UP ON THE HILL
On
the outskirts of the Stereo Falls community is a hill, a hill that's actually
on the border leading into the next town. On this steep woodland hill is a
house very few see. The sun sets, the sky is orange. Another limb is thrown on
the pile next to his work station. His saw horses. On the other side, a few
feet over, lies the burn pile: made up of sticks, twigs, branches, trash,
clothes, and other miscellaneous belongings. Usually after a day of hunting for
Chester Chum a routine follows. He takes them off the truck, one at a time to
not get too far ahead of himself, and using a utility knife cuts their clothing
off before throwing it all into the fire. He removes any jewelry or fashion
accessories. Using electric clippers he shaves them completely, and then shaves
them clean with a straight razor. He takes all the hair from the bodies and
adds it to the burn pile - he believes burning such helps keep mosquitoes away.
Said bodies are then skinned. The flesh is placed in the freezer. When they see
fit, or when it's needed, the meat is then cooked. The bones and cartilage are
used for stock. The skin is dried and saved for various uses.
It's a new day. It's early. It's time to
hunt. Chester dresses in his Sunday best, "Ma, I'm headed out for a bit.” And
he does just that. The older gentleman hops in his rust-colored pickup and
heads down the hill. The road winds down the hill in almost a spiral fashion. Down
to the busy road at the bottom of the hill and around the corner, he pulls over
onto the side of the road, almost in the ditch, and waits... He's in a nice
black suit and tie. His hair thinning yet slick back, while his face reveals
stubble. The dry weather with the added wind leaves a light dusting in Mr.
Chum's hair and face. The man stands leaning against his truck awaiting a bite.
He hears the gravel on the road and his head cocks to the side like a dog whose
ears perked up. A station wagon carrying a man and his wife comes around the
corner. He goes into actor-mode, shoving himself from the truck towards the
roadway. Chester flags the couple down; they oblige.
"Car trouble?” The man asks.
"Yes, I'm trying to get home to my
wife. She's with child and my truck is a bit under the weather."
"Well how far are you headed?” The
wife chimes in from next to her mate.
"Oh, just right up on the hill. I'm
afraid my chariot won't make the trek this morning and my knees aren’t what
they used to be."
"Well hop on in. We'll take you home
to your family."
"You sure it's no bother?" His
slight southern drawl also carries with it its southern charm.
"Not at all.” And with that said he
climbs in the back while his carriers push on. Chester's palms aren't sweaty,
his heartbeat is steady, and his breathing is normal. All of this is too
natural for him. He's relaxed. A devilish grin forms over his weathered face as
the two in the front seat become inaudible to him. ‘They’ll do just fine. They
both have plenty of meat on them and they’re not overweight so it won’t be too
fatty… I wonder how much Ma and I could get for the young lady’s necklace. It
looks rather expensive but you never know.’
“So how long you all been living out here?”
Chester’s thoughts are interrupted by the driver’s questioning.
“Oh, more than thirty years. I like it. It’s
quiet. And what do you all do?”
“I’m in TV repair myself.”
The wife chimes in soon after her husband,
“And I’m a nurse.”
“We’re finally getting out on vacation.”
“Well that’s real good. It’s important to
work hard but it’s equally important to reap the rewards.”
The couple laughs, “We hear ya.”
The car goes up the winding hill on this
dry day kicking up dust behind it. The tall and welcoming home on top of the
hill breaks through the horizon.
“Wow, is that your house?” The impressed
wife asks.
Chester Chum chuckles, “Yes, she’s not
much but she’s home.”
“Not much? It’s wonderful. It’s like
something you’d see in an old painting.” The man said pulling the car up to the
house. “I believe this is your stop, monsieur.”
Chester steps out of the car and stretches
his legs. “I thank ya. Much obliged.” Before walking away from the couple’s
vehicle Mr. Chum turns back placing a hand on top of the car.
“Y’know… I’d like it if y’all could come
in for some tea or a beer or something. Just a little somethin’ for helpin’ an
old man out.”
“Oh, we appreciate it but we’re just happy
to help.”
“Yeah…” Chester’s demeanor changes for a
more serious tone, “Y’see I hate to do this to you it being your vacation and
all but my damn picture box ain’t been workin’ right for a month. You mind
takin’ a look?”
Although he’s a bit hesitant the driver
agrees, unbuckles, and gets out of the car. “Go ahead and stay here, babe. I’ll
be right back.”
“Oh hell, bring ‘er in. The more the
merrier.” The couple gives each other an agreeing look before she unbuckles and
leaves the vehicle joining the men.
The couple, holding hands, is led up to
the house by Chester. On the front porch is an old church pew and plenty of
wind chimes. They get to the door of this very rustic country home and the man
of the house opens the door and bellows, “Ma, we got company!” A woman about Chester’s
age comes around the corner in an apron smiling. She’s shorter than her husband
and a little heavier but not by much. “This is my wife, Margaret.”
The couple nods, “Hello.”
“These fine young people picked me up when
mah truck broke down.”
