MEAT : The Definitive Uncut Edition

by Michael Bray

  “Well, the way I see it, there’s no sense in us swamping people with information and coming across like a pair of lunatics. As I said earlier, I’m pretty sure most of them already know what happened here. They should be easy enough to get on side. The problem will be those who are either in denial or refuse to believe it.”

  “Okay, that makes sense. So what do you suggest?”

  “The Scooby Doo method.”

  “Say again?” Garrett asked, genuinely puzzled.

  “Let’s split up and go at this individually. It will look a hell of a lot less like we are pulling some kind of prank, which is my main concern. At least as individuals, these people will have to take us at face value.”

  “Okay, I can go with that idea.”

  “I’ll take the geek; you talk to the suit over there. We can take alternate aisles. I'll do the next one over, and you skip on and do the one after that. When you hit the top of the store, you’ll be in the clothing department. I’ll meet you up there, and we can see where we stand.”

  “Sounds good to me. Let’s do it,” Garrett said as he started to walk away.

  “Hey, man.”

  Garrett turned and looked at Mark, a terrified kid who, just like him, ended up in the wrong place at the wrong time.

  “Yeah?”

  “Be careful.”

  “Same to you.”

  Mark nodded and walked towards the pro wrestling loving nerd. Garrett watched him for a moment, still unsure how to figure him out. The crushing claustrophobia of being locked in the store threatened to overcome him, so he forced himself into action. Hoping that somewhere amongst the shoppers in the store, there was someone who could take charge and get them out of the mess they had inadvertently walked into.

  CURIOSITY & THE CAT

  Silas was starting to think something was wrong. He gripped the steering wheel, staring at the slab of inviting yellow light which spilled out onto the pavement. His friend should have been back by now, and he was starting to get the itch to run. He glanced at the rearview mirror, first staring at his own eyes then at the rosary beads hanging from plastic. Brought up by a religious family in Mississippi, Silas had always been expected to become a good citizen and follow in the footsteps of his family.

  Certainly, his father had been a good man, a hard worker who did everything he could for his family. His mother was the disciplinarian, ruling the house with an iron fist. Still, despite the strict upbringing, something in Silas just couldn’t get used to living like everyone else. He never saw the point of working a dead end job and struggling to make ends meet, especially when there was a world full of gullible people and easy money to be made. It was at this time, as a wiry fourteen year old that he had decided to become a career criminal. Unlike many who found themselves mixed up in crime, he didn’t need to do it. He had money. He had a home. He also had an insatiable urge to see how far he could go, how much he could push the envelope without getting caught. People looked at him and saw a black guy, and assumed the worst. The truth was he was an educated man. He had enough qualifications to get a good job which paid well, and yet it never appealed to him. The idea of joining the rat race and becoming a slave to the machine horrified him. No. He would much rather live this way. Taking risks, savoring the thrill of getting away with it.

  He stared at the entrance to the supermarket again and ran a hand through his hair. For the last twenty years since he made the decision to go into his unique career choice, he had learned to rely on his instincts. And now, they were telling him to get the hell out of there. He checked his watch and found himself completely unable to make a decision either way. He reminded himself that situations like this were the reason he usually worked alone. He checked his watch, and the same question reverberated through his head again.

  Why hasn’t he come out yet?

  Straight on the heels of that question, another followed, a slight variation of the first.

  Why hasn’t anyone come out of there?

  Although it went against everything they had agreed to beforehand, his curiosity wouldn’t be overcome. In fact, the more he thought about it, the more curious he was. He glanced again at the black rosary beads and crucifix which used to belong to his mother, then with a sigh, shut off the engine, climbed out of the car and started to cross the road towards the store.

  Bernard

  Garrett managed to keep his expression neutral as he looked at the rag-tag collection of shoppers who had gathered in the clothing department. Mark walked towards him, and they shared a look which said they were both thinking the same thing.

  It wasn’t going to be enough to fight their way out.

  “Is this it?” Garrett asked, hoping there would be more.

  “Yeah, this is everyone.”

