A Feast of Flesh: An extremely gory horror novel (Flesh Harvest Book 2)

by Jacob Rayne

  Moving casually, a merry tune on his lips, he unlocked the door and pushed the cart into the lift.

  From there he set off down to the sub-basement.

  It was feeding time.

  25

  Campbell woke with a start. He’d thought he’d heard muffled shouts coming from the room next door.

  He yanked out the tubes that had been stuck in his hands and got up from the bed, his head spinning, his legs almost too weak to support him, and staggered off to the side, his eyes doing a lap of the room before focussing on the ground in front of him.

  He pulled open the door and moved out into the corridor.

  As he did so, the door next to him came open, so he ducked back into the doorway of his room.

  His heart pounded like he’d just done a sprint.

  An orderly came out of the next room, shoving one of the wire mesh carts they used to collect the soiled clothing.

  The orderly was the same one who’d been in his room earlier, the one who had recognised him and vice-versa.

  He didn’t seem to have seen him, but still Campbell peered cautiously from the doorway of his room.

  The man with the cart shoved it around the corner to the right.

  Campbell cautiously followed.

  Campbell thought he’d lost track of the man for a horrible minute, but then he saw him in the corner of his eye, in one of the rooms marked Staff only.

  He glanced round again, thinking that if he had to explain his actions the nurses would think he was right out of his mind, then tried the handle.

  The door was locked.

  He pressed his face against the glass, saw the orderly with his hands in the cart – in a posture that looked suspiciously like he was throttling someone – and ducked back as he glanced at the door.

  Campbell snuck another look when he was certain the orderly had looked away.

  He cursed and crouched by the water cooler to the left of the doorway, praying the man didn’t recognise him, that he blended in with the other patients who were wandering the corridors.

  The man passed him without a second look and carried on down the corridor.

  Campbell followed, his nerves jangling the whole way.

  Something was badly wrong here and he was going to do his best to find out what it was.

  The lift doors closed behind the orderly as he shoved his cart inside.

  Campbell checked to see whether it was going up or down, then waited for it to come back.

  Jerry came alive again under a mass of piss-soaked linen. He felt like a mummy, bound so tight in the sheets he could barely move.

  He thrashed his arms, trying to beat his way out of the fabric cocoon that had been fastened around him.

  ‘You sit tight,’ the ominous voice told him. ‘We’ll be there real soon.’

  The air became warmer as they descended into the basement.

  Jerry felt a sheen of sweat break out on his skin.

  The heat in the pile of linen was unbearable, making it hard to breathe let alone escape.

  There was a creak right out of a horror movie, then the darkness and heat seemed to further intensify.

  The cart was upended suddenly and Jerry was unceremoniously dumped on the hard floor.

  All around him he heard horrible sounds, like misshapen feet scraping across the floor towards him.

  He began to wish the oxygen would cut off abruptly, saving him the horror of having to face whatever lurked in the gloom.

  But this would not be the case.

  26

  The lift came back up to Campbell.

  He once again glanced round him, painfully aware of how suspicious he looked, and stepped into the lift.

  There were only two choices, ground floor or sub-basement.

  It seemed unlikely the orderly was headed to the ground floor.

  His finger shook as he jabbed SB and waited for the lift to descend.

  Jerry’s worst fears came to life when the curved blade in Dwayne’s hand split the sheet, letting the darkness and all its abundant horrors flood into his eyes.

  He saw twisted shapes in the darkness that looked like figments of a living nightmare.

  The bearded man watched in amusement as the big white bat thing lunged at him, its clawed hands gripping his chin in a vicelike grip and wrenching his head to the side to expose his pulsing veins.

  He struggled, but his every move was effortlessly overpowered by the creature.

  Soon he settled for screaming instead.

  Campbell heard screams in the distance as the lift set down in the sub-basement.

  His skin was already crawling and he wished he’d had the foresight to bring some kind of weapon with him.

  He saw a set of double doors ahead of him, the left one hanging off its hinges. Thick smears of blood covered the pale wood.

