As Calico tossed a fresh body, the addicts would change direction and attack, like piranhas in a frenzy. He could barely throw them out fast enough. And more addicts came, from every direction.
“Eat up. Eat every fucking scrap.”
Only one body left.
He lifted Fleet’s headless, twitching corpse, displayed it for Fleet’s head and smiled. “And your bosses are next, you hear me? I won’t stop until every last one of you is dead.”
He didn’t even have time to toss the body before a horde of meatheads ripped it from his hands. They made quick work of it, stripping flesh with teeth and fingers. Fleet’s head silently shouted, nearly rocked itself off the truck.
Calico palmed the head, spat on it right between the eyes. He whistled, and every face turned his way, stained with coagulated, dark blood.
“This one’s special,” he said, holding the head for all to see. “Best high you’ve ever had.” And he tossed the head into the crowd, watched for a second as it was cracked open like a hardboiled ostrich egg and its contents were scooped out.
Calico slid into the pickup, lifted Beauty’s body into his lap, then kissed her on the top of the head.
“That was fucked up,” Paco said.
“Is it over yet?” Sophia said, one hand covering her eyes, the other clutching Myron.
Calico chuckled, motioned for Paco to start driving.
“So, where are we going?” Paco said, his eyes still darting to the rearview to watch the feast behind them.
“New York.”
As they sped down the road, Johnny Cash’s voice filled the cab. Paco slammed on the brakes, mouth hanging open as he ran his fingertips through his hair.
“What is it?” Calico said.
“Mama and Papa…our parents. They were taken to the meat processing plant just a couple of days ago. Here, in the city. We can…we can still save them!”
Calico shifted in his seat so he was facing Paco. “If it’s already been days, trust me, you don’t want to see—”
“They’re our parents! We have to try!”
Calico wiped a palm across his face, sighed, and nodded. “Yeah, you’re right. Make a U-turn and I’ll show you where to…”
A black helicopter roared above them, kicking up dust and garbage. Paco saw the police cars flying in from all directions just as the pistol was pressed to his temple, another to Calico’s from the passenger window.
“Don’t move a fuckin’ muscle, you hear me, boy?”
Sophia screamed and covered her eyes.
The man holding the gun to Calico’s head swung a nightstick with his other hand, smashed it into Calico’s nose and knocked him out.
“We got ’em,” the officer at Paco’s window said into a walkie-talkie. Then he thrust the gun harder into Paco’s head. “Get the fuck outta the car, boy.”
Paco had a chance to turn and lock eyes with Sophia. She reached for him but he was yanked out of his seat and carried away.
“Paco! Paco come back!”
Paco tried to call for her, but the hand that was clamped over his mouth prevented it.
Knock His Teeth Out For Me
The second guy’s cock tunneled its way into Worm’s throat, and he had to take in air through his nose even though only one nostril was working. Worm was fighting a cold along with the withdrawal that coursed through his body like lava in his veins, and his left nostril was clogged with snot—no matter how hard he blew out of it, he couldn’t clear it. And now his throat was stuffed with warm, veiny cock.
But as long as he got a taste afterward, it would all be worth it. He would suck a million cocks for just one more taste.
“Always thought you had dick sucking lips, you know that, Worm?” Chaz used a handkerchief to wipe the moisture from the head of his softening erection, then tossed it to the pavement, stuffed his package back into his slacks. “Even though I never really liked you back in the day, seeing you like this is kind of fucking depressing, know what I’m sayin’?”
Worm wanted to say: “Fuck you, asshole!” but there was that cock sliding in and out of his throat, stuffing his words back down where they came from.
Worm knew Chaz from his days working for Ted Fleet three years ago. Worm hated the motherfucker, hated every single son of a bitch on Fleet’s payroll. But this guy, the one now gripping his head with both hands and thrusting harder and harder…Worm didn’t know him. Must be a new guy.
“You believe this sack of shit used to work for us? Was a closet junkie the whole fuckin’ time, too. Don’t know how he hid it for so long.”
“Oh…oh sh-shit…” The new guy grabbed Worm by the ears and squeezed as he shot his load.
