Copyright©2017 by Matt Shaw

Matt Shaw Publications

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DRIBBLE

A HORROR FROM

MATT SHAW

evolution

ˌiːvəˈluːʃ(ə)n,ˈɛvəluːʃ(ə)n/

noun

noun: evolution; plural noun: evolutions

11.

the process by which different kinds of living organism are believed to have developed from earlier forms during the history of the earth.

2synonyms:

3Darwinism, natural selection "early ecologists were not interested in evolution"

4

52.

the gradual development of something."the forms of written languages undergo constant evolution"

6synonyms:

7development, advancement, growth, rise, progress, progression, expansion, extension

PART ONE

HER NAME WAS HELEN

1.

Helen M. Helton couldn’t see despite her eyes being open. Her whole body ached as though she’d been hit with a thousand bricks but the pain in her eyes was the worst. An unbearable burning sensation with no reprieve, even when she closed her eye lids and scrunched them up tight. She screamed out, loud shrieks of both pain and terror which drowned out the man’s repeated apology and whatever else he was saying to her.

‘It’s not my fault,’ he said. ‘I’m sorry. I really am but it’s not my fault.’

If it wasn’t his fault though, who was to blame? He was the one who’d brought her here, even though she’d initially wanted to come. He was the one who’d tied her to the bed - fun and games, she thought. He was the one who’d poured the acid into her eyes so that she couldn’t look at him when he revealed what was about to happen to her. Blind them first so as not to see the look in their eyes. Blind them first so as not to feel guilty when he sees the fear in their eyes. Blind them to close the windows to their souls permanently. Blind them to do them a favour so they can’t see what is coming.

Helen continued to scream. Her clouded eyeballs bubbling away in the sockets of her skull as they slowly started to liquify. Her screams still drowning out his wasted words.

‘I have to present you to them.’ The man continued, ‘If it’s not you, it’s me and I don’t want to die. I don’t want to die.’ He shook his head, not that Helen could see. ‘You’d probably think me pathetic but they’re not as helpless as they look. They can…’ His voice trailed off to nothing.

Helen was still screaming. What was left of her eyes was running down her cheeks like cloudy tears. The trail they left behind similar to what a slug or snail leaves as they slowly glide across whatever surface they moved upon. Helen’s head was bobbing around as she writhed against the restraints keeping her to the bed she once thought she was going to get fucked on. A woman off her meds who’d been happy to go home with the stranger if only for the desire for a hard dick inside her. A desperate need to feel wanted - even if it was just for a fuck.

‘You… You… You are p-p-pathetic,’ Helen stammered her words through the pain. ‘J…. Just kill me if you’re going to do it… Just fucking k-k-kill me.’ She didn’t want to beg him but the pain was getting worse as the acid continued eating away at her flesh. If left, it would eventually kill her anyway. A death, she figured, that would be worse than what he had planned for her anyway.

‘It’s better if I do it,’ he told her. ‘Trust me, it’s better. I promise.’

‘J…Just do… Do it!’

‘It will hurt less,’ he said - his tone solemn. He took no pleasure in this but he knew it was the only way. If he refused, they would kill him. If not him, his family. If he said anything, the same. He had to hand her over to them. He had to turn his back as they had their way with the woman he’d met the previous night. A fortuitous meeting which meant he hadn’t had to snatch her from the streets or force her to come back with him. She had come willingly. A woman who had been quick to come back with a stranger, almost suggesting it herself. A woman with a death wish?

Unseen by Helen, the man crossed the near-bare room he’d tied her in and collected a hammer from the bedside cabinet on the opposite side of the bed.

‘It will hurt less,’ he said quietly.

Helen turned her head, following the sound of his voice, listening to his movements as she waited for the death she knew was coming. The fear was gone now, she was reconciled. She just wanted it over with. She’d wanted it over with for as long as she could remember too. She’d only been pushing forward thanks to the help of the medication the doctor had prescribed. Medication that had long since run-out.

‘Do it!’

The man’s hand tightened around the hammer and he raised it high.

‘I’m sorry. I truly am.’

‘DO IT!’

‘God, forgive me!’

The man closed his eyes and brought the hammer down hard. The metal edge cracked against Helen’s skull, ripping the skin open in the first blow and bashing a memory to the surface…

*

‘Shit,’ Helen muttered to herself as she clumsily dropped the last two tablets from her medication: Small little pills to keep the Bi-Polar disorder under control. They plopped into the lavatory with little splashes. The meds helped her stay as “normal” as society liked but there was no way she was going to put her hands down into the toilet to fish them out and it wasn’t as though the week wasn’t already busy enough without having to get a repeat prescription. She repeated herself again, ‘Shit! Shit! Shit!’ She stopped. She sighed. No sense crying over spilt milk or, in this case, flushed tablets. And it wasn’t the first time she’d come off her meds. So long as she got the repeat prescription as soon as she possibly could, she’d be okay. A little voice in the back of her mind asked her if she was sure about that. The last time she had ditched the meds, it had led to an unwanted credit card bill where she’d gone spending and several occurrences of waking up with a stranger, after a night out on the town. The little voice reminded her that being manic might have been fun when in that mindset but it wasn’t good for her health or sanity.

She turned to the mirror. The reflection staring back: The woman in her early fifties (although looked early forties) with short purple hair staring back at her didn’t look scared about the thought of having an episode. If anything she looked more frustrated by the fact she now needed to find time to get back to the doctors for the script. She shook her head.

‘Clumsy idiot.’

*

The memory blurred as reality set back in. The man standing above her, unseen through her puddled eyes, with bloodied hammer in hand and the feeling of something wet (blood) running down from the fresh wound on her pounding head. The blow had been hard enough to cause instant nausea to set in both in her twisting stomach and at the back of her throat, an uncomfortable acidic burn.

The man raised his arm again and held it there a moment. Why wasn’t she dead or, at the very least, unconscious?

Helen groaned, still stunned with her mind both still in the present but also the past.

The hammer came down again, close to hitting the same spot.

*

William was standing, surrounded by a brilliant white light. Cuddled under his left arm he held Helen’s old pug, Axl Rose. By his feet, a Japanese Chin was sitting, tongue hanging from its mouth, with its head tilted and eyes fixed to where Helen was standing. Another of her old dogs, a friendly little soul called Ares. William smiled - it was a smile Helen hadn’t seen since his passing all those years ago. An unfair death at the cancer’s bastard hands, a couple of months after he had been diagnosed. Despite the smile on his face, there was a sorrow in his eyes. He shook his head as he took a step towards Helen who - herself - was surrounded by an eternal darkness.

‘It’s not right,’ he said. ‘It’s not your time yet.’

Helen went to answer him when the white light seemingly swallowed him from view. Her eyes welled-up.

*

Helen’s head lolled to the side as she struggled to stay conscious: A fight she wasn’t trying to win and yet couldn’t stop herself from battling. The thought of her deceased brother standing there, waiting for her to get to him making this so much easier. Her head was pounding. A new meaning to the term splitting headache as her brain rattled within her skull. The blood running down the side of her face dripped onto the rocker tee-shirt she was wearing, instantly soaking into the cotton material. She tried to talk, she tried to tell him to just get it done but the words wouldn’t form. Nothing came out but a series of groans and murmurs. She didn’t need to ask him though. He wanted it done as much as she did. The sooner this was over for him, the sooner he could get back on with “real life”. That is, until the next time.

‘Please just die already.’

He raised the hammer for a third time. This time, he kept his eyes open as he brought it down with a heavy crack: A crack which robbed Helen of her consciousness.

Earlier That Night

2.

‘What are you doing?’ Amy pushed Helen away as she leaned in for a drunken kiss. Amy had been married for eighteen years, had two children and Helen had crushed on her for as long as she could recall. The pair had met at the theatre company where Helen worked. Amy - a non-practicing attorney with dark blue eyes and gorgeous red hair - had been hired to act in the play and Helen had ended up being her dresser, a job she didn’t hate. The pair had hit a bar after Helen had called upon her, begging for company as she struggled with a manic phase of her disorder. By the time Amy arrived, Helen was already drunk.

‘Just a little kiss,’ Helen begged.

‘You’re drunk.’

‘I’m horny. I want you so bad.’

‘I’m married!’

‘He doesn’t need to know.’

‘I’d know.’ Amy stood and picked her bag up from the bar. ‘Come on, I’ll get you home.’

‘I’m not ready to go home!’ Helen spat - her cranky and irritable side shining through just as it always did when friends tried to ruin her supposed fun. ‘You can go home though if you’ve had enough and don’t want to be with me. It’s fine… I’m sure I can have a pleasant evening talking to…’ She turned her head to the side and caught sight of a dark haired stranger standing a few feet away. He was leaning on the same bar Helen was sitting at. In his hand, he cradled a whiskey as though it were some powerful medicine that could right the world and take away the pain. Helen sidled up to him. He turned to her, a confused look on his face as she smiled at him. ‘Hi,’ she said. He frowned.

‘Helen you don’t have to do this,’ Amy said.

‘What? I want to do this.’ She turned to the man and asked, ‘What’s your name?’

‘Donnie.’

‘Donnie? like Darko?’ Helen laughed at her own stupid, drunken joke.

‘Come on Helen, I’ll drive you home.’

‘I’m not ready to go home.’ Helen turned to Donnie. ‘You buying me a drink, Donnie Darko?’

He smiled at her. ‘Sure. What can I get you?’

‘Whatever you’re having is fine.’

‘Whiskey?’

‘Come on Helen…’

‘Fuck off, Amy.’

Helen wasn’t a drinker. She didn’t drink and she didn’t smoke so the fact she’d managed to get in this state was cause for concern for Amy but there was nothing she could do or say to stop her friend from acting out. The more she pushed, the nastier she was getting. At this rate, they’d be fighting for real soon. Amy sighed and walked away from the bar. When she got to the exit, she gave a final look back to Helen who was stroking the stranger’s arm. She’s a big girl, she can look after herself. Amy reluctantly left the bar before she made her friend even more hostile. She’d call her in the morning and see that she was okay. More to the point, she’d see if she remembered any of this.

‘Your friend okay?’ Donnie asked Helen as he gave a casual look over his shoulder.

‘Did you want to talk about her or did you want to drink up and take me back to yours?’ Helen downed her drink and reached back along the bar for her bag. She turned expectantly to Donnie.

Donnie responded to Helen’s actions by downing his own whiskey, the drink he’d been nursing for at least a half an hour now. He stood and collected his leather jacket from the bar before slipping it on. Helen just watched him expectantly, still pissed that her friend had turned down her advances. Watching this guy struggle with his coat, a clear case of scraping the barrel but still better than going home alone.

‘So how far away do you live?’ Helen asked.

‘About an hour. Here, there’s something I need to tell you about where I’m living at the moment.’

‘Oh God - you don’t live with your parents, do you?’

Donnie laughed. ‘No. Not that. I don’t live with my parents. Although that might have been better?’

‘Will we get some privacy at least?’ Helen asked.

Donnie nodded. ‘We will.’

‘Then shut up and lead the way,’ Helen urged him.

*

Donnie reached for the scarf around Helen’s wrist. He undid it and her hand slumped down to the soft mattress seemingly lifeless. Fighting with the guilt he felt, he walked back around to the other side of the bed and undid the scarf on that side too. Same again, her hand slumped down to the side. He paused a moment and looked at her. She was a mess. The side of her face was covered in blood, her purple hair - despite being short - matted. Her skull was dented. It was still better than her alternative. Her face was pale, cheeks stained in the “tear” marks left as her eyes dribbled from their sockets. She looked a far cry from the way she’d looked earlier that night when he had first brought her into the room.

*

Helen stumbled into the bedroom. The whiskey she’d downed before leaving the bar had hit her on the way home and she could barely stand now without needing to prop herself up. She stumbled to the bed and turned to Donnie as he entered the room. She slumped down onto the mattress.

‘You best fuck me good,’ she said.

He didn’t smile. Just as he had seemed nervous in the bar, he seemed nervous here too.

‘And afterwards,’ she continued with her words slurring, ‘you definitely have to show me around because I’ve never been to a place like this before.’

He forced a smile. ‘I can do that.’

Helen laughed. ‘You didn’t mention about fucking me good though!’

Donnie walked across the room to the cupboard standing in the corner. He opened the door and reached in before pulling out two scarves. He crossed the room back towards the bed where Helen was waiting. She noticed the scarves.

‘Oh? And what do you think you’re going to do with those?’

‘Lie back,’ he told her.

She smiled. ‘Kinky.’ She laid back on the bed and raised her hands to the headboard. ‘I hope you can walk the walk if you’re going to talk the talk.’

Without a word, he started to tie her first wrist to the headboard. Then, still silent, he walked around to the other side to tie her other wrist. She closed her eyes as he worked a knot into the bindings. In her mind, it wasn’t this stranger tying her down. In her mind, she wasn’t still dressed in her full outfit. In her mind, Amy leaned down and whispered in her ear, ‘Now I’ve got you.’

A shiver ran down Helen’s spine as she felt her panties moisten.

*

Helen turned to Amy. She was standing above her, looking down at her naked body with lust in her dark-blue eyes. Just as Helen was naked, so was she. The pair of them having discarded their clothes the moment they came in from the bar after Helen’s impromptu kiss.

‘Our secret?’ Amy asked - a stern tone of voice.

‘Promise,’ Helen said with a sigh, desperate to feel her friend’s mouth against her warm skin. ‘Kiss me,’ she begged.

Amy leaned down close so that her mouth - her warm lips - was inches from her own. Helen licked her lips in anticipation.

‘You want me to kiss you?’

‘Yes.’

The little goosebumps rose on Helen’s bare skin as she anticipated the taste of her friend’s lips upon her own. Another shiver ran down her spine and she felt her legs, arms, trembling. She strained closer to Amy, as much as the restraints would allow. Helen backed away ever-so-slightly with a naughty twinkle in her eye.

