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

by Jacob Rayne

  It was the break Campbell needed.

  He gripped the tooth hard and swung it round with his left hand, aiming for the tramp’s tiny white eye.

  It was a hard target, but he managed to meet it full on.

  The tramp roared in agony as the lethal shard of enamel sunk into his bulging eyeball with a sticky squelch.

  Thick blood oozed from the wound.

  The tramp reared back, his hands cupped to the sunken orb.

  His cries of pain and despair almost made Campbell feel sorry for him.

  Almost.

  The tramp’s sudden rearing back had freed Campbell’s right arm, and thus the stake, but the tramp’s weight had made his limb go numb.

  He cursed at the realisation that he could still finish up on the losing end after everything he’d been through.

  He knew it wouldn’t be long before the tramp regained his senses, renewed his killing instinct.

  The tramp sensed he was getting up, so it lashed out blindly, catching him with a left hook that almost took his jaw clean off and made a thick fog settle over his thoughts.

  The tramp came down, its fangs bared, except for the oozing gap where he’d knocked one loose.

  His arm was still dead, so he fought to bring it up as the tramp’s weight fell upon him once more.

  35

  His dead arm had managed to move just enough to position the hilt of the stake on his own chest, leaving the gleaming tip of the weapon facing up as it came down for him once more.

  The tramp had realised the intent and tried to pull back at the last second, but it was too late.

  With an audible crack and a hot burst of blood that soaked Campbell’s chest, the stake sunk into the tramp’s sternum.

  The force of the tramp’s attack had wedged the stake most of the way into its chest, but it wasn’t enough for Campbell.

  Thick torrents of blood poured from its jaws, covering his face.

  He felt like retching. Then showering for the rest of his life, but he pushed all of this out of his mind.

  The tramp seemed to be dying, but it could never be dead enough.

  He rolled out from under it, desperation lending him reserves of strength he’d only experienced during his last encounters with these things, and rolled it onto its back.

  Its body trembled, its eyes seeming to beseech some kind of mercy from him, but, for Thomas Campbell, mercy had died with his wife and son.

  He raised the mallet high, slammed it down hard into the stake that stuck out of the tramp’s chest. It sank deeper, splattering him in further layers of gore as it broke more bones and blood vessels and fully penetrated the tramp’s blackened heart.

  Campbell slammed the stake home again.

  Again.

  Again.

  The handle of the stake had actually sunk into the tramp’s mangled ribcage when Campbell came out of his murderous frenzy.

  He understood how Osmo had felt by the river all those months ago; not daring to stop attacking the tramp until it couldn’t be anything but dead.

  The tramp was still twitching in a pitiful manner.

  The blood had stopped pouring from its jaws and the artificial mouth he’d made in its chest.

  He pulled the stake out – quite the effort since he’d battered it home so remorselessly – and set off to see what the hell was keeping Osmo.

  It was a huge relief to leave the tramp’s battered corpse in his proverbial rear-view mirror, but this sense soon disappeared when he realised that he had no idea where he’d left Osmo.

  The raging adrenaline had helped him to slay the tramp that was doing its utmost to tear his throat out but it had also wiped his memory as surely as a shotgun blast.

  Cursing that every tunnel looked the same, he spun, longing to call out but fearing that they were still not alone down here. He wished he was as gung-ho as Osmo but he didn’t have the heart.

  Finally, he saw something on the floor off to his left. He moved closer, seeing his own footsteps in the muck headed in the opposite direction.

  His heart sank as he saw Osmo on the floor, a bead of blood snaking out of his ear.

  36

  As he neared Osmo’s still form, he was reassured by the steady rise and fall of his chest. It wasn’t clear who had attacked him as there was no one nearby to take the blame.

  His mind was telling him that approaching was a bad idea, insidious, creeping voices that threatened to send him screaming from the tunnels.

  The only thing that stopped this being his course of action was his refusal to leave Osmo down here to die.

  He owed him far too much.

  Something moved in the distance. Remembering his and Osmo’s most recent stunt he did a quick scan to make sure it wasn’t a trap.