Worm was grateful that it squirted to the back of his throat and straight down his gullet so he wouldn’t have to taste too much of it. When Chaz had finished only a few minutes ago, he pulled out, let his juice splash over Worm’s face, into his hair. The new guy had been so eager for his turn, Worm didn’t even have time to clean himself off.
“Goddamn, you suck good dick,” New Guy said as he wiped the last dribbles of cum onto Worm’s cheek.
Worm backed away, cleaned his face with his sleeve, swirled his tongue around his mouth, and spat. “All right, I did what you asked. Give it to me. Hurry, man, please.”
“Hold the fuck up. I was telling Clarence here a story. Wasn’t I, Clarence?” Chaz pulled a brown cigarette from his jacket pocket, lit it, took a long drag before pulling it away from his lips.
“Mmm hmm. Sure was.” Clarence tucked himself back into his pants, readjusted, and massaged his groin as he stared down at Worm.
“See, Worm here, he got caught eating meat on the job. Who was it that caught you again, Worm?” Chaz took another drag, and as he laughed, smoke shot from his nostrils. “Oh that’s right, it was me, wasn’t it? Motherfucker was in the bathroom stall, the handicapped one. Needed the extra space I guess. He was so fucked up, he didn’t even know I was standing there watching him. One hand jerking his dick, the other reached around to the back, two fingers deep in his asshole. Let me tell you, that was a fuckin’ sight there.”
“Come on, Chaz. Quit fucking around, man. Let me have it.” Worm felt swirls of embarrassment squirming through his stomach, but his need for meat overpowered it. Lightning bolts of pain crackled along his skin, like electric eels were running races over every inch of his body. “Oh fuck, man. Please…I did what you asked…please.”
Clarence stared down at Worm with a wrinkled nose and curled lip. He shook his head as Chaz continued.
“See, Clarence, that’s what they do. The meatheads are always fucking or playing with themselves. Can’t help it. I tell you, it’s a good thing they can’t have babies, otherwise the city would be infested with fucking alley trash fetuses, you know what I’m sayin’?”
“Makes me sick.” Clarence unwrapped a strip of gum and bent it into his mouth.
“Come on, guys. This is…this is bullshit.”
“What makes it worse is that Worm was higher up than I was at the time. He used to tell me what to do. Fleet actually trusted this piece of shit to give orders, you believe that? I’d even go so far as to say he was one of the old man’s favorites. And the whole time he’s sneaking meat. How long did you think it would last, Worm? Huh?”
“Fuck you, man. I don’t need to hear all this shit…I-I just need my taste. Now give it here!” Worm widened his eyes and bared his teeth, but he stayed in his spot on the ground in front of the two men, didn’t move toward them. It hurt too damn much to move.
“Well that wasn’t very nice, was it, Clarence?”
“Sure wasn’t.”
Chaz rocked his foot back and swung it forward, caught Worm under the chin and sent him sprawling backward into the brick wall behind him. Worm’s head bounced off the hard surface and stars exploded in his vision, ignited his already aching body. Worm moaned and curled up into a ball, spat a mouthful of blood onto the concrete beneath him—a tooth lay in the red puddle, an
d he searched his mouth with his tongue and found the empty, raw spot where it came from.
“P-please. I’m sorry…I’m sorry, okay? Oh fuck, it hurts so bad. Just let me have it, guys. Please just let me have it.”
“Why didn’t y’all kill his ass?” Clarence said. “I mean, he was stealing, right? Broke the rules. Why is this motherfucker still breathing?”
Chaz laughed. “Killin’ him woulda been too easy. Look at him. Fleet knew it would lead to this eventually, always does for the meatheads. No, killin’ him was no good. This sack of shit needed to suffer.” Chaz swung his foot again, caught Worm in the stomach.
Worm flipped to his back, clutched his belly, and rolled from side to side. He couldn’t catch a breath, could only grimace and squeeze his eyes shut as he writhed in pain. As he waited for his lungs to inflate and for the agony to subside at least a little, he thought back to the day Fleet let him go. The old man looked genuinely disappointed, hurt. Fleet made it clear on the first day that he wouldn’t tolerate any of his men eating meat, not even for their regular daily dose. Told Worm that anyone caught using would be killed, processed, and handed out to the junkies.