‘You really want me to kiss you?’ she asked.

‘Please - kiss me.’

She leaned in close and gave her a peck on the lips. A kiss that was soft yet hard enough to leave a lingering taste of strawberry lip-gloss. Helen licked her lips.

‘So where did you want me to kiss you?’ Amy asked with an eyebrow raised. Before she’d finished the sentence, her right hand traced down Helen’s exposed breasts, circling her erect nipples before continuing down her friend’s trembling body. Over her belly-button. Further down. Fingers barely touching the skin with the feeling of electricity with every gentle touch. Helen gasped as she strained against the restraints. The restraints were fun, exciting even, to start with but already they were frustrating. She wanted to touch her friend as she was touching her. She didn’t want to be teased. She wanted to be fucked.

*

‘How’s that?’ Donnie asked, referring to the restraints. His voice pulled Helen from her fantasy.

Helen playfully fought against them. They were tight enough to keep her in place. She asked, ‘Should I scream for help?’

Donnie said, ‘No one will come for you.’

Helen frowned. His tone had changed. There was no playfulness. Instead he sounded as though he was being deadly serious. She pulled harder against the restraints. There was no give. No way out unless he helped her. Suddenly she felt uncomfortable. Vulnerable.

‘Let me out now,’ she said.

Donnie reached under the bed and pulled out a squeezy bottle of what looked like washing-up liquid.

‘What’s that?’ Helen asked, the fear now evident in her voice.

‘I’m sorry,’ he said.

He aimed the bottle at Helen’s face and squeezed a jet of liquid directly into her eyes. She screamed the moment liquid touched flesh. A second later, the eyes started to blister. Donnie momentarily turned his back on Helen as she screamed louder than before as the acid continued to work. He dropped the bottle to the floor and leaned back under the bed. He pulled out a hammer he’d stored there earlier that night as part of his bigger plan.

‘It’s not my fault,’ he said. ‘I’m sorry. I really am but it’s not my fault.’

Helen continued to scream. Her clouded eyeballs bubbling away in the sockets of her skull as they slowly started to liquify. Her screams still drowning out his wasted words.

‘I have to present you to them.’ The man continued, ‘If it’s not you, it’s me and I don’t want to die. I don’t want to die.’ He shook his head, not that Helen could see. ‘You’d probably think me pathetic but they’re not as helpless as they look. They can…’ His voice trailed off to nothing…

3.

Donnie rolled the scarves up and put them back in the cupboard before he turned back to Helen’s body. He paused a moment, long enough to swallow down the guilt he felt for killing her. He mentally told himself again, better her than him. A mental reminder to himself that he really didn’t have a choice if he didn’t want anything bad to happen to him or anyone that he loved. Anyone that he loved? Most of those people had long since left him since he started this job. You’re too busy to see us anymore. You’ve changed. He sighed. Maybe his death would be easier than living like this? This isn’t living. Even so, this is better than dying in that manner. He couldn’t go out like that. Not when he had heard the screams from those who had. He couldn’t go out like that.

He walked closer to the bed and gagged at the sight of Helen’s face up-close. She was a mess: Pale skin, now-empty eye sockets still smouldering, the dented skull and seeping wound.

‘I really am sorry,’ he said again.

Helen suddenly coughed as her whole body twitched as she came to from the nightmare of reliving the evening. A wail of pain escaped her lips as Donnie jumped back, startled. What the Hell?

Donnie grabbed for the hammer on the floor for the second time that evening. He whirled round to his houseguest, hammer gripped tight, and raised it high again. Without a hesitation - he brought it down hard on her skull with a loud crack of bone. He hit her again and again and again until she was lying still beneath him. One more blow just to be sure and this time the hammer’s head stuck into her busted-up cranium. There was no surviving that. He paused as he noticed her chest moving. Barely moving but still moving. He looked at her face. He looked at her lips. They were twitching as she sucked the last few breaths of her life. He moved closer to her and could hear the tiny gulps of air as they continued to slow. She was dying, there was no question about that. Unconscious so still a better death than what could have been - even if it had taken longer than expected. Still a better death.

‘What do you see?’ he quietly asked even though he knew there’d be no answer. He asked again, ‘What do you see?’

*

Everlasting blackness. There was no warm, welcoming white light. Helen couldn’t even see her own body. She was simply an entity in an empty void - the only company being the sound of voices she recognised from a life she was leaving behind.

‘Who will I annoy now?’ Matt, her pain-in-the-arse older brother. A construction worker who brought his laddish banter with him every time he visited Helen.

Other voices mourning Helen’s loss - her grandmother, also named Helen, and her grandmother’s sisters Violet and Mallie, three women in their late eighties and nineties all saying that it wasn’t right that she had been taken before them. Then there were William’s children Jessi and Tori - Helen’s twin nieces, almost 23 years old, crying and finding no comfort in the fact that Helen was back with her brother (their father). Wendy, their mother, and the man she had married after William’s death. A kindly man named Scott who treated the girls as if they were his own. Her work friends from the live theatre she worked at: Micah-Shane, Drew, Frank, Debra, KJT, Debbie, Gregg, Ashley, Troy, Susan and Paige all saying how it wouldn’t be the same without her and that a show should be put on in her memory, followed by arguments about which show would suit her memory the best. Her cousin Tina’s voice was there too, almost lost in a sea of voices until all went deathly silent. A moment later another voice spoke from the black: Diane.

Of course it would have been Diane doing a reading at the funeral. Helen’s best friend of 27 years. On the surface, the two ladies didn’t seem to have much in common. Diane was sixteen years older with four adult children and was a devout catholic. Their joint passion was found in their mutual love of all things British, reading, music and animals. Friends who were happy enough to be in the same room, reading as opposed to talking. The two of them enjoying a comfortable silence. of course she’d be the one to do the reading, talking about Helen’s life.

Then there was Amy and her family. Of all the people there, she was the one who struggled the most with the proceedings as she blamed herself for Helen’s murder. Had she not pushed her away, had she not left that bar without her… Had she paid more attention to the man who she’d stayed to talk with… All of this could have been avoided or, at the very least, the murderer could have been brought to justice. Her cries were the loudest as the blackness in which Helen found herself continued to somehow get darker: Blacker than black.

*

Donnie watched as Helen’s breathing got shallower. As she struggled for the air, gasping, he found himself holding his own breath. Then, just as he expected from her, she stopped breathing. She was gone: A death that brought him no comfort but was - he told himself again - entirely necessary. Regardless of what he thought, it was done now. All he had to do was remove her clothes and then get her downstairs and put her in the front room as they liked. He dropped the bloodied hammer to the floor and struggled to get her tee-shirt off, dropping it to the floor next to the hammer. A splatter of blood from where her head wound had leaked onto it. Whatever method he used to do this - there was always cleaning to be done afterwards. She wasn’t wearing a bra beneath so her breasts were exposed. Donnie couldn’t remember the last time he’d fucked a woman, let alone seen one naked who hadn’t been in a film searched for on the World Wide Web. Even so, there was no temptation to touch her. Not like that anyway.

He undid her jeans and - with effort - pulled them off by the ankles. These too were thrown to the floor in a crumpled heap and just as she hadn’t been wearing a bra, nor was she wearing panties. Her undercarriage exposed to him. The first sighting of a bare cunt in the flesh in a little over a year and not even a twitch from his cock. Perhaps he was the dead one? He stood up straight and noticed something on the floor which had fallen from her jeans. He bent down and picked it up. Her identification: A driver’s licence.

‘Helen Helton,’ he quietly muttered.

He shouldn’t have looked. He knew he shouldn’t have. Just as he didn’t like them looking at him when he took their lives, nor did he like to know their names. Once they were dead, he just wanted to forget them - an act which was hard enough without taking into consideration names or emotions. Looking at her card, she didn’t live too far away. Reynolds Road, Morristown, Tennessee. Just as this house was out in the country, he knew hers was too. The pair of them living close to the Great Smoky Mountains. If anything, this filled him with more dread. He preferred it when they were out-of-towners. He preferred people who could just disappear, those passing through. Taking someone from the town would just get people asking questions, certainly looking for them. Yet he had to. He knew he was out of time and she had made it so easy for him by offering to leave with him.

Donnie bent the plastic card in two and then back on itself again until it was flimsy enough to snap. The two halves, he tossed to the floor with the clothes. When morning came, he would toss it all into a fire out the back. Maybe they would come out and watch the burning too? Maybe they would toast some marshmallows. They liked marshmallows. A treat, they called it. They said it was nice to have something soft to eat which didn’t involve much chewing. Easier on their teeth and less effort in general, especially when toasted so close to being melted.

A treat indeed.

Donnie turned back to the body of the woman, trying to put her name from his mind just as he had successfully done when she first told him it back at the bar. He looked at her and couldn’t help but think what a day of treats they were in for when they woke up the following day. First her and then marshmallows. Considering how ungrateful some of them were to even still be here, at least this should please them. For the briefest of time he felt a moment of happiness that it was over for a few more weeks at least. A few more weeks of the closest he could get to normal as possible given his circumstances. Can’t relax yet. Need to get her downstairs for them.

He bent down and scooped her up from the bed. Hopefully she wouldn’t be missed… Hopefully.

4.

A subrange of the Appalachian mountains, the Great Smoky Mountains are a mountain range rising along the Tennessee-North Carolina border in the southeastern United States. They form part of the Blue Ridge Physiographic Province with their name often being shortened to the Smokies although the Cherokees referred to the mountains as the “Land of the Blue Mist”. Within the range there is a national park which also happens to be the most visited national part in the United States of America attracting over nine million visitors per year. With so many visitors each year, it’s no wonder that people die within the mountain range with deaths ranging from accidents, swift water disasters, animal attacks and - more worryingly - mysterious circumstances. And some people go into the mountain range with plans of a hike and then simply disappear.

*

The lady pressed the Missing poster up against the wooden pole and kept it there as her other hand worked the staple gun. A staple in each corner of the A4 piece of paper, securing it to the post for as long as necessary - although the lady hoped it wouldn’t be long at all. She took a step back and looked at the black and white photograph scanned to the centre of the page: Her black cat. He’d gone out a few nights previously and not returned the following morning when she’d called him. Previously when she’d rattled the box containing his food, he’d appear, usually from the same spot in her garden; the shrubs along the fence at the far end. He’d run on up to the house and into the kitchen through the open backdoor where he’d immediately start meowing for her to put the food down. And never so much as a thank you. Three days ago was the last she’d seen of him and he’d appeared well enough then, happily chasing something unseen in the garden - occasionally pouncing at whatever it was. Before the lady had the posters printed in the local store, she’d asked around the neighbourhood on the off-chance anyone had seen him. Most of them knew the cat as he was a friendly little fella - more often than not because he thought he was going to be fed if he hung around people enough. Like most animals, driven by food. Unfortunately none of the neighbours had seen him but most promised to keep an eye out.

The lady smiled at the picture. He was sitting tall and proud staring right at the picture as though posing for the perfect photo for his momma. She remembered the day it had been taken. He had been sitting so perfectly because, off camera, she had been holding his bowl of food. He hadn’t been looking at the camera, posing the way it appeared, he had been looking at the bowl desperate for her to stop teasing and put it down for him. He hadn’t been teased long - a few seconds at most - and the picture was worth it. Certainly one of her favourites. It also showed his little white patch perfectly too; a small patch of fur just under his chin that had somehow avoided God’s spray-paint. The lady’s left eye suddenly welled at the thought of not seeing her little man again. She wiped it dry with the back of her hand. She knew the likelihood of seeing him again was remote but she didn’t want to admit defeat. Too many animals went missing around these parts. Some people blamed the wild animals - such as the bears - some people blamed speeding traffic and then there were those who eyed the takeaway joints with deep suspicion. She tried not to think about what could be and instead tried to think of a more positive outcome.

‘It’s a cat.’

The lady jumped at the sound of Helen’s voice. She spun around to see the stranger standing a few feet behind with a bag of shopping in each hand.

‘I’m sorry?’

‘I said it’s a cat.’

‘It’s my cat.’

‘It says you’re offering a reward?’ Helen nodded towards the poster.

‘Yes.’

‘How much?’

‘I hadn’t thought about it. $50?’

‘$50? Why don’t you take that money and just go and adopt another cat?’

The lady frowned. ‘I want my cat.’

Helen shrugged. ‘It’s probably dead. You’re just wasting your time and the time of anyone who looks for it. You might as well save yourself the hassle and adopt another one.’ She continued, ‘Certainly saves from littering the streets with the flyers too…’

The truth was, Helen loved animals. On a good day, when she was on her meds, she wouldn’t have wanted anything bad to happen to the cat and she certainly wouldn’t have had a conversation like this but - off her meds - she was in the mood to cause a little trouble and have what she considered to be a laugh. She watched as the lady stammered for her words and, then, she laughed. Without another word, she continued towards her car. Once there, she set her bags down and fished for her car keys in the bag that hung over her shoulder. She pulled them out and unlocked the car before putting the shopping bags in the rear. She closed the back up and climbed into the front, tossing her bag onto the passenger seat next to her. She paused a moment. The happiness she’d momentarily felt for having a spend up was all but gone and her mind was swimming back towards the ever looming blackness behind. She needed to go out. She needed to get out. She slid her car-key into the  ignition and then reached across to the bag and pulled out her cell phone opening the contacts, looking for the name of someone who she’d not seen for a while or - better yet - would be up for a night out on the town. Amy’s name popped out.

Helen dialled Amy’s number and waited for the line to connect, not that she had long to wait. The phone rang a couple of times before her friend answered.

‘Hiya! You good, girl?’ Amy knew it was Helen thanks to her name coming up on the screen.

‘I need a night out,’ Helen said - straight to the point. ‘You’re not going to let me down and leave me hanging are you?’

