by R. W. Ridley
“It’s like cattle that’s been fed chocolate chip cookies. Big gooey chocolate chip cookies. You bite into a Myrmidon steak and you’re struck by a sweet, sweet savory taste sensation that will knock you off your feet and send you to heaven!”
“I think you got a problem, man,” Tyrone said struggling to hold up his bag of meat.
“You sound like a stinking drunk,” Wes said having slightly less trouble carrying his payload. “Like you’re addicted to this stuff.”
“If this is an addiction, I don’t want to be cured,” Bostic said. His demeanor had completely changed since he’d entered the Myrmidon camp. He’d gone from being almost likeable to being barely tolerable. “You people are going to love this stuff.”
Lou repositioned the bag of meat draped over her shoulder and said, “Excuse me, but I’m not touching that stuff.”
“I’m with Lou,” I said. “I’ll pass.”
“No passing,” Bostic said. “You have to enjoy the spoils of the hunt or you will offend the gods.”
“Dude,” Tyrone said, “there’s no way I’m eating this crap.”
Wes made it unanimous. None of us were going to eat it.
Bostic stopped dead in his tracks. Since he was leading us through the treeway, we all came to sudden and awkward stops. “Am I hearing you right? You’re refusing the hospitality of your host. Ain’t you got manners? Didn’t your mommas ever teach you that you eat the food you are offered no matter what?”
“As strange as this may sound,” Wes said, “my momma never advised on matters of eating monsters that used to be people. I’m a little out of the loop on those rules.”
“Fine,” Bostic said holding up his hand. “I can’t force you to eat it, but you should know I am deeply hurt by your refusal to do so.”
“Whatever,” I said. “You should be happy because it just means more meat for you.”
He grinned and pointed at me. “Now I didn’t consider that silver lining, Oz.” He turned and skipped to the next platform singing, “More meat for me. More meat for me.”
I looked at the others. They were as confused as I was.
“You think he took something?” Wes asked.
“I think he’s just really excited about the meat,” Tyrone said. “Really, really excited.”
***
We set the sacks of meat down in the kitchen and stretched our aching backs. Bostic could not erase the grin from his face. He immediately pulled out an iron skillet and started preparing the wood burning stove.
April and Gordy joined us and examined the blood-soaked bags.
“That looks completely disgusting,” she said.
“Smells even better,” Gordy said holding his nose.
“Oh my God,” Bostic said, “you people and your obsession with smells. Give it a rest.” He dropped the skillet on the stove and pointed a butcher’s knife at April and Gordy. “Your cohorts over there have passed on the best tasting meat in the world. What say you two? You game?”
“They’re not,” Lou said.
“Hold on,” Bostic said. “Are you allowed to speak for them?”
“Yeah, that is kind of rude,” April said.
“Trust me,” Lou said. “You do not want to eat that meat.”
“Why? Because you say so?” April asked with a smirk.
“Lou’s right,” I said. “You don’t want to eat that meat.”
“Of course you’d agree with her,” Bostic said. “She’s your girlfriend.”
I hesitated and then said, “Her being my girlfriend has nothing to do with why I don’t think they should eat that meat.”
Suddenly all the attention shifted to me. I had just called Lou my girlfriend. That was beyond huge.
April sat down at the counter. “I’ll have some meat.”
“April,” Lou said, “you seriously don’t want to eat that meat.”
“I said I’ll have some meat!” She slapped her hand down on the table.
Lou backed away with her hands in the air. “Fine. I’m sure you’ll enjoy it.”
Bostic’s smile got bigger. “What about you hopalong?” he asked Gordy.
Gordy looked our way before answering. We all shook our heads. “No, no, I’m cool. My appetite comes and goes. It’s gone now, but thanks.”
Bostic reached into one of the sacks and pulled out a hunk of raw meat.
Lou and I left before he started cooking it. We walked out on the back porch. I couldn’t bring myself to make eye contact with her because of what I’d said in there. She seemed to be having the same problem.
