She returned to the table and asked Gus, “How do you propose we get them out to the barn?”
“I don't propose anything,” Gus said. “Normally I just shoot 'em, throw them in the truck bed, and drive to the barn. Even that big black fella wasn't too difficult. I just had to get his chest up on the tailgate first. The wife was lighter; I just tossed her in. You should have just let me make them walk to the barn when they got here.”
It all seemed unreal. Chris couldn't believe what he was hearing. Subconsciously he'd known those packs weren't just found in the woods but had ignored his intuition. These crazy old bastards had killed the people in that photo! Now they were planning on killing them, too, and all they could do was lay there helpless.
“I wanted to know if anyone knew they were here,” Louise snapped. “I was being cautious. Besides, it's nice having company other than you every once in a while. We have to get them to the barn in some manner or another. Worse comes to worse, we can always wait until the drugs wear off and make them walk at gun point.”
“I still don't feel right about the boy,” Gus repeated. His gaze remained straight ahead, not meeting the eyes of his wife or any of the heads on the table.
“What do you propose we do?” Louise asked. “You love the constant supply of meat just as much as I do. Should we join the group of people forced to find boxed and canned foods and never eat a good dinner again? Did you hear the way they talked of getting a bunch of food from the store in Glendo, as if it was a great find? They're eating out of boxes and cans, and that is a good dinner for them.”
Chris's stomach churned and rolled. Not only did they capture and kill people, but they cut them up and ate them. The ham at dinner probably wasn't ham at all. It could have been one of the people in the photo. The image of the smiling couple by the waterfall flashed through his mind, and he couldn't help but think of how happy they had seemed in the picture. Was it a honeymoon? A vacation? He wanted to puke. He wanted to purge the meat, the pie, the apples, and everything else he'd eaten in the past day, start over with an empty stomach and reboot his digestive system. Not even the revulsion and overwhelming desire to remove the contents of his stomach caused an effect. His body was ignoring every signal it received.
“I don't know,” Gus said, taking a drink of water. “You should have just let me make them leave with the shotgun.”
“It's always 'you should have this' and 'you should have that' with you. Stop complaining and just get it done.” Louise stood and walked out of the room. Gus sighed and followed. When he came back he was dragging a flatbed cart. His heart dropped. Chris knew what it was for as soon as he saw it. Gus was going to wheel them out to the barn and cut them up. What else could it be for?
Gus stopped the cart and took a position behind Chris. He hooked his arms under Chris's armpits and dragged him from the chair onto the cart. To his credit, Gus laid him down gently, and didn't let Chris's head flop around uncontrolled. Mike came next and Gus laid him next to Chris in a spooning position. It would have been incredibly awkward, but given the way things were going, it was the least awkward part of the whole situation.
Next came C.J., who was placed gently on top of both Chris and Mike. Gus laid C.J.'s head in the crook between the bodies of Chris and Mike and made sure it wasn't going to roll around. Gus stepped back and admired his handiwork. Content with his placement of the bodies, he walked to the hallway and dug around on a shelf above the washer and dryer. He found what he was looking for, a long yellow rope, and walked it back to the cart.
He tossed one side of the rope over the top of their bodies, bent to one knee, and pulled it from under the bottom of the cart. He repeated the act several times, securing them to the cart. Chris felt Gus's hand press on his back and shove him around, testing the tie-down. It held and secured the three of them as a single unit.
Satisfied with the state of things, Gus picked up the handle from the floor and pulled the cart to the door leading to the rear of the house. He opened it and slowly rolled the cart down the two stairs leading to the breezeway they had walked through on their arrival. Gus strained to keep the cart from taking control, overpowering him, and forcing itself down the stairs. The back of Mike's head bounced against Chris's forehead as they descended each step, and Chris was plagued by an urge to raise a hand in protection. Unfortunately, all he could do was hope that gravity didn't decide his head would be better placed further back, giving Mike's skull a clear shot to his nose and mouth.