Amy laughed. ‘No pressure. When are you thinking?’

‘Tonight?’

*

Amy climbed into her car and attempted to rub the tiredness from her eyes. What the hell was that about? She was thinking about the kiss. Or rather, the attempted kiss. She had known that Helen had a crush on her but that was the first time she had acted upon it. What had she been thinking? She knew she was married. Happily married. She knew it wouldn’t happen. And now she was sitting here thinking she was the arsehole for pushing her back and walking out. She looked over towards the entrance to the bar hoping to see Helen stagger out, drunk and apologetic. Nothing.

‘Shit.’

She’d give it five minutes and then she’d go in and see if Helen was ready to leave yet. With any luck, Helen would come out before then, ready to go home and thankful to see Amy waiting for her. With any luck. Worst case, Amy would go in and Helen wouldn’t be willing to leave without getting aggressive with her for trying to ruin her fun.

Amy sat back and watched the clock on her dashboard as the time slowly ticked on by. Had she known about the side entrance and that Helen was already on her way to another vehicle in the overspill carpark, she wouldn’t have waited the five minutes. But, then, had she known that the argument in the bar was to be the last time she’d ever see her again, she wouldn’t have left her in the first place.

End of Part One

INTERVAL

If corpses could talk (Part One)

His screams echoed through the old home as people milled around where he writhed around, pinned to the floor by numerous hands. This is what he had wanted to avoid. This is what had frightened him into working for them and yet despite doing all they asked, here he was - suffering the same fate as many before him. And for what reason? Because he had displeased them with an offering that was far from fresh. Tainted meat stinking of death’s lingering aroma, an unpleasant smell - enough to put the most hungry off from eating. He had begged them for forgiveness, screaming at the top of his voice. A mercy that would never come. His words falling on deaf ears.

‘Please don’t do this… I can put it right! I can put it right.’

An icy-cold hand rolled his trouser leg up revealing his bare, hairy skin beneath.

‘Please don’t do this!’

The same hand gripped the ankle in a surprisingly strong grip which stopped him from moving.

‘Please… I’m begging you…’

Another hand from another person touched his shin causing him to flinch. Tears streaming down his face.

‘Please… I can put this right.’

Warm rancid breath gently heated the same leg as the person’s face inched closer to his skin.

‘I didn’t know.’

The person looked at him and smiled a gummy smile. The kindness in the eyes - often seen by others - was all but gone. The eyes so black, like those of a shark.

He screamed again, ‘I didn’t know!’ He cried, ‘I thought it would be okay… I can fix this…’

A bony finger on another hand uncurled from its claw-like state and moved up to another toothless mouth and pressed against the lips.

‘Ssh.’

Knowing what was coming imminently, he turned his head to the side. Across the room there was the body of another. Where there was once a pair of eyes were now just empty sockets staring back. Despite the lack of ability to see, he couldn’t help but feel as though the corpse was still watching him - smiling at what he was about to go through. If corpses could talk, ‘Karma’s a bitch.’

Donnie turned away from Helen’s cold corpse as yet another clammy hand moved across his mouth pressing down with an uncomfortable force. Donnie’s screams muffled.

‘Ssh.’

PART TWO

FIVE YEARS LATER

5.

Chloe Hayler took her backpack off and crashed back against one of the many thick trees surrounding her. She slid down it until she was sitting on the ground and put her head back against the trunk. Whilst she wasn’t necessarily unfit - only 19 years old (although fast approaching 20), tall and slim - she wasn’t particularly fit either. At least not for this kind of hike. A hike which had been Joe Del Guercio’s idea. And why? Because they had supposedly filmed “The Evil Dead” in these woods and it would be “cool” to see the shack.

‘You cool?’ Joe asked. He was a little further ahead and had turned to see where she was having suddenly realised she was no longer walking beside him.

‘I’m fucked!’ Chloe called out as she rooted through her backpack for a tupperware box of cakes her mother, Joanna, had packed for her before the trip.

‘So a chocolate muffin to help with the strength?’ Joe laughed as he walked back to his struggling friend. Joe was Chloe’s best-friend. Before he became a driver, he had been a BMX’er and the pair had been friends since Joe dated Chloe’s twin sister, Megan - a relationship which had lasted for years before crumbling for various reasons. ‘Got a bit for me?’ he asked with reference to the muffin. He didn’t take a seat on the ground next to Chloe as he knew - despite giving the impression of being fine - he wouldn’t get up again. At least not without any help.

‘Is it there?’ Megan called out from further down the hill. A larger girl than her sister, she was struggling the most with the punishing walk.

‘Is it fuck!’ Chloe called down.

‘What? I thought Joe said it was close…’

‘No, I said it was where they filmed it. I never pretended to know where the cabin was.’

Chloe looked at him, ‘It is still there though, right? I mean - it hasn’t been pulled apart by die hard fans over the years with each of them taking a little piece as a souvenir?’

Joe paused a moment and then smiled that cheeky grin he was known for. Chloe rolled her eyes. He didn’t have a fucking clue.

‘This is fucking stupid.’

‘Oh come on. It’ll be cool when we find it.’

‘If.’

‘When. Be positive.’

Chloe swallowed the last of the muffin. ‘My positively went with the last mouthful of cake.’

‘You’ve still got cake?’ Megan called up. ‘Save me some!’

‘Have to get up here quick,’ Chloe shouted back, dangling a carrot in front of her sister’s face despite there not actually being anything left to dangle.

‘On it.’

‘She’s going to kill you.’ Joe laughed.

‘The sooner she gets her arse up here, the sooner we can get going.’

‘Or the longer we’ll have to wait around while she catches her breath.’

Chloe extended her hand towards Joe - a wordless gesture getting him to help her up. He took a hold of her hand and pulled her up.

‘Don’t be cruel about my sister,’ Chloe said.

‘Come on, I didn’t mean anything…’

Megan stumbled through the thicket with her clothes tangled and cheeks red.

‘Please tell me it’s a chocolate muffin…’ she gasped.

‘You’ll have to talk to Joe,’ Chloe said, ‘he just snatched the last bit from me and ate it.’

‘What?’ Joe looked at Megan with horror in his eyes.

‘You fucking arsehole…’

‘I did tell him,’ Chloe said, a naughty twinkle in her eye. To those who she didn’t know, Chloe had the tendency to be fairly quiet - timid even. To those who knew her though, she had a mouth on her and wasn’t afraid to use it. Megan, the younger twin by twelve minutes, on the other hand - she wasn’t timid at all. She stormed up to Joe and hit him on the arm.

‘Ow! Jesus fucking Christ I didn’t eat the cake.’

‘No? Then where is it?’ Chloe laughed.

‘You’re such a bitch,’ Joe said.

Megan hit her again. ‘Don’t call my sister that.’

‘Jesus - remind me why I came away with you two?’

‘Because in your sick demented little mind you thought you’d get back with my sister,’ Chloe said.

‘And you’d try and seduce Chloe into having a threesome with us,’ Megan added, further teasing him.

‘Oh my fucking God.’ Joe turned and walked in the direction he’d originally been headed. ‘I’m going to find this fucking shack so we can go back to the camp-site,’ he said. From his tone, he was genuinely annoyed.

Megan looked at Chloe and asked, ‘Did he really eat the cake?’

‘Yep.’

‘What a dick.’ She paused a moment. ‘Hopefully he’ll get eaten by a bear…’

‘Hate to break it to you but chances are, he’ll outrun us and we’ll be eaten by the bear if we stumble across one.’ Chloe smiled. ‘Don’t worry though, I’ll protect you.’

‘Damn straight you will. A bear comes along, I’ll push you towards it while I run for it. Can’t protect me much more than by getting eaten first.’

‘Oh nice.’ Chloe looked at her sister in disbelief as she knew that she probably wasn’t joking either. ‘Come on, we’d better catch him up.’ Together, the two girls started off in the direction Joe had ventured.

‘Seriously though, if we don’t find this cabin in the next ten minutes, I’m turning back.’

‘Me too.’

The girls had lived in Bromley for most of their lives. A dull down in Kent where all the people seemed to be the same, or similar at least. A flock of sheep blindly following anyone and anything. Ladies who lunch and small-minded people. Chloe was glad to get out. She’d recently moved to The Tannery in Cavendish Street, Leeds, for her University course. At first it had been hard, being away from her family, but she soon got into the swing of things and it wasn’t as though she stopped talking to them just because she was away studying. In fact, this trip had been organised as a way of getting together with her best friend and sister again. A little trip between the three of them after Chloe’s half-sister, Lola, had been prevented from accompanying them due to only being twelve. Traipsing through the thick woodlands of the smoky mountains the girls, at least, were regretting the decision to see the wilderness. Should have gone to Disneyland.

6.

‘I’m not worried about the bears,’ Chloe said when she caught up with Joe. ‘But if we see any snakes, I’m running in the opposite direction. I’m just saying.’

‘Probably for the best,’ Joe said, ‘I’ve heard they’re massive out here.’

‘What?’

Joe had done his research before leaving England and knew there were snakes in the area but he also knew they weren’t as big has he had claimed. He just saw the situation as a way of winding Chloe up after she’d stirred the metaphorical shit with the cake, or rather the lack of cake. Mind you, he also knew the snakes didn’t have to be big. Out here there were rattlers and those fuckers had a bite. Almost as much as Megan. Joe smirked to himself.

‘Anacondas,’ Joe continued. ‘They can grow something like thirty feet long…’

‘You’re shitting me?’

‘Ignore him, he’s being an idiot,’ Megan said seeing straight through Joe’s game.

‘Nope. Someone had a couple of pet ones apparently.’

‘Pet anacondas?’ Megan raised an eyebrow.

‘Pet anacondas,’ Joe confirmed. ‘When they got too big to keep… Because, you know, up to thirty feet long… The guy had to release them into the wild. They bred and, well, now there are anacondas out here…’

His tone must have been convincing as Chloe stopped in her tracks. ‘Okay, fuck this shit, I’m going back to the campsite.’

‘Come on, I’m joking. We’re close now, I can feel it…’

‘The Evil Dead is an old film. It’s irrelevant now. No one likes it. No one cares for it and I’ve heard Bruce Campbell is a bit up himself…’

‘What the fuck are you talking about?’ Joe snapped. ‘The Evil Dead is one of the best horrors out there. It set the bench-mark for…’

‘It’s a fucking shack. Somewhere in the middle of woods that are starting to look very samey. I’m tired and I’ve had enough. And I sure as fuck don’t want to be eaten by an anaconda!’

Joe laughed. ‘There aren’t anacondas out here, I’m joking.’

‘Whatever. I’ve had enough and I’m going back.’

‘What if it’s literally over the next hill?’

‘You really want to see the cabin?

‘Fuck, yeah!’

‘Then we can rent the film when we get back to town in a few days,’ Chloe said. Bored with arguing, she turned and started walking back in the direction she’d come. Megan didn’t say anything. She didn’t have to. She followed her sister. Joe looked back in the direction they had initially been headed. What if it was just over the next hill?

‘Shit,’ he muttered as he turned back with the girls. They had already pushed their luck coming off the hiking trail to find the cabin. To push it further and hike by himself - especially with no signal on his mobile phone - would just be asking for trouble. Trouble he especially couldn’t afford having forgotten to take out any travel insurance. ‘Wait for me,’ he called out. The girls heard him but they weren’t waiting. He’d catch up.

*

The three were walking through the woods - all hungry and tired, clearly ill-prepared for the distance they had walked that day. For the last ten minutes, all of them had been pretty much silent - too exhausted to talk. Chloe was thinking about home, Joe was thinking about missing out on seeing the cabin and Megan was thinking about the muffin she missed out on as her stomach rumbled.

‘You didn’t mean it, did you?’ Joe broke the silence.

Both girls looked at him. He was looking at Chloe.

‘What are you talking about?’

‘Bruce Campbell and The Evil Dead.’ Joe continued, ‘The guy is a legend.’

Chloe looked at him in disbelief. Her feet were aching, she was sweating, she was tired and hungry and yet that was what was on Joe’s mind. She shook her head in disbelief.

‘It’s a great film, admit it.’

‘How about we talk about it when we get back to the tents?’ Chloe said.

‘Guys?’ Megan had been walking a few feet ahead of them and had stopped in her tracks. Her eyes fixed on a clearing a few feet ahead of her. ‘Wasn’t this where we’d left the tents?’ Both Chloe and Joe stopped in their tracks too. Their gaze followed Megan’s. ‘Because I definitely recognise that.’ She pointed to the edge of a bush. In front of it was a bottle of what had been water, now filled with the urine of someone who clearly needed more fluids. She gave Joe a stern look. The bottle had been his. Instead of getting out of his tent during the night, he’d simply pissed into an empty bottle and tossed it out. An act that Megan thought was truly gross despite the fact Joe argued it would have been worse for him to piss against a tree only to then have the girls stand in it. At least in a bottle it was contained. She asked, ‘Unless you’ve been leaving a trail of bottled piss to follow home like breadcrumbs?’

Chloe walked to where her tent had been pitched. The ground beneath her feet looked flat, the debris of twigs and mud clearly disturbed from where the tent had been squashing everything flat.

‘Where’s our stuff?’ she asked. There was no panic in her voice, only anger that someone would dare steal from them.

‘Maybe we’re in the wrong place?’ Joe said optimistically.

‘The wrong place? So someone moved your bottle of piss and flattened everything down to make it look as though we’d been staying here?’ Chloe snapped.

Joe shrugged.

‘I told you we should have stayed in the main camping area,’ Megan said helpfully. Yet, at the time, when they had chosen to stay away from everyone else she hadn’t said shit about not thinking it a smart idea.

Chloe turned to her friends. ‘You’re fucking with me, aren’t you?’

Both Megan and Joe looked at her.

‘How the fuck…?’

‘You moved the stuff.’

