Consumed - Volume 1: An Extreme Horror Anthology.

by Kyle M. Scott

  The movie that this massive butler brought to his mind was a very, very old one. He couldn’t remember the name off-hand but it had starred Boris Karloff – one of Shelly’s favourite actors – and was set in an old dark house. Karloff played the butler and supplied a huge portion of the films frights. He was nowhere near as frightening as this butler.

  With a wave of his arm, the giant welcomed Jack across the threshold, and finally, he was there; Athos House. His nightmarish freak-out on the back-roads was all but forgotten as the warmth and light of the house filled his senses and as he set his eyes on the mansions great hall – it was magnificent.

  This whole night, from the very first moment that he’d been dealt this crummy hand and forced to drive out on his date night to some far off residence, had been strange and often disquieting; now though, as Jack stood underneath an enormous crystal chandelier that glittered like a thousand stars in the sky, and took in the halls exquisitely hewed marble staircase, he felt truly to be the butt of some cosmic joke. This was the kind of home that Jack had only ever seen in the movies; a James Bond film or maybe one of Shelly’s Cary Grant starrers. For a trailer trash boy to be stood within the walls of such a majestic house had a pungent air of unreality about it. Not to mention that he was stood here with the incredible hulk, (sans voice), and seven assorted Pizza’s barely fit for consumption, stacked in his arms.

  Why would people who live in a place like this want Pizza? He marvelled. Was this a case of the rich ‘slumming it’’ trying to find a connection with the common man who dwelt so far below them on the social and economic ladder? Or were they ‘new money’; still stuck in the mire of cheap living and garish tastes?

  The house’s breath-taking décor seemed to nullify that theory.

  Maybe they’re stoned? He smiled.

  “Wait here. I’ll take those.” - Godzilla making contact.

  Jack handed him the tower of fast food. In his hands, the mammoth order of not-so-fine cuisine looked like a starter, “Um, sure thing. I’ll just hang out here then.”

  Without another word, his new friend staked off with a noticeable lack of grace, and left Jack standing alone amidst the vastness of the house’s great hall.

  It was going on ten minutes of very awkward, very uncomfortable floor pacing when from the top of the shining staircase came a jovial, brusque voice.

  “Welcome to my home, son. I can’t thank you enough for the delivery” Said Benjamin Athos, with no small amount of mirth.

  ***

  Benjamin Athos stood in stark contrast to his taste in butlers. He was a small, almost unassuming man whose girth gave away a taste for the finer things, and whose glowing complexion perhaps betrayed a little too much love for the liquor. Only the finery of his garb betrayed what must amount to a vast, unimaginable wealth. Jack estimated the man’s age to be somewhere around his early sixties; his long flowing grey hair and peppered beard gave him the air of a hippy gone good, or gone to ruin, depending on the perspective. In his left hand he held a long, delicate hand-carved wooden pipe that glowed softly from the tobacco within. His right hand, he extended to Jack, backed up with a smile as warm and friendly as that of everyone’s favourite grandparent.

  “Again, it’s a pleasure to have you here, um...?”

  “Jack, sir. My name is Jack.”

  “Jack! A good strong name. It’s a pleasure to have you here, Jack, and thank you so much for coming all this way with our food. We’ve been waiting very patiently for you.”

  “Um, no problem.” Jack replied in kind “Thank you for having me, Mr Athos” it sounded like a question,

  Benjamin laughed “There's no need to be nervous, my boy. My dear wife is always telling me my somewhat overzealous manner can be quite daunting; says it gives me the air of being somewhat manic.”

  Jack smiled and nodded, wondering where this was going.

  “I assure you, I'm perfectly sane, and I'm on no medication whatsoever, which is a fact not many men of my age can boast of. I do, however, love my food, and I tend to get a bit giddy when dinner time comes around.”

  Not knowing how to react to this strange man, Jack merely smiled, nodded and said, “Yeah, I get the same way round about happy hour.”

  At this, Benjamin let out a roar of laughter, wholly undeserving of his lame joke, and slapped him on the arm in a manner that was surely meant as one of camaraderie, but only succeeded in startling Jack and causing him to flinch.

  “Come boy, your perplexity is showing!” he bellowed.