“You and that damn truck,” She fans at her
husband, “You just need to take it out back and shoot it.”
“Oh, you leave Betsy alone. She’s been
good to us.”
The young man and wife share an awkward
glance.
“So where’s your TV?” The man cuts in.
“TV?” Margaret Chum’s a little confused.
“He’s a television repair man. Isn’t that
some luck? I told him about ours and he agreed to give it a look.” Redirecting
his attention to the young repairman, “It’s right in here, I’ll show you.”
He leads the man into the next room. “There
she is.”
“So he said you were with child…?”
There’s a slight pause before Mrs. Chum
speaks, “Oh, yes the baby. Our little man’s lying down for his nap right now. I
was just about to check on him, won’t you come with?”
“Sure.” The naïve woman agrees.
Ma leans in close to her husband and
quietly speaks, “Your fly swatter’s in the kitchen.” He nods, understanding her
meaning.
“Come, dear.” The woman leads the young
lady off down the hall. Chester steps into the kitchen and grabs the hammer off
the table, smoothly and silently.
The young TV repairman is looking at the
box. It’s old, big, and bulky.
“Think you’ll be able to fix it?” Mr. Chum
asks while scratching his head.
“Well I might have to open ‘er up.”
“Sounds about right…” Chester’s last words
before clobbering the man over the head knocking him out followed by hammering
down another couple of blows, killing him… The sound is blunt with a wet thud. The
man lies on the floor bleeding from his head.
Chester’s wife returns to the room
chuckling, “Well did he fix the TV?”
Her husband chuckles back, “This TV hasn’t
worked since 1973. Did she get to see the baby?”
“Oh yeah....”
The young woman lay on a plastic covered
floor headless with a bloodied ax beside her. Her lifeless body rests in a pool
of her own blood. Her body is lying on its stomach as she was surely killed
from behind, her face on the separated head in a frozen state of shock. Blood
continues to vacate the body. As in the rest of the house, flies are heard in
this otherwise silent and peaceful room.
Outside in the backyard, the murderous
couple drags their latest catches out to the stripping area.
“You know what we haven’t had in a while,
is your famous meatloaf. I think these too are just right for it, don’t you?”
“Just right. I’ll go fetch the basil from
the garden.”
Chester lays the young man’s freshly dead
body over a pair of saw horses. “This sure beats fishing. Don’t have the wait
and I don’t have to deal with cleaning the slimy fish guts.”
Ma comes back from the garden with various
sprigs of herbs in hand. “Sadly, I don’t think her ring is real diamond.”
He chuckles, “Well, honey, not every woman
gets a real diamond.”
She looks at the diamond on her finger
smiling, “Yeah… Leave me some of the skin, it’ll help crisp up the crust on the
meatloaf real nice.”
“Will do.”
He uses his utility knife and begins
clipping off the man’s clothes. Looking at the man’s naked body he turns his
head to his wicked bride, “Young folk… This manscaping
they call it helps me out. Not much to shave.”
“How kind of them, it’s like they knew
they were coming here.” Mrs. Chum smiles and goes back into the house.
Clothes are thrown onto the fire, which is
circled with bricks. The fabrics of the clothes go up quick. The rubber and
plastic of the shoes cause more smoke in the fire. A small bucket by Chester’s
feet doesn’t stay empty long as the repairman’s wallet, watch, and wedding band
are dropped in. Soon scalps with plenty of hair are thrown on the fire. They
burn quick with crackles and pops and smoke accordingly. The fire is large and
whatever the couple had on them is now ash.
An hour later Chester enters the kitchen
from the backdoor with a tote full of flesh. He grunts from the weight of it
placing it on the table with an audible thud. Margaret’s at the stove with a
pot of boiling water.
“The water’s ready.”
Chester wipes his perspiring forehead with
a bandana from his back pocket, “Yeah, I got the bones outside in the other
tote. I’ll go grab ‘em then I gotta strip the car.”
“Okay, dear, don’t overexert yourself.”
“I won’t.” Chester exits.
Margaret happily hums while salting the water.
She loves being in the kitchen, it’s THE room in the house that is known to be
solely HER room.
Chester re-enters with the bones. “Here ya
go, mama.”
She lights up looking at the bloody bones
which still have cartilage and tiny scraps of meat left on them. He strips the
bodies pretty bare but keeps just enough on them to help with the stock that
his wife makes. “Oooh, these look good.” Still humming, she picks through the
pile of bones, a mix of the couple’s. “See, I don’t understand the prejudices
of how people look; underneath it all you can’t even tell them apart.”
“Eh, it’s just the world we live in, babe.
I’m goin’ out to strip the vehicle.”
“Alrighty, I’m gettin’ the stock going.”
Chester exits again while Margaret picks a
few bones and puts them in the boiling pot before going back for more. The
broken down skeletons in the tote are bloody but not sopping wet by any means. The
pot is chockfull of skeletal parts, seasoning, and the water, boiling it all
down to a nice stock they store for various meals. If this were an even crueler
world than we live in currently then the Chums would have their own cooking
show.