‘When exactly were we supposed to have done that?’ Megan snapped. ‘We’ve been together the whole time.’ She looked around, straining to see into the shrubs. ‘Someone’s fucking with us though.’

‘Seriously - who does this?’

‘You seen the film Deliverance?’ Joe asked.

Chloe looked at him with raised eyebrows. ‘Helpful. Real helpful.’ She sighed. ‘So what now then?’

It had been more than a day’s walk to get to this point. There was no way they could get back to any kind of civilisation before the sun went down and none of them fancied stumbling around in the dark.

‘Anyone got any service?’ Joe asked, a comment more helpful than making reference to a group of backward rapists. As he asked he checked his own phone but found he had none. He already suspected the same of the others too but it didn’t hurt to check. Both girls looked at their phones and true enough, both were lacking signal. Joe looked in all directions unsure of what to do. Head for higher ground and hope that there’s signal there? Or would it be lower ground? The higher they went, the less trees to block the networks but the lower they go, the more chance of finding someone else or having any service anyway. Shit, how does this work?

Chloe asked again, ‘So what now?’

Joe shrugged.

‘I don’t know.’

The panic on all of their faces was obvious and the distance from home suddenly only just realised despite the long plane flight endured to get there.

7.

‘Maybe it was a bear,’ was probably the stupidest thing Chloe could have said at that particular moment as they continued walking in the general direction of the real camp-site they should have stayed in. The moment the words escaped her mouth she knew they were foolish. No matter how stupid they were though, they were better than the silence which had proceeded them.

‘A bear snuck into where we’d set up camp and stole all the gear? Even packing it up to make things easier to move? Are you a fucking mentalist?’ Megan looked at her sister in disbelief. Joe’s reaction was different as he burst out laughing.

‘At least one of you laughed.’

‘I’m sorry I just don’t think this is a laughing matter. Someone has clearly stolen our belongings and if that wasn’t bad enough it’s out in the middle of nowhere so how the fuck did they even find them in the first place?’

Chloe shrugged. ‘Out looking for a non-existent cabin maybe?’

Chloe had realised that laughing about the situation was far better than panicking about it - something she’d already been doing for the last hour they’d been walking. Megan was clearly still in the panicking phase whilst Joe was pretty much keeping himself to himself despite looking as though he were in deep thought. Joe suddenly snapped back to reality thanks to Chloe’s dig about the cabin.

‘Hey now,’ he said bitterly, ‘that exists…’

‘Well you never know, we might still find it yet.’ Chloe turned to the others and asked, ‘Is this definitely the way we came?’

‘I’m telling you, this is the right path!’ Megan was adamant. Although now walking slightly behind the others, she had been the one to point this route out as to being the one they’d followed the previous day when looking for somewhere to camp.

‘I’m not sure it is,’ Chloe argued.

‘Well what do you want to do? Turn back? Who cares if it’s not the right way exactly so long as it finds us somewhere with an Uber, some signal for our phones or even a good old fashioned pay-phone,’ Megan snapped.

‘Ooh - not a pay phone,’ said Joe. The girls looked at him. ‘What? Do you have change for one?’

Chloe laughed. Megan missed the joke and pointed out, ‘You can reverse the charges, dickhead.’ The aggressiveness in her voice just made Chloe - and Joe - both laugh harder. ‘You two are pissing me off now. There is absolutely nothing funny about any of this.’

Chloe suddenly snapped. ‘Just lighten up. There’s nothing funny about this, no, but what’s the point in not having a laugh? We may as well try and keep our spirits up whilst walking otherwise we’ll just be wandering around thinking of all the worst case scenarios as to what could happen. Doing that, who does it help? No one. Not you, not Joe, not me…’

‘You’re doing my fucking head in!’ Megan walked on.

Chloe looked at Joe in disbelief. ‘What did I do? Other than try and have a joke… What the fuck did I do?’

Joe hesitated a moment - a move that Chloe noticed.

‘What?’ she asked, genuinely curious.

‘Well, you did tease her about the cake.’

Chloe’s eyebrows went up. ‘Seriously?’

Joe shrugged. ‘Was a cruel trick.’

Chloe shook her head. ‘You’re a dick.’

She followed after her sister who was now a good few feet away.

Joe shook his own head. ‘And once again I am the bad guy. How exactly did that come about?’ He paused a moment to reflect and - to be fair - he probably was the only one who could be blamed. He had mentioned the cabin, he had pushed to stay away from the “touristy” camp-site and he had been the one who kept them walking even when they both said they wanted to turn back. Not that anyone could really be blamed for having their stuff stolen - if they could have been though, he was certainly the prime candidate.

‘Hey Joe?’ Chloe called from ahead.

‘Yeah?’

‘Any chance this cabin could have had an extension over the years?’

‘Yeah, that’s not the same cabin,’ Joe pointed out the obvious as he joined Chloe and Megan in the clearing. In the middle of the dense woodlands, seemingly dropped there somehow and looking out of place, there was a large building. Cut into the scenery leading up to the front door - a dirt track with fresh tyre marks imbedded on it. ‘Tell you what though…’ Joe nodded to something. The girls followed his gaze. Above the house, there were wires leading to a telegraph pole almost hidden by the trees. ‘…They have a phone we could use.’ He turned to the girls. ‘Who fancies an Uber?’

End of Part Two

INTERVAL

A Home From Home

Set close to the National Park, a short drive away for those who weren’t able to make the walk for themselves - in this case a fair few of the residents - the establishment looked stunning. But then, at the prices quoted after the walk around, it should have been. Prices, it’s worth noting, that they kept out of the advertising brochure for fear of scaring people away. A Home from Home, they called it. With only thirty bedrooms, it was exclusive too - and again, the prices reflected that. Views from every window and lush furnishings, those who stumbled across the building could have been forgiven for thinking it was a plush hotel for the rich. A sneaky retreat away from the hustle and bustle of everyday life. But it wasn’t. It was a care home for the elderly: Old people who’d saved the money for themselves over years of working hard or old people who had children rich enough to pay the high price tag that came with residency. Children rich and desperate enough to pass their old relatives on to someone else to look after.

Each bedroom had a large double bed and came with two sets of bedside cabinets, a large floor to ceiling mirror hanging on the wall, two cupboards and a chest of drawers. The more expensive of the rooms even had their own en-suite bathroom decked out with all the things an elderly person with limited mobility would require. There were also telephones in the room, each one operated with phone cards sold from the main office in order to keep the phone-bills to a semi-reasonable cost. The problem with the elderly being, if they didn’t have anything else to do then they could always find the time to natter about nothing. And that - until the cards were introduced - led to high costs. Yes, the rooms pretty much had everything that they could need for a happy existence. The only thing not found in the bedrooms were television sets and the only reason for that was because the management didn’t want people confined to their rooms with no one for company but whatever soap was playing on the box. If they wanted to watch television then the communal room had a large cinema screen and if they wanted a certain program - all they needed to do was put in a request. The show with the most requests that day was the one that was played with the only exception being if it was someone’s birthday. Then - of course - the birthday boy or girl got to choose for the day. It was a fair system and for those who weren’t happy with it, well, management didn’t say you couldn’t have a television in their bedroom. They just said it was something they didn’t provide. For peace and quiet from the relatives, the children often stumped up the cash for a set. Anything for a quiet life.

Downstairs was where the communal room was: A large room with settees dotted around the room, along with armchairs for those who wished to sit alone. There were three large tables too on which the residents could play card games or do any of the puzzles stacked high in the cupboard. With the puzzles, tall collections of films - some new but mostly old classics that the residents had fond memories of from years gone by: Gone with the Wind, Laurence of Arabia, Breakfast at Tiffany’s… To save costs, the films were in standard DVD format. There was, after all, little point in having the super quality of a blu-ray given most of them struggled to see anything more than a few feet from their faces.

There was also a large eating area with tables permanently set up like a school hall. The residents would take their seats and the staff would ensure they had whatever they wanted from the day’s menu, as well as ensuring they had a drink of their choice too (with a jug of fresh water on each table for those who wanted to keep things plain). And then there were the flowers. Appreciated by both sexes, the flowers were picked locally and always kept fresh. They kept the environment smelling fresh and looking bright and colourful with different colours added with each new season.

With excellent reports from people living there, top marks during inspections and staff who were always welcoming and friendly - willing to do all they could for their residents, there was high demand for a room. When the storms had come in and the heavy snows laid - the building was almost at capacity.

PART THREE

SANCTUARY

8.

Chloe, Megan and Joe were sitting at a table opposite three elderly people, all of whom looking right back at the trio as though hungry for their company. They’d asked for a phone, explaining what had happened to their stuff, and had been invited in for a drink. Led through to the kitchen, they were poured three tall glasses of lemon cordial.

‘So…’ Joe hesitated. ‘About that phone?’

Judy, an old lady with a blue rinse in her otherwise silver hair, smiled sweetly at Joe. ‘I’m sorry, deary, but it’s broken.’

‘What?’

Bill, an elderly gentleman in his late eighties, told them, ‘It’s been out for a while now. They said they were going to fix it but…’ His voice trailed off. ‘We don’t miss it. You get used to being cut off from the outside world. In fact, it’s quite nice really.’

Joe looked confused. ‘You said you have a telephone?’

Carol, a lady with thick-rimmed glasses, leaned forward with a gum exposing smile. She said, ‘We do have one. In fact, we have more than one.’

Bill laughed. ‘Should have asked if we had working phones, son.’

Joe looked at Chloe and Megan who were just staring at the old people with confused looks on their faces. They didn’t notice Joe’s glance. He turned back to the oldies. Must be senile, he thought. Cautiously so as not to cause offence, he asked, ‘Is there anyone else here?’

‘Oh there’s a number of us. If you want, we can introduce you. I know they’d love to meet you. We don’t often get many people visiting anymore,’ Jude said.

‘Can’t imagine why,’ Megan muttered.

Chloe shot Megan a look.

Joe continued, ‘I mean…’ He tried to say it diplomatically, ‘Any… Staff who… Might…’ He stopped talking unsure of how best to finish the sentence. The way the three were looking at him now, clearly he’d been heading up the wrong path, insinuating they weren’t capable of living here without help.

‘Does anyone have a car?’ Chloe asked, ‘Maybe they could run us into town?’

‘We don’t drive I’m afraid,’ Jude said sweetly.

‘Of course you don’t,’ Megan muttered.

‘If you’re stranded, you’re welcome to stay until morning.’ Bill smiled. His eyes were looking towards Chloe’s chest. Even though she was covered, he was imagining what was going on underneath her shirt. He licked his lips as, repulsed, Chloe folded her arms.

‘That’s right. I’m sure Mr. Jacobs will be glad to give you a lift to town in the morning after his shift. He needs to go to town anyway to pick up the shopping,’ Carol explained.

‘Mr. Jacobs?’ Joe asked.

‘Our helper. He’s due soon. Has to do his shift but - after that - I’m sure he won’t mind giving you a lift to town. Just means you may have to stay the night but we have plenty of beds.’

‘He can’t just run us into town, or to the campsite we passed on the way up the mountain?’

Jude shook her head. ‘That simply won’t do. He’ll have far too much to do here first. Some of our residents are time dependent on their foods and bed times. We can’t ruin their schedule because you’re stuck…. No, we can’t do that.’

Joe slumped back in his chair.

‘But we can stay?’ Chloe asked.

‘Of course! We’d be delighted!’ Carol said.

‘Delighted indeed,’ Bill chimed in. That toothless smile.

‘And there’ll be plenty of food for you to join us for dinner too…’

‘Oh no, that’s fine, we don’t want to put you out,’ Chloe said. Her own stomach betrayed her. All that walking, she was hungry but - there was something that made her feel a little uncomfortable at the thought of eating with them. Hell, she wasn’t even keen on staying there but it was better than sleeping outside with no protection from the elements. Or the snakes. She also sensed Megan looking at her. Clearly she was up for some dinner.

‘It’s no trouble.’

‘Well thank you for your hospitality,’ Joe said quickly. He smiled.

Jude, Bill and Carol all smiled back. Jude’s teeth stained yellow with heavy nicotine use and a love of coffee, Bill’s teeth crooked with a couple missing here and there and Carol’s own mouth lacking any teeth whatsoever with a little dribble forming at the corner. She suddenly became aware of the dribble and frowned before wiping it away from the corner of her mouth.

‘You are very, very welcome dear. All of you are,’ Jude said.

‘Now - would you like to meet the others? I’m sure they’ll simply love to meet you.’

Joe smiled again. ‘Sure.’

‘They’ll be delighted…’ Jude walked towards the kitchen doorway, followed by Carol. Jude stopped and turned back to her new guests as Carol continued through to the communal area to announce the visitors. ‘So nice to get a visit,’ Jude said with that yellow smile.

‘After you.’ Standing next to Joe, Chloe and Megan - Bill gestured towards the doorway where Jude was waiting.

Joe turned to the girls and mimicked Bill’s own gesture. ‘After you,’ he said.

Chloe shot him a look and called him a bastard without actually having to utter the word. Joe smirked. As well as hating snakes, Chloe hated old ladies. Her own nan, Nanny Gilly, was not a nice nanny. An elderly woman who now had Secondary Progressive MS and - as a result - dribbled a lot. Something else which Chloe hated. The sight of Carol dribbling earlier flashing back to the forefront of her mind and making her discreetly retch. Joe noticed and laughed again. He knew what her problem was.

Chloe told herself, It’s better than the alternative of stumbling around blindly outside. At least they’ll be able to get a lift back to civilisation. Roll on the end of Mr. Jacobs shift.

9.

