?”
Slim laughed, “I might be.”
“Oh, you might be...”
“It’s possible.”
“Possible and probable?”
“Maybe.”
“Let’s just assume I’m right and move on. I have news.”
Slim sat up on the bed, her attention peaked, “Yeah?”
“You know that fucking Waldo’s that just opened up?”
“Know it!? You have no idea...”
“Yeah, well, Sam was eating in there last night, with John and that gal he’s apparently seeing.”
“Pauline.” Slim interjected.
“Pauline. Well, turns out he was munching down on a GMO burger, or whatever they call those unnatural chemically mangled patties they put between bread...”
“I don’t think they call them GMO burgers, Meg.”
“Well they should. Anyway, he’s getting his munch on, sat with his John and the girl, when all of a sudden, he starts acting like he’s seriously ill. Complaining about an upset stomach.”
“No shit.”
“No, I mean, he’s like, really fucking ill. Lainie and Sparky both saw it with their own eyes. Said he looked like he was on bath salts.”
“Did he eat anyone’s face?”
“Probably.”
“Good, because that’s where your headlines are, right there.”
Meg ignored her taunts, “So they saw the whole thing...John had to carry the poor shmuck into the bathroom. Lainie said he could barely stand up, and his face was white as a sheet.”
“Fascinating.”
“No, listen. She said that after John shipped him off to the men’s room, they could hear him in there, retching.”
“That’s usually how it works, Meg.”
“Would you put a plug in your pussy, and let me talk!? You’re worse than my sister!”
“No one is worse that your sister.”
“True. Anyway, they heard him retching and moaning, and then, get this shit, they heard him scream.”
Slim felt the first real twist of concern in her guts.
She had a whole lot of room in her heart for Sam.
“What happened? Did John see?”
“John was outside. He tried to get in when he heard the scream, but apparently the door was locked.”
“What the fuck?”
“Yeah, and then all goes quiet.”
Slim was sat up straight on the edge of her bed, her butt balancing of the duvet, her mind elsewhere. “So what happened?”
“That's the kicker. No one knows. Apparently, John approached the counter, you know, where they serve food, and one of the gals who was serving told him not to worry, and that his friend was on the way to the hospital.”
“Shit. He must have been really ill.”
“Yep. Not only that - and here’s where it gets super-creepy – it turns out Sparky called John later that night to find out if there was any news from the hospital. John told him that he had called Sam’s folks, and that they had answered only after five times calling, and when they finally did, they told him to mind his own business.”
“What the hell?”
“So John called Plainfield General, and check this shit...”
Slim was unaware she was holding her breath.
“...they told John that no one by the name of Sam Stevens was present.”
“He’d been sent home?”
“No, Slim. He hadn’t been there at all. They said there was no record of anyone by that name being admitted last night. No one at all...”
CHAPTER 2
John reached to his side, grabbed the remote, and clicked the off button.
“Hey! I was watching that!” Pauline slapped him on the arm, hard enough to hurt.
John tried to ignore her.
The screen turned blue, he was glad of it. He hadn’t been watching the movie anyway. It had been Pauline’s choice. Some hyper violent, CG-infested Hollywood hokum with little in the way of plot or brains.
Were it the sort of movie John normally watched, he still wouldn’t have taken anything from it.
All his thoughts were on his friend, Sam.
A whole afternoon and still no word from Mr or Mrs Stevens.
They said they’d call back.
That had been around eight o’clock last night, and still no dice.
He was worried about Sam.
Really worried.
“I think I’m gonna call them back,” he said, more to himself than his ‘girlfriend’.
“What’s the point? You’ve already rang them five times today already. They’re obviously not home.”
“We don’t know that for sure.”
“I think we do. Don’t you think they would have answered by now? You said you guys were all close.”
John stared at the blue screen, lost in his thoughts. “We are. It’s just...his mom sounded really strange on the phone yesterday. Like she had no time for me. I’ve never heard her sound like that before.”
“Well, duh...her only son just got shipped off to hospital after throwing up half his insides. The woman had other things on her mind, John. Can’t you just let it go? I wanna watch this movie.”
John turned to Pauline, as she stuffed another handful of cheese flavoured popcorn into her mouth. Small pieces dribbled down onto her chest as she reached for more, her huge fists scooping up the remainder of the popcorn with merciless precision.
“Do we have any more of this?” Pauline asked, through the mouthful.
“Aren’t you even a little concerned?”
She looked into his eyes with deadened nonchalance. “He’s not my friend, John.”
“He’s my friend, though. You heard that scream. He sounded...”
“What?”
“I don’t know. I just don’t know.”