  He gulped and moved towards the door, his heart on the verge of punching holes in his ribs.

  His attention was fully taken up by what was happening behind the doors, so he didn’t notice the sound of footsteps behind him.

  He was oblivious to the presence right until it clasped a cold hand over his mouth and dragged him back into the shadows of the lift.

  27

  Campbell fought hard to remove the hand over his mouth, but he didn’t have the strength.

  ‘Relax,’ a voice said close to his ear. It was strangely familiar but he struggled to place it in his panic.

  He slammed his right elbow back into his attacker’s belly. The impact drove the air from his unseen attacker, but the arm didn’t relinquish its grip.

  ‘Officer Campbell, relax. Please. Calm yourself down.’

  Again the voice nagged at his mind, but he struggled to place its owner.

  He pulled his weight forward for another elbow strike, but the figure pulled hard, spinning him round.

  As he went, Campbell used the momentum to throw a wild right hook.

  His attacker ducked under it with enviable reflexes.

  As he prepared himself to defend against their retaliatory strike, he was surprised to discover they hadn’t attacked him.

  ‘It’s me, Officer Campbell, how the fuck are you?’

  Campbell stopped mid-swing and grinned as he saw the tall, skinny man with a yellowing moustache standing in front of him.

  ‘Osmo? What the hell are you doing here?’ Campbell said, mouth agape.

  His old friend was the last person he expected to find here.

  Osmo looked around cautiously, shook his head. ‘Not the place.’ He jabbed the G button with a nicotine-yellowed finger.

  ‘Are you—?’ Campbell said.

  ‘Still crazy as a shithouse rat?’ Osmo chortled. ‘Yep. Guilty.’

  Just being in Osmo’s presence, hearing his laugh, made Campbell’s sorrow melt away.

  He found this strange, since he’d been present through the most traumatic episode of Campbell’s young life, but there was something hugely endearing about the grizzled survivor.

  A smile crept onto his face, despite the weight of the world seemingly being on his shoulders.

  Osmo laughed harder and whacked him on the arm. ‘Say, it’s good to see you smiling, Officer Campbell. After all you’ve been through recently.’

  Campbell felt a twinge of shame as he realised Osmo knew about his fall from grace.

  ‘One of the things you have to go through,’ Osmo said, baring his forearms to show thick bands of livid purple scars crisscrossing his wrists.

  Campbell stared at them for a second, feeling tears fill his eyes.

  Osmo threw his arms around him as he collapsed in floods of tears. ‘Let it out, son. It’s no good keeping it inside ya.’

  28

  Dwayne felt hungry, but he played the role of doting father with ease and allowed his beautiful offspring to take their fill first.

  There was plenty of the fat man to go around, but his young ones seemed to be hungrier than ever.

  They were almost fully grown now,
and were becoming more impressive with every passing day.

  He watched them eat, glistening blood dripping from their mouths which worked incessantly at the dead man’s flesh.

  Steaming entrails were wrenched loose of their moorings by gore-stained jaws.

  Those same entrails were greedily gulped down without so much as a second chew.

  One of his children pressed its hands into the ribcage and pulled upwards. With a strident crack and a thick splatter of blood the ribs broke apart.

  The creature shoved its head into the cavity and devoured the heart within seconds.

  When it had finished, it crawled over to Dwayne, its belly bulging, its appetite for blood and human flesh sated for the time being.

  It let out a cry that reverberated round the walls of their dark sanctuary and cuddled into his side.

  He stared at it, watching it as it settled into sleep.

  It owed him everything.

  He’d delivered it, killed for it.

  Bled himself dry for it.

  All in a day’s work for a loving father.

  He loved and admired his kin with every fibre of his being.

  He stared at the lethal beauty as it drifted into sleep, his hand softly caressing the wrinkled skin on the top of its head. Soon it was snoring soundly, safe in its father’s arms.

  A smile twisted his blood-coated lips as he watched his sleeping miracle.

