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

by Jacob Rayne

  A cop was there within a few minutes.

  At first he eyed Jack suspiciously, but then he looked closer and noticed the bite marks around the dog’s throat.

  ‘There was this homeless girl here,’ Jack said. ‘The other dog was attacking her. They both went that way. I followed them and found the dog like this.’

  The cop frowned as he eyed the dog’s butchered remains.

  Then he bent double and retched into the drain by their feet.

  62

  Will and Frank smiled when Brian walked in.

  The kid wasn’t so happy. He started ranting and raving at Will for the stunt they’d tried to set up.

  Will slapped him hard across the face and told him to sit the fuck down.

  Will was not a man to be trifled with. He had his fingers in all sorts of rotten pies and knew more criminals than Brian had had birthdays.

  ‘It was a joke, kid, that’s all,’ he said. ‘Now you’re in this with us whether you like it or not.’

  Frank shut the door to the private room.

  ‘What is this?’ Brian said.

  ‘We’re going to find the bitch who did this and sort her out,’ Frank said, smacking his fist into the palm of his hand.

  ‘Yeah,’ Will said. ‘We don’t want any police or journalists sniffing around this. The business’s name will be in tatters if those idiots get hold of the story. We’ll sort all of this out ourselves. Starting with the tart who gutted Dale.’

  ‘I’ve already spoken to the police. They’ve just been to the morgue,’ Brian said.

  ‘You stupid little shit,’ Will snapped, leaping to his feet and grabbing Brian by the lapels.

  ‘They didn’t believe me anyway,’ Brian lamented.

  ‘Well, that’s probably for the best,’ Will said. ‘But here’s what you’re going to do just in case they keep sniffing around. Call them and tell them you were set up. Tell them it was a prank from your workmates.’

  ‘What if they don’t believe me?’

  ‘They’d better fucking believe you,’ Frank said.

  ‘This job is turning out to be more hassle than it’s worth,’ Brian said.

  ‘Well, you’re going to help us sort this out,’ Will said.

  ‘I’m not.’

  ‘You are,’ Will said, again grabbing Brian by the lapels. This time he dragged him closer. Brian could smell alcohol and stale cigarettes on his boss’s breath. ‘Or else they’ll be digging you out of a shallow grave in the woods.’

  Brian stared into the big man’s eyes. He didn’t see any hint of weakness in them, but he wasn’t going to be bullied into this. ‘You wouldn’t dare.’

  ‘You don’t want to know some of the things I’ve had to do, kid. You’d best just go along with what I say.’

  The door opened and a young doctor came in. ‘Everything ok in here?’

  ‘Yeah, the kid was just worried,’ Will said. ‘I was consoling him. Wasn’t I?’

  Brian looked from Will to Frank, taking in their grim faces, then nodded.

  The doctor gave them a wary look then continued. ‘I’m afraid your friend hasn’t made it,’ he said. ‘He had lost too much blood.’

  ‘Shit,’ Will said, ramming his fist against the back of the chair.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ the doctor said.

  ‘So you fucking should be,’ Frank said.

  The doctor nodded and left the room, closing the door behind him.

  ‘We definitely have to sort this bitch out now,’ Will shouted, swaggering towards the door.

  He turned back and looked at Brian. ‘Come on then,’ he snarled.

  Brian followed, Frank brought up the rear, slamming the door behind him.

  ‘Thanks for nothing, doc,’ Will shouted up the corridor.

  They got in the car and headed back to the morgue.

  63

  Jack had kept an open mind – Baz had been utterly convincing with his stories – so it was a cause for great alarm when he’d found the savaged dogs in the back lane.

  He’d gone back into the house to get his phone and, midway through trying Baz’s home number for the third time, was disturbed by strange noises coming from the loft.

  His heart skipped a beat when he saw the loft hatch standing open a little.

  He wished Baz was here. Baz’d know what to do.

  He listened for a second. Hearing nothing, he started up the ladder.

  The shotgun he held over his shoulder made climbing awkward, but there was no way he was going into the loft unarmed.

  Baz had made it very clear how dangerous these things were.

  His heart pounded in his ears as he paused at the bottom of the ladder, wishing to delay what he felt certain was going to be a case of kill or be killed.

  At the top of the ladder, he froze and listened.

  Nothing.

  The loft was dark, but the dim light soon chased the shadows away.

  After a cursory glance, he climbed up into the loft. The second his feet hit the floor, he aimed the shotgun in front of himself. He scoured the loft, seeing a crumpled old blanket in the far corner. He pressed the back of his hand against it. Still warm. Someone had been in it recently.

  There didn’t seem to be anyone in the boarded part of the loft but he noticed a loose section of board in one of the corners.

  There was a wet smear of blood on the glossed wood.

  His pulse soared at the discovery. His hands suddenly felt clammy and the shotgun wavered slightly as his hands began to shake.

  After a couple of deep, calming breaths, he grabbed the wood and pulled it away from the opening.

  Darkness seemed to flood out to greet him. He wished he had thought to bring a proper torch up with him.

  All he had was a tiny penlight on his key ring. He fumbled in his pocket for it, letting go of the shotgun for a second.