Outside, Chester is in the young couple’s
vehicle going through the glove box with Margaret’s humming stuck in his head.
“Crap, crap, and more crap. People these
days use these things as a damn junk drawer.” He throws the random items out of
the car and pulls out his hunting knife and begins tearing into the interiors.
On the fire he adds the car’s trash,
seating, and any fabric torn from its insides. The flames erupt higher, the
embers beneath stark white from the heat. Laid over the saw horses not far away,
the skin of the youth hangs draped over drying out surrounded by flies. DNA
drips off the skin onto the ants below.
Inside, Margaret is cutting up the pieces
of flesh smaller on the large wooden cutting board. She’s still humming, as
happy as could be. Mrs. Chum is quite happy with her simple life. When the meat
is finished being cut up she puts it all in a large wooden bowl with one scoop
with both hands. The bowl is full of various spices and herbs, some picked
fresh from the garden and some from bottles she has. Her hands are stained red
from the amount of blood and she digs her hands in the bowl rolling the flesh
around in the spices.
Back to the car: Chester’s now under the
hood stripping the engine, inspecting each part he separates before throwing it
to his right (the Keep Pile) or to the left (the Trash Pile). For the most part
everything he’s detached has been good.
“Not a bad piece of machinery.” He stops
tinkering under the hood to get a couple of gas cans and a hose. Upon getting
to their gas cap he notices it’s a locked gas cap. “Damn paranoid kids.” Using
his knife he breaks in, popping the cap off. He puts the hose in and begins
siphoning out the gas.
Inside, the glue fly traps hanging from
the ceiling throughout the house catch more by the minute. Margaret returns to
cutting the meat, breaking it down. She now has her bowl of well-seasoned flesh
beside the meat grinder. Turning it on she starts dropping in the pieces as it
grinds and comes out looking like seasoned hamburger meat.
Chester is coming around the corner of the
house pushing a wheelbarrow full of usable car parts. He makes his way to one
of the sheds behind their house, parks the wheelbarrow, and opens one of the
large sheds’ sets of doors. It’s completely FULL of parts collected from the
years of hunting. It looks like he has his own chop shop with as many parts as
he’s acquired, of newer and older models. He wheels in the new parts and starts
placing them in their respective areas; the radiator with the other radiators
and so forth. All the parts, no matter how old or new, are in tiptop shape. He
next brings in the gas cans placing it next to a few other full cans. Gas
prices aren’t as troublesome for the Chums as they are for other people.
The
grinder continues doing its namesake until it’s clogged, making a jarring
clunking noise. “Oh, damn…” Margaret sighs. Using her wooden spoon she tries to
push the meat through to no avail. She’s frustrated.
Chester enters from the backdoor, “Havin’
some trouble?”
“Yeah, damn thing’s clogged again.”
“Probably some tough cartilage.” Chester
inspects the machine looking at it carefully and pulls out a pin. “Looks like
somebody had surgery. So much for these things keepin’ ‘em together.” The
couple laughs together and she continues to grind the human flesh into a tasty
looking hamburger meat.
“The car’s done. All that’s left is the
frame.”
“You gonna sell the scraps?”
“Nah, I don’t think so. Cheapskates don’t
pay what they used to for quality metal.”
“Why don’t you go back to making your
sculptures? You haven’t done one in years. You were always so happy with your
art.”
“Eh, the inspiration just isn’t there
anymore. I think I’m gonna repair the fence with some of it.”
“Oh, on the south end?”
“Yeah, it’s been a bit shabby for a long
time. Figured I can go ahead and take care of that. Whatever’s left I can use
for somethin’ or other. I was thinkin’ actually, I can use it all to repair the
ol’ boat.”
“That’d be nice. We can have a night out
on the lake.”
The stock on the stove is looking rich and
seasoned. Margaret stirs it.
“I’m gonna get in the shower. Taking their
guts out got their shit all over me. I don’t know if you wanna make chitlins
with them.”
Her face sours before she answers, “Eh,
we’ll pass then.”
“Alright, I’m a go clean up.”
“Okay, honey, I’m gonna get started on
dinner.”
“Sounds good.” He exits while she
continues to hum tunes while molding the meat into a hearty seasoned loaf.
Chester gets in the bathroom and turns on
the shower before looking at his stubble in the mirror. “’Bout time for a
shave, old boy.”
The
skin outside is drying over the saw horses. The fire’s still burning bright. Nothing
remotely survived the burning. The red blood is dark against the green grass
and not as vibrant as it appears on the saw horses. The skeletal frame of the
late couple’s vehicle sits bare. The windows, now a stack of sheets of glass,
unbroken, sit beside the house. Next to the stack of unscratched glass are
sheets of metal, cut from the doors, roof, and hood of the car. It’s been a
busy day for Chester & Margaret Chum. There’s a slight breeze but no real
wind to speak of. It’s a calm day, as calm as any other for the Chum couple. Yes,
this is a pretty normal life for them. They’re removed from the city and
suburban lifestyles along with the traffic, noise, and pollution that comes
with it. They never have to deal with vandalism, Christmas carolers,
trick-r-treaters, door-to-door salesmen, or even nosey neighbors. They consider
themselves living a fairly peaceful life, considering, and living up on the
hill they don’t have to worry about flooding during heavy rains.
