Good Home Cookin': A Novel of Horror (7 page)

“
Most people beg for their
life, cry, and whimper which can make this slightly bothersome,”
Jameson said in a slightly amused tone. “You continue to resist and
fight, which is going to make this next part more fun than usual
for me.”

The knife plunged into Dylan’s side
and began to cut downward. The breath expelled from his lungs in a
pain-filled scream. With one hand Jameson tugged down on the skin
and muscle, as the other continued carving. Dylan’s eyes rolled
back in his sockets as Jameson stripped a six inch piece of his
stomach away and placed it on a sheet on the metal tray. Jameson
measured it at two inches thick.

“
Perfect. Two more pieces
should just about do it.”

Chapter 17

Thirty minutes
later

Eleanor strode into the store room
searching for more dough and flour for her pies. She did her best
to ignore the heavy, labored breathing from behind her. The faster
she moved, the sooner she could leave the room. There was a reason
they each did their own parts. She didn’t have the ability to do
what her husband did. The screams of pain would stop her. The nosy
part of her directed her eyes to the chair in the center of the
room.

Sweat dripped from his brow and coated
his chest. His black jacket was torn and his leather pants were
ruined. Blood leaked from numerous wounds and ran down the drain in
the floor he was seated above. There were three significant hunks
of meat missing from his abdomen that Jameson would use for the
special of the day, aptly named “Jameson’s Catch”. Dark red gauze,
previously white, was packed into the three deep wounds: two on his
sides, and one in the middle of his stomach. The gauze was to keep
him from bleeding out on them and being of no further use.
Something they had learned the hard way early on.

It was amazing how much pain and
suffering the body could endure and still function. The pain had to
be excruciating. Eleanor wasn’t sure how aware he was or if he was
even awake at the moment.

Ingredients in hand, she made her way
to the door but a whisper halted her as she opened it.

“
Why... don’t… you… just…
kill… me?”

“
I promise it will be over
soon. Just close your eyes,” she said in a soothing
tone.

His head dropped to his chest in
defeat. Closing the door behind her, Eleanor hustled into the
kitchen and bumped Elena with her hip as she passed.

“
He’s fading fast but I’ve
got to finish these damn pies. Can you go in there and get enough
blood for the pasta sauce and the Gator Bite sauce please? And do
try not to make a mess sweetheart.”

With a bounce in her step, Elena
picked up a thin knife along with two medium pots, and headed to
the store room.

* * *

Wasting no time, she placed one bowl
in his lap and tilted his head back gently so that his head rested
on the back of the chair. Elena walked behind him and crouched
down, resting her chin on his right shoulder. She caressed his
head, trying to lure his eyes open. His eyelids fluttered a few
times.

“
That’s it,” she urged,
kissing his forehead then brushing her lips lightly against
his.

Her hand checked for his pulse. Faint,
but there. With one hand she lifted the pot up level with his
chest. The other rested the blade against his exposed throat. She
could feel the bristles of his five o-clock shadow rub against the
back of her hand.

“
I’ll make it as quick and
painless as possible,” she whispered into his ear.

Epilogue

8:00 AM

Stale coffee, expired breakfast
sandwiches and a cashier with an attitude created one hell of a
combination for Warren. Three hours after responding to the call
had resulted in nothing but questions and frustration. The
footprints next to the wrecked car were not easy to follow and
still didn’t explain where the hell the guy had gone. Inquiring to
dispatch if any other officers had any glimpse of this Dylan
Masterson had only sent his mind into more of a frenzy. People just
didn’t disappear without a trace. This was real life.

Something didn’t sit right with Warren
and he couldn’t quite pinpoint exactly what it was. Mac didn’t seem
to care and wasn’t happy with the idea of digging deeper. As far as
he was concerned, it was someone else’s problem now. Their shift
was over.

“
Seven fifty
eight.”

Even the cashier’s voice caused his
neck to spasm in anger.

“
Really? That’s got to be
a mistake,” Warren replied, looking at the old sandwich, coffee,
and bag of bugles that Mac insisted he get.

“
No mistake dude. That’s
the total. Pay it, or leave.”

His attention was engrossed in the
latest issue of Playboy he had open behind the counter. Warren
could have had his pistol in the kid’s face and not gotten a
reaction. He hadn’t looked up once since the bell over the door
announced Warren’s presence.

The impact of his hand on the counter
caused the cashier to jump and knock the magazine off of the
counter. Warren leaned partway over the counter and roughly grabbed
him by the front of the shirt.

“
Listen closely you
stupid, unaware son of a bitch. I’ve had a long week, been up all
night, and I’m not in the mood to deal with your bullshit. I get
enough of that from work. Either your register is reading the
barcode wrong or you just don’t know what the fuck you’re
doing.”

Warren pulled the punk’s face down to
look at the items on the counter so he could get a close up view
before shoving him back against the opposite end of the counter.
Racks fell to the floor, spilling their contents.

“
There’s a police
discount. It’s on the house. My apologies sir,” the kid said, out
of breath.

Warren would regret losing his temper
later, but at the moment he felt terrific. It felt amazing to
release all of his pent up rage from the past few hours.

“
I appreciate it,” Warren
said, gathering up his items as the bell dinged signaling the
arrival of another customer.

Without another word, he walked past
the newcomer hardly sparing a glance. Tossing the bugles at Mac,
Warren started the car and backed out of the gas
station.

“
Was he any
help?”

“
That asshole in there
wouldn’t have noticed if the building fell down around
him.”

“
So what’s our next
move?”

There was only one place to stop to
refuel, grab a bite to eat, or rest on the Alley and they were
currently at it. Its location was approximately seven miles from
the site of the Mustang.

“
This isn’t your typical
drunk driver scenario. He didn’t magically grow wings and fly away.
The blood on the ground near the vehicle and the chewed up tires
are bugging the hell out of me.”

Warren slowed as an older looking
restaurant came into view. A sign near the side of the road dubbed
the place ‘Hunger Pains’.

“
I guarantee you they’ve
got better food than this shit,” Warren said, tossing the
unappetizing breakfast sandwich out the window as he pulled in.
“How do you feel about some good home cooking?”

Wondering What To Read
Next?

First, a big thank you for reading my latest story and I hope
it provided you with an escape or get away from the real world for
a period of time. I would greatly appreciate it if you would write
a review on Amazon. I can’t begin to explain how important reviews
are for authors. If you would like to know about future releases,
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Dear Fellow
Reader

Good Home Cookin’ was a hell of a
story to write. The idea came to me a few years back when I was
working on Haunted and just didn’t have the time to devote to it. I
was working as an after care counselor for middle and high
schooler’s at the time of this story’s genesis. We cooked pizza
rolls, chicken tenders, French fries, etc. for the kids on some
days. On one such day, one of them was messing around and as a
joke, another student said, “You better stop messing around or Mr.
Burch will use you for the chicken tenders.” Bam! Instantly the
beginnings of the story you just read began to take hold. It
started out as a mere short story and blossomed into a mammoth of a
story.

This is the first of a
series of novellas called
Our Family
Recipe
. Part two is called
For Here or To Go?
and
will come out in April. The third installment is called
Order Up
and will be out
in May. If you would like to know about future releases, book
signings, and random facts… follow me on
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