This whole night, from the very first moment that he’d been dealt this crummy hand and forced to drive out on his date night to this far-off residence, had been strange and often disquieting. Now, as Jack stood underneath an enormous crystal chandelier that glittered like a thousand stars in a night sky and took in the halls exquisitely hewed marble staircase, he felt truly to be the butt of some cosmic joke. This was the kind of home that Jack had only ever seen in the movies, a James Bond film or maybe one of Shelly’s Cary Grant starrers. For a trailer trash boy to be stood within the walls of such a majestic house had a pungent air of unreality about it. Not to mention that he was stood here with the incredible hulk and seven assorted Pizzas barely fit for consumption stacked in his arms.
Why would people who live in a place like this want Pizza? he marveled. Was this a case of the rich ‘slumming it’’, trying to find a connection with the common man who dwelt so far below them on the social and economic ladder? Or were they ‘new money’, still stuck in the mire of cheap living and garish tastes?
The house’s breathtaking décor seemed to nullify that theory.
Maybe they’re stoned? Jack mused, being careful not to grin.
“Wait here. I’ll take those,” the giant said.
Jack handed him the tower of fast food. In his hands, the mammoth order of not-so-fine cuisine looked like a starter. “Um, sure. I’ll just hang out here then.”
Without responding, his new friend stalked off with a noticeable lack of grace, leaving Jack standing alone amidst the vastness of the house’s great hall.
It was going on ten minutes of very awkward, very uncomfortable floor-pacing when, from the top of the shining staircase, came a jovial, brusque voice.
“Welcome to my home, son. I can’t thank you enough for the delivery! My name is Benjamin Athos, and you are?”
***
Benjamin Athos stood in stark contrast to his butler. He was a small, unassuming man whose girth gave away a taste for the finer things, and whose glowing complexion perhaps betrayed a little too much love for the liquor. Only the finery of his garb betrayed what must amount to a vast, unimaginable wealth. Jack estimated the man’s age to be somewhere around his early sixties, his long flowing grey hair and peppered beard gave him the air of a hippy crossed over to the other side, dark or light depending on the perspective. In his left hand he balanced a long, delicate, hand-carved wooden pipe that glowed softly from the tobacco within. His right hand he extended to Jack, backed up with a smile as warm and friendly as that of a loving grandparent.
“Again, it’s a pleasure to have you here, Mister...?”
“Jack, sir. My name is Jack.”
“Jack! A good strong name. It’s a pleasure to have you here, Jack, and thank you so much for coming all this way with our food. We’ve been waiting very patiently for you.”
“Um, no problem.” Jack replied in kind “Thank you for having me in your home, Mr. Athos.” It sounded like a question,
Benjamin laughed “There's no need to be nervous, my boy. My dear wife is always telling me my somewhat overzealous manner can be quite daunting, says it gives me the air of being somewhat manic.”
Jack smiled and nodded, wondering where this was going.
“I assure you, I'm perfectly sane as far as I’m aware, and I'm on no medication whatsoever, which is a fact not many men of my age can boast of. I do, however, love my food, and I tend to get a bit giddy when meal time comes around.”
Not knowing how to react to this strange man, Jack merely smiled, nodded and said, “Yeah, I get the same way around about happy hour.”
At this, Benjamin let out a roar of laughter, wholly undeserving of his lame joke, and slapped him on the arm in a gesture that was surely meant as one of camaraderie, but only succeeded in startling Jack and causing him to flinch.
“Come boy, your perplexity is showing!” he bellowed.
Jack willed himself to loosen up “Sorry, sir.”
“Call me Benjamin.”
“Sorry, Benjamin. I don’t mean to be unsociable or unprofessional, it’s just that I've never been in a place like this before, or, if you don’t mind me saying so, met a man like you before.”
Benjamin raised his eyebrows in mock shock “A man like me?”
“Yes, sir…Benjamin…by which I mean a man of social standing. Where I come from, we don’t see very many, you know...” Jack stuttered.
“Go on boy, you can say it...rich men, I assume?” He smiled as he emphasized the word ‘rich’. The man was clearly enjoying Jacks unease, whether in good nature or with malice, Jack couldn’t tell. The man was just too hard to get a bead on.
