The Flesh Eaters (10 page)

Mary races through the woods. Branches and thorns catch her clothing and scratch her face, but she hardly notices. Then her dress is caught from behind, her movement is stopped. She pulls hard and hears the sound of ripping cloth as she is released. Her momentum hurls her into a clearing. It takes a moment before she can comprehend the terrible scene before her.

She sees her husband’s body on the ground, covered in blood. A young girl, the one they met on the road, is hunched over him, her mouth greedily sucking at Johns bloody throat. Her senses overwhelmed, Mary screams and turns to run away, but Bloody Axe is blocking her path. She screams again, turns back into the clearing, and is grabbed from behind and firmly held. She stares at what seem to be grotesque caricatures of children. They are covered in blood, and all are holding dripping, bloody weapons. They stand quietly, looking at her with bemused interest.

It seems to Mary that the moment lasts forever, and then Second Hunter moves slowly toward her. His piercing eyes hold hers, and though her brain tells her to struggle, to run, to flee, her body will not respond. She stands paralyzed by shock and fear. Second Hunter halts before her, gives her a friendly smile, and raises his knife slowly overhead. He holds that position, still grinning at her with friendly curiosity. First Hunter comes up and puts his hand on Second Hunter’s arm.

“Wait. There is something we can do with her first. Each of you take an arm.”

Bloody Axe takes one of Mary’s arms. Second Hunter puts away his knife and takes the other arm.

First Hunter’s small, nasty eyes stare at Mary. In the half light of the woods, the pustules on his face glow bright red. His tongue protrudes from his lips. Mary looks at him, terrified, pleading with her eyes. First Hunter holds his knife before her face. He brings his head close to hers, and she smells his carrion breath, sees his rotting, yellow teeth.

First Hunter gives a barking laugh and lowers the knife. Mary feels some small relief, but then he raises the blade to the top of her dress. Slowly, carefully, he begins to cut through the heavy material of the dress and the chemise beneath it. He is careful to avoid touching her skin with either the knife or his hand. He cuts the dress to her waist.

Her breasts, freed from the confines of her garments, are surprisingly large and well shaped. The skin is milky white, so pale as to seem almost transparent, with a blue tracery of veins. Her nipples are large and pink. Staring at her, First Hunter exhales with a wet sound. Small bubbles of saliva form on his lips.

First Hunter begins to cut the dress at her waist. When he has cut it past her full hips, it falls to the ground and she is naked. First Hunter studies her closely, noting the pulse beating at the back of her jaw, the small hollow at the base of her throat, her breasts rising and falling, the smooth, round belly, the wide hips and firm white thighs, the blond curly triangle between her legs.

Raising his hand, First Hunter lightly touches her face with his fingertips. He barely grazes her skin, but Mary begins to weep and moan. His hand continues from her throat to her breast. As he touches her nipple, he feels it stiffen. Gently, he puts his palm on the underside of her breast, enjoying the solid weight of it in his hand. Then his fingertips graze her belly and go into the hollow of her navel. They brush over her hips, across her rounded buttocks, and move up the inside of her thighs to the curls between her legs. His touch there makes her weep uncontrollably.

This new burst of crying excites First Hunter. No longer gentle, he squeezes her flesh with increasing violence. His fingers leave red indentations in her white skin. The more cruelly he grabs her, the more roughly he twists her flesh, the louder she sobs, which only increases his excitement. He presses against her body, digging his fingers into her back. His lust rises, causing his penis to press against his codpiece.

“Take her to the ground,” he orders.

Second Hunter and Bloody Axe pull Mary to the ground.

‘‘Hold her down.”

Mary’s legs are bent and her knees are pressed together. First Hunter tries to part them, but she resists. He slaps her hard across the face, and forces himself between her legs. Kneeling, he pulls down his breeches and pushes his erect penis against her. He squeezes her breasts viciously, thrusts his hips several times, and climaxes quickly, growling harshly as he does.