There was no denying the room had a slight aroma to it. A hint of stale urine lingered in the air and stung the eyes of those not used to it. The guests couldn’t say anything though as the homes’ occupants introduced themselves. This was their home and these three were the guests. As each person approached, Jude introduced them - acting as though she was the home’s spokeswoman. Joe, Chloe and Megan smiled politely and either shook the hand of the person they were being introduced to or leaned in for a kiss - if that’s the move the other person was going for. With each old person they had to kiss the cheek of, Joe couldn’t help but grin. Not because he was enjoying it but because he knew Chloe would have been dying inside. He grinned wider when he felt the wetness of their kiss against his cheek. She would definitely be dying inside.

Jude continued introducing the excited room to the trio. So many names that were forgotten the moment the next person was introduced.

’So lovely to see someone…’

‘And this is…’

‘Nice to meet you.’

‘She has been here for the longest…’

‘Aren’t you a good looking young man.’

‘You look half-starved, you must join us for dinner.’

‘Have you seen my son?’

‘And this is our resident know-it-all…’

‘Please, please take a seat…’ Jude gestured towards the table in the far corner of the room.

Chloe and her sister were first to go over, if only to get away from the onslaught of olds. They took their seats on the over side of the table leaving Joe to sit with his back to the room. From where the girls were, they could at least keep an eye on people and - better yet - they had a barrier between them and the strangers. They did their best to smile sweetly as Joe twisted in his chair so as not to have his back to everyone. He squirmed, uncomfortable that everyone seemed to just be standing there watching them as though they were some kind of freak-show on display.

For a moment everyone stood there in near silence. There was a desperation on the old people’s faces that was obvious. A look, the girls thought, that must have been down to the fact there were fresh faces in the home. God only knew how long it had been since their last visit from a stranger.

Joe tried to break the ice. He asked, ‘You often get hikers stop by?’

‘No.’ The old man’s response was quick. He added, ‘Not many people stop by here anymore.’ He continued, ‘They put us in here and forget about us.’

‘Ignore Frank, he’s still trying to adjust to life in the home,’ Jude said. She shot Frank a disproving look. He looked away.

‘New here?’ Joe asked trying to keep the conversation going.

Frank walked back to his armchair in the far corner and took a seat. ‘I’m not damned well hungry,’ he said.

‘Okaaaaay.’ Joe looked at Jude wondering if she was going to make an excuse for him. She was still staring at him, disapprovingly, but she didn’t say anything.

‘And I don’t want you to stay for dinner.’ He snapped, ‘You should leave!’

‘Hush now!’ Jude said sternly. ‘You know, maybe people would visit you more if you weren’t such a misery,’ she said. Frank scrunched his face up and turned away from her, reaching for a paper. Jude turned back to Joe. ‘Forgive him,’ she said.

‘Forgive nothing,’ Frank spat.

Chloe stood up and said, ‘We don’t want to be any trouble. Maybe we should just go? You could tell Mr. Jacobs that we’re looking for a lift when he gets back - and gets his jobs done?’

‘Nonsense!’ Jude continued, ‘Mr. Jacobs has a lot of work to do and won’t be available to take you anywhere until morning and we’re not having you sleep outside.’ She turned to the rest of the room and explained, ‘Poor lambs had their belongings stolen whilst out on a walk.’

Various tuts and groans from around the room displayed their disdain for the thievery that the youngsters had been a victim of. While it was most likely meant to be sympathetic, it just came across as creepy to Chloe although that was most likely down to the fact - she figured - that it was a room full of olds or, more specifically, nearly-deads.

From beyond the doorway, out in the hallway, the front door slammed shut. The girls, and Joe, looked towards the door curious to see if this was Mr. Jacobs coming back from wherever he’d been. Sure enough - and to their relief - a seemingly normal man, about ten years older than themselves (maybe more), hobbled into the room like he was struggling with a bad leg. He stopped when he saw Chloe and Megan.

‘Hello,’ he said.

‘This is Chloe, Megan and Joe.’ Jude crossed the room to greet Mr. Jacobs with a kiss on his cheek. He flinched from it before smiling at her. ‘And they’ll be our guests for dinner,’ she continued. She stepped back and smiled at him. ‘But I suspect you already guessed that.’ Unseen by the others, she gave him a playful wink.

Mr. Jacobs turned to the house-guests and forced a smile. ‘I’m Donnie,’ he said.

10.

Joe left the two girls in the communal area of the house and walked through to the kitchen where Mr. Jacobs, or Donnie as he had been introduced, stood by the stove stirring a large pot of soup. Enough to feed the five thousand.

‘You okay? Can I get you anything?’ Donnie asked.

‘No, I’m good, thank you.’ Joe said, ‘Listen, sorry for just dropping in on you like this. We had our camping equipment stolen and were pretty much lost when we came across the house.’

‘No cell phones?’

‘No signal.’

‘Yeah, signal is a bit sparse around these parts.’ Donnie said, ‘Surprised you managed to find the place though to be honest. Not many people come by this. Pretty far from the tourist areas, you know?’

‘It felt pretty far.’ Joe laughed. Donnie looked at him. He wasn’t even smiling. ‘They said you wouldn’t mind giving us a lift when you’ve done with your work?’

Donnie turned back to his stirring. ‘I’ve got quite a lot to do.’

‘They did warn us.’ Joe continued, ‘We’re happy to pay for petrol.’

‘Appreciated.’

Sensing some hostility, Joe asked, ‘Do you mind us staying here while you do what you got to do?’

‘Not at all. I know they want you to stay.’

‘They seem pretty friendly.’

Donnie said nothing.

‘Left them talking to the girls. Less twenty questions and more like twenty thousand questions,’ Joe said with a snort.

‘They don’t get to talk to people much. They mean no harm.’

‘I know, it’s cool. They like our accents.’

‘Don’t get many English up here.’

Joe was impressed. ‘First correct guess as to our country. A lot of people have thought we were Australian.’ Joe asked, ‘Do you need a hand with anything?’ In his head he was thinking - the faster Donnie gets his work done, the faster he can give them a lift to town, or the nearest campsite. With any luck they’d be able to get out that night and not have to stay until morning. Just as the girls felt uncomfortable, so did Joe and yet he had no idea why. Everyone seemed nice enough, even Donnie despite being a little more distant. ‘So,’ he asked, ‘how long you worked here?’

‘Seems like forever,’ Donnie said.

‘Must enjoy it.’

‘Something like that.’

‘Just you working here looking after all these people? I thought there would be a team of folk who do this.’

‘Used to be.’

‘Must be hard doing everything by yourself.’ He asked again, ‘Here, is there really nothing I can do for you? Must be something…’

‘Twenty questions in there and twenty more in here,’ Donnie said. There was a hostility in his tone which silenced Joe and immediately made him feel uncomfortable. Donnie realised and apologised, ‘I’m sorry. It’s been a long day.’

‘It’s cool. I understand.’ Joe made his excuses, ‘Well if you need anything just give me a shout. I’ll be in the other room with the girls.’

Donnie turned to him and smiled. ‘Okay. And, if you need anything - just ask.’

Joe forced a smile back. ‘Will do.’ He turned and left Donnie to his stirring.

‘Dinner won’t be long,’ Donnie called.

*

Chloe and Megan were talking to a handful of old people sitting around the table in the far corner; the same table they’d sat at when Jude had instructed them to. As Joe approached, they looked up and almost looked grateful for his reappearance. He took a seat from one of the other tables and pulled it over to their table.

‘Okay?’ he asked.

‘They were just asking about home.’

‘Oh?’

‘Princess Snookie Mooks Dela The First…’ Jude said. She turned to Chloe and asked, ‘Is that right?’

Chloe nodded as Megan laughed and Joe just looked on blankly, confused as to what the Hell was going on. Snookie, for short, was a cat that Chloe hated. The most annoying cat in the world who’d wake you with a head-butt and then dig her claws in if you tried to throw her off.

‘And that’s the one you don’t like.’

Megan answered for her, ‘She hates it.’

‘And Louis Cyphre, who you call Louie, is the nice cat?’ Jude continued.

Chloe nodded again.

‘What have I walked in on?’

‘They like animals.’ Chloe looked at Joe with help me written all over her expression. He laughed.

‘We want a pet here but apparently we’re not allowed one.’ Jude sighed. ‘According to Mr. Jacobs he has quite enough to be getting on with!’

‘Where did you disappear off to?’ Chloe asked Joe, desperate to have a conversation with someone she didn’t perceive as being senile.

‘I went to see Mr. Jacobs,’ Joe said, ‘and to thank him…’

‘How’d that go?’

Joe raised his eyebrows.

‘That good, huh?’ Chloe asked.

‘Let’s just say, if it had been him who opened the door, we probably wouldn’t have been allowed in.’

‘Ah…’

Megan butted in, ‘Is he still going to give us a lift?’

‘Didn’t say he wouldn’t.’

‘Oh just ignore Mr. Jacobs. He can be very dry,’ Jude said. ‘Probably from dealing with us for so many years. Needs to get out there and mix with people his own age from time to time. Of course we keep telling him as such but will he listen?’ She sighed. ‘I don’t know. He often goes around with the weight of the world on his shoulders.’

Chloe looked around the room. The majority of the residents had gone back to what they had been doing before the three of them had walked into the room. Some were watching a cooking program, some were playing cards, some were reading and one old lady in the corner was fast asleep with her mouth wide open and a little drool coming from the corner. Chloe looked away before she audibly gagged. She couldn’t imagine working in a place like this. Fair enough if there was a team of people helping, people your own age but… It appeared as though there was only Mr. Jacobs.

‘Is it just him?’ Chloe asked. ‘He doesn’t have any help getting things done?’

‘There used to be more,’ Jude said quietly. She paused a moment. ‘Cut backs were made.’

Donnie appeared in the doorway. He called, ‘Dinner is about to be served up in the other room if you’d like to make your way through.’

‘Oh lovely, I wonder what we’ll be having,’ Carol said, the first to clamber up, just as she always was.

‘I know what I want,’ Bill said - his eyes fixed on Chloe.

‘You’re about a thousand years too old, dear.’ Carol flashed him a wink as she walked towards where Donnie was still standing.

‘We’ll see…’ He looked over to Chloe who was sitting oblivious to the conversation, involved with her own.

‘Do we go through?’ Chloe asked Joe.

Joe shrugged. ‘I guess so.’

Unlike Bill and Carol’s conversation - Chloe and Joe’s was heard.

‘Plenty for all,’ Donnie called to the guests. He added, ‘Come on through.’

End of Part Three

INTERVAL

Meal Time

The brochure boasted that all meals were nutritious as well as being of the best quality, cooked by a host of top quality chefs. As a further way of enticing people into signing up to stay in the home, most visits were conducted around dinner time. Management stated it was because that was when the residents were less likely to be sleeping, or relaxing in general, so less likely to be disturbed. Whilst this was true, the fact of the matter was that management knew the smell of the cooking food would entice those visiting to want to eat the meal themselves. The way the different ingredients baking lingered in the air, it added yet another homely dimension to the care home. As the brochure said: A Home From Home.

The meals were varied too with orders being taken the day prior to avoid wastage. Little point in buying in, or baking, a full range of continental delectables if they were likely to be wasted. By ensuring the orders were in the day before, the cooks could be sure to have enough of what was needed. Residents could choose from croissants (and such like), cereals, toasts, eggs, bacon although most chose yoghurts due to the fact it was easier to manage with their false teeth. To go with the foods there was an assortment of hot drinks on offer too, as well as fruit juices. At lunch time - again, so long as the orders were put in - they could have any kind of sandwich they wanted. If they wanted the bread toasted then this too was on offer. The evening, served up around five to six o’clock each night, there was again a choice of meals to be had with residents choosing one of three meal options the previous night and then, every Sunday, there was a choice of meats served up with a roast. Most of the residents preferred the chicken though due to the fact it was easier to manage. Most shied away from the beef.

Years after the care home opened and long after the storms had come and gone, the meal options changed - becoming far more simplistic in what was being offered up. Surprisingly to those concerned, it was a decision which had been made by the residents themselves.

PART FOUR

DRIBBLE and DROOL

11.

The slurps and sucking noises coming from the residents as they hoovered the soup up from their spoons was enough to put Chloe off her own food despite her hunger. Of all the things to be served up, it had to be this but then - would it have been any better had the food been solid? She remembered her own nan eating meals and the way that - with each mouthful - she would spray squashed up food debris and spittle across the table. On the really bad days Chloe would watch it - almost in slow-motion - land on her plate. Her immediate reaction would be to gag and cough violently.

‘Not hungry?’ Donnie asked.

‘Just tired,’ Chloe lied. She couldn’t exactly say she was starving but unable to eat due to the disgusting table manners of those around her. Probably wouldn’t have gone down very well.

Jude laughed. ‘I thought you youngsters were supposed to be full of life…’

Joe jumped into Chloe’s defence, ‘Well we had a long walk.’

‘Bless.’

‘Want me to show you to one of the spare rooms?’ Bill asked. For the first time in what Chloe presumed to be years, his eyes seemed full of life.

‘Thanks but I’ll wait for the others,’ Chloe said.

Chloe turned to the others. They too looked just as uncomfortable as she. She wondered if they regretted knocking on the door as much as she did now. Joe smiled as though he was having a telepathic moment and then nodded. Before she laughed, she turned to the rest of the table. So many open mouths with soup swishing around accompanied by the sound of false teeth scraping against the metal of the spoons given. Soggy bread, soaked in soup, sticking to bare gum-lines.

‘Do you know what I miss?’ Carol asked, leaning in close to Chloe. ‘I miss sweetcorn.’ Chloe watched in horror as a bit of spittle flew from the old bird’s mouth. She repressed another gag as it landed on her hand. As discreetly as she could, she wiped it away with the sleeve of her top. ‘Not canned sweetcorn but actual corn on the cob. That was my favourite. Can’t eat it now though. Even with dentures it is troublesome.’

Chloe tried to be polite and answered, ‘I’m sorry to hear that.’

‘You don’t go taking your teeth for granted,’ Carol continued. ‘You must brush twice a day and floss…’

Chloe smiled - again, out of politeness. ‘I’ll be sure to keep that in mind.’