In the corner of the kitchen, hanging from
the ceiling, is an old fashioned dinner bell and Margaret’s hand rings it. “Supper!”
The dinner table has a nice hearty
meatloaf in the center with mashed potatoes and vegetables to either side. Next
to the meal is a simple vase of handpicked flowers. Their glasses of sweet iced
tea, plates, silverware and napkins complete the ensemble. Chester comes in to
have a seat. He looks clean and refreshed.
“Oh, sweetie, you shaved. You look so
handsome.”
“Yeah, I figured it was time. No use goin’
around lookin’ like some feral animal.” The couple laughs. “This looks
wonderful.”
“Well I hope you like it. It was cooked
with love.”
She makes his plate, then hers, then sits
across from him.
“Let us pray.”
They pray together, “Dear Lord, thank you
for blessing us today with this lovely meal and keeping us fed, secure, and
happy. Amen.”
He digs in, gunning right for the meatloaf
which, by the way, looks delicious. His bite throws him into ecstasy. “Mmmm,
damn this is good! This is one is even better than your last meatloaf!”
“I’m glad you like it. You did good, Chet.”
“We both did, honey. I couldn’t have done
it without you.”
“Oh, I forgot the gravy. Hold on. Don’t
take another bite.” She gets up and moves to the stove containing her homemade
stock. It’s a deep red and brown color; it looks rich with seasoning. She says
as she’s pouring some on his meatloaf, “This stock makes excellent gravy AND we
have enough to last us awhile.”
“That’s great. We can always freeze it
too.” He takes a bite. “That gravy is killer! We should jar that and sell it!”
“Yeah, but we’d have to go through the FDA
and everything else. Too much hassle. I’m just happy cooking for my family.”
“Well your family is happy EATING it.” He
chuckles.
“And speaking of family…”
“Margaret…”
“I’m just sayin’ it wouldn’t be bad having
a little girl around. I could teach her how to cook and sew.”
“Honey, we’ve talked about this.”
“I know but I want my little girl.”
“Well, believe me I wanted my little boy
but when God gave us one it was defective.”
“I’m jus’ sayin’…”
“Well, we’re too old to be raisin’ little
kids. Maybe we’ll get a dog or somethin’.”
“Alright, I’ll let it go.”
There’s a silence between them as they
eat, both enjoying the vegetables and human-loaf.
Margaret remembers, “Oh, Chester, Singin’
In the Rain is coming on tomorrow. You know how I just love that show.”
“Yeah, we’ll have to watch it on the other
TV since youngin’ didn’t fix the other.” He laughs.
“I was thinkin’ tomorrow the skins should
be dry enough. I could fry ‘em up as chips and we can use more of the meat and
have nachos. I could even make burritos if you’d like, if the skin rolls okay.”
“That sounds good; just no jalapenos. You
know how they mess up my stomach.”
“I know it. No spicy food.” She stops,
thinking to herself, looking at her arm, the skin to be more exact. “It’s
interesting that most foods that can be made with corn you could easily do with
human skin.”
“Yeah, you can fry it, boil it, roast it,
bake it… The way we do it works out best for everyone, really. No more land
being taken up with graves, the people serve a purpose other than wasting space
that could be used for homes, and the corn that’s planted every year could go
towards other things like fuel.”
“We could do a Chinese food night and I’ll
make those eggrolls or spring rolls or whatever they call them.”
“Why you always tryin’ to do different
stuff? Whatever happened to the good old days of pot roast, stew, steak and
potatoes? Eh, I ate enough Asian food during the war to last me a lifetime. I
don’t even wanna eat rice again. I’m almost done with grits because they remind
me of rice.”
She laughs at her husband, “You’re terrible.
We don’t have to do Asian food. You can use skin for anything. It would even
make good lasagna.”
“Now that I could do.”
“I love you, honey.”
“I love you, too, darlin’.”
“God sure has given us a happy life.”
“Yes, he has. He’s always done right by
us.”
Margaret smiles, “Now eat your supper
‘fore it gets cold.”
He smiles back, “Yes ma’am.”
It’s
later. Game shows are on the TV while Mrs. Chum knits in her rocking chair only
half-watching the program; a quiet night for the Chums. Chester puts his jacket
on.
“Where are you off to?”
“Ah, figured I’d go get mah truck. No
sense in lettin’ it sit down the road all night.”
“Okay, be careful.”
“I’m on it.”
It’s dark out. The fire is long dead and
the air has a bit of a nip to it. The sound of insects and owls fill the night
sky. Chester casually walks down the road as if he’s walking down the street to
the local market to get a loaf of bread and his knees are just fine. He doesn’t
have a fear of walking in the dark by his lonesome and his stride shows it. He’s
lit by the moonlight and the occasional streetlight. Hearing a rustling, he
stops in his tracks, looking over to the area of said sound. A coyote emerges
from the tall grass snarling and growling. He’s mangy and hungry, as feral as
expected. The hair on his back sticking straight up as he stares at Mr. Chum
but Chester doesn’t move, doesn’t show any sign of fear. The man stares right
back at the beast sternly until the animal caves. The coyote stops his usually
dangerous act and retreats back into the woods. Chester smirks and nods before
continuing his journey to his truck.