Worm wished they had killed him. And Worm knew that what Chaz had said was bullshit. He wasn’t alive because Fleet wanted to see him suffer. It was because the old man actually liked Worm, used to tell him all the time—he thought banishing Worm to the streets was a favor.
Worm had good ideas, always did. That’s why Fleet put him in charge of so many men. Worm knew that if Fleet would have caught him himself, he probably would’ve given him a pass, but since it was Chaz that walked in on him that day, Fleet had to make an example. Worm understood…but he still wished the old man would have just fucking killed him. The meat he had eaten that day was extra potent, and by the time he was coming down off his high, he was already in Fleet’s office surrounded by the other men.
He thought about killing himself every day, but his addiction wouldn’t let him. The need for his next fix was greater than his desire to die.
“But you know what?” Chaz said. “I’m glad we didn’t kill him.”
“Why’s that?”
“Motherfucker sucks the best dick. Better than any bitch I ever had.”
“Ain’t that shit the truth.” Clarence chuckled and popped his gum.
Worm managed to drink in some air as he rose to his hands and knees. Every bit of flesh on him felt like it was cooking from the inside out, as if his bones were red hot and broiling him. He coughed, wiped the blood and phlegm from his mouth.
Chaz bent down beside him, looked him in the eye. He took a long puff from his cigarette, blew it in Worm’s face. He found a splash of his own cum on Worm’s shirt, put the butt out on it. “Be good, Worm. You’ll be seein’ us, yeah?”
Even though Worm wanted to reach out with his mouth and bite this son of a bitch’s nose off his face, he just nodded, continued gasping and spitting blood. He was even going to attempt a smile, show these guys there were no hard feelings as long as he got his taste of meat. But his already bloody lips were met with a ball of knuckles that broke another tooth and sent him crashing face-down to the pavement.
“Ungh…” It felt like Worm’s jaw was on the other side of his head. His chin smacked the ground, sent a shockwave up to the top of his skull. A cry sputtered from his lips, and he curled himself into a ball and wrapped his arms around his head and face.
Something hit him on the elbow and dropped beside him. All of the pain, the shame, melted away as he realized what it was. He quickly uncurled himself and grabbed the cellophane-wrapped meat, began furiously unwrapping it. His tongue swirled over his lips and his dick started to harden.
Chaz and Clarence cackled as they slid into the black SUV at the end of the alley, but Worm didn’t pay them any mind. He had what he wanted, and the shit he had to do to get it no longer mattered.
He stared at the strips of meat. Something wasn’t right. The color was off, even the way it felt. Worm put it to his nostrils and sniffed, then blew the scent out of his nose and cursed. Pork. They had given him fucking dried, salted pork.
The SUV was already backing up, and the two men continued to stare at Worm and laugh, elbowing each other and shaking their heads.
Even though the agony was like an open flame engulfing his body with every movement, Worm forced himself to his feet and chased after the vehicle. “No! You fucking motherfuckers!” He threw the pork strips in their direction, shook both fists as he ran. “Come back here, goddamnit! You give me what you said you would! Give me my motherfucking meat!”
The SUV swung backward into the road behind it, then took off. Tears streamed down Worm’s face as he pushed himself as hard as he could, choking on exhaust fumes as he sprinted.
When the vehicle turned down another street in the distance and out of Worm’s sight, he collapsed onto the street and pounded his fists on the blacktop. The skin on his knuckles broke and he painted the street red with each hit. “No! No no no no!”
Some of the other addicts walked past him in the street, a few of them smirking down at him, but most went on about their business, ignoring him completely. They had their own addictions to worry about.
It wasn’t until his anger let up some that he felt the pain in both hands—it was nothing compared to the torture flowing through his veins, but it was there. He finally stood up, wrapped his bony arms around himself, and trudged back toward the alley, back to his little corner.
I’m going to finally die tonight. I can feel it coming.
