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

by Jacob Rayne

  The man with the sickle to Osmo’s throat nodded first and said to the others, ‘You heard him, I’ll guard these two. You help to eliminate the intruders.’

  They handed him the shotgun which he used to back Osmo and Campbell into the small, stinking room at the back of the barn. The smell of death flooded their nostrils as the tramp who had held the shotgun lifted the trapdoor in the centre of the floor.

  ‘Getting his juices going with your delectable scent,’ the tramp grinned.

  The other two tramps hurried off to eliminate the new threat.

  Baz and Max hurried to the farm. They were both fairly fit from gyming it with Chris, but they were starting to feel a pull on their lungs. They slowed a little and took in the sights by the side of the road. The trench that ran down the side of the track seemed to be filled with a river of blood. The scent was strong enough to bring tears to their eyes.

  Movement flickered in Baz’s peripheral vision. He saw a small, scruffy girl running at him. She didn’t seem armed, but he didn’t trust her.

  ‘Stop or you’ll get both barrels,’ he said.

  The blood-spattered girl screamed and threw up her hands in surrender. ‘I just want to get out of here,’ she said.

  Baz looked to Max. He shrugged. Neither of them was sure – it seemed suspicious as hell – but they let her go. She thanked them as she ran past.

  Their eyes picked up a tramp crouching in the trees to their right. His clothes and face were smeared with dried blood which he was licking from his fingers. As they drew closer, they saw that the tramp’s eye sockets were empty, just two blood-encrusted holes in his face.

  ‘I still think we should put him down,’ Max whispered. ‘He’s obviously one of them.’

  Baz nodded. ‘I’ll do it,’ he said.

  He stepped off the path, wincing as the blood in the trench slurped its way into his shoe, soaking his sock and plastering it to his foot. ‘Fucking gross,’ he muttered.

  He waved a tree branch out of the way and stepped closer. The tramp didn’t seem to hear him, he just seemed to be happy to lick the dried blood from his fingers.

  Baz turned back to Max who gave him a thumbs up. He was almost close enough to make the shot now, so he tightened his finger on the trigger ready to fire. The tramp’s head turned towards him as his foot cracked a tree branch, the clotted empty sockets blindly searching for him.

  Baz almost felt sorry for him. Almost.

  The blast tore through the tramp’s head, scattering blood and clumps of skull and hair onto the tree trunk behind him.

  ‘Fucking right!’ Max shouted, punching the air and letting out a loud whoop.

  Smiling, Baz turned back. The smile vanished when he saw the little girl running towards Max, one of the discarded sickles in her hand.

  ‘They’re going to struggle out there against shotguns,’ Osmo informed their scruffy captor.

  ‘Of course not. Shotguns are no match for us.’

  ‘You’re just humans,’ Osmo said. ‘You ain’t fully changed yet, sonny. You’re about as invincible as I am right now.’ He gave Campbell a wink.

  The tramp was already getting rattled by the scorn Osmo was heaping upon him. He scratched the side of his head with a taloned fingernail.

  ‘You ain’t shit,’ Campbell joined in. ‘Just a fucking Big Issue seller who needs a shave and a dentist.’

  The tramp glowered at him.

  It’s working, Osmo thought. A little longer and we’ll be ready.

  ‘You can drink as much blood as you want but it ain’t gonna make you a vampire,’ Osmo chipped in. ‘I drink litres of brown ale and it don’t make me a Geordie.’

  The tramp shook his head. His breathing was fast now, coming in ragged bursts like a raging bull.

  ‘You should have charged more when you were selling your arse on the street,’ Campbell said.

  The dam of the tramp’s anger burst and he threw himself at Campbell, swinging the shotgun butt with extreme prejudice. The blow landed hard on Campbell’s temple and sent him crashing to the floor.

  It was all the distraction Osmo needed. He pulled the tyre iron from his trouser leg and buried it in the tramp’s skull.

  Through his haze of pain, Campbell saw the tramp fall, blood pouring out of his mouth.