  He saw no one, but kept his ears and eyes open.

  As he set foot towards the figure he heard movement from behind him.

  He turned and almost planted the stake in its chest, but he saw that it was one of the security guards from the corridor.

  The guard held his hands out in front of him.

  ‘Sorry, but we had to do it. We all like Osmo, but he’s a danger to himself and everyone around him.’

  As Campbell watched the guard, he heard footsteps from behind him.

  From the darkness emerged half a dozen guards, all armed with coshes. Osmo’s boss came out of the shadows last.

  ‘Take him down too,’ the boss said, a smile on his flaccid lips. ‘But make it slow. I want him to hurt.’

  The first guard shrugged and swung the cosh at Campbell’s head.

  Be like Osmo, Campbell thought. They may have got him eventually but I bet he made each and every one of them terrified of the consequences first.

  He thrust the stake out, sinking it into the fleshy underside of the guard’s jaw.

  Blood burst from the wound as the tip popped up into the guard’s mouth. He fell, his mouth gushing blood, a scream on his lips.

  ‘The rest of ya will get the same fucking treatment,’ Campbell scowled.

  The closest guard’s cosh strike slammed the back of his head and made the world flip.

  The boss’s lips twitched in a grin.

  He’s going to die screaming my name, Campbell vowed.

  He swung out with the stake, just missing the guard’s throat as he pulled back.

  The guards formed a loose circle. The next attack came from behind, thudding into his ribs and sending shards of bone into his lung.

  He cried out with the pain and fought to regain his breath. It was like inhaling broken glass.

  The guards sensed victory and charged in.

  Campbell lashed out with the mallet, shattering one of the guard’s jaws in a hail of broken teeth. He slumped to the floor, bloody saliva pouring from his lips.

  ‘Who’s fucking next?’ Campbell screamed. The echo of it from down the tunnel sounded rabid but his enemies didn’t seem intimidated. They picked up their attack, their coshes scudding into his skull and body.

  The deciding blow deadened his right leg and stole most of the power from his strikes.

  He cried out, unable to help it.

  One of the guards slammed his leg again, numbing the limb for good and dropping him to his knees. Racked with pain, he let out shallow sobs. Every inch of his body ached.

  He tried to stand, to force himself into just one more attack, but he didn’t have the strength.

  Under the boss’s pig-like face, the guards readied their coshes for the knockout blows.

  ‘Put him out,’ the boss said, licking his lips.

  The biggest guard stepped in and slammed the cosh into Campbell’s temple.

  It was one hell of a blow, probably the hardest Campbell had been hit were it not for his encounters with the bat creatures and their homeless servants.

  He slumped facedown to the tunnel floor, letting out a low moan which only he could hear.

  He saw one of the other guards raising their cosh for the finishing blow, but sudden
ly the guards were sprinting up the tunnel.

  The scenes didn’t make sense to him, the jumble of his thoughts and the blood which clogged his right ear serving to make everything nonsensical, but the guards had left him and Osmo where they laid.

  He was grateful on some deep, instinctual level, until he heard the inhuman screeching coming from the darkness ahead of him.

  37

  Campbell’s eyes struggled to focus with the intense feeling of disorientation that had settled over him.

  His leg was still numb and useless.

  His head pounded and drawing breath was still an ordeal the like of which he’d never experienced, but still his thoughts were focussed only on getting away from the pale abomination making its way down the tunnel towards him.

  He tried to stir Osmo, loathe to leave him to such a helpless death, even though it put him in grave danger too, but the madman was already stirring, seemingly roused by the creature’s war cry.

  ‘Well fuckin A,’ he grinned, his moustache stained crimson in a few places. ‘Look who finally came to play.’

  Campbell was reassured by the strength of the arm that pulled him to his feet.

  The stake was already in Osmo’s hand. ‘Get yourself outta here, Officer Campbell,’ Osmo said without taking his eyes from his rapidly approaching enemy. ‘I got this.’