Wes burst out the door before we had a chance to break down and look at each other. “So, what’s this girlfriend business?” If I didn’t know better, I would have guessed he was her father. I suppose he was, more or less.
“I don’t know,” I said. “It’s just something that came out.”
He squinted one eye. “It’s just something that came out? What in tarnation does that mean?”
“We were just talking in there and it was something I said.” My voice was cracking as I tried to explain myself.
“I know it was something you said,” Wes said. “That’s the point.”
“Are you mad?” Lou asked Wes.
“Hell, yes I’m mad. I’ve known you two kids for... more years than I can remember. I should know about this kind of stuff.” He grabbed us and pulled us in for a big bear hug. “I couldn’t be happier. Not even if you buried me in Twinkies to eat my way out. This is about the best news I’ve heard in a long, long time.”
Lou and I worked ourselves free from his enthusiastic hug. We both searched for what to say. He was so happy, and we were so unsure about just how boyfriend and girlfriend we actually were. In a lot of ways, I was still a thirteen-year-old kid trying to make it without my parents. Years had passed since I actually was thirteen, but I didn’t even know how many.
And I couldn’t shake the fact that we were in a story. We always had been. I didn’t know if I felt that way about Lou because that’s how I really felt or because that’s the way the Storyteller wrote it. According to Tarek, I had broken the Storytellers’ rules by getting involved with the Délons’ story. That wasn’t my fight. I had changed things. So they rewrote it. But it was possible that Tarek was wrong. That I’m doing exactly what I want to do, and the Storytellers have no say over what I do at all.
The other fact that I couldn’t shake was Lou’s... status. She wasn’t real. She wasn’t like me. She was a thought in Stevie’s head. And I didn’t know why he’d planted her in the story. Everyone else was real. Why wasn’t she? Why would he do that to me? He knew that if I ever found my way back home that I’d never be able to bring her back.
He knew... my head started to spin. Stevie did this on purpose. This was just another way for him to get me back for the way I’d treated him. It wasn’t enough that he took my parents away. It wasn’t enough that I’ve had to fight to survive every day I’ve been in this insane world. It wasn’t enough that he killed my dog. Stevie Dayton wanted me to chose between Lou and going home. He wanted me to suffer even more.
We heard a loud moan coming from the treehouse. Rushing inside, we saw Bostic and April sitting at the counter, each with a large slab of meat in front of them.
April turned to us with a fork in her hand. Grease was running down the corner of her mouth and she was chewing slowly. “Oh my God,” she said. “This is seriously the best steak I have ever tasted. You should so totally have some.”
“You’re kidding, right?” I said.
Her eyes rolled back in her head as she swallowed. “I am not kidding. It’s like I have never eaten before. I cannot describe to you how good this is.” She turned back around and frantically cut into the steak.
Bostic looked over his shoulder chewing on a mouthful of steak. “Told you. You don’t know what you’re missing.”
April slammed her hands down on the counter and roared with excitement. She stood and picked up her plate. “I feel like I
could lift a thousand pounds while running a marathon. You have got to try this.” She skipped over to us and waved the plate in our faces. “Have some! Have some! Have some!”
Wes grabbed her by the shoulders. “Settle down, girl.”
She stuck her tongue out and then said, “No thank you.”
Wes let go of her and massaged his hand, “My hands.” He shook them. “They’re numb.”
Bostic snorted. “Myrmidon meat will do that. Gives you special powers.”
“Yeah!” April said holding up her fork. “Special powers!”
“Maybe you should lay off,” Lou said reaching for the plate.
April growled like an animal and spun away from Lou. “No! Mine!” She skipped back to the counter and sat down.
Startled by the quickness of April’s movement, Lou leaned into me and whispered, “We have to take that plate away from her.”
April growled even louder. “No one is touching my steak!”
Bostic snorted even louder. “That is definitely not a good idea. No good can come from that.”