  Garrett made a quick count.

  “I’m sure you said there were more people in the store than this?”

  “There are, some didn’t believe me, and some have just lost it.”

  Garrett nodded. He had seen a few himself as he tried in vain to get people to believe him. He half wondered if speaking to them and looking into their dead, haunted eyes was a glimpse into the future for them all.

  “Yeah, I saw a few of those myself.”

  “Fuckin’ awful to see, man. I think on some level they know what’s going on, but something inside seems to have switched off. They’re walking around like fucking zombies.”

  Garrett grimaced and turned his attention to the rest of the people who were milling around the clothing aisle. One of them caught his eye, a skinny, sour looking man with a flat nose, deep forehead, and a long cruel mouth. His attire—sharp black suit and tie—screamed lawyer or some other kind of pencil-pushing profession. The man caught Garrett’s eye and strode purposefully towards him.

  “What’s going on here?” he bellowed, addressing Garrett. “Your friend here insisted I come with him, and now I want to know why.”

  “Are you telling me you don’t know? I already told you,” Mark interjected.

  “I only came in here to pick up some God-damn pills for this headache. Somebody better start talking sense to me right now, because the things you said, young man, are distasteful, to say the least.”

  Garrett flicked his eyes towards Mark, who wasn’t even attempting to hide his disdain.

  “Whatever, man, suit yourself,” he muttered.

  “Look, please just calm down, and we will explain. It’s vital you don’t draw attention to us,” Garrett said quietly.

  The man snorted and shook his head.

  “Attention? You do realize you have us all standing around doing nothing at the top of the God-damn store, don’t you?”

  Garrett flushed with both anger and annoyance at his own stupidity. Despite his belittling tone, the man was right.

  “Mark, go see if you can spread people out. Tell them to look busy, but keep it casual.”

  “I’ll try, but it was a hard enough sell getting them to believe me in the first place.”

  “If anyone gives you any trouble, show them the free samples.”

  Garrett was surprised at how easy the words came, and he saw a disturbed look flash up in Mark’s eyes.

  “Got it. I’ll do my best,” he said before walking away, dragging Leena in tow.

  Garrett felt a light hand on his elbow, guiding him away from the group. The skinny business man spoke quietly as he led the way.

  “Look Mr…"

  “Garrett.”

  “Look, Mr. Garrett. I think we both know what’s going on here.”

  “Yeah? Speak for yourself,” Garrett grumbled, looking the man in the eye.

  “Come on, isn’t it obvious? That kid is obviously on something. Kids these days are on all kinds of drugs. However, you, you at least seem sensible. So please, man to man, tell me why you are going along with this deception?”

  Garrett disliked the man. He was normally not one to judge, and was a firm believer in giving people a fair chance, but everything about him from his
overpriced suit to his patronizing tone was rubbing him up the wrong way. Worse than that, he could already sense the man could—given the chance— stir up trouble. Garrett lowered his voice and turned away from the crowd.

  “Do you have a name?”

  “Winthorpe. Bernard Winthorpe.”

  Garrett nodded. The name fit like a glove.

  “Look, Mr. Winthorpe, here’s the deal. Something is going on here, and in truth, I’m still having trouble believing it myself. But I need you to keep calm and most of all help me to get the rest of these people onside.”

  “Onside with what? You still haven’t told me what’s going on.”

  “You really haven’t seen it, have you?”

  “Seen what?” Bernard hissed.

  “This place, what it really is underneath.”

  “This is preposterous and I think I have heard enough. I’m leaving.”

  Bernard turned to leave, and before he could stop himself, Garrett grabbed him by the elbow and spun him around.

  “Listen—”

  “GET YOUR HANDS OFF ME!” barked Bernard, a flush of color rising up into his cheeks.

  Garrett looked at the milling crowd, who was now watching the pair with nervous interest. Garrett released his grip, and Bernard smoothed down his suit.

  “Look, I don’t know what your problem is, but you need to get a grip—”

  “No, you need to get a grip. You and that kid are obviously trying to play some kind of joke. Well, find some other scapegoat because I won’t play along with it.”

