The Devil Next Door

These were the things Macy was thinking. She had always had an intellectual bent and prided herself upon it. Any thick-headed idiot could score on the field and any bimbo could jump up and down and cheer, but thinking, real thinking, that was a gift, that took mental power, discipline, and drive. And realizing this, realizing that she was still an intellectual, she knew she was absolutely fucked.

There would be no place for thinkers in this new world of darkness.

She stared out, watching them. There wasn’t much else to do. Some of the smoke had cleared and she now wished it hadn’t. Things were revealed now that she did not want to look upon. For suspended over the fire from a tripod of what looked like aluminum tent poles secured at their apex with electrical tape, was the body of a boy. He was being smoked and from the smell-that sickening odor of blackened meat-he had been cooking for some time.

Macy squirmed now.

There were horrors and there were horrors. She had seen things, witnessed things, been humiliated, beaten, and abused, but this she could not look upon…a child cooked over a fire.

But what came next was infinitely worse.

A man and woman came to the fire. The man had a knife and the woman had a metal pail. He prodded the boy’s corpse with his knife, making it swing back and forth with a slow grisly motion. The boy’s flesh was blackened in places, his belly was bloated pink-yellow and shiny like that of a roasted pig. The man jabbed the knife into him and hot juice ran into the fire, sizzling. Using the knife, the man began slicing slabs of meat, sawing them free. He tossed these to the crowd. He hacked off the boy’s genitals and dropped them in the pail. Then he peeled the flesh from his belly and chest, carefully carving it until it came off in a single sheet he yanked free.

The savages around him, their faces oily and flickering with impure light, could barely contain themselves.

With a forceful plunge, he buried the knife just below the navel and slit the boy gut to throat. He cut free the stomach, liver, kidneys and intestines. It took some time. As he did so, the others were eating, chewing on the flesh, their faces smeared with blood and fat. The internals went into the pail. Using the haft of the knife, he broke through the boy’s ribs, pounding and pounding until the bones gave. Using his hands, his snapped the ribs free and tossed them aside. He cut through the lungs, peeled them back, and sliced the muscled mass of the heart free. It, too, went into the bucket.

The crowd of savages were roaring and squealing with delight.

Macy did not want to look, but she could not help herself. She looked over at the roped-up man and the three women. The one woman looked up at her as before. She was gagged like the others so she did not scream. But judging from her wide, tear-filled eyes, she wanted to.

The boy’s corpse was cut free.

The man dumped it on the floor. Using a hatchet, he chopped off both legs, then the arms. The crowd took charge of these, fighting over them, biting and scratching. The head he did not share. He chopped at it until the cranium was smashed and then he peeled the scalp and shards of bone free, snapping them like crab’s legs. He slit the membrane and exposed the brain. Several women had gathered around him now and he happily shared with them. They sat in a crude circle, dipping their scabby fingers into the skull and scooping out hunks of brain that they chewed almost delicately, sucking them between their lips and pulping them with their teeth.

Meanwhile, the woman with the pail divided up the intestines which were quickly spitted on sticks and roasted in the flames. Blood and fat dropped from them, sputtering on the coals.

Macy saw the heart get pierced with a stick and looked away.

She needed to throw up and not so much from the sight but from the smell. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw one of the woman licking the inside of the boy’s skull clean while the bloody man with the knife violently fucked one of her friends.

Oh God, that stink.

Then Macy realized someone was behind her. Her bra was cut free, then her panties. Callused fingers gripped the globes of her ass, slapped them, poked them with stubby fat fingers. A man. It was a man. He was pressed up against her and she could feel his hardness spearing between her legs. He licked her neck and breathed into her ear. His breath stank like a gangrenous wound.

He reached up and cut the ropes holding her wrists. She hit the altar and prepared to fight him. She had no doubt she was going to be raped. But she would not make it easy. He grinned down at her, his eyes like open infected sores.

He reached for her with crusty, bleeding hands…

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