“Look here,” Wes said, “I’m growing less and less fond of you the longer I know you, Bostic. I suggest you shut up and let us handle our own people.”
Bostic stopped mid-snort. Smoothly and deliberately, he stood and approached Wes with a hateful gleam in his eye. “Don’t think I forgot about that sucker punch back at the Myrmidon camp.”
Wes puffed up and stepped forward. “The only thing sucker about that punch was who was on the receiving end.”
Bostic grinned like a mad man. “I’m feeling all kinds of froggy now, fat man. I’m Superman, King Kong, and the mighty Thor all rolled up into one. That’s what Myrmidon meat does to you. Warms your body up. Sets you on fire, but in a good way.”
“You call me fat man again and I’ll set you on fire in a bad way! You’re fat as me! Fatter!”
I wedged myself in between their bloated stomachs. “Okay! Enough! Back off! Both of you!”
“Looky here,” Bostic said with a laugh. “The kid’s coming to your rescue.”
“Nobody’s coming to my rescue,” Wes said.
They pushed against each other and nearly crushed me in the process.
Ajax huffed from one side of the two men, and Ariabod did the same from the other side. They flashed their imposing teeth.
I felt the weight of the two men ease off of me. They backed away but remained locked in a stare.
“Finished!” April said holding up her empty plate. “You all can stop fighting now.”
“How did you eat that so fast?” Lou asked.
April smiled with a mouthful of the meat and said, “Did I eat it fast?” She stood up and we all gasped at the sight of her protruding stomach. Every bit of the huge steak she’d just eaten looked to be jammed into her stomach. She looked down at her round gut and dreamily rubbed it gently like a pregnant woman. “I’m still hungry.” Bostic walked into the kitchen and opened the wood burning stove. “Still got a pretty good flame going. I can cook you up another.”
“No!” Lou and I said in unison.
“There they go again, April,” Bostic said. “They’ve decided to speak for you. We don’t like that, do we?”
She placed her hand on the counter and propped herself up. “No, we do not, Mr. Bostic. I will most certainly have another steak.”
“April, I’m not trying to tell you what to do,” I said. “But you’re about to pop as it is. I don’t think it’s a good idea that you try to eat another steak.”
“I don’t think it’s a good idea that I try either,” she said plopping back down on the stool. “Losers try. Winners do, and I am a winner.”
“She’s gone out of her mind,” Wes said. “She’s drunker than a frat boy on game day. Drunk on meat.”
Bostic went for the skillet on the counter, but I beat him to it. “I don’t think it’s a good idea.”
“Son, you do not want to get between me and my skillet,” Bostic said holding his hand out.
“There’s something wrong with this meat. It’s made you...”
“More alive, Ozzie-boy! It’s made me feel more alive!” He moved around the counter. “Give me the skillet, or I’m taking it.”
“You don’t want to do that,” Wes said.
“What are you going to do, fat man?”
“Nothing,” Wes said, “but Ariabod and Ajax may have a thing or two to say about it.”
The two gorillas had flanked Bostic. The hair on their backs and shoulders was standing straight up. Their big brown eyes were narrowed down to tiny slits under their thick brows. They both shifted their weight from one side to the other over and over again.
Bostic’s demeanor softened. He held up his hand in surrender. “Relax. I ain’t interested in tangoing with you gorilla fellas. Not one bit.”
The hair went down and they backed away a step or two.
“Kitchen’s closed, little lady,” he said to April.
She had dropped her head to the counter and was on the brink of falling asleep.
Bostic walked back to the wood stove and stoked the embers with a fire iron.
The gorillas turned and headed back to the other room where Gordy had been quietly watching the drama unfold.
In a flash, Bostic spun around and dove at me with the fire iron in his hand. I stumbled back still holding onto the skillet. We both fell to the floor. Bostic landed on top of me and nearly crushed me unconscious. He quickly placed the glowing hot end of the fire iron on my neck underneath my chin.
I could smell my skin burning.