  29

  ‘I just miss them so much,’ Campbell wailed, his face purple and contorted horribly with his grief.

  ‘I know, son. I miss mine every fucking day.’ Osmo wiped a tear from his eye at the thought of poor Graham, torn in half by a shotgun blast, Grace’s tragic end at the hands of the horrendous monster that had dwelled in the barn, and, worst of all, just when they’d thought they were in the clear, his beautiful daughter Marie’s fatal encounter with the speeding transit van.

  Their broken bodies still assailed him in his nightmares and darkest moments.

  ‘But you gotta move on, Officer Campbell. You can’t let it eat away at ya.’

  ‘How did you do it? I don’t think I can go on, Osmo.’

  ‘You can. And you got to. Cos by my reckoning we got more a those things to take down.’

  Campbell looked up for a moment. The sorrow on his face broke Osmo’s heart a little. ‘I thought I saw one of the tramps.’

  ‘You probably did. There are a few of them around here. I’ve been here for a while. Got myself a job in the maintenance crew so I can keep an eye on those snake-eyed fuckers. There’s a lot of stuff going down. The trail eventually led me down to here. I gotta show you something.’

  Osmo pressed the button for floor one. The lift took them up, the lights and cool air a minor miracle compared to the dank, blood-spattered hell in which they’d been reunited.

  Osmo glanced around cautiously, hid in a doorway and dragged Campbell with him.

  ‘Just don’t nut anyone,’ Campbell grinned, remembering the chaos that had ensued when he’d broken Osmo out of the asylum.

  ‘I’ll nut anyone who needs nutting,’ Osmo beamed in reply.

  A male orderly moved past, staring at the floor a few feet in front of his shoes.

  They waited till he’d gone then Osmo peeped round the corner. ‘Ok, we’re good to go,’ he said, beckoning Campbell out with a wave of his arm.

  Campbell followed Osmo to a locked set of double doors.

  Osmo unclipped one end of his keychain and unlocked the door.

  ‘Quick,’ he muttered. ‘Before someone comes.’

  Campbell rushed through.

  Osmo locked the door behind him and pulled Campbell to the floor as someone walked past the window.

  ‘Close one,’ Osmo said. ‘Best get up there quick.’

  He darted up a short flight of stairs and pulled Campbell into a shadowy alcove as yet another orderly passed them.

  When he’d gone, Osmo approached a door with a large building site sign on it.

  He glanced round him again and, satisfied no one was there, unlocked the door.

  Campbell followed him in, locking the door behind them.

  ‘Careful cos the floor’s a bit ropey in here,’ Osmo said. ‘And we’ll have to talk quiet cos there are offices just down that corridor.’

  Campbell nodded.

  The room turned to the left and Campbell felt the floor starting to subside a little beneath him.

  ‘Get off there,’ Osmo said, waving his arm like a parent addressing a naughty child.

  Campbell hurried off. There was a second door at the other end of the room. Osmo led him into there, again locking the door behind them.

  The room seemed to be an abandoned broom closet, but the entire back wall was taken up by cork boards.

  Photos, newspaper clippings and scrawled notes covered the walls.

  It reminded Campbell of FBI shows he’d seen on TV.

  ‘This is where I come to take stock of what’s going on,’ Osmo said, undeniably proud. His yellowing finger tapped a photo of a young woman. ‘This is the lady who made me realise what was going on. If I ever find her body, I’ll kiss it.’

  ‘So what’s going on?’

  ‘Disappearances, attacks, murders,’ Osmo said. ‘The most recent cases all have one thing in common. This hospital. They were admitted here, or worked here, or came to visit relatives here. Y’get the picture, I’m sure.’

  ‘But we killed those things,’ Campbell said. ‘The tramps went back to just being tramps.’

  Osmo raised a finger. ‘We killed the one we found. But there ain’t nothing to say there weren’t more.’

  ‘We searched every inch of that farm and found nothing but corpses.’

  Osmo’s finger remained raised, a knowing glint in his eye. ‘But who’s to say they hadn’t fucked off by the time we came to search the barn?’