  The light was almost dull enough to be non-existent, but it was better than nothing.

  The boards creaked beneath his feet as he stepped into the cobweb-infested loft, with the feeble light in front of him like some pathetic amulet.

  Panicked thoughts came screaming into his mind.

  He cast the dim light around, seeing shapes that, without proper illumination, set his imagination wild. Every shape became a huddled predator waiting to slay him.

  As he took another step, his heartbeat and the creak of the joists were the only sounds in his world.

  He breathed a sigh of relief as the torch beam made a crouching psycho turn into a battered old suitcase.

  Jack cursed and hit the butt of the tiny light against his palm when the beam flickered. The light came on again.

  He shone it ahead of him and nearly had a coronary when a screaming blood-covered face appeared inches from his.

  64

  For a vital second, Jack’s legs were rooted to the spot. He screamed loud enough to wake the dead, loud enough to even sting his own ears.

  The emaciated form rushed at him, its swollen forehead meeting his before he could get out of the way.

  His vision blurred and he dropped the flashlight.

  Pale hands sought his throat and he stepped back, just escaping their grasp.

  His foot went through one of the boards between the joists and he cried out, not because of the stinging pain in his shin, but because he was now held captive for the hellish apparition.

  One of the cold hands grabbed his throat. The grip was immensely strong, lifting him so that his feet were a full foot off the ground. Then he was flying back, flung as if from a cannon.

  The back of his head slammed into the brick wall and agony swamped his body. His legs weakened and he fell to the floor, his hands scrabbling in the fibreglass for a weapon.

  In desperation, he threw handfuls of the yellow fluff at the advancing wraith.

  Predictably, it did nothing to put it off.

  He scrambled back through the hole in the board, back into the converted part of the loft.

  The pale fiend burs
t through the side of the panel, showering him with splinters of wood. The hands searched for him as the figure emerged from the darkness.

  In the light he saw her properly for the first time. It was the girl from the alley. As he scanned her cadaverous features, he noted the blood that covered her bare flesh.

  He had time to wonder what was going on, why she was walking around in spite of the gaping wound in her head which seeped thick gore and tiny chunks of brain, then her hands gripped his shoulders and flung him bodily out of the loft.

  He landed on his head, his neck cracking with the force of the landing and lolling at an unnatural angle.

  Carla looked down at him and smiled. Then she climbed down and began to feed.

  65

  ‘I say we go looking for her,’ Will said. ‘She can’t have gotten far.’

  ‘I’ll just get away then,’ Brian said.

  ‘I’ve told you, sunshine, you’re not going anywhere,’ Will said.

  Brian groaned. There didn’t seem to be an end to this madness.

  Two minutes later they were in the car headed into town.

  The blue lights seemed a good place to start.

  ‘Go on then, Brian, get yourself up the drive and distract that copper while we sneak in,’ Will said.

  ‘Fat fucking chance,’ Brian scoffed.

  ‘Get up there now, you little prick, or you’ll be wearing your balls for a scarf,’ Will hissed.

  Brian looked at him, saw the glare on his face and looked away.

  ‘I thought so,’ Will said, ‘now get your arse up that drive and talk some bullshit.’

  Brian hesitated for a moment, until Will shoved him against the door. He almost swung for Will, but the look on his boss’s face stopped him.

  Reluctantly, he got out of the car. He walked slowly up the drive, eager to keep as much distance as possible between him and the cop’s shotgun.

  The cop looked up when he reached the bottom of the drive. ‘Can’t come up here, Sir, this is a crime scene.’

  ‘Is everything ok?’ Brian said, feigning tears. ‘My sister lives here. Is she alright?’

  The cop seemed to be looking for the words to give Brian the bad news.

  While he thought them up, Brian moved to his right, angling the cop slightly so his back was almost to the duo in the car.

  He saw Will’s bulky frame getting out of the car. Frank followed a second later. The two big men moved surprisingly fast towards the alley.

  Brian asked the cop what had happened, but he remained tight-lipped about the scene inside.

  ‘Is she ok?’ Brian tried, again attempting tears.

  ‘Can’t say, sonny. Sorry.’

  Brian watched Will and Frank disappear into the alley behind the houses.

  He felt exposed, standing alone with the armed cop. It seemed they were the only two people in the world. He wasn’t sure what to do, just stood there like a lemon looking at the cop.

  Will and Frank turned the corner into the alley.

  Frank lost his footing and stifled a cry when he put his hand in the raw hollow where the dead dog’s throat had once been. The cold flesh seemed to try and swallow him.

  ‘Pull yourself together,’ Will hissed, shoving the back door open.

  He didn’t really relish stepping into the shadow-filled mausoleum but the thought of punishing the pasty girl drove him on.

  Brian was still talking to the cop.

  Will was so intent on watching his step that he didn’t see the pale form doubled over behind the settee.

  He moved up the stairs, finding a body on the landing. The head lolled to one side, blood seeping from its mouth and the bite wounds in its throat.

  Will shuddered and pushed his hand to its wrist. There was no pulse, but the flesh was still warm. Just recently killed.