  “Just look around you, for God’s sake.”

  “No,” Bernard said, shaking his head defiantly. “I won’t play along with these games. I won’t be part of the joke.”

  A flash of anger raged through Garrett. He could feel his hands shaking, and had to ball them into fists to stop himself from lashing out and hitting Bernard in the face.

  “All right,” he hissed, “If you don’t want to listen to me, then don’t listen to me. Go see for yourself. Check the meat aisle. Even better, check the special freebies in aisle four.”

  Bernard grinned an ocean of white against his cocoa skin.

  “Oh, you’d like that, wouldn’t you? Well, your joke-shop props won’t work on me. This isn’t the God-damn movies. By all means, you go ahead and do whatever it is that you feel the need to do, just leave me alone.”

  Bernard made to leave, and for the second time, Garrett grabbed him by the arm and stopped him.

  “So you do know? You’ve seen what’s going on here?”

  “If you mean the rubber feet and pickled baby props, then yes. I’ve seen them. And frankly, I’m not impressed. This joke is in incredibly poor taste,” he shot back, pulling his arm free.

  Garrett saw it in him then. Saw that behind the defiance and the blind anger, Bernard was as frightened as the rest of them. He just hadn’t figured out a way to deal with it yet. Hoping to diffuse the situation before it escalated out of control, Garrett lowered his voice.

  “Look, I know this situation is messed up. Hell, I’m having trouble dealing with it myself. Either way, what’s happening here is real, and like it or not we need to deal with it.”

  “Do what you want as long as you keep me out of it.”

  Despite knowing Bernard was just a man afraid, Garrett’s dislike for him didn’t dissipate. If anything, it grew. He leaned close and grinned, wondering if it looked as insane on the outside as it felt as it stretched across his face.

  “Okay, point taken,” he whispered. “You don’t believe any of this at all. I get it. If that’s the case, then you wouldn’t mind doing me a favour.”

  “I hardly think—”

  “My car is parked out front. It’s a red Toyota pickup. I’d like you to go outside and grab my spare phone from the passenger seat.”

  “This is ridiculo—”

  “Don’t bring it in here,” Garrett continued, not letting Bernard get a word in. “Nobody can seem to get a signal inside the building. When you’re out there, call the police. Tell them to send everything they have down here to help us because even if you can’t or won’t see it, we are all in a dire situation. I’d go so far as to say we’re in the shit up to our necks, maybe even higher. So, what do you say, Bernard? You fancy giving it a go?”

  Garrett stood tall and held his car keys out to Bernard, horrified to find the sick grin wouldn’t fade.

  “No, I’m not ready to go yet.”

  Garrett could see a light sweat forming on Bernard’s brow, and even though he knew he was being cruel, he couldn’t help turning the screw a little more.

  “Come on, Bernie, what is there to be afraid of? This is a big prank, after all, remember? Yep. Me and all of these other people were so intent on playing a prank on you— a man I’ve never met and would have nothing whatsoever to gain from fooling— that we rented out an entire supermarket, which we staffed and then filled with severed body parts, all in the name of comedy. How about you get your head out of your own ass and pay attention to what’s going on here?”

  “You’re as deluded as the kid. You ought to know better!”

  “Forget the denial, and actually, look at what’s going on around you.”

  “I refuse to be drawn into this fantasy of yours,” growled Bernard.

  “Then step outside and make that call for me.”

  Bernard grinned, his face twisting into a sneer.

  “Do your own errands. I won’t do it.”

  “Why?”

  “I don’t have to justify myself to you.”

  “Because you know you will never make it.”

  The two men were now nose-to-nose, Garrett smiling, Bernard wide-eyed and glaring.

  “Do it yourself. Just leave me alone,” Bernard whispered, and walked away, melting back into the group.

  Garrett walked in the opposite direction, ignoring the questioning eyes of the people who seemed to be looking to him as if he had the answer to their collective problem. Mark was standing with the old couple Garrett had seen when he first entered the supermarket.