The girl laid beside him on the couch laughed, and he wondered just how he’d ended up here, sat beside this self-centred, rude and obnoxious creature.
I gotta do something about this girl.
Later.
Sam first.
“Listen”, she said. “Let’s just watch the movie and then you can call. It’s getting to the best part.”
“I thought you hadn’t seen it,” he said.
“I lied.”
“Nice.”
“Stop your goddam moaning, babe.”
He hated it when she called him that.
Pauline went on. “He’s probably tucked up in bed right now, reading those dumb fucking Batman comics he loves so much, and jerking off to pictures of your mommy. Fucking relax.”
What am I doing with this girl?
Too many drinks, Johnny boy...too many drinks and too much of a conscience.
And look at you now...
A drunken one night stand, morphed overnight into a living nightmare; stuck with the least likable gal in school.
Slim will never look at you, now. Your reputation as a nice guy is finished. Now your just the loser who bangs anyt
hing in sight. A laughing stock.
But at least you can be a good friend...
“You know what,” he muttered. “Fuck the movie. Mel Gibson’s an asshole anyway. And fuck this waiting game! I'm calling again.”
Pauline huffed, a waft of cheese and orange-aid stung his nostrils as he slid from beneath the weight of her arm and went for his phone. Her pendulous breasts wobbled as he pushed himself away from her.
Never thought breasts could be unattractive.
Funny old world.
Rummaging through his leather jacket, John found his mobile phone and dialled Sam’s number.
He let it ring for a few seconds. No answer. The phone was on but Sam wasn’t picking up.
Fuck!
Next, he tried calling Sam’s home phone. Like Pauline had just said, he’d already called a good few times today already, but he figured one more swing at the bat couldn’t hurt.
Again, no answer.
Dead air.
John thought back to last night, carrying his friend to the men’s room, standing by the door, his ear pressed to the wood as inside his best buddy threw his guts up.
Pauline sat at the table, giggling, finding the whole thing funny.
A gas.
The onlookers, unconcerned parents and oblivious children, red-faced staff continuing to serve, determinedly ignoring the retching, guttural sounds coming from the behind the door.
John remembered trying the handle, the door being locked, a momentary beat of panic in his chest.
And then the scream.
Sam’s scream.
John’s heart had frozen in that moment.
It sounded like he was in agony.
And then nothing.
In the good old US of A, there was no such thing as a situation that couldn’t be overlooked or overridden by self-interest, Still, to his amazement, most of the people in the restaurant had went back to their meals and their jobs, without a care in the world.
If they had reacted at all.
Had they not just heard that short, sharp howl coming from the bathroom?
Were they that self-involved?
He expected that sort of shit from Pauline, a girl known for her brazen nature and her odious way with words and people, but why were so many others so unresponsive?
After maybe thirty seconds, John had approached the pretty blonde girl at the counter, “Excuse me.”
“Yes?” she had asked, all brilliant white smiles and sparkling green eyes. Under other circumstances he would have been taken aback by her beauty.
“My friend...the guy who went into the bathroom...”
“Yes?”
“The doors locked from the other side. I can’t get in.”
The smile never left her face. “Oh, I'm sorry. We have a policy that if anyone is sick in the restaurant, we do all we can to ensure the other customers maintain their comfort.”
“Maintain their comfort!? My friend is really ill.”
“I assure you he’s fine. Our manager entered the bathroom via the rear staff entryway. Your friend is being looked after. We’re taking him to the hospital.”
“You’re taking him to the hospital? I can have my dad take him. We live just around the corner.”
That dead, lifeless smile again. “That won’t be necessary, sir. We have it all under control. You can follow him if you like, or perhaps call in to the hospital to check on him later.”
“Look...” John looked to her shirt, the name Harriet sewn into the fabric just above her left breast, “Harriet. I’m worried about him. Can I at least see him for a moment?”
“One second, sir.”
John watched, his anger rising, as Harriet sauntered behind the burger stand and into the kitchen area. Between the metal grills and milkshake stands, he could just make her out back there. She was talking to someone, though whom, he couldn’t see.
Probably the manager.
It didn’t matter.
He was going to get to see Sam.
And when I do, I’ll be taking him to hospital myself. Who the fuck do these people think they are?
He watched as the girl smiled up at the tall, obscured figure, nodded her head and turned on her heels, back towards the front area. The smile painted on her face, unyielding, was beginning to give him the creeps.
This whole place gave him the creeps.
John turned to the crowd.
There had to be at least thirty or so customers in there, some he recognised, and no one seemed to care.
He scanned the restaurant floor, all those faces, happily shoving pile after pile of junk food into their mouths, lost in their consumer reverie.