  Jack willed himself to loosen up “Sorry, sir.”

  “Call me Benjamin.”

  “Sorry Benjamin. I don’t mean to be unsociable or unprofessional; it’s just that I've never been in a place like this before, or, if you don’t mind me saying so, met a man like you before.”

  Benjamin raised his eyebrows in mock shock “ A man like me?”

  “Yes, sir – Ben – by that I mean a man of social standing. Where I come from, we don’t see very many, you know...” Jack stuttered.

  “Go on boy, you can say it...Rich men.” He smiled as he emphasised the word ‘Rich’. The man was clearly enjoying Jack’s unease – whether in good nature or with malice, Jack couldn’t tell. The man was just too hard to get a bead on.

  Benjamin went on “I wasn’t always rich you know – I came from a very poor family. I was raised just outside Detroit in a humble little town called Elliston. Growing up I had, how do you say, ‘Not a pot to piss in’!!!”

  More of that bellowing laughter poured forth from the man; filling the entire hall - every bit as grand and over-egged, as the surroundings in which it echoed.

  He continued, “No...I came into my fortune later in life. I won’t bore you wit the circumstances through which I find myself stood here today in this magnificent home.”

  Genuinely fascinated by this strange man; Jack urged him on. “It is a beautiful home you have here.”

  “Thank you, my boy. Thank you. And you, Jack.” Benjamin put his arm over Jack’s shoulder in a gesture that felt entirely disarming and not a little too friendly. “Walk with me.”

  With that, Jack let Benjamin lead him deeper into the home. They turned right at the foot of the main stairway, and carried on down a hall adorned with oil canvasses; each individual work of art illuminated by its own overhead light fixture. The paintings stared back at Jack as he took them in one by one. The hall seemed endless, and Jack found himself wondering just exactly where the homeowner was leading him. He was just about to ask that very thing when Athos beat him to the punch with a question of his own. Or was it a statement?

  “You come from less privileged means also, I understand.”

  How could he know that? , thought Jack. Oh wait, I’m a Pizza delivery guy; of course I’m poor.

  “I do.” He replied. He hoped the man hadn’t noticed the reddening of his flushed face – a symptom of the ingrained shame that had been his unwelcome companion his whole life.

  Struggling to lighten the subject, Jack mused, in a tone more cheerful than he felt inside, “Maybe one day I can be as successful as you, Ben. You escaped from your circumstances; there’s hope for us all, I guess.”

  Benjamin patted him on the back like they were old friends, “Oh, there's hope all right. Not for you, perhaps but for the select few who are willing to take the extra step to attain their dreams.”

  Jack found himself somewhat surprised by the man’s casual dismissal of his future. He turned to face Benjamin, slipping out from under the man’s arms as he did so.

  “I feel I have as much a chance as any, Sir. I work hard, and I have good grades.” Jack felt emboldened by his small rebellion against the rich man’s response to his ambition. He’d heard the same thing a thousand times from a hundred different teachers, and had never piped up before, and it was a strange and welcome change of tact for him. And anyway, why was he stood here defending himself before this gentleman?

  “Oh, I don’t mean to offend, Jack. I'm sure you’r
e a model student, and a young man of lofty ambitions. I merely meant that to climb the ladder of commerce all the way to the top, one requires a certain - shall we say - coldness of the heart.”

  A sliver of apprehension crawled slowly up Jack’s spine, as Benjamin continued; his initially cheerful manner growing steadily more serious. “Take our circumstances tonight, for example. Here you are, all the way out here, many miles from home, and the embrace of the girl you love...”

  “How did you know about -” Jack asked

  Benjamin stopped walking. It was fleeting, but Jack could have sworn a smile touched the small man’s face that felt....malicious.

  “It’s my job to know these things, son. And I do my job well. You have a girlfriend, and she is waiting for you back home, sat all alone in her trailer, with a whole slew of tasteless horror movies at hand – yet here you are, spoiling your chances to win her affections in order to earn a minimum wage, and all for a boss who couldn’t care less whether you live or you die, no doubt.”

  Jack was taken aback. His mind felt detached from the situation unfolding. Who is this man? How does he know these things about me? And why?

  The car, Jack thought, his skin crawling, the phone!