  ‘No way,’ Campbell said, his resolve strengthened by his friend’s awakening. ‘You die I die, you get me?’

  Osmo nodded. ‘To the death, Officer Campbell. It’s been nice knowing you.’

  While Campbell still stared in disbelief at the creature making its way towards them, Osmo ran at it, screaming the words of a prayer as he raised his weapons.

  The creature let out a roar as Osmo began his charge.

  Campbell longed to run with his friend, though every nerve in his body told him that this was suicide, but his damaged leg made this impossible.

  He pulled himself forward as best he could, wincing at the extreme pins and needles in his leg.

  Osmo blotted out the creature which was slowly growing larger in his vision, as he felt he might back out if he took it in fully.

  ‘Holy shit the fucking thing must be seven feet tall,’ he muttered as his mental hold slipped ever so slightly.

  The creature hissed at him, continuing its charge until they were mere feet apart.

  ‘I killed your daddy,’ Osmo grinned, a truly insane look gleaming in his eyes.

  The creature hissed ever more vehemently, as though it understood what he was saying.

  Osmo was first to throw himself into the fray. His stake hit the creature high on the left pectoral, his aim a little off due to the vigour of his attack.

  The metal spike stuck in the creature’s chest all the way to the hilt, freeing an ocean of dark blood that steamed as it came into contact with the cool air in the tunnel.

  The creature let out a hideous cry that made it feel like Osmo’s ear drums had been set on fire. He was forced to pull his hands from the stake and raise them to his ears to blot out the sound.

  The creature lashed out, parting the air between them with a strike that would surely have decapitated Osmo had it landed.

  He ducked under like a skinnier, moustachioed Sugar Ray Leonard and threw himself at it again, another stake already in hand.

  The creature hissed as his wild blow sunk into its stomach, sending more rivers of blood cascading down its thick hide to spatter onto the tunnel floor.

  Campbell was still a good fifty feet back, watching in amazement. It looked as though Osmo was going to tear it a new one from what he could see. His friend was going at the monster as if possessed.

  ‘Gonna fucking kill ya, ya evil shit,’ Osmo hissed, his face spattered with the creature’s blood.

  The creature’s clawed hand came round in a wide arc, tearing bloody furrows in Osmo’s cheeks.

  He gritted his teeth against the pain, back handed the blood from his face and ran at it again, dropkicking the stake protruding from its belly all the way in to its hilt.

  The creature let out another roar which intensified further when Osmo grabbed the hilt of the stake and pulled down hard, opening the creature’s stomach to the cool air. Steaming loops of intestine popped from the riven torso, shoved in hastily by the creature’s clawed hands.

  Campbell was lost for words when the creature turned tail and ran, howling in agony, up the tunnel away from them, leaving slicks of dark blood in its wake.

  ‘Come back here, ya pale son of a bitch. I’m gonna rip your goddamn insides out,’ Osmo bellowed after it.

  He followed, but it was quicker than him and it knew the way. Despite the trails of blood it left him for dead.

  ‘Fuck’s sake,’ Osmo panted, leaning on Campbell’s shoulder for support.

  ‘You really had it hurt.’

  ‘I know,’ Osmo said, his chest heaving. ‘Another minute and I mighta killed the fucking thing.’

  ‘You ok?’

  ‘Yeah. Told you they was still young. Inexperienced. Don’t know how to use the weapons the devil has given ’em.’

  Campbell nodded.

  ‘We gotta finish ’em before they grow up bigger and stronger.’

  ‘It looked pretty big to me.’

  ‘Aye. Was a big fucker but soft as shite really. Like a seven foot puppy,’ Osmo grinned.

  With the wounds on his face and the blood spatters everywhere he looked like he’d been on a killing spree.

  He’d make one hell of a serial killer, Campbell thought with a wry grin.

  ‘What’s the plan then?’ Campbell said.

  ‘We gotta get after ’em. Put an end to this shit before it kicks off for real.’

  ‘Any ideas?’