Benjamin went on “I wasn’t always rich you know – I came from a very poor family. I was raised in a humble little town called Elliston. Growing up I had, how do you say, ‘Not a pot to piss in’!”
More of that bellowing laughter poured forth from the portly little man, filling the entire hall, every bit as grand and over-egged, as the surroundings in which it echoed.
He continued, “No. I came into my fortune later in life. I won’t bore you with the circumstances through which I find myself stood here today in this magnificent home, but I assure you, Jackson, it is a long and arduous tale.”
Genuinely fascinated by this strange man, Jack said, “It is a beautiful home you have here.”
“Thank you, my boy. Thank you. And you, Jackson...” Benjamin put his arm over Jack’s shoulder in a gesture that felt entirely disarming and not a little too friendly, “Come walk with me.”
With that, Jack let Benjamin lead him deeper into the home. They turned right at the foot of the main stairway and carried on down a hall adorned with oil canvasses, each individual work of art illuminated and complimented by its own overhead light fixture. The paintings stared back at Jack as he took them in one by one. The hall seemed endless, and Jack found himself wondering just where the homeowner was leading him. He was just about to ask that very thing when Athos beat spoke again.
“You come from less privileged means also.”
“I do.” He replied. He hoped the man hadn’t noticed the reddening of his flushed face – a symptom of the ingrained shame that had been his unwelcome companion his whole life.
Struggling to lighten the subject, Jack mused, in a tone more cheerful than he felt inside, “Maybe one day I can be as successful as you, Benjamin. You escaped from your circumstances, so there’s hope for us all, I guess.”
Benjamin patted him on the back like they were old friends, “Oh, there's hope all right. Not for you, perhaps but for the select few who are willing to take the extra step to attain their dreams.”
Jack found himself somewhat surprised by the man’s casual dismissal of his future. He turned to face Benjamin, slipping out from under the man’s arm as he did so.
“I feel I have as much a chance as any, Sir. I work hard, and I have good grades.” Jack felt emboldened by his small rebellion against the rich man’s response to his ambition. He’d heard the same thing a thousand times from a hundred different teachers and had never piped up before, and it was a strange and welcome change of tact for him. And anyway, why was he stood here defending himself before this guy? He was here to deliver pizza, not be treated like pond scum.
“Oh, I don’t mean to offend, Jackson. I'm sure you’re a model student, and a young man of noble and lofty ambitions. I merely meant that to climb the ladder of commerce all the way to the top, one requires a certain, shall we say, coldness of the heart.”
A sliver of apprehension crawled slowly up Jack’s spine as Benjamin continued, his initially cheerful manner growing steadily more serious. “Take our circumstances tonight, for example. Here you are, all the way out here, many miles from home, and from the embrace of the girl you love...”
Jack flinched, “How did you know about—”
Benjamin stopped walking. It was fleeting, but Jack could have sworn a smile touched the small man’s face that looked...cruel.
“It’s my job to know these things, son. And I work to do my job well. You have a girlfriend and she is waiting for you back home, sat all alone in her trailer with a whole slew of tasteless horror movies at hand, yet here you are, spoiling your chance to win her affections, being used by an employer who couldn’t care less whether you live or die, in order to earn a few paltry dollars a week that will never, ever pave your way free from the dead-end road you’re traveling on.”
Jack was taken aback. His mind felt detached from the situation unfolding. Who was this man? How did he know these things about Jack’s life?
Jack’s skin began to crawl as the pieces feel into place.
The phone. The car that followed close behind, all the way to the mansion’s entrance.
He’d been lured here.
Jack took a few steps back from the elderly gentleman. Yes…there was a definite malice in the man’s smile now. He looked more like a wolf waiting to pounce that a jovial old aristocrat.
Get out of here. Right now!
Jack mustered up his best smile. Inexplicably intent on maintaining the charade that both now knew they were playing.
“Sir, I’d like to go now. You have a lovely home, but I really must be getting back.”
Benjamin ignored him. “Why do you think you’re here, Jackson?
“What?”