Mary sobs, tossing her head from side to side. Second Hunter looks at his brother, asking permission to take a turn. First Hunter nods and motions for someone else to hold Mary down.

Second Hunter kneels over her. His eyes gleam darkly, the nostrils of his hawk nose flare. His hands explore Mary’s body. When he tries to get between her legs, she presses them together again. First Hunter grabs her ankles, raises them, and holds her legs apart until Second Hunter has mounted her. She lies still, weeping quietly as he thrusts into her.

When Second Hunter is through, Bloody Axe takes his turn. Then one of the younger boys comes forward. First Hunter says he is too young, but the boy pulls up his shirt and shows that his small penis is erect. First Hunter laughs, and the boy is allowed to take his turn. He looks very small on top of the large body of the woman.

Throughout the rape, all the children watch fascinated. Though the mechanics of human copulation are familiar to them, this spectacle is somehow more exciting than what they have seen in the cave. It is more prolonged, more open; they enjoy seeing the woman’s feeble struggles and hearing her whimper. To amuse the others, two of the younger children writhe on the ground and mimic Mary’s cries.

Girl Hunter is totally engrossed by the rape. She watches in rapt concentration, both hands clasped around the thick hilt of her knife, the end of which is pressed into her groin on the outside of her dress. As each of her brothers tenses during orgasm and then relaxes, she too tenses and relaxes. Her lips seem swollen, and her breath comes with difficulty.

When the last boy has finished, Girl Hunter comes forward, almost in a trance. She looks down at Mary, who has ceased to cry and seems oblivious now to everything about her. Girl Hunter sits astride Mary’s thighs. Holding her knife very delicately, she makes small cuts on Mary’s breasts and belly, being careful to just break the skin. At first the cuts are just pricks, but then they lengthen into scratches.

Mary begins to scream again. Girl Hunter becomes more and more excited. Her eyes wild, she scratches faster and faster until Mary’s white skin is etched with red lines. At last, in agony, Mary faints. This enrages Girl Hunter and she slaps Mary across the face and savagely twists her breast.

“Wake up! Wake up! You cow! I am not through yet. You can’t get away like this. Wake up!”

There is no response. Girl Hunter plunges the knife into Mary’s breast. Blood spatters, some of it hitting Girl Hunter on her mouth. Her tongue darts to lick it off. Then, breathing heavily, she stands up and turns to face First Hunter.

“Do to me what you did to her.”

First Hunter stares, uncertain of what she means. She lies down on the ground, close to where her brother stands. The other children gather in a circle around them. Girl Hunter bends her knees and arches her back. She pulls her dress lip until it is bunched under her arms, revealing her lithe white body. Placing her hands on her budding breasts, she feels them swell beneath the pressure. Her small dark nipples are achingly hard. She closes her eyes, and a sound comes from low in her throat as her hips begin to move of their own accord. First Hunter kneels beside her, his idiot’s face flushed and covered with sweat. She takes his hands and places them on her breasts. His palms scrape roughly against her taut nipples. Her hand goes inside the top of his breeches and closes around his hard penis. He inhales sharply. She yanks down his breeches until he is exposed and, holding his penis, pulls him toward her. Then she pushes with her hips, and he is inside her.

The couple begins to move together, thrust and counter-thrust. The other children watch, spellbound, and then, one by one, they begin a kind of chant—a loud, rhythmic breathing that matches the grunts and groans of the lovers. The children’s bodies sway forward and backward in rhythm as they chant. The speed of their movements increases until Girl Hunter utters a series of gasping cries. As she climaxes, the children fall to the ground, completely spent. They lie close together, their bodies touching, breathing as a single organism.

Slowly, the children emerge from their near trance. Their eyes clear, breathing returns to normal. First Hunter stands and looks at them. They get to their feet. First Hunter motions instructions; the children drag the bodies of John and Mary into the woods.