  Osmo’s gnarled, yellowed finger pointed to the thick trail of blood on the floor. ‘Now, come on, didn’t you used to be a cop?’

  Campbell smiled. ‘Why, yes, of course. Lead on, maestro.’

  Osmo doffed an imaginary cap and set off up the tunnel following the trail. Campbell followed as best he could.

  38

  The trail of blood led a snaking path through the ancient tunnels that formed the basement of the hospital. Without the trail it was highly unlikely they’d have found the creature’s path.

  They eventually led out to a section of the car park.

  ‘The western wall,’ Osmo told Campbell with a knowing grin, as he’d studied the blueprints tirelessly. ‘I know what you’re thinking,’ he said, ‘those tunnels weren’t mentioned on there.’

  Osmo carefully looked through the grille, pointing out that it had been fastened back into place. ‘Means the creatures aren’t alone. There’s some son of a bitch helping them again,’ he confided with a wink.

  He fought to undo the grille, eventually levelling it with a good, old-fashioned shoulder barge, and he and Campbell made their way into the car park.

  Thick trails of blood still led across the tarmac, ending abruptly at the rear of one of the bays in the car park.

  ‘The motherfuckers,’ Osmo said aloud. ‘They’ve taken one of the staff cars.’

  ‘Can we find out whose?’

  ‘Oh aye. Easier than you’d think, my lad. Easier than you’d think.’

  Osmo led Campbell back into the hospital through one of the rear entrances.

  As one of the maintenance crew he had a skeleton key which would get him in through the vast majority of the hospital’s doors.

  They snuck up to Osmo’s office and locked the door behind them. He pulled a surprisingly pristine laptop from beneath a loose floorboard and started punching keys at a furious pace.

  A database popped up on screen and Campbell was astounded to see that Osmo had each and every one of the hospital’s employees listed on his file.

  ‘Let’s see, C9, that one belongs to Simon Guildford,’ Osmo read aloud.

  ‘How did you manage to do this?’

  ‘I spent my time wisely. Learnt how to hack into the database. I have access to
all the hospital’s records. That’s how I knew you were in here. Also, watch this.’

  He tapped a few more keys and up popped a photo and address for Guildford.

  ‘Jeez, ugly fucker,’ Osmo grinned. He quickly printed off two of the images, gave one to Campbell. Tucked the other into his wallet. ‘Now, there’s no reason for them to suspect we know where they are so it might be worth trying this address first.’

  Campbell looked at him in disbelief.

  ‘So let’s go.’

  Out in the car park, Campbell winced as Osmo pulled open the back door of an ambulance and decked the bamboozled paramedic with a wild haymaker.

  Osmo held the door open, a grin on his face. ‘Whatcha waiting for, Christmas?’

  39

  Even the most devoted father had to have a break.

  Dwayne had been at Guildford’s place, enjoying the company of two young girls when he had appeared like a bat out of hell (no pun intended) and almost brayed the door down.

  He’d reluctantly shrugged on clothes, telling his two beautiful conquests that he’d be back in a moment, and gone down to see what was going on.

  Guildford had been frantic, his eyes almost popping out of his skull. ‘They came,’ he said.

  Those two words were enough to make it perfectly clear what had happened.

  ‘Fuck,’ he said. ‘What’s the damage?’

  ‘They took out two of u—’

  ‘—Never mind us, are they ok?’

  Guildford gulped. His eyes dropped to the filthy path. ‘One of them got hurt. He’s bleeding pretty bad.’

  ‘Ah fucking shit.’

  Dwayne shoved him out of the way and raced to the car.

  He opened the boot and the wounded creature within lunged at him, inches away from tearing his throat out until it saw it was its dad, the man who had cared for it, raised and loved it, standing before it with nothing but sorrow and concern hewn into his face.

  Instead it let out a pitiful cry and leant its head against him.

  ‘It’s ok,’ he said, cuddling it in tight and stroking its head.

  The way it trembled in his arms unnerved him, likewise the sobs that racked its entire frame. Even more concerning was the thick gouts of blood still pouring from its punctured belly and chest.