“Give me the skillet!” he said spitting all over my face in the process.
I howled in pain. The searing heat of the fire iron was unbearable.
“Get off him!” Lou said. I saw her reach down and grab the back of his collar. He threw an elbow towards her, and I heard it connect with her head.
I howled again. I raised my hand to push him off and noticed for the first time that my skin had a purple coloring. That’s when I felt cold needles running through my veins. It was so cold it burned worse than the fire iron. I placed my hand on his throat and squeezed so hard his eyes started to bulge. I buried my fingernails into his skin and almost got giddy at the sight of blood trickling down.
I heard Ariabod and Ajax charging towards us, and I exploded with anger. They were going to pull Bostic off me before I had a chance to rip his head off. I pushed him back and swung the skillet as hard as I could. Lucky for him, I only grazed his chin because I would have killed him if I’d hit him square against the side of his head like I wanted to.
He grabbed at the hand that was choking him and tried to loosen my grip.
Ariabod reached us and attempted to pull us apart, but my grip was too strong. Frustrated, he roared in my face. I roared back. I had drifted deep into my Délon side. I had every intention of killing Bostic.
Suddenly, Bostic was ripped from my grasp. I sat up, chunks of his skin stuck underneath my fingernails, and watched Ajax drag Bostic across the floor.
“Bring him back, you usless gorilla,” I said. “I’m not finished with him!”
Wes knelt down beside me. “Pull it back, Oz. Pull it back.”
“I don’t want to!” I said.
“Yes you do,” Wes said. “Yes you do. You gotta calm yourself. This ain’t you.”
“This is me.” I attempted to stand, but Ariabod pushed me down.
“Control it,” Lou said crawling towards me. “Just take a deep breath. Don’t let it take you over.”
“I want to kill him,” I said. “Why won’t you let me kill him?”
“Because that’s not you,” Lou said putting her hand on my shoulder.
It startled me at first, but looking at her I felt myself calm down almost immediately. I took the deep breath she told me to take and felt the needles in my veins go away, one by one.
Wes patted me on the leg. “The purple’s gone.”
I lifted my arm and examined it. He was right.
“I’d almost forgotten you had that in you,” Wes said.
“Me, too,” I said.
“What brought it out?” he asked.
I thought back to the sound of Bostic’s elbow smashing into the side of Lou’s head. I turned quickly to see if she had been injured. “You okay?”
“Me?” she said rubbing her temple. “I’ll live.”
“Is someone going to cook more meat or what?” April said slurring her words.
I was the first one to laugh. Wes and Lou quickly joined in. It was just too crazy not to.
***
It turned out that I’d almost ripped Bostic’s throat out. Gordy gave up his cot, and we set our giant host in it. Lou didn’t waste any time cleaning his wound with a wet rag.
“Get me the whiskey,” she said to no one in particular.
Bostic cringed and swallowed before saying in a hoarse voice, “No whiskey.”
“I need it to clean your wound,” she said.
He shook his head. “Cabinet above sink. White box.”
Wes left and was back before Bostic swallowed again. He handed the box to Lou.
Lou opened the box and raised an eyebrow at its content. “What’s this?”
“Tobacco.”
She pulled out a yellow leaf. “What am I supposed to do with it?”
“Wet it. Put on wound. Wrap neck.”
“Why am I supposed to do that?”
He swallowed with gritted teeth. “Stops infection.”
Lou looked to us to see what she should do. Wes and I both shrugged.
Tyrone said, “I think I remember my grandpa saying something about how they used to wrap wounds in tobacco.”
“Do it,” Bostic said.
Lou nodded and soaked the leaf in water. She placed it over the wound and then wrapped a strip of cloth around Bostic’s neck to keep it in place. “Still think we should use the whiskey. It helped Gordy.”
“No,” he said laying back and closing his eyes.
Our other patient was doubled over on the floor holding her stomach and groaning in agony. The Myrmidon meat was doing a number on her.