Rabbit Hunt, page 7
“That’s not fair, that only gives me a fifty-fifty shot.”
“Okay then, what if I called ten different Klan or Nazi or Skinhead affiliated organizations in ten different states? Would you take the bet that all ten wouldn’t say they were GOP supporters? All you would need is for one, just one, to say they were a Democrat, and I would let you go. But if all ten said they were Republicans or Libertarians, I’m cutting off both of your tits. Deal?”
Big Mike was even more curious now. He watched Lucy look at the walls, the ceiling, the floor, her eyes darting in every direction as she considered the bet. Finally, she slumped in her chair and shook her head.
“I didn’t think you’d take that bet. But guess what? I’m cutting your tits off anyway.” Rashad hefted one of Lucy’s big pendulous mammaries in his palm and began sawing at it with his serrated knife.
“AHHHHHhhh!!! Stop! Stop! No! No! Nooo! Stop!” Lucy cried out while Rashad vigorously sawed at her breasts, ripping the blade down her chest, cutting meat and fat from bone as Lucy shrieked and cried and cursed. The keen-edged blade xylophoned over her ribcage as he severed the blubbery souvenir of her womanhood from her bosom.
“Fuck! Fuck you! Fuck you! Fuck you, you fucking nigger! You fucking jungle bunny motherfucker!”
“Is that the best you can do? Seriously? This is your free pass. I’m killing you anyway, so there’s no reason to hold back anymore. You can say every racist, bigoted, hate-filled insult your heart desires. None of it matters anymore. Let it out, girl! Say what you feel!”
Lucy spat in his face. “Fuck you!”
“Well that’s disappointing. Any of you ever ate a titty before? I’ve always been curious what titty-meat tastes like. I think I’m going to fry this one up.”
Big Mike’s eyes lit up. “I bet if you battered it in cornmeal and deep-fried it, it would taste pretty good.”
“You know, I like that idea. But we should each have one of our own. I mean, I’ve seen you eat.”
Rashad seized her other breast and began cutting, eliciting a fresh volley of screams and curses from Lucy. Rashad was impatient this time. He cut fast and deep, then tugged on her titty, putting a foot on her chest as leverage and pulling with all his might until it ripped free. Lucy screamed until she lost consciousness. Rashad allowed her to enjoy her moment of insensibility. He was in no hurry.
He took the bloody mounds of fatty meat to the kitchen and found a large pot and a jug of vegetable oil. He set the pot on the stove and filled it with oil, then turned the gas up to high and went looking for flour or cornmeal. He found flour and dredged the breast meat in it, adding salt and pepper, garlic and onion powder, with a few dashes of cayenne, getting into it like he was the star of his own cooking show. He dumped the oil into the boiling water and walked back in to check on Lucy.
Her body was trembling. She was awake again, struggling to keep her eyes open. The loss of blood and the traumatic damage done to her body sent her into shock. Her head drooped and her eyes slowly closed.
“No, no,” Rashad said, slapping her cheeks until her eyes refocused upon him. “You ain’t getting off that easy. I want you awake.”
He gripped her chin in his hand and stared deep into her eyes before carving into her forehead with the same knife he’d used on her breasts, slicing through the duct tape that secured her to the chair, digging the blade into her skull, cutting down to the bone. Blood showered down her face, painting her teeth red as she screamed, flooding into her mouth, gagging and choking her. Rashad held her head still as he continued whittling his ghastly graffiti into her flesh. When he was done, he stepped back to admire his work. The word “Whore” was scored into her forehead.
“There. That’s about right.” Rashad pulled out his cell phone and took a photo of Lucy, then showed it to her. Both of her breasts were now gone. Her ear was gone. She was missing fingers and toes, and Rashad’s gruesome calligraphy scarred her face. She moaned and sobbed for her lost beauty.
“I think those tits are done cooking now. Let’s see how they taste!”
Rashad left the room and came back quickly with Lucy’s breasts, fried golden brown and sizzling on two separate plates.
“You want to try it first?” Rashad asked, handing Big Mike a plate. Mike accepted it before digging in with his fingers, peeling off a steaming piece of meat and blowing on it to cool it off. He took a large bite, chewed it, then spat it out and tossed the rest at Lucy’s feet.