When he returns he notices the skins
swaying in the crisp air, dry, and ash lightly blowing in the breeze. The night
fades as the Chums sleep peacefully.
The
bright golden sun comes up. The truck is back at the house. Birds are chirping.
Everything is peaceful. Chester wakes up from a good long night of sleep and
stretches, yawning big. He stumbles out of the bedroom still adjusting to
waking life following the scent trail left by a fresh pot of coffee. The smell
leads him right to the kitchen where Margaret is up, wide-eyed and bushy-tailed.
He’s rubbing his eyes before looking down to see the wonderful breakfast she
has set before him.
“Steak and eggs with toast and coffee.”
“Damn, babe, this looks marvelous. You
keep feedin’ me like this every day you’re gonna have to wheel me outta this
house.” Her husband laughs.
“Oh, Chester, you’ve been eating like this
for years and ain’t barely gained a pound.”
Chester digs into his steak and moans of
its goodness. “That is so good. Is this from them two yesterday?”
Margaret is pouring herself a cup of
coffee, “No, that’s that one from last week. The uhh… Who was it? The Mormon fella who came
around.”
“Ah, yes. Well, just goes to show, it
doesn’t matter your beliefs, we’re all tasty just the same if cooked right.” He
moans eating more of his ‘steak’ and eggs.
Mrs. Chum sits across from him, “Are you
going into town today?”
“I don’t know. Hadn’t really planned on
it, why?”
“Well I need some more yarn, some starch,
some baking soda, and some seeds for the garden…”
“Well hot damn, woman, why don’t we just
buy up the whole store?” She laughs at him. He’s always been able to make her
laugh.
“Nah, I think I could do that. I’m sure I
got some things to pick up myself. I take it you’re not wantin’ to go?”
“Nah, I’m sick of goin’.”
“Alrighty. After breakfast I’ll head on
out. Go ahead and make me a list so I don’t forget anything.”
“I will.”
“You know, we’ve had that barrel of teeth
in the back for a decade now, what do you plan to do with it all?”
“You know, honey, I don’t rightly know. I
guess I could grind ‘em up and mix it in with the fertilizer…”
“Not bad. Gets it out of the house; serves
no purpose in here.”
“I know. I know.”
“I hate when you say you know. If you know
then you oughtta do somethin’ ‘bout it.”
“Alright, alright! When I get back from
town today I’ll take care of it.”
“Alright; that’s why I like to hear. I’m a
go read the paper.” She exits.
“Slave drivin’ woman…” He mumbles.
“I heard
that!” Mrs. Chum yells from the other room.
So, with his coffee cup bone dry, Chester
Chum heads out to town for the day…
Meanwhile
down the hill and around its winding road two men are walking tiredly through
the wooded area off road. Both men are white and bald, one with a goatee and
the other without. Both men are wearing the same pants, grey prison standard
pants with white undershirts. Both prisoners have their regulation grey tops
tied around their waists. They look as though they’ve been walking quite a while
as their perspiring shows. Plenty of tattoos are visible on both of the
convicts including iron crosses, swastikas, and various names in old English
font.
“We gotta get us a car, Chax. I’m tired of
all this walkin’. My legs can’t take much more.” Says Thompson, the clean
shaven of the two.
“I’d rather have sore legs then be sittin’
in the hot seat right now. What about you? A hike in the woods or death row?”
Thompson swallows his complaints and nods,
“Yeah, you’re right.”
“We’re gonna be fine. We’ll get us a car
and somethin’ to eat. We’re almost in the clear.” Chax replies.
“We were in the clear a long time ago. We’re
off their radar.” Thompson argues.
“Pipe down, will ya? I think I hear
someone comin’.” Chax halts with his hand back to his cohort.
The two men are stopped in their tracks as
they hear a vehicle coming down the hill; sounds like a truck. They look over
to see none other than Mr. Chester Chum coming down the hill in his pickup
truck.
In the truck: Chester sings hymnals to
himself on his peaceful drive, “This iiiis the day… This iiiis the day that the
Looord haaaas made…”
Chax and Thompson, literally partners in
crime, see their chance.
“There! Let’s go!” Chax commands. The two
men run down to the road where the truck should be any moment, almost tripping
and staggering in their haste.
In the truck: Chester continues to sing
his graces and thanks, “I wiiill rejoice… I wiiiilll rejoice and be glaaaad in
iiit, and be glaaad iiin iiit…”
The two men are roadside waving their arms.
Chester notices, “Oh, looks like someone’s in need of help…” Mr. Chum slows to
a stop on the side of the road. “You boys look like you’re in need of some
assistance.”
The men step up to the truck but not
aggressively. “Yes, sir we are.”