  ‘I guess you’re right,’ Campbell said, really not wanting to face up to the thought of coming face-to-face with the flesh-eating tramps and their evil bat monster masters once more.

  ‘I’m sure I am. And you, in your infinite wisdom, were about to blunder unarmed into their lair.’

  30

  ‘So what’s your plan, Osmo?’ Campbell said.

  ‘Well, I knew you were admitted. I’ve been keeping an eye on you, y’see. Your old boss, y’know the real arsehole, he’s been keeping me updated. Helped me fill in the blanks on my little board. I’ve spent hours in here, figuring things out.’

  Campbell opened his mouth again to ask Osmo his plan.

  ‘I know, I know, get to the point, Osmo. I knew you’d been admitted. I figured you’d notice the similarity between some of the workers here and our old friends from the barn. Now, here’s the problem. I can’t trust any of ’em. There are hundreds of people here and they could all be under that thing’s control. We’re gonna have to go in there completely alone.’

  ‘Have you got weapons?’

  Osmo laughed. ‘My oh my, I’ve got weapons alright,’ he said, pulling a loose floorboard up and revealing a holdall. He struggled to lift it, but managed to lay it on the floorboards with a hearty thud.

  He unzipped it, revealing two discmans and headphones (‘So the son of a bitch can’t hear our thoughts, remember,’ Osmo confided with a wink) and a pile of weaponry that made Campbell’s eyes pop out of his skull.

  ‘We’ve got stakes galore,’ Osmo said, pulling out dozens of thick metal stakes, each with murderously sharp points. ‘Barbed too, so they make even more of a mess coming out as they do going in.’ He pulled out two lightweight mallets too. ‘For bashing ’em all the way through their evil ribs,’ he grinned.

  Under the stakes and mallets were a set of butcher’s knives and a pair of knives that didn’t even look legal.

  ‘Made ’em myself,’ Osmo said, like a proud father displaying his new-born for the first time.

  The weapons were like knuckledusters, with a wicked curved blade on each end and a six inch spike on the middle knuckle
. ‘We’ll keep these on our hands in case we run out of the other weapons. I designed them to be able to grip other weapons while we’re wearing them, but we can punch our way through ’em if the shit hits the fan.’

  Campbell winced at the thought of getting close to the creatures again.

  The huge teeth, tiny eyes and pale skin made his blood run cold.

  His head began to spin and a little vomit crept up his throat.

  ‘You alright?’

  ‘Yeah. Just not keen on a reunion. Haven’t you got any guns?’ he asked.

  ‘Na, they ain’t much good against them in my experience. Best thing to do is get a blade in their hearts.

  ‘Trust me, they’re gonna be more scared of us than we are of them. They’re just young, barely off the teat. I know we can take ’em.’

  31

  Osmo held out a handful of stakes, but Campbell frowned, not sure where he was going to be able to fit them as he was still in his hospital gown.

  ‘Ah, I getcha,’ Osmo grinned. He handed Campbell a knife, which he tucked into the waistband of his shorts.

  ‘I might get a few stakes in here, actually,’ he said. He managed to fit them down, the cold steel pressing against his bare legs making this situation all the more real.

  ‘There ya go,’ Osmo grinned. ‘Let’s go get them pale sons of bitches.’

  He inched the door open, ducked back when an orderly moved past the entrance to his lair.

  ‘Jeez, that was close,’ he winced.

  He snuck a look again. This time the corridor was clear. ‘We’re gonna have to be quick,’ he said, ‘Cos we ain’t supposed to be in here.’

  Campbell nodded. He didn’t feel himself, was still reeling a little from the effects of the overdose.

  Osmo shouldered the bag and shoved Campbell into a shadowy doorway before ducking in himself.

  A few seconds later a huge security guard marched past.

  ‘This is doing my heart no good,’ Campbell said.

  Osmo grinned a lunatic’s grin, peered round the corner and set off down the corridor again.