The cart fell from the last step to the concrete flooring, and Gus took a second to catch his breath. Seemingly recovered, he lifted the handle of the cart again and pulled it to the door leading outside. Chris stared at the steps leading to the basement as they passed. Louise had mentioned their food storage was down there, and Chris's stomach did a little turn at the thought of finding human body parts and organs in storage. He forced the thought from his mind as it wouldn't help solve the current predicament and just made him feel ill. If he didn't figure out a way for them to escape from this it wouldn't matter much what he thought of the storage area.
The screen door dragged against the side of the cart as they were pulled through the doorway and slammed back to its frame as the cart was pulled beyond its reach. A cold wind blew, shaking the tall grass around the cart, and the trees around the property waved in return. Goosebumps rippled across the skin of the three occupants of the cart, but they could do nothing to warm themselves. Gus continued pulling the cart toward the barn, and its wheels squeaked as it covered the territory.
The barn door bounced in and out of Chris's vision as Mike's head rolled periodically in and out of the way. Pausing, Gus leaned the cart handle back against the cart and walked to the large red door. He removed a set of keys from his pocket, found the desired one, and unlocked the padlock securing the chains looped through the door handles. He unwound the chains and re-wrapped them around just the handle on the right. The right door pulled open soundlessly, and Gus placed a nearby cinder block in front of it so that it remained open. The process repeated itself to secure the door on the left. Content they would remain open, Gus returned to the cart.
The cart was turned sideways, facing the stationary farm equipment, and past the barn. Gus pulled the cart to the gaping barn entrance and gave it a yank to pull the front wheels over the slight wooden riser onto the barn floor. Soon the entire cart was in the barn, and through a thin veil of dust that had kicked up from the barn floor, Chris could see bales of hay stacked in the corners near the entrance. An old truck sat in the middle of the floor, blocking Chris's remaining vision to the rear of the barn.
Gus pulled the cart past the truck and panic washed over Chris. Dark stains covered the barn floor, blatantly areas where pooled liquid had sat for too long without being cleaned. Chris wished and hoped they were oil spots, but he knew that they weren't. Chains and hooks hung from the rafters of the barn, and Chris's heart fell at the sight of them. There were only minutes remaining. He had to figure out something.
They said this stuff wouldn't wear off for ninety minutes. It's probably been about thirty or so. Please God, we need you now more than ever, Chris thought. He hoped for a miracle. Any old miracle would do, he had no qualms about the type. Unfortunately, angels didn't swoop down to rescue them, and the skies didn't send down a vicious dove to peck out Gus's eyes. It looked like it was just going to be them, Gus, the blood stains on the floor, and the chains.
Gus dragged C.J. from the cart first and pulled him off to the side; he left C.J. with his back lying against the wall a few feet from the cart. Mike was next. He pulled Mike over to the blood-stained area on the floor. Gus walked to an area of the barn outside of their field of vision and came back with several chains and metal clips. He looped the chains around Mike's body and clipped them together, wrapping his body. He pulled one of the chains down from the ceiling and secured it to the chains encircling Mike via a large hook attached at the free end. A pulley attached to the chain, and Gus used it to
ratchet Mike's body into the air. Mike drifted back and forth, his momentum slowing, and he came to a stop.
Seemingly content with the result, he returned to Chris. Chris's mind ran a mile a minute, trying to force a way out of the situation. He attempted to tense each muscle of his body in turn, hoping to be able to do something, anything. That would give him a chance to avoid what was coming. Each muscle remained loose, however, and failed to respond. What could he do? He was still working through the options (or lack thereof) in his head, when his feet suddenly rose into the air. Before long the remainder of his body followed and he swayed back and forth, facing the barn door.
Gus placed his hands on the sides of Chris's body, stopping the horizontal swing. Chris was forced to watch, helpless, as the same actions were performed to raise C.J. into the air. The three of them dangled nearly silent in the air. Only the sound of rattling chains announced their dilemma.