“Do you really think you came all this way to deliver Pizza Pies?” Benjamin spat the words out with unmistakable disgust.
“Sir, I don’t know what’s going on here or what you want from me, but I'm leaving.”
Benjamin stepped toward him. Jack once again backed off from this much smaller, weaker man. A cruel glee distorted Benjamin’s features, dispelling any pretense of civility. Despite Jack’s superior strength and size, he was dangerously close to panic.
“Do you really think I would allow my guests to feast on something as vulgar as that slop you brought with you, do you?” He was grinning now – a shark confidently circling its prey. “No, no, dear boy…my guests expect far finer cuisine from their host.”
Jack had no time to comprehend the aristocrat’s words. He had, however, just enough time to see a shadow loom over Benjamin’s face from his rear, and see the smaller man look high over Jack’s shoulder.
“There you are!” Benjamin Athos cried, happily to the person stood behind Jack.
Jack felt the giant butler’s breath on the back of his neck.
Before he could turn, before he could think, before he could breathe, he heard the hideous crack as something came down on the back of skull.
The all went black.
***
Jack’s world was red.
He could vaguely presume a confusion of silhouettes through the dark red blur that was his vision – silhouette’s that sometimes would resemble human forms before contorting into half-dreamt mirages. He could hear voices, too. At first, they were little more than echoes – barely perceived whispers that seemed to emanate from far, far away – but as his senses slowly returned to him and the voices grew closer, he found that he could discern certain words, although all the varying cadences co-mingled to form one devilish cacophony in his fractured mind. Now there was laughter, too. Merriment of the sort one would expect to find at a New Year’s party, or maybe a wedding. Wherever he was and whoever these people were, they were having a damn good time.
As Jack’s consciousness slowly surfaced from the timeless murk that had been its recent sanctuary, the pain hit. Blinding, relentless pain. He felt like his head had been trapped in a vice and had been slowly squeezed till it almost cracked. His skull felt a hundred pounds heavier than it should have, and when he tried to raise his head, he found it all but impossible.
Where was he? What had happened? Jack’s tempered mind grasped at shards of memory as he pried into the evening’s events in a desperate scramble for the truth. He remembered calling Shelly. He remembered the long, creepy drive through the Californian countryside, and he remembered—
Understanding washed over him like a wave that threatened to drown him. He’d been assaulted at the hands of someone while talking to the house owner. The behemoth of a man that had answered the door.
Dear God, I'm in real trouble here.
Again, Jack tried to lift his head with only a modicum more success than last time. Whatever had struck him had really done some damage. He vaguely worried that he may have concussion before the seriousness of his circumstance relocated such matters to the ‘not-exactly-your-main-concern’ compartment of his mind.
And was the laughter dying down now? Yes. He was sure it was. The cell, or wherever it was he’d been taken to, was filling with a hushed silence that somehow was far more terrifying than the gaiety that came before. He heard people shushing others. Heard glasses clinking on tables and the intake of breath from somewhere close to his right. Or was it his left? His head was still so muddled he could barely discern the difference.
“Quiet down everyone, please. Our guest is waking up.”
It was a man’s voice. Unmistakably that of the stately mansion’s proprietor and architect of his captivity: Benjamin Athos.
“Ruth, darling, could you please wipe his face down? The poor boy must be very much visually impaired behind all that blood.”
So that's why his world was a terrible deep red – blood from the wound he’d sustained must have run into his eyes, all but blinding him. He felt soft hands gently lift his head, and then the ice-cold sting of fresh water as someone dabbed at his face with what felt like a cloth. He clenched his eyes shut and fought to hold back a scream as the person propping up his head ran their hands over whatever wound had been dealt him back there.
“There now, Mary. Be as gentle as you can. Let Ruth do her work. We don’t want his pain to begin just yet.” That was Benjamin again.
Pain to begin.
Just yet.
Jack’s stomach turned at the words.
A girl, presumably Ruth, said, “All done, sir,” and the iciness of the water was replaced with the familiar warmth of a dry, lightly heated cloth. He felt no comfort as he struggled at last to open his eyes properly. Jack had a feeling he may have fared far better remaining in the dark.
