Up On The Hill

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.