‘Of course the trouble with youngsters today is that they never listen to their elders. You all just think of us as senile and stupid.’

‘No, not at all,’ Megan said sarcastically. It was sarcasm that hadn’t gone unnoticed.

‘You might well laugh, young lady, but one day you’ll be like us,’ Jude said. Her eyes had gone cold, distant even. Megan looked at her and felt her face flush. She wasn’t usually called out for being a smart arse. ‘If you make it that long that is,’ Jude said. Joe and Chloe both looked at her, surprised by both what she said and the tone in which it was spoken. ‘Life is getting so hard for youngsters these days,’ the old woman quickly added. Her eyes, once again, light in colour.

Megan pushed her bowl away from her despite not having finished the soup. If there was a chance to get away early and lock themselves in the spare room given then she’d happily take it. Better yet, she’d help with the chores to be done in the hope Mr. Jacobs would be able to take them to wherever sooner rather than later. There was something about these people, this place, which made all three of them feel uncomfortable although none could put their finger on it.

Joe noticed that Megan had pushed her bowl away too and realised the meaning behind such an action. He set his spoon down.

‘Well thank you for this,’ he said, ‘and thank you for taking us in. It was really good of you.’ He turned to Donnie and asked, ‘Do you think you’ll be able to get us to civilisation tonight if we give you a hand? I’m not pushing but, if you can’t and there’s nothing we can do for you - we might well turn in and get some rest. Been a long day of walking,’ he finished.

‘I’m sorry but I have a lot to do still. If you want to go on up and crash in the spare rooms though, you’re more than welcome. They each have fresh bedding on already.’

‘Oh that’s fine. Honestly we would be happy enough on the floor after where we slept last night. Again, we don’t want to be of any trouble.’

‘There’s no need for floors when we have beds for each of you,’ Jude said.

‘Honestly, we’re happy to share…’

‘No need. Here - if you’re tired - I’ll show you where the rooms are.’

Megan and Chloe exchanged glances, neither one of them wishing to be left alone in this place even though - technically - nothing bad had happened to them. In fact quite the opposite. They’d been friendly, welcoming and helpful. Even so… There was something.

‘This way,’ Bill said - already on the way out of the room.

Joe went to collect their bowls together when Donnie interrupted him, ‘You can leave those. I’ll do them when I do the rest.’

‘It’s not a problem. I…’

Donnie cut him off, ‘I said it’s fine.’

Not wishing to upset one of the hosts, Joe nodded. ‘Well if you’re sure.’

‘I am.’

Joe went to say something but stopped himself. He wasn’t sure what he had done that was so wrong, other than to knock on the door and ask for help, but he had the distinct impression Mr. Jacobs hated him. Them. A part of him wanted to have it out with him there and then and clear the air but - he bit his tongue - what was the point? He didn’t want them to get kicked out, especially with the sun going down, and he still needed a lift. Whether this man hated them or not, he’d still promised a life.

‘Thank you for the soup,’ Joe said.

‘I miss steak as well,’ Carol mused as Chloe and Megan made their way to the doorway.

‘Pleasant dreams,’ Jude said with a smile on her face. ‘Hope the bed bugs don’t bite!’ It might have been a comment said in jest but all three of the guests had already contemplated the possibility of sharing a bed with bed bugs. Given the smell of some of the older guests, they just sensed the beds would be riddled with flakes of dead skin and hungry bugs feasting away.

12.

Chloe and Megan had been relieved when they saw the rooms. They’d imagined them to smell musky, as most things kept by old people tended to, and yet they were brightly decorated and smelling of flower scented plug-ins dotted around the room. Even so, they didn’t want to be left alone in their own rooms and so the moment they’d been left to their devices, Chloe had crept on through to Megan’s room like a naughty child. Joe had stayed put, happy with his room and the fact there was a television in there - left over from a resident who was no longer around. With his feet up on the bed, he was making the best of the situation watching crap on the television. And it was crap. The problem with American television is all the damned commercial breaks. There was a knock on his bedroom door. Without a thought, he jumped up to answer it - presuming it would be either Megan or Chloe standing there, too afraid to sleep by themselves. As he approached, the door opened. Jude was standing there with a glass of lemon water in her frail hand.

‘Sorry to bother you, I know you were tired, but I thought you might want this to help you relax?’ Jude said as she held the drink up. Joe looked at it, confused. ‘Lemon water,’ she said. ‘It will help you sleep.’

‘Oh right. Okay. Nice. Thank you.’ Joe didn’t know what to say so hoped one of those statements would appease the old bat. He smiled at her and - then - he took the glass from her hand.

‘It’s not too strong. Should be just right,’ she said. She stood there and watched him intently, her eyes going from his face down to the glass.

‘Erm. Okay?’

She nodded. Joe realised that there was a good chance she wasn’t going anywhere until he drank the drink and had to remind himself that - in some cultures - people were offended if you didn’t at least try what they offered you.

‘Bottom’s up,’ he said.

‘Indeed.’

He raised the glass to his hand and downed the drink in one. The moment the last of it was drained, his body did an involuntary shudder. Jude held her hand out to take the glass from him.

‘Nice?’ she asked.

‘Lovely.’

She laughed. ‘I can’t stand the stuff. Still, meant to help you relax.’

‘I feel relaxed already,’ he said wishing that she’d just fuck off.

‘Well have a pleasant evening and don’t forget to say goodbye in the morning before Mr. Jacobs takes you to where you need to be.’

‘I wouldn’t dream of it,’ Joe lied. In his mind, he’d already planned to escape before any of the olds had woken. He realised it was a plan most likely to fail given how a lot of the time they didn’t sleep but - even so - that was what he wanted.

‘Pleasant dreams,’ Jude said again. She turned her back and walked from the room. Joe watched her totter down the landing towards a small table with two more glasses of lemon water waiting to be served. For the girls then. He smirked to himself as he considered shouting out to warn them not to open their doors. Realising that would be rude, he instead opted to close his door and return to his bed - and whatever commercial break was playing on the television now.

*

Megan laughed as Chloe openly gagged. She knew her sister hated drool and so was winding her up about the old people around the table, exaggerating how much spit and dribble had actually come from their mouths. The bit which made Chloe gag though was Megan recounting how she saw a bit of saliva fly from Bill’s mouth onto Chloe’s spoon just as she put it in her mouth.

‘You swallowed it down!’ Megan continued, ‘In your gut now, you have the frothy spit of an old man…’

Chloe gagged. ‘Shut up or else I’ll be sick!’

‘All mixed up with bits of food debris…’

‘Seriously - fuck off!’

‘I’m surprised you can’t taste it…’ Megan laughed. ‘I swear to God, when it left his mouth it was fucking yellow…’

Chloe retched again as she leaned forward and slapped her sister on the leg.

They both screamed as the door suddenly opened. Jude walked in unannounced with two glasses of lemon water.

‘I thought I heard voices,’ she said as she stepped into the room. ‘I thought you were all tired and yet each and every one of you - wide awake.’

The girls felt their faces flush as they wondered just how much of the conversation had been heard. Given the fact the old lady was prone to asking them to repeat themselves whilst they were chatting downstairs - they hoped she hadn’t heard much of it at all.

‘Mr. Jacobs prepared you these drinks to help you sleep,’ Jude said. She held a glass out to each of the girls who - in turn - took them. Megan looked at hers whilst Chloe gave it a sniff. ‘Lemon water,’ Jude told her. ‘Quite refreshing and proven to help you relax.’

‘Thank you,’ they both said.

‘Don’t thank me. Thank Mr. Jacobs in the morning. He was the one who made them. He was quite insistent.’

‘Well then, thank you for bringing them up.’

‘Not at all. The house is pretty much turning in now,’ Jude continued, ‘so if you’d like to return to your own room we would be grateful. We’re not used to having strangers in the house and some of us are light-sleepers so…’

Megan took the hint. ‘Of course. I was just going to bed anyway.’

‘Don’t forget your drink,’ Jude told her.

Megan smiled and downed it. Chloe set hers to the side.

‘And you deary,’ Jude said.

‘I’ll be having mine just after I go to the bathroom.’

‘Well be sure you don’t forget. It’s for your benefit.’

‘I won’t.’

Jude took Megan’s glass from her. ‘Did you want me to walk you to your room?’

Megan shook her head. ‘I think I can find it.’ Not hard given her room was but a few doors down the landing.

‘Well then,’ Jude said, ‘good night and sweet dreams.’

‘You too,’ Megan said, trying to stay polite despite wishing she could just tell the old woman to fuck off. A similar thought to what Chloe was currently having.

Jude walked to the door and stopped. Slowly she turned back to the girls. She said, ‘It’s been wonderful having you here.’

Both the girls smiled.

‘And for the record, I’m afraid Bill did accidentally spit onto your spoon but - trust me - it wasn’t intentional. He has a habit of doing that bless him.’ With that, she walked from the room leaving Megan laughing and Chloe, once again, gagging violently.

‘I’m going to be sick…’

‘I fucking told you!’

‘Goodnight, girls…’

13.

Joe was sitting on the edge of his bed when Megan walked in wearing next to nothing but a smile on her face. Joe looked at her in shock. They’d broken up a while back now and there hadn’t been a hint of them getting back together so her actions were completely out of the blue.

‘I really hope you’re not sleepwalking,’ he said, a smile spreading across his mouth.

‘I’m very awake,’ she promised. She quietly closed the door and walked over to him where she stopped, standing, just in front of him. Black bra, black lace knickers - she was looking good. Joe took her moves as non-verbal permission to touch her. He stroked his hands up her legs and stopped when they gripped her buttocks. He pulled her close and kissed her on the stomach, desperate to kiss her lower but not wanting to rush things. He pulled away and looked up to her face.

‘We’ll have to be quiet,’ he told her.

Megan smiled. ‘It’s okay. I don’t think that they’ll mind.’ She turned her head to the side.

Across the room, leaning against the wall, the old people - including Jude, Bill and Carol, were all lined up. All of them were naked. Their skin sagging in places where it had once been tight. Wrinkles stretched over their skin as though their skin was nothing more than an outfit missing an iron. All of them were touching themselves with their eyes fixed onto Joe and Megan. Bill; stroking his flaccid penis in the hope it would finally stand to attention after all these years. Carol, fingers deep inside herself - frigging back and forth with a coating of what looked like dust over her fingers.. Jude was squeezing her nipples which protruded from breasts sagging half-way down her stomach. As she watched the young couple, envious, she licked her lips wishing that the young man’s hands would be touching her.

Megan beckoned them over. ‘Don’t be shy,’ she said.

Joe looked at her with sudden alarm. ‘What the fuck are you doing?’

Slowly, one by one, the horde approached with hands outstretched and mouths open; all of them desperate to play with the young couple. All of them desperate to feel the touch of young skin once more, something that they hadn’t felt for many years now.

Megan took a step back from Joe and dropped her panties around her ankles. She kicked them off and moved over to the edge of the bed where she positioned herself on all fours, offering up both cunt and arse. ‘Who wants to go first?’ she asked.

*

Joe woke from the nightmare with a start. He jumped again when he realised Donnie was sitting on the corner of the bed, next to his feet. He tried to move away from the stranger but realised - much to his horror - that his hands and feet were bound to the bed.

‘Nightmare?’ Donnie asked. He explained, ‘It’s surprising the amount of people who have nightmares from that concoction. Still, whatever you dreamed, I can ensure you it’s easier than what is to come.’

‘What the fuck are you doing? What are you talking about?’

Joe’s head was pounding with an ache similar to a heavy hangover. He felt sick to his stomach, his body covered in a sheen of sweat and a mixture of fear and anger flooding his system from the predicament he found himself in now. He pulled on the restraints again, thin cord mostly, but - still - they didn’t budge.

‘What the fuck are you doing?’ Joe asked again.

Donnie pulled his trouser leg up and lifted his leg from the floor. The earlier limp explained with the sighting of a wooden peg attached to his leg with a series of buckles just below the knee-cap.

‘Do you know what happened to my leg?’ he asked.

‘Let me out of these…’ Joe said pulling in the restraints.

‘Guess.’

‘What are you fucking talking about?’

‘Guess what happened to my leg.’

‘Fuck you.’

Donnie shook his head. ‘Guess and I might let you out.’

‘A bear. A fucking bear got you…’

Donnie looked at him as though he was stupid. ‘If a bear got me, I think it would have taken more than my lower leg. Guess again.’

‘I played your game, just let me out.’

Donnie changed the subject, ‘I have a confession to make.’

‘I don’t want to hear it. I don’t give a fuck. Just let me the fuck out.’ Joe quickly asked, ‘Where are the girls? What have you done with them?’

Donnie sighed. ‘I’ve done nothing. I’m not a monster. The only thing I’ve done today is to steal your camping gear.’

Silence.

‘What did you say?’

‘I was watching you the whole time. I took your camping gear and followed you to ensure you headed in this direction. If you hadn’t, I would have stepped in and offered help… A helpful stranger out on a morning walk.’

‘You’re crazy.’

‘If I am it’s because that’s what they made me.’ Donnie looked at Joe with all sincerity. ‘People think I am the bad buy but I’m not. It’s nothing to do with me. I’m doing what I have to do. If I don’t, my family dies. Or - I die… Either way, it’s not a happy ending for me if I go against what they say.’

‘What the fuck are you talking about?’ Joe strained against the restraints again as hard as he could yet still the bindings showed no sign of giving. ‘Who is making you do this?’ He stared Donnie straight in the eyes, demanding an answer.

‘Please don’t look at me,’ Donnie said as he picked what appeared to be a washing-up bottle from next to his feet on the floor. He flipped the lid. ‘I don’t like it when you all look at me…’

‘Don’t!’ Jude’s voice came from the corner of the room startling Joe. She’d been standing there the whole time, watching and waiting for Joe to open his eyes. Donnie looked at her. ‘He has such beautiful eyes.’ Jude walked across the room to the bed. She sat on the edge of it, next to Joe’s chest.