He had to see, though.
He had to know.
Slowly, and with near-herculean effort, Jack opened his eyes to their fullest, and as the previous blurriness receded, he struggled to gather his senses.
The first thing he saw was light. All encompassing, it burned into his eyes and he felt the headache that had been throttling his senses intensify. He peered into the white glare and, realizing what he was seeing above only elevated his confusion. He was looking at a chandelier, head on. Its radiance looked like a light shone down from the heavens, far out of reach. There, laid on his back and staring up at the glittering light, he felt far closer to Hell.
“You must have struck the poor boy harder than we first assumed, Patrick,” Athos said. He cleared his throat as though mildly embarrassed. “Look to your side, son.”
Jack eyes followed the sound of the voice till they fell on Athos. The man was grinning. Sat to his left was a woman of such beauty that under other circumstances Jack would have deemed her a heavenly vision. Here and now, though, there was nothing angelic about her appearance, her smile held no warmth. He found himself repelled by its chill.
Jack drew his gaze from the dead-eyed beauty and back to his captor, looking for some explanation as fear burned through his veins like liquid nitrogen. He was dimly aware of violins playing. The music was sad and despairing – a requiem of some sort. He fought to peer beyond Benjamin and could make out a quartet of musicians sat in a circle by the far side of the hall, poised and fixed in their concentration as they teased the bitter melodies from their instruments. There were two women and two men. The women were topless, their firm breasts jutting out above their instruments, jiggling as they worked their dark magic. The men, dressed in dinner-suits, had their eyes closed as they played. Behind them towered fo
ur enormous windows boasting stained-glass illustrations.
Jack’s heart thundered in his chest, threatening to erupt as he took in the hideous art. These were depictions of degradation and carnality the likes of which he could scarcely comprehend. One window showed two men suckling on young girl’s breasts as two more men squeezed their penises into her empty eye sockets. She appeared to be in a state of ecstasy. Another showed two men masturbating over what appeared to be a severed head, and yet another depicted a naked, screaming man, impaled anally on what looked to be a serrated spear. The borders of all four looming windows were adorned with a host of such images. Jack’s stomach churned at the sight of them. He was looking at an ode to evil.
Outside, the thunder roared, and the rain lashed the windows like a thousand tears.
Looking back at Benjamin, Jack attempted to speak but found the words wouldn’t come.
“Don’t even try, Jack. You’ll find it quite impossible. Patrick has administered a little something to keep you quiet. You’ll also find that it pointless to try to move from the neck down. Don’t worry though, you’re not paralyzed. As I'm sure you’re aware from my somewhat overzealous butler’s ‘administrations’, you can still feel pain. We prefer it that way. It’s not necessary that we bear witness to your pleas or to your screams. It’s only of import that you feel such pain as would make you scream, were you able.”
Laughter rose from all around Jack, male and female, adult and child.
“Can you see better now, son? Yes?”
Jack could only stare pleadingly into the Athos’ eyes, searching for mercy and finding absolutely none.
“Now that you have a feel for your surroundings, and I do hope you’re impressed by my home, perhaps you could be so courteous as to greet our guests in full.”
Jack managed to raise his broken cranium from the table where he lay, feeling the dried blood that caked the back of his skull peel away from the wood. He looked down towards his feet. He was horrified to find that he was completely naked and had been shaved of all bodily hair. A whole host of Athos’ guests were sat around the table. They were dressed in the finest clothing. Diamonds sparkled around swan-like necks, affluent looking gentlemen smiled at him as they supped on wines of varying hues. To his left, a little boy and girl, dressed every bit as extravagantly as the adults, sat between a young man and woman, intently sipping a clear liquid from glasses that looked to be made by the finest craftsmen. He turned his head to his right, where sat yet another small boy, adorned in a clean white shirt and a bowtie. The boy’s face was cold as stone, making an obscenity of what should have been youthful verve. He stared intently as Jack, and as he toyed with his cutlery a portly lady to his side slapped his palm gently, admonishing him. She looked to Jack as she did so and smiled apologetically as though ashamed of the child’s manners.
Consumed- The Complete Works Page 3