John had audibly yelped when behind him, Harriet spoke, “Sorry, sir, but my manager has advised me that your friend has already been taken to hospital. Nothing to worry about, though. I’m told he looked much better by the time he was seated in my colleagues car. It’s merely a precaution.”
“For fucks sake!” John barked.
That concrete smile never faltered, even as he glared at her, but behind the eyes...
Something...
A brief darkness.
A shadow blocking out the light, for just a splinter of a second.
Malice?
And then it was gone.
Those beautiful green eyes reflect nothing back at all.
“Fuck this place!”
John had stormed from the restaurant. Leaving behind Pauline, Harriet, and the whole damn lot of those glutinous fucks.
“Fuck it, I’m going over there.”
“Where!?” Pauline snorted.
“Where do you think!? I’m going over to Sam’s.”
“Your such a dweeb, babe, come back to the couch. I’ll make it worth your while...”
John turned to Pauline, and was unsurprised to see that she’d pulled her way too tight t-shirt up over her breasts. Two swollen mounds hung there, rippling like jelly, nipples brown and hard, like beached whales on pink beaches.
He shuddered, and hoped she hadn’t seen it.
“I’m going,” he said. And with that, John slung on his jacket and made for the stairs.
CHAPTER 3
The tall man watched as the butcher swung the meat cleaver down hard, the flesh parted like a red sea beneath the blade’s might. He stepped back a little, being careful not to let any of the blood spatter hit his finely tailored suit.
Looking down, he watched with cold consideration as the blood pooled out from beneath the table like a living, sentient thing. It coated the heels of his shoes, and he took another step back.
“Be careful,” he said.
The robust butcher’s eyes darted to his face, though he seemed unable to hold the tall man’s baleful glare.
“Sorry, sir,” he muttered.
“We must uphold appearances.”
“Of course, sir.”
The tall man reached into the folds of his suit, withdrew a crumpled, small brown leather wallet, and opened it. Inside there were cards, plastic keys that would allow for a whole assortment of doors to be opened.
A bank card.
A small card imprinted with a photograph.
A membership card to a book club.
Each card was imbued with a name.
“Have we dealt with the next of kin?” he asked, his voice chilling the air like winter ice.
The butcher swung again, this time severing the meat from the mass, “Yes, sir. They won’t be a problem.”
“Good, good.”
“And what of the companions?”
“One is ours.”
“And the other?”
“No, sir.”
“Will that be a problem?”
“It doesn’t appear so. Our numbers are growing. We’re doing great business out front.”
“Excellent.” The tall man tossed the wallet into the trash can by his side, and nodded to the butcher. “And why has it taken so long to handle...that?” he looked at the mangled meat on the table, marve
lling at the colours, the textures.
“A very busy night last night, sir. Our second night.”
“I’m aware of that,” the tall man hissed.
The butcher seemed to shrivel before him. The tall man smiled at his underling. “Be not afraid. I only ask as we have much to do. Will it be discarded this evening?”
“We have a truck waiting out back, sir. Just as soon as I finish cutting, this will no longer be a problem.”
The tall man inhaled deeply, savouring the overwhelming scent wafting from the meat in waves.
“Such a shame they don’t always take.”
“Yes, sir.”
“And usually the process is a longer one. Strange that this one should reject the organism so quickly,” he mused.
“It can vary.”
“We must be careful,” the tall man answered. “Though only for a short time. With the rate at which these people consume, there’ll be few left to resist.”
He smiled to himself as the cleaver was raised once more, its silver edge shimmering under the florescent lights of the sub-kitchen.
“Sam Stevens...” he whispered. “So sorry to see you go.”
The blade cut through the air and sliced deep into the boy’s neck, almost severing his head from his body. The boys hollowed out eye sockets seemed to watch the tall man as the butcher began to saw, ripping through the remaining tendons. With one more swipe, the head rolled onto its side. It’s dead stare finding new sights as it settled with its nose to the table.
The tall man hazarded a step forward, and peered into the cavern of the boy’s chest - a gaping glistening maw, his internal organs already beginning to putrefy within the cage of his ribs. Inside, swimming amidst the coagulating blood and viscera, some worms remained.
The tall man watched them as one would watch a beloved pet at play.
“They get so hungry, don’t they?”
The cleaver bit into the boy’s leg this time, hit bone, and stuck. The butcher grunted as he tried to pull the blade free, “Yes, sir.”
The blade pulled from the bone with a crunch, bringing wet strands of skin and muscle tissue with it. With a flick of his wrist, the butcher freed the offending flesh and it fell to the floor with a wet splat.
“Be sure to have Harriet or one of the other girls clean this place up when you’re done.”
AFTERTASTE Page 3