‘He’s gone crazy. Let me out of these things,’ Joe said pulling on the restraints again.

Jude smiled. ‘Ssh. It’s okay.’ She stroked his stubbly face with the back of her hand. Joe tried to pull away from the cold touch but was powerless in his current position. She muttered, ‘You really do have beautiful eyes.’

‘Get the fuck off me, you crazy bitch.’

Jude laughed. Donnie looked almost uncomfortable at the outburst but only because he knew better than to anger the residents.

‘You shouldn’t shout,’ Donnie said.

‘Fuck you!’ Joe spat. ‘Fuck you both!’

It could have been his pounding head, it could have been the dim-light hanging from the ceiling, it could have been a number of things but - from where Joe was lying - it looked as though Jude’s eyes turned a darker shade.

‘I didn’t tell you about my leg, did I?’

End of Part Four

INTERVAL

If Corpses Could Talk (Part Two)

His screams echoed through the old home as people milled around where he writhed around, pinned to the floor by numerous hands. This is what he had wanted to avoid. This is what had terrified him into working for them and yet despite doing all they asked, here he was - suffering the same fate as many before him. And for why? Because he had displeased them with an offering that was far from fresh. Tainted meat stinking of death’s lingering aroma, an unpleasant smell - enough to put the most hungry off from eating. He begged them for forgiveness, screaming at the top of his voice. A mercy that would never come. His words falling on deaf ears.

‘Please don’t do this… I can put it right! I can put it right.’

An icy-cold hand rolled his trouser leg up revealing his bare, hairy skin beneath.

‘Please don’t do this!’

The same hand gripped the ankle in a surprisingly strong grip which stopped him from moving.

‘Please… I’m begging you…’

Another hand from another person touched his shin causing him to flinch. Tears streaming down his face.

‘Please… I can put this right.’

Warm rancid breath gently heated the same leg as the person’s face inched closer to his skin.

‘I didn’t know.’

The person looked to him and smiled a gummy smile. The kindness in the eyes - often seen by others - was all but gone. The eyes so black, like those of a shark.

He screamed again, ‘I didn’t know!’ He cried, ‘I thought it would be okay… I can fix this…’

A bony finger on another hand uncurled from its claw-like state and moved up to another toothless mouth and pressed against the lips.

‘Ssh.’

Knowing what was coming imminently, he turned his head to the side. Across the room there was the body of another. Where there was once a pair of eyes were now just empty sockets staring back. Despite the lack of ability to see, he couldn’t help but feel as though the corpse was still watching him - smiling at what he was about to go through. If corpses could talk, ‘Karma’s a bitch.’

Donnie turned away from Helen’s cold corpse as yet another clammy hand moved across his mouth pressing down with an uncomfortable force. Donnie’s screams muffled.

‘Ssh.’ Jude leaned close to him. ‘You have to learn from your mistake and the best way of learning is to teach you a lesson that you can’t forget. Young people today have no idea what discipline is and that’s half the problem with the world we live in today. You all swan around, doing what you want, without fear of consequence. Now, don’t you worry your pretty little head… We’re not going to hurt you too bad and in time you won’t even remember the pain of what you’re about to feel. But, every time you look down at your legs or catch sight of yourself naked in a mirror, your leg will be a constant reminder not to disappoint us.’

Donnie was shaking his head from side to side, trying to get his mouth free of the hand across his lips but it was no use. It was clamped well and truly down, clearly going nowhere until Jude wanted it to be removed.

‘Are you ready?’ Jude asked him softly. ‘Because you may want to brace yourself.’

Donnie looked down his body to his leg where Carol’s face was mere inches away. She was smiling that gummy smile she had. To outsiders it looked friendly enough, if a little weird with no teeth but to Donnie, who knew the truth, it was sinister. She looked at his flesh, close to where her hand was holding and - slowly - she started to dribble.

Donnie had another last-ditch attempt at breaking free but it really was a useless attempt. He was going nowhere until they were ready for him to. As the dribble drooled closer to his skin, he looked to the side. The last thing he saw before scrunching his eyes up tight and bracing himself for the impending pain was Helen’s bloody, smashed up face. She was the lucky one.

The drool hit his leg and immediately the flesh started to blister and bubble. Slowly the dribble wormed its way down the side of his leg with the same reaction from the flesh at every point touched by the acidic saliva. As Donnie continued to scream a muffled cry of pain, more of the old people crowded around the leg. All of them sucking up salvia into their mouth ready to dribble down on Donne’s fast melting, naked leg.

‘And I trust you won’t ever again consider serving up someone already dead for us?’ Jude said over the muffled cries. ‘We’re not animals!’ It’s a point she’d say again, in a few days, when Donnie was more stable.  ‘Besides, some of us like to hear the screams…’

Jude sucked up some saliva into her own mouth and started frothing it around her chops ready for her turn on his leg. What irritated her though was not the fact that Donnie had made a mistake and tried to offer up a corpse - it was more that they’d still have to have the dead woman too. There wouldn’t be enough of Donnie’s leg to go around and other than this little blip - he was a good worker and they were all mature enough to know; when you get a good worker, you do all you can to keep them.

She glanced down at his leg. From the knee downwards it was a mere puddle of mushed-up mess and frothy red. He wouldn’t be running anywhere.

PART FIVE

EVOLUTION AT ITS BEST

14.

Jude had been the first to change. It had happened during the storms when the heavy snow came and cut the home off from the outside world. Being deep in the woods, they were isolated enough but with snowdrifts deep enough to cover a man - it made visits nigh on impossible and they were all trapped. Jude had gone to eat a tough piece of salami, one of the last pieces of food in the kitchen and - despite being hungry - was putting off from biting into it because she knew she’d struggle with her teeth. When her stomach first rumbled, she thought it was due to the hunger she felt but when her mouth suddenly watered and she coughed up a gut full of clear, salty liquid she realised it was something else entirely. Whilst she caught a lot of the sudden mouthful from escaping her mouth, there was a small amount which did escape. It landed on the salami and - immediately - the meat started to smoulder with a thin wisp of smoke billowing from it. She watched in horror as, before her eyes, the meat started to turn into a frothy mess. The horror faded from her expression and changed to one of curiosity as the scent of the melting meat hit her sensitive nostrils. The look of the mess fizzing away, she thought it might have smelt disgusting. Akin, perhaps, to meat burning under a grill. Yet that’s not how it smelled at all. It smelled as though it was being perfectly cooked. She walked back to the refrigerator and removed the last of the salami. There wasn’t a lot left but she’d initially planned to save a bit at least for the others. After all, she wasn’t the only hungry mouth to feed. Fetching a clean plate from the cupboard, she put the salami on the plate before dribbling the rest of what she’d coughed up onto it. The same reaction occurred: The meat started to smoke as it liquified before her eyes. Again, the smell was divine.

Jude picked up the plate and brought it up to her nose. She breathed in deeply, curious to see if it was actually this that smelled so good. For all she knew, someone could have been eating something else in the next room. Something else? There was no other food. She set the plate down. Curious, she tentatively dipped a finger into the mess. She paused a moment, wondering if it was suddenly going to start hurting as she pictured it could. Nothing. Her finger felt as though there was nothing more than a little spit on the tip of it. Curious still, she raised her finger to her lips and touched the pruney-skin with the tip of her tongue. There was no burning, there was no strange taste… Just the taste of perfectly cooked salami. A thought popped into her head; certainly easier to eat it this way.

She picked the plate up and tipped the now-liquid onto her hand where it pooled in the centre of her palm. A sticky mess. Then, she closed her eyes and raised her hand to her mouth. A hesitant pause and then she sucked the spillage up into her mouth and swallowed…

*

Jude moved closer to Joe so that her face was mere inches from his. Her lips were pursed together as though she was going to go in for a kiss - a small peck on the cheek. Donnie got up and walked from the room, muttering something along the lines of not needing to see this again.

‘Don’t do this,’ Joe said. ‘Whatever you’re going to do - please do not do it.’

Over Joe’s face, Jude dribbled a long line of dribble down from her mouth to his. It hung there, moving down slowly towards Joe’s face, like a stringy piece of mozzarella cheese. Before it hit his lips, Joe turned his head to the side so the drool hit his cheek instead. Joe screamed out as - immediately it started to burn through the skin until a hole was visible straight through to the inside of his mouth. Jude moved her mouth closer to the point of impact and pursed her lips closer together. When she her lips touched the hole she’d just created, she sucked hard so that all liquified mush went straight up into her mouth where she swallowed hard.

‘You taste good,’ she said as she licked her lips and readied herself to prepare more drool.

*

Jude set the pineapple on the middle of the table as Carol and Bill looked at her blankly.

‘It doesn’t matter that how hungry I am,’ Carol said, ‘aren’t you forgetting something?’ She opened her mouth revealing bright red gums. She’d lost her teeth years ago thanks to years of fighting (and losing) against gum disease: Something which came about due to bad dental hygiene and a heavy habit with cigarettes which she refused to kick. Her dentures had been doing her well until they had broken a few days before the storm set in - on the list of things to get sorted.

Jude wanted to warn them about what she was going to do but knew the moment she mentioned that she’d be spitting on the food, they’d discourage her or walk away. The only way to get them to see was by simply doing it.

‘Just watch,’ she said as she started to suck saliva into her mouth.

‘What are you doing?’ Bill asked.

His question was answered the moment Jude spat down onto the pineapple. For the briefest of moments both Bill and Carol had disgust on their faces but it was quick to dissipate when the pineapple started to smoke.

*

Joe’s lips were gone, exposing his teeth which were starting to crumble as the drool hit those too. His eyes were wide with fear as he continued screaming, straining against the never-giving restraints. Jude spat down on his face once more. A little spittle hit his eye which started to fizz, the majority hit him in the forehead. The skin - as usual - bubbling within an instant of the salvia hitting. As the acid continued to work through his flesh, his skull, down into his brain - Jude leaned to where she’d dribbled and started to suck again. The brains were the best bit and she didn’t want to lose them to the rest when they came for their fill… By the time she’d swallowed the first mouthful down, Joe’s body was already convulsing. His good eye had rolled to the back of the socket and his spat-on eye already nothing but a mess of frothing puss - the next mouthful to be swallowed down.

*

Carol and Bill looked on in complete awe as the pineapple bubbled down to a puddle of yellow. Bill looked at Jude and went to say something before stopping himself. For a moment longer, they all sat in silence until he finally cracked and asked the question at the forefront of his mind.

‘When did you last brush your teeth?’

Instead of answering the question, Jude dipped her finger in the mess and immediately sucked it off.

‘That is disgusting…’ Bill said.

‘But it’s not.’ Jude explained, ‘It tastes like warm pineapple.’

‘What?’ Carol looked at her suspiciously.

‘Warm pineapple. I did the same with a piece of salami in the fridge and that just tasted as though it had been perfectly cooked too.’ She encouraged them, ‘You have to try it.’

‘Not happening,’ said Bill.

Carol leaned forward and looked at the mess closer. She breathed it in. ‘It does smell like warm pineapple.’ She looked at Jude and asked, ‘It really just tastes of warm pineapple? It doesn’t taste awful?’

‘Like a warm but filling drink.’

‘How did you even know how to do this?’ Bill asked.

‘Can you teach me?’ Carol cut straight to the point.

*

The door opened as Jude licked another puddle of mush from the top of the duvet. Joe’s head was gone now. Nothing more than a puddle of splattered wet lumps, easy for consumption with little to no chewing. Perfect for old people who struggled to masticate. Jude dabbed the corners of her mouth with a handkerchief pulled from her blouse pocket and took a step back from the still-warm corpse. She glanced beyond the doorway and saw Donnie standing there with a pitiful look on his face. To make him feel better, she had tried to teach him how to bring the bile up necessary to melt things but - no matter how hard she tried - she couldn’t get him to do it. In the end, she put it down to the fact he was too young. Only people of a certain age could do it. The process of evolution at its finest. Old people struggle to eat? Their bodies find a way to manage it. Donnie caught Jude’s gaze and turned away before walking off down the landing. Jude turned back to her fellow residents - at least, the ones who’d come into this room. Some of the others had gone into the other rooms for their midnight feast.

Greedily, they all started spitting out their drool and sucking up the slush of whatever it dissolved away for them.

15.

Megan had woken at the same time as Joe, more or less. She’d also been in the same position - strapped to her bed with a heavy pounding headache and sickness in her belly; the latter potentially being from fear too and not just the medication slipped to her in the drink. She was writhing around, desperate to get herself free from the restraints. Just like Joe’s restraints though, these wouldn’t budge either. She tried to scream out to the residents standing in the room with her but her scream was muffled by an old ball-gag shoved in her mouth. The origin of the gag being the last thing on her mind.

The residents closed in around her. Carol was at the forefront of the group. She took an extra step forward, a pair of scissors in her hand. She pointed the blade towards Megan who instantly started to shake her head from side to side in the hope it would stop Carol from doing whatever it was that she was planning. Tears streamed from her eyes, running down her cheeks.

Carol cut away Megan’s teeshirt first, exposing her breasts. Next, Carol cut away the french-knickers she was wearing. She tossed them to the floor along with the scissors. Then, slowly, the old souls started to move closer still - all the time, sucking up the necessary dribble to melt the prey to mush. At the back of the horde, Bill took a step back. Without a word he turned from the room and closed the door behind him - shutting them in the room to enjoy their meal.

*

Chloe was sitting up on her bed. On the bedside table next to the bed, an untouched glass of lemon water. Her knees were pulled close to her chest as she sat there, quivering. She’d heard Joe screaming but had been too scared to go and investigate. If she just stayed there, just hid… Everything would be okay. The door suddenly opened causing her heart to skip a beat. Bill was standing there, a look on his face which sent an immediate shiver down Chloe’s spine. She tried to hide her fear.