“That’s fucking nasty! It’s all fat!”
Rashad took a bite as well with the same result. He threw his plate in Lucy’s face. Her own tit slapped her cheek and tumbled to the floor. “That’s fucking awful.”
Lucy stared down at her chicken-fried tits, scorned and abandoned. Big Mike thought he saw the pain of their rejection in her eyes right before life fled them. He wondered if it would have made her happier if they’d enjoyed them.
TWELVE
It took them the rest of the night to clean up the cabin.
“Is this all the bleach you brought?” Mooky asked, staring down at the half-empty bottle in his hand.
“Do I look like the damn cleaning lady, motherfucker? What did you bring?” Steve barked.
“Oh, you know what I brought. Anyone else up for getting fucked up right now?”
“Shut the fuck up and finish cleaning this place up. You can either keep scrubbing those floors, or you can help me and Rashad finish cutting up the bodies. Your choice.” Big Mike bellowed.
Mooky frowned. His shoulders drooped, and he stared down at the floor, shaking his head. He looked like an abused orphan who’d been chastised yet again for something that wasn’t his fault. “I ain’t say I wasn’t going to keep cleaning. I just said we was almost out of bleach. You know I don’t like fucking with bitches when they dead.”
“Nigga you just fucked a dead woman twenty minutes ago!” Big Mike said.
“That’s because your big ass killed her before I was done. And anyway, she was still warm, so that don’t count.”
“If her heart wasn’t beating, that’s still necrophilia,” Big Mike said.
“Necro what? Man, I don’t even know what the fuck you saying half the damn time.” Mooky waved the big man away dismissively.
“Man, shut your stupid ass up and help me finish cleaning so we can get some damn rest! I’m tired, and I’m tired of your shit!” Steve said.
Mooky scowled. “Wasn’t nobody talking to your grouchy ass. How the hell you still grouchy with all the pussy you just got? You need therapy or something.”
“Both of y’all shut the fuck up. You’re like an old married couple, I swear,” Big Mike said as he brought his machete down, severing a leg at the kneecap before tossing it into a trash bag.
“Ay, so what about those rabbits up the road?” Rashad asked. “Y’all still want to go fuck them up?” He had a big snow shovel and was using it to shovel long ropes of red and blue entrails and purplish organs from the floor into a bucket like a janitor in a meat factory.
“Man, not tonight. I’m tired as fuck,” Steve said. “I need to rest and rehydrate. These bitches drained me dry.” He squeezed blood from a large yellow sponge into an empty five-gallon paint bucket and then continued scrubbing the floor.
“Yeah, and we still have to bury ’em,” Big Mike said.
“And we all helping with the digging this time. I’ve got four shovels. One for each of us. I ain’t getting stuck doing all the damn work myself.” He swirled a mop over the polished hardwood floor, making a raspberry morass of water, ammonia, and blood.
“Why you always crying about something?” Mooky said.
“All I’m saying is everybody better help.”
“I’m kinda tired too, but I do want to make those motherfuckers pay,” Rashad said.
“No rush. We can put them on the menu for tomorrow night. We got all weekend,” Mike said.
“We gonna get some rabbits! We gonna get some rabbits!” Mooky chanted in a light sing-song voice.
“Will you shut the fuck up and keep cleaning? Why you gotta talk so damn much all the time? Damn!” Steve said.
“Why you always in my business worrying about what I’m doing?”
“Both of y’all shut the fuck up and finish cleaning so you can help us dig these graves,” Big Mike said as he sawed off one of Lucy’s hands and tossed it in a trash bag.
“I ain’t sleeping in the same room with this motherfucker tonight,” Steve said. “My word to God I ain’t sharing a room with this fool.”
“How you know I want to sleep with you, anyway? The couch is comfier than those thin ass mattresses.”
“The couch is soaked with blood, fool.”
Mooky shrugged. “I wet the bed until I was fourteen years old. I don’t mind sleeping in a little dampness.”
Everyone laughed.
“You are one crazy motherfucker,” Rashad said.
“That shit was fun tonight though, wasn’t it? Those bitches fucked good and died good,” Mooky said.