A horseman sees the figure of a child lying next to the road, apparently injured. Concerned, he dismounts, walks up to the child and bends to touch its back. It does not move. Gently, the man turns the little body over. The child, a boy, smiles as though he has just been playing an amusing prank. The man’s look of concern turns to one of pain and surprise as the boy plunges a knife into his stomach. As he doubles over, other children come howling out of the bushes. Viciously, they attack the man.

When he is dead, they jump up and down, Unable to contain their excitement and their pride. Several shake their knives overhead in a gesture of defiance against the world.

A rider moves slowly along the road. A nine-year-old girl is hidden in the bushes, holding a leather sling. When the rider reaches a predetermined spot, she puts a rock in the sling, swings it overhead and releases the stone. It strikes the man in the head and he falls from his horse. As he hits the ground, the other children come running into the road. They jump on the stunned man, and kill him with a few quick thrusts. The children are calm, but clearly proud of themselves for having so easily brought down another thing. The girl with the sling (she is called Stonethrower) joins the others. Several of the children congratulate her on her good marksmanship and she is pleased by their praise. In a display of contempt, she spits on her victim’s corpse. The children drag the body off the road.

A huge brown shape trundles along the road. From a distance it looks like an overfilled sack of potatoes, but as it draws near it shapes itself into an extremely fat friar dressed in a dark brown robe. He walks with a queer, rolling gait, his enormous belly bouncing from side to side with each step. His hood is up and his head is down; all that can be seen of him are the pudgy pink toes that stick out of his sandals, and thick, fat fingers that hold a rosary. The friar is mumbling prayers, oblivious to everything around him.

One of the children comes out of hiding. Without a sound, he falls into place behind the friar, matching his step stride for stride. The friar, unaware that he is being followed, walks on, saying his prayers. One by one, the other children come out of the bushes and join the file behind him. Still the friar does not realize they are there, and they find it difficult to stifle their laughter.

The procession continues this way for some distance until one of the children lets a giggle escape. The friar turns to look, a pleasant smile on his face; he is a friendly, cheerful man. His smile hardens, then fades as he sees the childrens’ grotesque faces, their wicked grins. It is as if a cathedral’s gargoyles had come to life behind him.

Though he is a man of God, the friar has enough worldly sense to recognize trouble. He begins to run, moving fast despite his great bulk. The children run after him, whooping and yelling, but he maintains his distance.

Running blindly, the friar does not see the two children on either side of the road ahead. They are holding a rope between them. As the friar runs by, they pull the rope taut, catching his feet and sending him to the ground with a resounding thud.

The friar rolls over on his back and sees that he is surrounded by the family, all grinning down at him. He holds his crucifix in both hands with his arms outstretched, as if it could shield him against these living devils with their slobbering mouths. Closing his eyes, he begins to say his prayers.

The children become impatient. They prod him with their feet and poke him with their blades, but he continues to mutter incomprehensible words. With a look of bored disgust, First Hunter gives the signal, and several of the younger children fall upon the friar and quickly kill him.

The kill puts the children into good spirits. One of the smallest climbs onto the friar’s enormous belly and assumes a king-of-the- mountain pose. Laughing, another child pushes this one off his perch and there is a high-spirited tussle which continues until First Hunter orders a halt.

The children pull the huge body off the road, struggling against the dead weight.

“This pig is too fat,” says one.

Second Hunter corrects him. “Pigs cannot be too fat.”

Stonethrower says that they shall feast tonight. Second Hunter pokes the friar’s protruding stomach. Rolling his eyes and licking his lips, he says that they shall feast for many days to come on this pig. There is general laughter, but First Hunter, who seems uneasy, orders a quick return to the cave.

Sawney Beane stands on the beach near the entrance of the cave, a ghastly sight in the diffused, cloudy light of late afternoon. His hair hangs in dirty tangles to his waist. His arms are thin, the muscles stretched taut. The tendons on the backs of his hands are clearly articulated; with his large knuckles and long fingers, the hands look like the claws of some great bird. The unnatural whiteness of his skin has taken on a yellow sheen. His eyes are intensely black.