Chris watched Gus travel back around to the area beyond their vision and heard him rustling around in some type of tool box. He came back and stood in front of them brandishing a large, rusty knife. He moved to stand directly in front of C.J.
“This is hard for me, you know,” Gus said. “I've never liked doing this, but what choice do I have? The wife doesn't want our standard of living to go down, and we ran out of cattle a while ago. I want you to know that I'm sorry. I've never had to do this to a young boy before. I wanted you to get off our property. You just wouldn't leave in time. You can't say that I didn't give you the opportunity to leave.”
Chris tried to argue and tell him that they'd never really had such an opportunity. Even if there had been an opportunity, that still didn't make this acceptable. Of course, there's nothing Gus could say to make Chris feel okay about this anyway. This was murder, flat out, and Chris was terrified.
“Anyway,” Gus continued, “I just wanted you to know that I don't enjoy this.” He walked over and placed the knife against C.J.'s neck, its sharp edge located at the exact spot where the bottom of his Adam's apple joined his throat. Gus's arm tensed in preparation to swipe.
Please God, help us out of this. This can't be it. It just can't be, Chris thought. If you must have someone, then please have them kill me. Please don't take my son. He knew these were the final seconds of his son's life, and he desperately sought for a solution.
“Aren't you done yet?” Louise's voice called into the barn, interrupting Chris's desperation.
Gus's arm relaxed. His chest rose and fell in an audible sigh. “What do you want, woman?”
“I asked you if you were done!” she said. “I want to go to bed at a reasonable hour, and I don't need you out here wasting time being all sentimental.” Her footsteps clomped along the wooden floor, approaching them.
“If you want to do it, you're more than welcome to,” Gus replied, flipping the knife over and holding it out to Louise by the blade. “We can't all be heartless like you.”
“What do you mean, heartless?” Louise said. “Is it heartless to refuse to suffer like the rest of the world? Heartless to provide for ourselves and ensure our safety? Who knows how many of these people showing up at our house have come here with bad intentions?”
Gus turned on her, his face flushed red with frustration. “Do you really think this little boy came here to do us harm? They came here looking for a safe place to stay, which we offered, and now we're taking advantage of them. If you can just kill a little boy like this without feeling an ounce of compassion, then, well... you're heartless.”
“Fine,” Louise said, seizing the knife. “If you're going to be such a baby about it, I'll do it.” She returned the knife to C.J.'s throat; it fit neatly into the red dent that had already formed across his throat.
“Wait,” Gus said, quietly.
“What now,” Louise said, frustrated. “I said I'd do it. What more do you want?”
“I'm going to get a bucket to catch the blood. This floor is stained enough as it is. I'd like to remove the stains with some bleach or something, but for now we can at least try to not make it worse. I'll be right back.” He walked back around the car, near the toolbox, and was back in a second. He hadn't brought a bucket, however, but a rifle, which he raised and pointed toward his wife. “Step back from the boy, Louise.”
“What are you doing now, you moron?” She kept the knife on C.J.'s throat, but it slackened a bit in her grip.
“I'm going to let the little boy go. We can keep the other two if you insist, but we're at least going to give the boy a chance.”
“He's just going to lead someone back here. Do you seriously think we can just let him go and it's no big deal? How stupid can you be? Besides, what kind of chance will he have out there on his own?”
“I'm not stupid, Louise. It's the right thing to do. We're letting him go.” Gus reinforced the statement with a nod of the rifle barrel.
“You just don't know what's good for you. I'm going to cut his throat, and then we're going to forget about all of this nonsense.” She turned to face C.J. again and her arm tensed.
“Louise, I said no.”
“What are you going to do, shoot me? You won't do what's required to provide for our family, but you'll shoot your wife of forty-three years?”
“I don't want to,” he said. “Just put down the knife.”
“I'm done talking to you. You're being a jackass,” she said. The arm holding the knife twitched, and the rifle fired in response. Time stood still as the realization of what just happened floated through the barn, and the sound of the gunshot echoed through the rafters.