  “I take it that didn’t go well?” Mark said with a nervous grin as Garrett approached.

  “You could say that.”

  “Are you okay, son?” the old woman said, smiling warmly.

  “I’m fine, thank you.”

  “This is Mr. and Mrs. Harwell,” said Mark, who still couldn’t quite manage to distinguish grimace from smile.

  The old man held out his hand and Garrett shook it.

  “Mark here has filled us in on the situation,” the old man said, subconsciously putting an arm around his wife’s shoulders. “This seems to be quite the situation.”

  Despite his age (which Garrett put at seventy or so) the old man seemed sharp. His hair was white and wispy like cotton, and he wore his sideburns in long lamb chops down his cheeks. His eyes were the colour of lead, and his face was set in a determined grimace. His wife was shorter and a little overweight. She wore a red head scarf and wore the same frightened expression as many of those waiting to be told what to do.

  “Donald and I didn’t even see the...objects in the refrigerators. We’re both vegetarians,” she said softly as she wrung her hands.

  “How are you both coping?” Garrett asked.

  “Okay, under the circumstances,” Donald muttered. “Any idea what we do now?”

  “I’m not sure yet.”

  “It’s looking pretty bleak, isn’t it, son?”

  Garrett nodded as he felt his stomach plummet into his shoes.

  “So what did the suit have to say?” Mark asked, hoping to break the tension.

  “He’s in denial. Thinks this is all a big hoax designed to make him look stupid.”

  “Why is he still here then?” Mark responded, glaring toward Bernard, who was standing on his own and checking his phone for signal, with the same success rate as everyone else.

  “I asked him to go out to my car and grab my phone since he thought it was all bull, but he wo
uldn’t do it. I think part of him knows what’s going on here; he’s just not quite willing to accept it.”

  “Want me to try it, son?” Donald asked, looking Garrett in the eye.

  “No, I wouldn’t ask you to do that. Hell, even though Bernard is a dick, I wouldn’t have let him go through with it. I just wanted to see if he would.”

  “So what do we do now?” Donald asked, and Garrett found all eyes were on him. He was about to admit he had no clue when Mark spoke.

  “Hey, check it out.”

  They all turned to look in the direction Mark had nodded.

  One of the other customers— the businessman in the brown overcoat that had been in the magazine aisle— was heading to the checkout with his magazine. Arsenio was his name, and Garrett had tried without success to convince him to join the rest of the people at the back of the store. He had outright refused despite Garrett patiently explaining the gravity of their situation. For a time Arsenio had responded with grunts or nods, then eventually stopped responding at all and stared at the words in his magazine as if Garrett didn’t exist. Frustrated, Garrett had left him to his own devices and now watched along with the rest of the group as he approached the checkout.

  One of the checkout girls put down her nail polish and took his magazine, scanning and placing it into a red branded Grueber’s bag. Garrett could see them engaged in conversation, a little lighthearted banter. The girl laughed at something Arsenio had said then gave him his change. It looked for all the world like a regular transaction. No monsters, no things that go bump in the night. Garrett flicked his eyes towards Bernard and was surprised to find his gaze met. Bernard had a look on his face, an arrogant sneer which said, ‘I told you so, you dumb shit.’

  Garrett looked away and exhaled, not realizing he had been holding his breath. They all watched as Arsenio slipped through the checkout and walked towards the door. For a split second, it crossed Garrett’s mind they might, in fact, have all been wrong, and walking out was an option after all. No sooner had the thought presented itself than everything seemed to happen.

  Arsenio was almost free and clear when the mountain of a security guard stepped forward and held out a hand. He and Arsenio engaged in conversation for a moment. Arsenio tried to push the security guard’s hand away and held up his receipt. The guard— the one earlier (and accurately) referred to as Lurch, shook his head and spoke into his radio attached to the shoulder of his white shirt. Arsenio pointed over to the girl at the checkout, but she was paying no attention, too busy repainting her nails for the tenth time as she waited for her next customer to even acknowledge the commotion.