Steve smiled and nodded. “Yeah, that shit was fun. I missed this. I missed you guys. I ain’t killed no one in years. It sucks we all grew up and got married and shit. Now we don’t get together like this anymore.”
“The weekend ain’t over,” Big Mike said.
THIRTEEN
Cindy arrived at the cabin hours before her friends arrived. She drove separately both because she wanted to get there early to pick the best room, and because she didn’t want to ride with her soon-to-be ex-boyfriend. She didn’t hate him. She just needed some space.
Jake was too jealous and possessive and she was sick of it. He’d agreed to be non-monogamous when he thought that meant threesomes and being able to screw all the women he wanted, but when he saw that she was having more sex than him by an order of magnitude, he suddenly wanted them to be exclusive.
“Sorry, that’s not who I am. You got the wrong girl. I don’t belong to anyone. I don’t believe love should ever be possessive.”
“That’s just hippy free-love bullshit. You know you love me,” Jake said.
“I don’t love you, Jake. You’re fun to fuck sometimes. That’s it.”
“But I love you. Can’t you see that? I want you to be my girl.”
Cindy knew what that really meant. It meant he wanted her to be faithful to him while he fucked other bitches behind her back. No thank you. She’d done that before. She was tired of guys lying and cheating. She wanted everything out in the open, and if he couldn’t handle that, it was time for him to move on. But she didn’t want to think about all of that now. She had come to the cabin to forget about her troubles and have a spiritual experience out in nature. She knew Jake still wanted to talk about them but, as far as she was concerned, there was no more them.
The cabin was far nicer than she’d expected. It was more of a quaint little cottage than a Grizzly-Adams-type log cabin, though it was littered with the desiccated carcasses of scorpions, crickets, and ladybugs. She picked up a broom and began sweeping them into a dustpan. She wasn’t squeamish about bugs, but she didn’t want to hear Antoinette whine about all the insects. She’d want to have the entire cabin sprayed.
The cabinets were solid oak stained a dark gray with granite countertops. It had hardwood floors and sliding barn doors separating each room. The bathrooms were nicer than her apartment back in the city. There were five bedrooms, and Cindy made sure to pick the smallest one that only had a single full-sized bed so Jake wouldn’t try to share a room with her. It was also the room furthest from the others, so if Alvaro or Leonard decided to visit her, they would have some privacy.
By the time the others arrived, Cindy had already unpacked and was sitting on the porch enjoying a glass of wine.
“Hey, girl!” Antoinette said, walking toward her with an exaggerated swing in her hips as if to draw attention to her recent Brazilian butt lift. Cindy found it odd that a girl so young and so beautiful had such low self-esteem that she had to keep going under the knife to improve herself. She could understand when forty-year-old actresses did it, but Antoinette was barely twenty-one. Cindy knew a lot of Antoinette’s insecurities grew from her parent’s constant criticism. Antoinette had been one of those beauty-pageant babies, adolescents painted up to look like burlesque dancers. Being told you’re beautiful all your life, as if that’s the only thing you have to offer the world, had to have created a panic within her that her beauty would one day fade, or her particular look would fall out of fashion, and she’d be left with nothing. Even that anxiety had probably been fed by her parents. After all, they were the ones fronting the bill for all the surgeries.
Cindy gave her a big hug and a kiss on the cheek as Antoinette stepped up on the porch.
“You look good, girl,” Cindy said. Antoinette stuck out her big fake tits, pursed her botoxed lips, then spun so Cindy could get a good look at her Kardashian hips and ass. Cindy forced a smile.
“You look good too,” Antoinette replied, giving Cindy a head-to-toe appraisal. Cindy had naturally large breasts. Not huge like Sarah’s by any measurement, but respectable. Her ass was small, but round and tight, and her legs and arms were slender and strong. She even had the faint shadow of a six-pack. She was an athlete and built like one.
Emily and Stanley walked in behind Antoinette. Emily looked bored and a bit sad, but those often seemed the only emotions the woman was capable of. Stanley walked in with eyebrows furrowed and fists clenched, a large duffel bag slung over his shoulder. He smiled, but the smile lacked enthusiasm.