  ‘You sure as shit ain’t immortal, sunshine,’ Osmo said, slamming the handle of the tyre iron into the tramp’s chest. He turned from the resultant spray of gore and picked Campbell up in a fireman’s lift.

  Relief flooded through Campbell’s body until he realised that Osmo was carrying him to the mouth of the pit.

  IX

  The little girl managed to bury the blade in Max’s belly before Baz’s blast blew out her legs and sent her tumbling into the blood-filled trench. She let out a cry that was utterly horrifying as she landed in the ankle-deep gore. Baz rushed over to her and put his foot on the back of her neck, keeping her head submerged until she stopped struggling and the bubbles in the blood ceased.

  He let up the pressure and ran to Max. The wound in his belly was deep enough to be allowing the blood to race from his body.

  ‘This doesn’t look good,’ he told Max.

  ‘I know but I’m gonna take out as many as I can before I go down.’

  Baz nodded and helped him to his feet.

  Max grunted with the pain and tottered forward like an old man, his face twisted in a mask of pain.

  Baz winced when he saw how badly Max was bleeding. He reckoned Max had maybe five minutes at the very most before he succumbed to blood loss.

  They hurried forward, Max eager to kill something before he faced the reaper.

  Campbell couldn’t believe he’d been so stupid. Osmo had even told him that he had helped to supply bodies for the thing in the barn. He’d managed to dupe him into delivering himself right to the doorstep, and willingly too. He shook his head to try to clear the fog that had surrounded his thoughts.

  Laboured breathing came from ahead of him in the darkness and he was grateful he couldn’t see the creature responsible for the sound. He pulled the torch from his pocket and flicked it on. The light stung his eyes as he cast the torch slowly around the floor of the charnel pit. Bones gleamed among the bloody pulp that lined the floor.

  Everything in the pit appalled him, but the worst sight was that of his wife’s broken, mutilated body draped over the arm of the huge pale obscenity that stood a few feet in front of him.

  Baz was glad of Max’s determination to press on, as it ended up saving his life. Baz had peered into the barn at the edge of the trail, his attention utterly focussed on the torn body of a dog that lay just inside the entrance, when he’d heard a sound above him. Like a wasted, blood-covered Tarzan, the tramp had swung down at him from a length of wire suspended from the upstairs rafters. There would have been no way that Baz could have reacted in time, but Max had, taking the tramp out with a perfect headshot.

  As blood and wet pieces of tissue rained down upon them, Max let out a cry and fell into the mud that filled the entrance to the barn.

  ‘Shit, man,’ Max breathed. ‘I think this is it, buddy.’

  ‘You just saved my life. Hang on, we’ll both get out of this and tell the story in the pub. It’ll get us laid for life.’

  Max smiled sadly and shook his head. ‘It’ll get you laid for life, my friend. You make sure you get out of this alive.’

  Baz gripped his hand, smearing the blood across both of their palms. ‘You get a party going up there for when I come.’

  Max didn’t reply. Baz closed his friend’s eyes and set off towards the barn that dominated the farm. He was going to burn the fucker to the ground.

  The cadaverous thing that stood before Campbell had thin, almost translucent, skin with black veins bulging out. Clumps of thick white hairs sprouted from its skin in places. Campbell moved the torch up quickly, eager to hide his wife’s torn face in the darkness.

  The creature’s arms were skinny, mostly just vein and bone. The hea
d was tapered with a long snout, large flared nostrils and rows of blood-flecked teeth the size of bookie’s pens. The creature’s eyes were shrivelled and useless. Its chest heaved as it tried to draw breath.

  It would have almost been pitiful if it weren’t for the fact that it held his dead wife in its arm.

  (Your flesh will be my feast) a voice in his head told him.

  ‘Fuck you,’ Campbell said.

  There was a wet thud, which Campbell realised was the creature putting down his wife’s corpse, then a shuffling noise as the creature started its slow path towards him.

  Further sounds were blotted out by a roar, but it wasn’t from the creature, it was mechanical and it was coming from above him. The noise increased to a deafening crescendo and then there was a crashing noise as the wall of the barn above him collapsed inward. Light flooded the room above them, filtering down into the pit.