  You were being followed!

  He took a few steps back from the elderly gentleman, sensing an unspoken threat. Yes - there was a definite darkness to the man’s smile now. He looked more like a wolf waiting to pounce that the jovial old aristocrat that had come before.

  I have to get out of here. Right now – Jack mustered up his best smile. Inexpiably intent on maintaining the charade that both now knew they were playing.

  “Sir, I’d like to go now. You have a lovely home, but I really must be getting back.”

  Benjamin ignored him. “Why do you think you’re here, Jack? Do you really think you came all this way to deliver Pizza Pies??” Benjamin spat the words out with unmistakable disgust.

  “Sir, I don’t know what’s going on here but I'm leaving.”

  Benjamin stepped toward him, and Jack once again backed off from this much smaller, weaker man. Malice was now sliding off him in waves. Despite Jack’s superior strength and size, he was dangerously close to panic.

  “Do you really think I would allow my guests to feast on something as vulgar as that slop you brought with you?” He was grinning now – a shark confidently circling its prey. “No, no - my guests expect far finer cuisine from their host, you stupid little cunt.”

  Jack had almost no time to react to the insult. He had, however, just enough time to see a shadow loom over Benjamin’s face and see the smaller look over his shoulder and up – he saw nothing more before he felt an almighty ‘crack’ across the back of his skull, and all went black.

  ***

  Jack’s world was red. He could vaguely presume a confusion of silhouettes’ through the dark red blur that was his vision – silhouette’s that sometimes resembled human forms, and sometimes not. He could hear voices; at first they were little more than echoes – half heard whispers that seemed to emanate from far, far away – but as his senses slowly returned to him, and the voices grew closer, he found that he could discern certain words, although all the varying cadences co-mingled to form one cacophony in his fractured mind. And there was laughter - merriment of the sort one would expect at a New Year Shindig, or maybe a wedding. Wherever he was and whoever these people were, they were having a damn good time.

  As Jack’s consciousness slowly surfaced from the timeless murk that had been its sanctuary, the pain hit.

  Blinding, pounding pain. He felt like his head had been trapped in a vice and had been slowly squeezed till it almost cracked. His skull felt a hundred pounds heavier than it should have, and when he tried to raise his head he found it all but impossible.

  Where was he? What happened? Jack’s tempered mind grasped at memory, as he pried into the evening events in a desperate scramble for the truth. He remembered calling Shelly. He remembered the long, creepy drive through the Californian countryside, and he remembered –

  Jack’s memories washed over him like a wave that threatened to drown him. He’d been assaulted at the hands of someone while talking to the house owner. Probably by that behemoth of a man that answered the door. Who was it again? The butler?

  Oh dear God, I'm in real trouble here.

  Again, Jack tried to lift his head with only a modicum more success than last time. Whatever had struck him had really done some damage. He vaguely worried that he may have concussion, before the seriousness of his circumstance relocated such matters to the ‘not-exactly-your-main-concern’ compartment of his mind.

  And was the laughter dying down? Yes. He was sure it was. The cell, or wherever it was he’d been taken to, was quickly filled with a hushed silence that somehow was far more terrifying than the gaiety that came before. He heard people shushing others. Heard glasses clinking on tables, and the intake of breath from somewhere close to his right - or was it his left – his head was still so muddled he could barely discern the difference.

  “Quiet down everyone. There we are. Our guest is waking up.”

  It was a man’s voice. Unmistakably that of the stately proprietor - and architect of his captivity – Benjamin Athos.

  “Ruth, darling, could you please wipe his face down? The poor boy must be very much visually impaired behind all that blood.”

  So that's why his world was a terrible deep red – blood from the wound he’d sustained must have run into his eyes, all but blinding him. Next he felt soft hands gently lift his head, and then the ice cold sting of fresh water as someone dabbed at his face with what felt like a cloth. He clenched his eyes shut, and fought to hold back a scream as the person propping up his head ran their hands over whatever wound had been dealt him back there.

  “There now, Mary. Be as gentle as you can. Let Ruth do her work. We don’t want his pain to begin just yet.” - Benjamin again.

  Just yet!? Jack’s stomach turned at the words.