“Hey, Cindy. Been here long?”
“I just got here a couple hours ago. I put some beer in the fridge. Looks like you could use one. What’s up?”
“Nothing. We just had a little disagreement with some Black dudes at the gas station down the road,” Stanley replied.
“One of them kicked his ass,” Jake said, grinning. He had a backpack slung over his shoulder and was dragging a large cooler that was probably filled with some IPA no one had ever heard of.
“And what did you do?” Cindy asked.
“Not a damn thing,” Stanley replied.
“Well, it was over by the time I found out about it, and these dudes were big as shit. And all I had to back me up were these weak ass bitches,” Jake said.
Leonard and Sarah walked up next. Leonard was the only one, besides Antoinette, who looked happy to be there. He appeared almost giddy with an arm draped casually, but possessively, around Sarah’s shoulders. He always had a thing for Sarah, and it appeared she was finally returning his interest. Even though Leonard and Cindy had been intimate a time or two, Cindy didn’t blame Leonard for being so into Sarah. Besides being funny as hell and smart, and just being a genuinely nice person, Sarah had enormous breasts that miraculously defied the constant pull of gravity. Sarah had seen them without a bra and they were no less impressive without the benefits of underwire. Cindy suspected Antoinette’s breast augmentation was inspired by Sarah’s natural endowments. Antoinette was jealous of any woman getting attention for physical features she didn’t possess. It was hard not to pity her.
Alvaro pulled his suitcase out of the vehicle and walked toward the porch, dragging it behind him over the dirt and rocks and weeds with a big, handsome smile on his big, handsome face.
“Goddamn that’s a beautiful man,” Cindy thought. If it wasn’t for Antoinette, she would have already fucked him. But she knew they were a thing, or trying to be a thing, and though Cindy had no issues fucking over men, and even delighted in it, she had a rule when it came to women, especially when she considered them friends. Boyfriends were strictly off limits. But if they ever broke up, she would be all over him. Her loyalty only went so far.
Once everyone was unpacked and settled, they decided to build a bonfire before it got too dark. There was a pile of logs and two axes on the side of the cabin.
“Why don’t a couple of you big strong men chop some wood for a fire?” Cindy asked.
“I’ll do it,” Jake volunteered. “Why don’t you come with me?”
“No, I’m good here.”
“Come on, Cindy. We need to talk.”
“I said I’m good. There’s nothing to talk about. Let’s just have a good time out here. We can talk about whatever when we get back. Right now, you just stay in your lane, and I’ll stay in mine.”
“Whatever, bitch. You can chop your own fucking wood then,” Jake said stomping out of the cabin and allowing the metal screen door to slam shut behind him.
Cindy shook her head. Jake wasn’t a bad guy. He was just spoiled and immature like so many man-boys on campus. One day he might grow into a wonderful man, but she had no interest in sharing his growing pains.
“Stanley and I will get the wood,” Alvaro said. “A bonfire sounds nice.” Alvaro gestured for Stanley to get up off the couch and follow him. Stanley didn’t look happy about it, but he stood and trailed Alvaro into the yard.
“I guess I’ll start dinner,” Leonard said from the cracked and splitting leather recliner he had sunken down into.
“I thought you only knew how to cook meth?” Antoinette teased.
Leonard laughed. “I can cook lots of things.”
Alvaro and Stanley chopped firewood until the sun set. They had turned it into a competition to see who could chop the fastest. By the time it was time to dig the pit for the bonfire, they were sweating heavily, nearly out of breath, and had almost a full cord. Jake got over his wounded pride enough to help dig the pit and fill it with wood. They used gasoline to get the fire going and nearly set themselves on fire when Jake threw a match and a fireball came rolling out of the pit.
“Oh shit! Am I on fire?”
“You’re fine, you fucking pyro,” Stanley replied.
Night came tumbling down like an avalanche, sudden and absolute, engulfing everything. Without streetlights or the lights from passing cars or nearby homes, there was nothing but the stars and the crackling firelight to fend off the darkness. Cindy, Emily, Sarah, Antoinette, Jake, Alvaro, Leonard, and Stanley sat around the campfire with full bellies, drinking beer, smoking, and contemplating their futures.