Chester notices their attire and tattoos
and his crow’s feet printed eyes squint, “You boys in some kind of trouble…?”
Chax steps forward, “We don’t want any
trouble. We’re just tryin’ to get outta dodge.”
The driver gives them another look over. “You
boys look like you could use a meal.”
“Yes sir. We’re starving. We’re thirsty. We’ve
been walking a long time.” Thompson speaks up.
“It would appear so. Well hop in the back
and I’ll take you boys up to the house and we’ll see if Ma can’t whip you up
some grub.”
The two men are very thankful and jump in
the back of the truck. The vehicle turns around in the road and heads in the
opposite direction to the house up on the hill. The two escapees sitting in the
truck bed notice its bloodstained interior.
Thompson sees it and looks up at Chax, who
shrugs, “Hunters…”
The truck kicks up dirt and dust making
its way up the hill. The men in the back enjoy the breeze and wipe sweat off
their faces and bald heads with their shirts. They see the house they’re
approaching and look to each other and nod. The three men pull up to the house
and the cabbie puts the vehicle in park, “Well, this is it.” Chax &
Thompson jump out of the back.
“So you and your family live here?”
“Oh just the wife and myself; we haven’t
got any children.”
The two inmates give each other a glance
at the old man’s answer.
“Come on in. Let’s get you cleaned up and
your bellies full.”
“We can’t say no to that.” The smiling men
join Mr. Chum up to his home.
The door is opened and the man of the
house leads his new guests in, “Ma, make yourself presentable; we got guests.”
Margaret comes in from the other room,
dressed for the day, “Well who do we have here?” She asks eyeballing the men. It’s
clear to both of the Chums what they are.
“Hi, I’m Thompson, this is Chax.” The men
nod their heads to the old woman.
“What kind of name is Chax?” Ma Chum is
inquisitive.
“It’s the name my brothers gave me.”
“I see. Well you boys look like you’re in
need of a hot meal. You boys like meatloaf?”
“Yes ma’am.” The men are excited to get a
home cooked meal.
Chester pats Chax on the shoulder, “You
boys are gonna love it. Margaret makes the best meatloaf.”
The Chums lead the two starving men into
the kitchen, “Right this way.”
In the kitchen, Ma sits them down at the
table and goes to the fridge. She pulls out the leftover meatloaf on its tray
and places it in the oven before turning it on to heat. She adds the dish of potatoes
and a dish of her gravy in with them to warm.
“You boys just have a seat and relax while
your food heats up. Would you like some iced tea?”
“Yes ma’am.” For being escaped convicts
they’ve remembered to keep their manners.
She pours them both glasses of tea while
Chester watches the two from the doorway in which he’s leaning on.
“Let’s see if we can find you boys some
clothes.” Ma says as she walks over by her husband. “Four in one week, you’re good.” Chester grins and she leaves the
room.
Mr. Chum steps in and has a seat with the
guys, grunting as his old frame sits down. “So Thompson, Chax, what were you
boys in for?”
The two look at each other before replying.
Chax says, “We’re innocent men.”
“Oh, come now, you boys musta done
somethin’ to run away like ya did.”
“Like he said,” Thompson continues, “We’re
innocent. We want a chance at life.”
“We’re not animals, mister; we don’t
belong in cages.”
“Oh, I mean nothin’ by it. Just askin’ is
all. Usually innocent men don’t escape like y’all did. I’m gonna reckon a guess
from your ink that it was violently race related, yes?” The old man’s got guts.
The two men are irritated and hesitant to
answer but before they do, “You boys still hungry?”
Margaret re-enters the room breaking the
tension.
“Yes ma’am.” The men answer in unison.
Ma pulls the meatloaf out of the oven and
the smell of a fresh hot meal fills the room. Their mouths water as they’re
focused on the meat while Chester’s eyes never leave them. Ma sets their plates
and gives them silverware before bringing the tray to the table.
“Here you go.” Margaret says loading their
plates up with meatloaf and the mashed potatoes that she had put in with it before
topping it off with gravy. Just as the two are about to ravage their plate like
wild animals she stops them, “Hold on now. You boys didn’t say grace.” Thompson
& Chax look at the Chums who are staring right back at them, waiting.
They nod, “You’re right. Sorry.” Chax
looks at his fellow escapee before he motions to lower his head. Chax attempts
grace, something Thompson, the Chums, and even you gather is not something he’s
used to.
“Thank you, O Lord for this fine meal on
this…fine day. And thank you for…blessing us with the help of these kind folks.
…Amen.”
“Amen.” The other three chime in. The two
men tear into their meals like savages, “Mmm this is so good.”
“Yeah, it’s been so long since I’ve had a
home cooked meal. This is great.” Thompson agrees.
“Well, you boys eat up.” Chester says
before turning to his wife. “I’m gonna head outside and clear off the saw
horses.”
The wife replies with a wink, “Gotcha.”
Outside,
Chester pushes the sticks, logs, and outer brush around the fire pit more
inwards for the next burning. He clears the dry skin strips off of the saw
horses and lays them in a tote by his feet. The skins are layered gently like
lasagna noodles and any blood has dried.