  A girl – presumably Ruth - said, “All done, sir.” And suddenly the iciness of the water was replaced with the familiar warmth of cloth. He felt no comfort, as he struggled at last to open his eyes. Jack had a feeling he may have fared far better remaining in the dark. He had to see, though. He had to know.

  Slowly, and with great effort, Jack opened his eyes to their fullest, and as the previous blurriness receded, he fought to gather his senses and perceive his surroundings.

  The first thing he saw was light. All encompassing; it burned into his eyes and he felt the headache that had been throttling his senses intensify. He peered into the white glare, and realising what he was seeing, his confusion elevated. He was looking at a chandelier, head on. Its radiance seemed to burn into his very being. He was laid flat on his back looking up at an intricately crafted display of lights that looked as far off as stars.

  “You must have struck the poor boy harder than we first assumed, Patrick. “ Athos cleared his throat as though mildly embarrassed. “Look to your side, son.”

  Jack followed the sound of the voice, and came face to face with Athos. The man was grinning. Sat to his left was a woman of such beauty that under other circumstances Jack would have deemed a heavenly vision. Here and now, though, there was nothing angelic about her appearance, her smile held no warmth, and he found himself repelled by its chill

  Jack drew his gaze from the dead-eyed beauty and back to his captor; looking for some explanation as fear coursed through his veins like liquid nitrogen. He was dimly aware of violins playing. The music was sad and despairing – a requiem of some sort. He fought to peer beyond Benjamin and could make out a quartet of musicians sat in a circle by the far side of the hall, poised and fixed in their concentration. Two women and two men. The women were topless; their firm breasts jutted out above their instruments, jiggling as they teased the sad melodies from the strings. Behind them towered four enormous windows boasting stain-glass illustrations. Jack’s heart thundered as he took in the illustration
s. Depictions of degradation and carnality the likes of which he’d never seen before seemed to leer back at him, mocking his sense of purity. One window showed two men suckling on young girls breasts as two more men squeezed their penises into her empty eye sockets. She appeared to be in a state of ecstasy. Another showed two men masturbating over what appeared to be a severed head, and yet another depicted some form of sexual torture as a naked, screaming man was impaled anally by what looked to be a serrated spear. The borders of all four looming windows were adorned with a host of such images, and Jack’s stomach twisted at the sight of them. Outside, the thunder roared and the rain lashed the windows like a thousand tears.

  Looking back at Benjamin, Jack attempted to speak but found the words wouldn’t come.

  “Don’t try to speak, Jack. You’ll find it quite impossible. Patrick has administered a little something to keep you quiet. You’ll also find that it pointless to try to move from the neck down. Don’t worry though; you’re not paralysed. As I'm sure you’re aware from my somewhat overzealous butler’s ‘administrations’, you can still feel pain. We prefer it that way – it’s not necessary that we bear witness to your pleas, or to your screams. Only that you feel such pain as would make you scream.”

  Laughter poured from all around him – Male and female – adult and child.

  “Can you see better now, son? Yes?”

  Jack could only stare into the man’s eyes, pleading as best he could for mercy, and finding absolutely none.

  “Now that you have a feel for your surroundings, and I do hope you’re impressed by my home, perhaps you could be so courteous as to greet our guests in full.”

  Jack lifted his broken head from the table where he lay, feeling the dried blood that caked the back of his skull peel away from the wood. He looked down towards his feet. He was startled to find that he was completely naked, and had been shaved of all hair. Even more terrifying were the twenty or more individuals he found staring back at him from all directions. How had he missed them all? They were dressed in the finest clothing - diamonds sparkled around swan-like necks, affluent looking gentlemen smiled at him as they supped on wines of varying hues. To his left, a little boy and girl, dressed every bit as extravagantly as the adults, sat between a young man and woman, intently sipping a clear liquid from glasses that looked to be made by the finest craftsmen. He turned his head to his right, where sat yet another small boy, adorned in a clean white shirt and a bowtie. The boy’s face was cold as stone, making an obscenity of what should have been youthful verve. He stared intently as Jack, and as he toyed with his cutlery a portly lady to his side slapped his palm gently, admonishing him. She looked to Jack as she did so and smiled apologetically as though ashamed of the child’s manners.