  The darkness in the attic seemed to bleed out into the rest of the house.

  His heart started to race, his throat felt like it was full of cotton wool. He gestured up the ladder with his head.

  Frank nodded, swallowed, his mouth as dry as Will’s.

  Will bent down and picked up the shotgun. He broke it over his arm, being as silent as he could, and saw that there was one shell inside the chambers. He patted the body down, pulling out a handful of shells which he stuffed into his pockets.

  His heart pulsing madly in his ears, he set foot on the bottom of the ladder.

  Carla waited until the footsteps of the men had faded to nothing then stood from behind the settee.

  She needed to get away from here, and find her next meal as she was so hungry it was messing with her mind. It was frustrating being disturbed from another feeding.

  She moved to the doorway of the front room, glancing up at the stairs to make sure the men from the morgue weren’t there.

  Her thoughts a twisted jumble, she snuck into the kitchen.

  The back door was already open. It seemed to beckon her.

  Brian waved to the cop as he moved away down the drive.

  He’d exhausted his line of enquiry after being stonewalled for the third time.

  It now felt like the cop was growing tired of him. The shotgun drew his eye and he was mindful not to piss off a man with a gun.

  He sighed as he got into the car. It didn’t occur to him that he could simply drive away, leaving all this madness in the rear-view mirror.

  Instead, his eyes were drawn to the pale figure he saw in the back yard of the house the cop was guarding.

  He watched her climb the back fence and disappear into the alley behind.

  He got out of the car and followed her towards the entrance of the graveyard, eager to find out where she was going.

  She had a siren-like quality that he found strangely alluring.

  Inside the graveyard, everything was still except for the trees that moved in the gentle breeze. He struggled to see the woman in the dark. For a fleeting moment he felt panic well up inside him.

  Then he saw her again.

  His heart returned to its usual lolloping pace.

  He crouched behind a gravestone as she turned round.

  66

  Carla felt certain that someone was following her, but a cursory glance around revealed no one.

  The urge to eat hit her like a boot to the gut and she suddenly found herself needing to feed more than she had in her life.

  She hissed in disappointment when she saw nothing she could use to slake her thirst.

  Until she heard raised voices coming through the graveyard towards her.

  Smiling, she pressed herself into the wall of the church, relishing the stone that seemed to cool her fevered body, even letting the thirst dissipate for a few moments.

  The voices came closer.

  Brian watched in sheer discomfort as two drunken lads staggered into the graveyard.

  They both were built like brick shithouses and looked like men with whom one would be better off not fucking.

  Still, he didn’t fancy their chances against the pale woman.

  She looked positively rabid.

  She remained pressed against the church wall while the men drew closer.

  Brian was so worried he didn’t even acknowledge the fact that she was naked, her blood-smeared flesh rising in goose bumps, erect nipples jutting out from perfect breasts.

  Suddenly the men drew level with her and she threw herself onto the nearest one.

  He swung a right hook that would probably have felled a charging bull but she took the blow without a flicker of discomfort and landed hard on him, her teeth already bared and seeking his throat.

  His friend – clearly a man of action – was already wielding a broken plank from the fence and was midway through swinging it at the girl’s head.

  Carla’s victim writhed and lashed out, trying to shift her head away from his neck. He may as well have been trying to lift the moon.

  Her head landed by the side of his throat, her deadly teeth already millimetres deep in the warm flesh.

&n
bsp; He let out a scream as he realised what was happening.

  The plank of wood broke over the girl’s head.

  She did nothing, just continued clamping her powerful jaws around the man’s throat.

  Brian saw blood racing from the wound, coating the girl’s lips, running down her neck and over her breasts in a dripping curtain.

  The man on the bottom was pale, already in shock, his arms given up trying to fend off the attack and twitching weakly by his sides.

  Carla snarled as the plank hit her again.

  This time she sat up, her mouth dripping with blood like she’d gone berserk with lipstick.

  She hissed, sending droplets of gore flying through the air between them, and darted across the ground towards him with a speed he and Brian found terrifying.

  He hit her with one of the pieces of plank. The blow reverberated round the graveyard but seemed to have little effect.

  The man turned tail and ran, launching the wood at the girl’s head as he went.

  She shrugged off the blow and went back to her feast.

  Brian watched, captivated, as the girl once again clamped her mouth to the gushing wound in the man’s throat.

  Even from here he could see how much she was savouring every crimson drop.

  When most of the blood was gone she took a deep bite of the flesh, tearing it free with a harsh sideways pull of her head.

  A loose flap of skin hung from her jaws, wavering like a flag in the breeze. He could hear the noises she made as she chewed contentedly.

  Despite the way his stomach heaved and his mind screamed at him to run and forget everything he’d seen here, he felt his groin throbbing and stiffening.

  She quickly scanned around, her eyes seeming to linger over his hiding place much too long for his liking. His erection wilted like a dying flower.

  He’d seen enough. Time to get the fuck outta Dodge.

  He turned to run, spinning to keep an eye on the woman in case she fancied him as dessert, but she had already gone, had even taken the body with her.

  The only evidence anything had happened was a small pool of blood and a few shards of broken plank.