Chax comes out from the house, “Whew,
you’re right about that meatloaf. Best I ever had.” The convict notices the
bloodstained saw horses, “So, you a hunter?”
Chester silently chuckles, “Yeah, you
could say that.”
“Deer? Bear? What?” The young man is quite
inquisitive.
“Oh, just about anything I can catch,
really.”
“I bet.” The man continues to look around.
“You all got a lot of land. You’re pretty secluded out here.”
“You can say that…”
“You all catch much trouble?”
“Nah, it’s pretty peaceful. Ma & I
like the solitude.”
Chester continues readying his saw horses
while Chax scans the area before looking over at a shovel leaning against the
house.
Inside,
Margaret is washing the dishes while Thompson looks around the house.
“Ma’am, y’all sure do have a nice home.”
“Why, thank you, dear. We don’t have much
but it’s home.”
Thompson watches her wash the dishes as
her light gleams from her diamond ring and his eyebrows rise. “Well that’s all
that counts right? Don’t you think people bog themselves down with material
things?”
“Oh yes, child, yes I do.”
He continues to eyeball the house and she
finishes the dishes. “Well I better go check on those clothes and see if
they’re ready for ya.”
“Okay, ma’am…” He watches her leave the
kitchen and takes a drink of his iced tea.
Thompson slowly saunters into the living
room from the kitchen as Margaret is coming back in with a stack of folded
clothes in her arms. At this moment the front door is KICKED open and Chester
is shoved in the house down to the floor. Chax enters behind him with the
shovel in hand.
“Chet!” Mrs. Chum screams in fright upon
seeing her already bruised husband. “What are y’all doing!?” She hollered. Chax
comes down with the shovel hitting Chester with a blunt blow. She’s scared,
looking at the two men. Thompson’s demeanor has changed from a sweet stranger
to a sinister being.
“You wanna know what we did to get locked
up? You wanna know what we are? Thompson, show ‘em!”
Thompson nods with his wicked grin and
grabs Margaret by the back of her hair and forcefully bends her over the arm of
the couch.
“NO!” Chester yells for his beloved when
Chax continues to beat him down keeping him subdued with hit after hit. The
blows are aggressive and painful.
Thompson punches Ma Chum in her back
several times before forcing her pants down. She screams and cries flailing
about but can’t get out of the man’s hold. Her husband continues to get beaten
brutally while he watches the horror of what’s happening to his loving wife. Thompson
undoes his pants and begins raping Margaret. She screams in pain and fear.
Thrust after thrust he continues defiling
this terrified woman when Chax stops his partner, “Alright, that’s enough! Check
the house! These old bats gotta have somethin’ here!”
Thompson pulls out and fastens his pants
before fighting the woman’s wedding ring off her finger. She struggles but it’s
no use. Thompson looks at it and places it in his pocket before heading through
the house. Chax hits Margaret with the shovel and kicks Chester in the ribs
before beginning to search the house himself.
Chester reaches his hand out for his wife,
both in pain and crying, “It’s gon’ be okay, Ma; it’ll be okay.”
While he assures her Thompson ravages
their bedroom looking for anything of value. He finds a jewelry box and empties
it into his pockets and continues rummaging. Chax goes through the kitchen
checking the cabinets only finding canned goods, clean dishes, and spices.
He moves to the chockfull fridge, “Nothing
but meat.” He slams the door shut and moves on to the backroom. He finds a
barrel and pops the top and immediately his head cocks back in confusion. What
did he find? A large barrel completely filled to the brim with teeth, “What the
fuck is this?” He looks closer and there’s no doubt this is all human teeth. Chax
scoops his hands into the dental trove, thinking there may be something hidden
beneath, but all he finds is more and more teeth. He kicks the barrel over
spilling the teeth all over the floor. “What the hell?” He says to himself
seeing the spilled pile of bone.
“Chester…” Ma says crying to her husband.
“I know, honey, I know…” He says holding
her hand in pain.
“They took my weddin’ ring, Chet…” She
says crying. Chester grinds his teeth furiously.
Thompson is smashing hung pictures of the
Chum couple he sees around before making his way to the baby’s room. He’s
confused seeing this vacant nursery with a bassinet in the center of the room. Upon
approaching the bassinet he sees what looks to be the skeleton of a deformed
baby lying on a bright white mattress. His face sours at the sight as the door
slams shut behind him. He jumps at the sound and turns to find the baby’s
mother standing at the shut door.
“You come back for more?” Thompson says
grabbing his crotch.
She reveals a knitting needle in each hand
and slowly moves towards him in anger.
“Hey, Chax!” He screams as she clinks her
weapons together.
Still tearing up the backroom, Chax hears
him and turns to find Chester standing there looking almost like a feral animal.
“What? Whatchu got, old man?” Chester pulls out his hunting knife with one hand
and his utility knife with the other. Chax smiles and nods, “You wanna play,
old timer?” The men square off as Chax picks back up the shovel with Chester
wielding his two blades. He swings the shovel as Mr. Chum ducks and swipes at
Chax’s stomach, cutting him.