It had been nearly two weeks since his last taste, and even that was only a small bit. A woman had it. She was already high off her ass, squeezing her tits together as she chuckled at the moon. Worm just happened to pass by as she was stuffing another nugget between her dried-out lips. The need had been just as bad then as it was now, and before he even knew what he was doing, his foot was stomping down on the woman’s head, each stomp bringing more blood. The bitch never stopped laughing, and Worm shoved his fingers into her wounded mouth and fished the meat out. It was partially chewed, damp and bloody. But he popped it into his mouth anyway as he ran from the woman.
The time before that, he had gotten it the same way he had tried now. On his knees in front of one of Fleet’s men. Worm didn’t know how he got the reputation for sucking dick. Almost every addict he knew was willing to do it for a taste. Hell, they were willing to do a lot worse—truth be told so was he. Worm figured Fleet’s boys got a kick out of getting head from one of their own. They always paid up too, until now. And it figured it would be Chaz who stiffed him—the bastard always had a problem with Worm, even when he was still on Fleet’s payroll. Jealous for Daddy’s attention most likely.
The only thing Worm missed about working for Fleet was the endless supply of meat. He used to miss the pussy too, but not anymore. It was only the meat that mattered now. The meat’s been the only thing to matter for over a year now. Not food or water or shelter or hygiene or companionship. Just feeding his need.
He shuffled his way back down the alley and crammed his shaking body into his filth-covered corner. The scent of piss, shit, and garbage awaited him. He wiped the blood and snot from his face, coughed some of the phlegm from his throat and spat it across the alley. His left nostril still wouldn’t clear, so he breathed through his mouth as he hugged his knees. Racking sobs shook his body, and he was assaulted by a coughing fit between cries. Each cough was like a battering ram to his chest and stomach.
Please just let me die. Oh god please.
He didn’t think sleep would ever come, but he lowered his head between his knees and cupped the back of his skull with both hands as he shut his eyes and tried anyway.
***
Worm jerked awake and was instantly greeted with pain. He was vaguely aware of the new injuries to his face, stomach, and knuckles, but it was the flaming whirlwind inside of him that forced him to cry out and tear tufts of hair from his scalp. He didn’t know how much more he could take
before he jumped off a fucking bridge. He wished he could fall back asleep. In his sleep, there is no pain, and he had just been dreaming of sitting at a table with a full corpse in front of him. He could taste the meat, feel it wiggling inside of his stomach.
Fuck, I have to find something. Just a tiny bit is all I need…fucking anything.
“Y-you lookin’ for some meat, homie?”
Worm thought he had imagined the voice at first. He lifted his head and only saw darkness, but then the figure stepped toward him. This man was just as skinny as Worm, and he scratched at his chest and stomach as he stepped forward. His eyes vibrated in their sockets, lips trembling. This guy looked to be in bad shape, and Worm hugged himself as he stepped closer.
“You have some? W-where is it?” Worm tried to stand, but winced as his flesh ignited. He fell back to his ass, hissed and bared his teeth, then swung his attention back to the stranger. “Do you really have some, man?”
“Me?” the man said as he stepped closer. More of his facial features became visible, and Worm tensed up at the sight of him. Tumor-like bumps covered the guy’s face, some of them scratched open and leaking a translucent pus down his cheeks. Every time the guy took a breath, his entire body shook, and Worm realized there was no way this man had any meat on him. If he did, he wouldn’t look so miserable. “I ain’t got it on me, no. But I…I know where…know where to get it.”
If Worm had the strength, he would have hit the guy in the middle of his face. “Why the fuck are you bothering me? Just leave me be, all right? Get the fuck outta here.”
“Nah, man. I’m serious. I know where to get it, I just n-need help. C-can’t do it alone, homie.” The man grunted, doubled over and clutched his stomach. He eventually fell to his knees and clawed at the concrete as the pain rode his body. He crawled his way beside Worm and propped himself up. “Oh fuck…we gotta go now. Can’t waste no more time.”
“Get the fuck away from me. I don’t know you…I just want to be left alone.”
Addicted to the Dead Page 20