  The creature let out a hideous high-pitched squeal and raised a clawed hand to cover its eyes.

  A thick length of chain fell into the pit, almost concussing Campbell as it slammed into the wall beside his head.

  ‘Put that round the creature’s waist and fasten the padlock,’ Osmo’s voice shouted down over the mechanical roar. ‘Then grab the son of a bitch and hold on for dear life.’

  Campbell thought of questioning, then he remembered what Osmo had said before. While the creature was still disoriented, he ran in and thrust the chain around its waist. Its skin felt heinous, like wet wallpaper, as his arms brushed against it. He pulled the chain tight and snapped the padlock on, just as the creature’s hands left its eyes and came for him.

  The swipe caught him on the side of the head and sent him to his knees. It let out a cry that was akin to having knitting needles stabbed into his ears. Dazed, he was unable to get to his feet. He raised an arm in weak defence as the creature towered over him. Despite its pitiful qualities, it had one hell of a left hook.

  The creature pinned him to the floor with its startlingly heavy bulk. Fetid breath steamed against his face. The mouth opened and huge teeth snapped at his throat. He managed to get an arm between it and him, just as the jaws clamped shut. The teeth sunk into his forearm, drowning his body in molten agony and sending blood racing down his arm.

  The creature sucked greedily at the wound. It levered his arm out of the way and pulled its teeth out ready for another go at his throat. The tips of the teeth scraped his neck, going in just enough to draw a few spots of blood. He thought that was the end for him, but then the mechanical roar increased in volume and the creature was pulled roughly off him.

  The creature bellowed in rage as its head slammed the wall of the pit. The chain started to haul the creature out into the night.

  Remembering Osmo’s commands, Campbell struggled to his feet and threw himself on the creature’s back. Its wet skin felt sickening against his face but he pressed himself in tighter as he sought to lock his fingers together. The creature’s claws pulled at the chain, trying to separate the links that held it captive. Then its claws sunk into Campbell’s arms.

  He gritted his teeth against the pain. His biceps already burnt from the effort of squeezing the creature so hard. Its claws were raking bloody furrows in his already injured arm. He ground his teeth together so hard that little flakes of enamel came free, crunching beneath his teeth.

  The chain rose slowly, dragging them up from the pit. The creature’s high-pitched cry was excruciating, making him want to cover his ears, but he knew he needed to keep hold of it.

  The creature thrashed against the chain so hard that Campbell was sure the links were going to snap, dumping him and the extremely pissed off creature back in the hole. This didn’t happen, though, they eventually were dragged out of the pit and into the barn.

  The sounds made sense to Campbell’s fuzzy mind now. Osmo was dragging him and the creature out of the barn with a tractor. They scraped along the floor, the motion of the tractor taking the skin from Campbell’s arms and knees. The creature was still venting its rage through a chilling series of high-pitched screams. Campbell coughed his guts up as the tractor belched smoke in his face.

  The vehicle pulled out of the tractor-shaped hole in the side of the barn and out into the moonlit field. Campbell was starting to feel queasy from the relentless dragging motion.

  ‘You can let go now,’ Osmo shouted over the roar of the engine.

  This idea hadn’t occurred to him in his hazy state. His arms let go of the creature and left him, dazed, injured and grateful, in the middle of the field. Osmo continued to drag the thing around the field, leaving slick trails of blood in the grass. The creature was bleeding quite badly from what Campbell could tell. His euphoria evaporated when he saw that the tramps were making their way across the field towards him.

  X

  Baz had almost jumped out of his skin when he saw the tractor burst out of the side of the barn against which he’d been pressed a moment ago. If he hadn’t been so quick he’d have been crushed beneath its wheels. He sighed and focussed on the tractor. It was dragging some huge, bloated thing behind it. He couldn’t see it too clearly, and for this he was grateful.

  A bout of coughing drew his attention to a man spread-eagled on the floor in front of the barn.

  Moving the shotgun carefully in front of him, he slowly made his way to the man. He didn’t look like the others, but neither had the little girl who had set Max on the path to the afterlife. His guard was firmly up.