“AGH!” Chax grunts.
Thompson is attempting to laugh off this
attack from an old woman, underestimating her anger and hunger for revenge. She
thrusts at him and he dodges, continually backing away from her attacks. She
follows him, circling around the bassinet. He looks down seeing the baby bed
before kicking it over spilling the deformed baby’s skeleton to the floor.
“My baby…!” Margaret’s beyond furious and
flips her knitting needles to a more stabbing position before she starts
swinging her arms at him in a windmill fashion and his condescending facial
expression changes to that of fear and pure terror. There’s no stopping her
momentum and fury and he’s backed up against the wall. She comes down at him
brutally, repeatedly stabbing him over and over. He cries and whimpers in agony
as her craft items bluntly pierce his skin. She doesn’t stop and the rapist’s
body is bloody and full of holes. In a rage she continues to tenderize and
shred the escaped convicts flesh.
Chax swings down at Chester again, making
contact. He grunts in pain but as heated as he is he’s able to shake off the
bulk of the pain, “That all you got, you Nazi punk?” Chax laughs and swings
again, this time breaking the shovel over Chester’s shoulder. He’s shocked and
disappointed at the loss of his weapon and Chester is unfazed swiping at him
with the utility knife slicing across his swastika tattoo.
Chax punches Chester in the process, “I
think my boy was really diggin’ your old lady…” Chax chuckles before spitting
to the side.
Chester Chum’s had enough and swiftly
forces his hunting knife into Chax’s sternum. This quick move has caught the
convict by surprise. Chester pulls the knife and begins to hack and slash at
the fiend with both blades slicing him to shreds before his body hits the
floor, face down in the pile of teeth once belonging to countless people,
bleeding all over the pearly whites.
Thompson lies dead and pulverized,
repeatedly stabbed while Margaret sits on the floor mere feet away cradling her
baby’s bones crying.
The door creaks open and Chester enters
gently sitting down next to his wife, “It’s alright, sugar. They’re gone now. They’re
dead.” He lovingly puts his arm around her as they look down at their
once-child. He kisses her head, “I know. I miss him too.”
Thompson’s body is dragged to the living
room floor by Margaret just as Chester’s hauling in Chax’s corpse. They lay the
two bodies together before looking at each other still pumping adrenaline and
dripping with hatred for the two men.
“You wanna clean ‘em?” Ma asks.
“No, I wouldn’t give ‘em the satisfaction.
Nowhere near bein’ good enough for a meal. Let the animals have ‘em; it’s where
these two belong.”
“Alright. You take these vermin outside and
I’m gonna clean this house.”
“Sounds good.”
Margaret reaches into Thompson’s pockets
retrieving her jewelry and, most importantly, her wedding ring. She puts on the
ring and kicks his dead body before spitting on it.
Chester drags both bodies with a hook in a
foot of each of them. There’s a bloody trail left behind the dragging but
Chester knows it won’t be there long. He drags the two naked scumbags out to
the wooded plains and unhooks them. He looks down at them with disgust before
looking out at the woods around him and up to the already circling birds overhead.
“Yeah, I’ll be surprised if there’s
anything left by morning. That was some escape, boys; out of the fryin’ pan and
into the fire.”
The fire outside is blazing high and the
two men’s clothing is thrown into the flames. They burn until there’s nothing
more. Chester enters the house after his trek to the woods to see Margaret has
already mopped the floors. She’s cleaning up the bedroom now which is where her
husband goes.
He enters the room to see her picking up
bits and shards of glass, “We’re gonna need to pick up some new frames, Chet.”
“I’ll pick some up tomorrow. I’m gonna go
grind them teeth up and get ‘em outta the house.”
“I appreciate that…”
So
the husband and wife worked together to get their lovely home back in order
with Margaret cleaning up behind the chaos and Chester grinding up the dental
collection.
Outside, Mr. Chum mixes the tooth crumbs
with the fertilizer just as planned. He stops when finished and looks at the
beautiful sky and the view they have over Stereo Falls. He takes in a deep
breath when he’s met by Ma Chum.
“Nice weather. I think tomorrow when I get
back from picking up frames I’m gonna fix that boat; get us out on the water.”
“That sounds nice.” The couple stands
together watching the peaceful view, both bruised and tattered.
“C’mon…let’s go watch Singin’ in the Rain…”
He says with his arm around his love as they peacefully head back into the
house so Ma can enjoy her movie.
The sun sets and the Chums settle in for a
serene night after surviving the horrific experience of the day. They survived
together as a family and praised God for it. Flies still buzz around the house
as always. The home is clean and doesn’t look like any mayhem took place at all
and the happy couple watch their movie while enjoying the nachos Margaret has
made them.
Outside in the cold wooded field, the
bodies of two escapees lay bloodied with fresh pecks from frequent birds as
wild coyotes come out of the woods approaching their meal licking their chops. They
don’t need a bell to let them know…that it’s suppertime.