‘I thought I heard screaming,’ she said. She hoped he would tell her that she’d misheard. The scream had been in her head. What she actually heard was people laughing. He didn’t say that though. He simply stood there, an unnerving smile on his face. She asked, ‘What’s going on out there?’

There was a brief moment’s silence before Bill spoke. Five solitary words which brought Chloe no comfort. ‘Feeding Time at the Zoo.’ He took a step into the room and closed the door so as not to be disturbed by the others. They didn’t need to come in here. They had enough to eat with the other visitors. This one was his. And if anyone complained - it was his birthday in a couple of days. An early present. Let him have her until his birthday and then they could do as they pleased with her. In his head, he figured it was fair.

Chloe stood up. She didn’t take a step towards Bill.

She said, ‘I think I want to see my friends now.’

Bill shook his head.

‘Please…’

‘Not going to happen. I’m sorry.’ He took a step closer. ‘Besides, I’ve come to see you. That’s not very polite is it - running out on someone who has taken the time to visit?’ His words, the way his words drawled from the corner of his mouth… Chloe felt exposed - not helped by the fact she was wearing only a teeshirt and pair of shorts. She looked towards the far corner of the room. Her clothes were hanging over the back of a wooden chair tucked against a make-up table. Bill followed her gaze but said nothing. He crossed the room and sat on the edge of the bed. He patted the side of it. ‘Sit with me,’ he said.

‘I really think I need to go and see my friends,’ Chloe said. She didn’t wait for permission from Bill. Instead she walked to the bedroom door and opened it. She jumped. Donnie was standing there blocking her exit. She turned back to Bill curious to see if he knew Donnie would be there. The grin on his face suggested that he did.

Bill said again, ‘Sit with me.’

Donnie leaned into the room and took a hold of the door handle. He pulled it shut, closing Chloe in with Bill for a second time. Slowly, she turned to him. He smiled again and patted the side of the bed next to him.

‘I want to see my friend and my sister,’ Chloe said quietly.

‘You will but not just yet.’ Bill knew he couldn’t keep Chloe forever so it stood to reason that - at some point - she would see them again. If she believed in the Afterlife anyway. ‘You know…’ He looked her up and down. ‘With your blonde hair, you almost remind me of Marilyn Monroe.’ Any other time, Chloe would have laughed at such a comment. Here though, in these circumstances, she knew where he was heading - mainly because she’d been in the company of a sex pest before. An ugly fucker by the name of Sam Berry. A pathetic piece of shit who’d tried to force himself upon her. This cunt was just an older version of that dickless shit. ‘Sit with me,’ he said again.

‘Fuck you.’

Bill grinned. ‘That’s the idea.’

His smile faded and, for the first time, his half-assed attempt of a “friendly” mask slipped and his true colours shone through: Colours mostly made up of black.

‘Want to see a neat trick?’ he asked. He told her, ‘Show me your hand.’

‘What? Why?’

‘Because it won’t work on my own hand.’ With no warning, he suddenly leaned forward and grabbed her wrist. Despite his age, there was a strength there that she hadn’t expected. She tried to pull free but couldn’t. Bill sat up straight and pulled in his gut before sucking some saliva into his mouth. He liked Chloe but the attitude she clearly had was not something he could cope with. For anything to happen between the two of them, first she would need to be put in her place. And there was no better way of doing that then to remove all of her “fight”.

16.

Bill spat down onto his bread. The others had bread in front of them too. The only difference was that their bread was covered in spit and melting into puddled slop, easy for them to suck back up - not that they needed to with bread. Old people never had a problem with eating bread. At least, they had no problem with eating normal bread. Crusty bread was definitely more of an issue for them. The purpose of spitting down onto this bread was simply for practice - trying to see if they could do the same as Jude had. To their surprise, most of them could. Bill however…

‘You’re just spitting.’ Jude pointed out.

‘Why can’t I do it.’

‘It’s hard to explain,’ Jude said, ‘it’s not like it is normal saliva. You have to suck it into your mouth from what feels to be somewhere different. Like another duct closer to the back of the mouth.’ She demonstrated and dribbled down onto her bread again.

Bill closed his mouth and pressed his tongue up against the roof of his mouth, something he hadn’t done for the previous attempts. Then, determined, he started sucking back on his tongue. Sure enough his mouth started to fill with saliva; a different taste to the last time. Aniseed. He dribbled it from his mouth down onto the bread and - immediately - he started to see the results. He looked at Jude with a grin on his face.

‘If you dip your finger in that and try it, I promise, it’s just like toast.’

‘I’m not sure I am ready to do that just yet.’ He asked, ‘How come it doesn’t burn us if it does that to food products?’

‘I don’t know,’ Jude said honestly. This was as new to her as it was to the others in the room. She didn’t have all the answers. She just put it down to the fact that it was because it was a part of their biology now. After all, when a venomous snake bites its own tongue, it doesn’t suddenly die from its own venom.

*

Chloe screamed as her hand melted before her very eyes.  This time when she pulled away from Bill’s grip, he let her go. She slumped back against the wall and stayed there, screaming at the top of her lungs. One hand down, one to go.

‘I told you it was a neat trick,’ Bill said. He sucked up another mouthful of spittle, ready for Chloe’s other hand. ‘We learned it purely by chance. We were snowed in one year. The authorities always said we needed to ensure we had enough food in the house to survive being left alone for up to a month because, according to them, that is how long it would take them to reach us. The food ran out, of course it did and then - one day - whilst sneaking a piece of salami from the fridge, Jude discovered this neat little trick. It made eating so much easier. All foods that we used to struggle with, no longer an issue. Of course, you watched us eat soup downstairs. For the most part, we try and live a normal life but…’ He smiled. ‘From time to time we like to feast upon what we missed so much from the stormy days… The first time we learned how to do this. The first time we got a taste for human flesh.’ Chloe wasn’t hearing a single word as she continued screaming. ‘You asked why we only have one staff member here - well now you know. The rest, we melted down with this spit and the juices left behind… Sucked them straight back up. Most filling and… A taste similar to pork…’ He stood up and walked over to Chloe. He grabbed her wrist again and pulled her melting stump close to his mouth. With his tongue extended, he licked the jam-like flesh away from the stump. ‘Delightful… Although I suggest you don’t try it. We found out that youngster don’t have the stomach for what we can do and - when they actually try it - they lose their oesophagus and their stomach…. Dissolves right out of them!’

*

‘What the hell are you all doing?’ Janice asked when she walked into the room. She’d worked there for a year now and hadn’t made many friends with her attitude. A woman working for a pay check and not because she cared about the people she was meant to be looking after. She stormed across the room for a closer inspection of the plates. Her face was one of disgust when she realised they’d all been dribbling onto the bread. ‘You already know we don’t have much in the way of food so you thought it a good idea to start this? What’s wrong with you?’ She was screaming at them at the top of her lungs. ‘Absolutely disgusting!’ She reached out to start clearing away the plates but Bill wasn’t done with practicing yet. He grabbed her wrist.

‘Wait a minute…’ As he spoke, a little dribble spat from the corner of his mouth and landed on her hand. She screamed immediately as it started to work on her flesh. The rest of the room’s occupants turned to look at what was happening - all of them equally curious and their curiosity growing as they wondered what else could be done with their newfound “skills”. And the fact it was hurting her and not them - clearly they had more tests to run. Jude was the first to turn to the other staff members as they came in to see what the shouting was all about. She smiled as she started to think up some experiments to test upon them, starting with the more unpleasant staff: Staff who’d previously bullied the elderly because they thought they couldn’t fight back. Staff who’d been even more of a nightmare now they were snowed in, with no one able to get to them. In fact, most of the staff here had wronged her in some way, whether it was how they spoke to her or by not helping her when she asked for it. Only one staff-member was worth his weight in gold and that was Mr. Jacobs - a quiet young man not long in the job.

‘What’s all the yelling?’ another staff-member asked as he walked into the room. He stopped dead when he saw Janice’s melting hand. ‘What the fuck happened?’

‘We’ll show you,’ Jude said.

*

Chloe’s screaming stopped as she blacked out, much to Bill’s relief. Relief that she was quiet now and relief that she was out cold. It would be easier to get her in position with her still. A position he’d thought about since the moment he had first set eyes on her. Her on the bed and him on top. He hoped that her young, tight body would be enough to harden him given the fact he’d long since run out of little blue pills. Little point in having them when stuck in this kind of environment.

He pulled her away from the wall so that she was completely laid out on the floor. It would have been more comfortable on the bed but the effort to get her up there would be better spent in trying to get hard enough to slip inside her. And he still had to strip her from her clothes - something he wasted little time in doing.

With her naked he leaned in close to her pussy and breathed in the sweet, sweet scent. Having only just swallowed the second mouthful of saliva he’d prepared for her other hand, before changing his mind, he knew he couldn’t do as he wanted and to push his tongue inside her. Not for fear of melting her from the inside out although the thought of tasting that young cunt… He sighed. Oh to be forty years younger. He would have fucked her all night, all day and all night again when he was a young man and she would have fucking loved every minute of it like the dirty bitch that she was. Now though, even faced with her delightful pussy, there wasn’t even so much of a twitch. Bill stood up and unbuttoned the front of his trousers. He reached into his pants and started to stroke himself. Even a semi-erect penis would be better than nothing. Something he might be able to work with.

‘Come on, old man.’

There was a knock on the door.

Donnie called through, ‘Everything okay?’

‘Everything’s fine, just stop the others from coming in. This one is mine.’

‘You know I can’t stop them if they want to come in,’ Donnie said. Despite being younger, he knew the pecking order. He was there to work for them, not the other way round. It was an order that was hard to forget given the state of his leg.

‘If you know what’s good for you…’ Bill was getting irritable now as he continued to struggle with his erection. Plumbing just wasn’t what it used to be. ‘Leave me alone!’ he called back through to Donnie. ‘And keep them away!’ He turned his attention back to the neat looking pussy in front of him. He tried to imagine what it would feel like to slide his dick inside of it. To feel the throb as a climax shot his semen deep inside. He started stroking faster, desperate for any sign of life before he called it a day and fucked her in a different way.

Chloe started to stir.

‘Come on, come on… Don’t keep the young woman waiting…’

Another knock on the door distracted him for a second time.

‘For Christ’s sake, what is it now?’

‘What’s going on in there?’ Jude’s voice came through the door. Quickly, Bill put his cock back in his pants and did them up. Jude might have been okay with a lot of things, such as eating the young, but this was one of the things she was most definitely against. The door opened and banged against the wall. Bill stood there looking back at a clearly pissed off Jude.

‘What are you doing?’ she asked even though she knew the answer. Her eyes were fixed to the naked girl on the floor. They’re only naked when all are eating. The rules were you were never left alone with them in such a state.

Chloe opened her eyes. Immediately she looked to the man standing above her and then to the old lady in the doorway.

‘Please - you have to help me,’ Chloe begged.

‘It’s not what you think,’ Bill said to Jude.

‘It’s not? Because Mr. Jacobs here said you wanted to be left alone with the young girl…’ She continued, ‘You know I don’t condone such behaviour…’

‘Please help me…’ Chloe knew her words were wasted. They were in this together.

Thinking on his feet, Bill continued, ’Honestly you misunderstand, my dear friend… Just as you like to suck their brains…’ He raised his tongue to the roof of his mouth and sucked saliva into his mouth before dropping to his knees, his face inches from Chloe’s bare vagina.

‘I like to eat pussy.’

End of Part Five

EPILOGUE

Melting

Bill dribbled his rank saliva all over Chloe’s vagina secretly frustrated that he couldn’t get to fuck it before he did so. The moment it touched, she started to scream. He turned his face towards Jude who watched, almost envious that he was about to feast despite the fact she’d not long since eaten. Bill shouted out over the screaming, ‘Just as you don’t like people getting in the way whilst you eat, neither do I!’

Donnie put his hands to his ears to block out the noise. He was thankful that when this girl was gone, there would be no more screaming until he was sent out to collect more at a later date. Once again, he had played his part and once again, they’d let him live. He watched a moment as Bill turned his attention back to the young girl’s vagina. The lips of which were hanging down between her legs, sagging to the floor as they melted. Even the clitoris, so often missed by men, was obvious now as it started to stretch out, melting into a pool of pink and red on the floor between Chloe’s legs as she writhed around in extreme agony. The screaming getting louder as the burning acid continued to ruin her. Before Bill started to suck between her legs, he removed his dentures and set them to the side. He opened his mouth up and pressed his gums up against the liquifying pussy. Although he wanted to fuck her, his cock had failed him and he’d not been able to get a hard-on. Given the fact Jude had already warned him away from such behaviour after past incidents, it was probably for the best. There was no way she wouldn’t have caught him. He was however thankful that at least he’d get to taste her, another activity from his younger years that he missed. Not put off by the screaming and holding her down with all the strength he could muster, he started gumming at her cunt - sucking the flesh away from her as it melted. Outside the bedroom door, a crowd had gathered to watch as his tongue started lapping at the gooey wetness between her legs. The pussy that once was. Catching sight of the other residents watching, waiting for their turn on the girl, he felt the old familiar stirrings of an erection slowly rising to attention. Typical, he thought.

He pulled away from Chloe’s vagina - or rather, what was left of it. A bulge between his own legs and a sticky mess around his mouth. He licked his lips with delight.

‘Well if that was dinner…’ He looked amongst the sea of faces watching him until he found Donnie. ‘What’s for dessert?’ he asked. He laughed before wiping the dribble from around his mouth. The bedroom slowly started to fill as the others stepped forward, ready to slaver over the barely-conscious girl.

Donnie limped down the stairs leaving the residents to lick and slurp up the remains of the girl.

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