“You dumb bastard,” Louise screamed, letting the knife fall to the floor and gripping her leg. “You shot me! You're protecting these trespassing pieces of trash, and you've shot your own wife. What kind of man are you?”
“The kind that has had enough of your bullying. We're going to let these folks be on their way, and then you and I will hash this thing out,” Gus said. He lowered the three of them from their chains one-by-one with one hand and kept the rifle trained on Louise with the other. They landed on the floor haphazardly. The chains that wrapped their bodies were removed, and Gus stood upright again with a groan. “Come on Louise, let's go back to the house and get your leg fixed up.”
“I can’t believe you shot me, you old bastard,” she said. “You and I are definitely going to have some words when we get back to the house.”
Gus bent, picked up the knife from the floor, and tucked it in between his belt and the waistline of his pants. He flipped the safety switch on the side of the rifle, which was a welcome relief to Chris. The last thing he wanted was for the argument to escalate, causing Gus to change his mind and decide to just end it all for them. At least with the safety engaged he'd have to make a conscious decision to revert on his plan to not kill them.
“You're going to be fine, Louise,” he told her. “It's just a small flesh wound. I'll get it patched up, and you'll be nagging at me just like it was any other day.”
“You bet your ass I will be,” she snarled. “I'm going to nag you until the day you die, you dumb old coot. This isn't over, not by a long shot.”
Gus sighed and turned back to face the awkward pile of bodies on the floor. “Don't try to come back in the house,” he said to the three of them lying on the floor. “I will have to kill you if you come back in. This is your only warning.” Gus wrapped his arm around Louise's waist and supported her weight as they made their way out of the barn. She continued berating him for as long as they were within earshot, and Chris could do nothing but keep hoping that the voices continued to diminish.
To his relief, the grass stopped rustling and Louise's voice could no longer be heard. Though it didn't move them any further from this place, for the moment he would be happy if that was the last time he'd have to hear her voice ever again.
Chris continued to try to move his body, but it was another twenty minutes before he could even move the tips of his fingers. Though coherent words were still not possible, he foun
d that he was able to utter sounds. The muscles in his throat refused to cooperate and kept ignoring the signals from his brain. Another ten minutes restored his power of speech, albeit in a whisper. “C.J., can you hear me?”
“Yes,” an answer floated over. “Barely.”
“Can you move yet?”
“Not really,” C.J. said. “My body feels like a brick.”
“When you can move, if neither Mike nor I can get up yet, I want you to go outside and hide around the edge of the barn and wait for us. Okay?”
“I will.”
As it turned out, the medicine wore off for each of them at about the same pace. Louise must have proportioned the doses appropriately in accordance with each person's bodyweight, or there was a saturation point at which it affected people of varied weights the same. Moving became easier with each passing minute, though it remained difficult and sluggish overall. Chris was light-headed but he was finally able to rise to his feet. The barn swam in his vision, and his limbs ached with the feeling of pin pricks as the blood rushed back into them, but Chris felt good to have these 'normal' problems again.
They gathered themselves quickly and made their way back to the car as a group. A part of Chris was skeptical of their escape and felt that at any moment Louise or Gus would jump out and sabotage them. To Chris's surprise, it didn't happen and they reached their car safely. Chris retrieved the keys from his pocket, unlocked the vehicle, and took the driver's position. Mike entered the passenger's seat, and C.J. the rear of the vehicle.
Once everyone was in, Chris locked the doors and turned the key in the ignition. The vehicle came to life immediately, and relief washed over him. He pulled out of the parking area and away from the house. It felt too easy, and paranoia terrorized Chris's mind. He didn't know whether Louise would run out and jump on the hood of the car, or if Gus's rifle would send a bullet through the rear window and into his brain, but he felt sure that something would ruin this escape. The car reached the gravel road, and Chris turned left. Nothing and nobody prevented their exit, and just like that, they were free.
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