  ‘I’m a cop,’ Campbell coughed.

  Baz asked for ID. When it was produced, he remained dubious. There was no way he was getting caught with his trousers down like Max.

  He eyed the tramps making their way across the field towards them and prepared himself for more killing.

  Osmo did a full lap of the field, then stopped, confident that he’d sapped most of the creature’s strength. He ran to the barn and fired up the combine harvester. ‘Food preparation indeed,’ he laughed, revving the engine and creating another huge hole in the side of the barn. Grinning, he steered the harvester to where the creature lay, struggling against the chain that was anchored by the tractor’s weight.

  ‘I’m not one of them, I swear,’ Campbell said as he struggled to his feet.

  ‘I believe you but we’ve already been caught out like this once tonight. So forgive me if I ain’t rushing to give you a hug.’

  Campbell nodded. His lungs burnt from the acrid smoke. He watched Osmo’s steady progress with the combine harvester and smiled as he realised what he intended. The tramps now were rushing towards the fallen creature.

  ‘Let’s round ’em up,’ Campbell said, rushing towards the tractor as fast as his battered body would carry him.

  Baz took down the nearest two tramps with a brace of headshots. Their blood saturated the mud.

  The rest of the tramps howled their anguish as they realised that they weren’t going to be able to stop the big red harvester as it drew ever closer to their trapped master.

  ‘Woo fucking hoo!’ Osmo bellowed at the top of his lungs as the creature loomed large in his vision. ‘This is for Marie. This is for Graham. This is for Grace.’

  Then the harvester bucked as it started to go over the creature’s body. The blades struggled with it at first, but then something gave with a sickly squishing sound and a thick spray of dark blood shot from the rear of the harvester.

  Campbell cheered as the blood flew like slurry from the back of the vehicle.

  Osmo punched the air.

  The harvester made quick work of the rest of the creature, mincing it up into a thick pulp and spraying it onto the field behind the vehicle.

  Osmo pulled the harvester off the creature, seeing there wasn’t much to take care of, and spun in an arc before coming back for a second go. The blades mushed up what remained of the creature, leaving it as black slurry that contaminated the field.

  The tramps wailed in despair, clutching their heads as though they were afraid their brains were going to fall ou
t through their ears.

  Baz gunned down a couple more of them, just to be on the safe side, before Campbell made him lower the gun.

  ‘They’re not under his control anymore.’

  Baz lowered the gun but kept a watchful eye on the tramps, who were now rolling around the grass, squealing. The awful sound assaulted Campbell’s ears.

  Osmo pulled the harvester up after turning one of the tramps to mulch and ran over to Campbell, hugging him with an intensity that forced the air from the policeman’s body.

  ‘We did it, my lad. We killed the fucking thing.’

  ‘I know. Thanks, Osmo.’

  ‘Did you find your family?’

  Campbell’s downcast stare told him everything he needed to know.

  ‘I’m sorry, son. But at least no one else will have to go through this now.’

  ‘Yeah,’ Campbell said. Now that the ordeal was over, grief hit him like an iron bar. He sunk to his knees, sobbing.

  ‘Let’s get you out of here,’ Baz said.

  ‘It’ll get better, son,’ Osmo said, throwing his arm around Campbell’s shoulders and squeezing him in. ‘I promise you, one day this will all be behind you.’

  Campbell nodded and let Osmo and Baz lead him off the farm to Baz’s waiting car.

  Jones was sceptical when he first saw the blood-covered trio, but his doubts soon faded when Baz showed him the video he’d taken on his phone of Osmo dragging the monster round the field with the tractor.

  ‘What the hell was it?’ Jones asked.

  ‘Giant fucking bat,’ Osmo said.

  ‘Figures,’ Jones said. ‘Listen, Campbell, I’m sorry I didn’t listen to you, or to Osmo, but you do realise how crazy this all sounds.’

  They both nodded.

  ‘We’re going to go up to that farm and have a good look around,’ Jones said. ‘Make sure everyone on their side is dead.’