Part 2
Kelly didn't like visiting her father without at least the kids with her, but Butch had volunteered to stay with the kids while she had a talk with the Jenkins family patriarch before dinner. She would try to keep it brief- her father tended to get long-winded when the grandkids weren't around.
She rang the bell, and when her mother answered the door, they gave one another a cheery greeting and hug. "Is dad in the living room," she asked.
"Oh, no dear, he hasn't yet come back from the library, but he should be home soon," said Barbara. Sooner than Kelly had feared, for as she was stepping into the house, her father pulled his old Ford F-150 into the short driveway next to her Caravan. "Ted, Kelly wanted to talk to you before we have dinner," Barbara called out. The preacher climbed out of the truck, hitched up his jeans and smiled at his wife and daughter.
"Well that's fine-dandy," said Ted, climbing the steps up onto the porch. He leaned in and gave Barbara a kiss on the cheek, then motioned for Kelly to join him at the small table on the porch. "What's on your mind, dumplin'," he asked as he took a seat.
"It's about that man who showed up at the church yesterday, daddy," she said, pitching her voice low so her mother wouldn't overhear and get worried. Kelly didn't know it, but she'd just set her father's nerves on edge. "I did some looking around on him on my computer, and I didn't find much. What I did find, though, well, I think he may be a very bad man."
Ted looked away for a moment, his expression one of somber reflection. "Kelly, do you know how many angels followed Lucifer in his rebellion against the Almighty?" She tried to think back, for her father had once told her. After a minute, he answered his own question. "My father always told me it was a third of the Host. That never gave me an exact number, but I figure it must've been about a thousand angels. Now, all of them was cast down, right alongside the Morningstar, so there's at least a thousand different kinds of evil in the world. I do believe that stranger calling himself Marek and other men like him are but one of those many kinds of evil."
Kelly suspected that her father had already given the outsider quite a lot of consideration, given his response to the subject of him. But when Ted turned his wolf's smile on her, he didn't speak of heeding the man's warning. "The only way to combat that evil is to spread the word and will of the Lord, my child. And we will. Now," he said, his features softening once again, "is there anything else I can do for you, dumplin'?"
"No, daddy," she croaked. "No, that was all."
**
The RV chuffed along, leading three cars behind it filled with more members of the Jenkins family. Of the five children, four were coming, dragging nine total grandchildren along with.
Cody peeked in his side view mirror and saw that Butch and Kelly had dropped back a bit, giving way for Adam and Gina, the youngest son and his wife, to take the lead behind the RV. Their large red van was loaded down with their four kids and travel necessities, and Cody and Judy had offered to let the kids ride with them so the grownups could enjoy a quiet ride.
"We don't mind the clamor," Adam had said that morning, offering his older brother a peaceful smile. "It reminds us of our blessings." Of all three boys, Adam, the youngest, took after their father the closest.
Only one member of the church who wasn't family had decided to tag along, Vincent Tullman. A quiet man in his mid-40's, Vince was a producer at the town's lone radio station, WATC. It was a classical music channel, and was one of the only ones the Jenkins family was encouraged to listen to.
He rode with Cody, Judy and their kids in the RV. The RV would become the family's mobile headquarters for most of their stay in Amelia City. Large enough to accommodate most of those coming on the trip, only Ted and Barbara would dole out money on a hotel room. Cody had offered to let them take the RV's bedroom, but as always, his father refused gently.
"Wouldn't think of it, son," his father said. "That's your domain." They were now two hours away from Amelia County, another forty minutes after that to make it to the heart of Amelia City. Cody could feel a strange pressure building in his chest as they got closer. The scent of cinnamon seemed to cling to the exterior of the vehicle, something he'd noticed an hour ago when they stopped for fuel. From the moment he'd caught that scent, the pressure had begun.
He said nothing of this to Judy. His only concession to the slowly advancing discomfort came at around eleven in the morning, when he asked his wife if she could drive a while.
She happily took over, and Cody headed back to the little dining area, sitting down in the booth and playing some 'Go Fish' with the kids. He tousled their heads after a few hands, then headed back for the bathroom.
As he stood there draining his bladder, Cody heard something rattle over his head. Peering up into the ventilation grille, he thought he saw something shimmering there. He finished his business, closed the toilet, and stepped up onto it to be able to reach up for the vent.
Cody hooked his fingers into the release slot on the grate and pulled it slowly, unhooking the grille. What he saw in the narrow ventilation duct struck him dumb with confusion and fear, the pressure in his chest winching down hard.
It was a six or seven-inch length of large, shining silver chain links.
**
Half an hour after Cody had shouted for Judy to pull the RV over, he was finally satisfied that there were no other obvious signs of tampering or sabotage. However, he wasn't the only one looking. When Butch and Ted came out of the RV, the older man was holding something small and black between two of his fingers.
"It's a spy camera," he declared. The rest of the members of the family gaped at this revelation. "It was up in that ventilation duct, tucked just out of sight. You wouldn't have seen it, Cody, without a light," Ted explained. Butch waggled his miniature Maglite by its keyring fob.
"You think that weirdo was keeping tabs on us," Kelly asked.
"No doubt he was, for he and all the sinners like him are afraid of the Lord's truth," Ted shouted, dropping the camera and stomping on it. He dragged it across the ground with his foot, making certain it was completely destroyed, then took Barbara by the hand and headed back for their truck. When they were inside the cab, they watched in silence as the others went back to their vehicles. Barbara tugged at Ted's light blue windbreaker.
"Theodore," she began gently, her eyes watery. "In all the years we've been together, I've only known you to lie a handful of times. Now you tell me the truth; was that one of our cameras?" Theodore Jenkins ruffled his hair and looked his wife in the eyes, his jaws clenched tight. He nodded faintly. "Why did you lie to them all?"
"Because they were clearly terrified, Barb, ready to assume the worst and turn back, fearful of this heathen who came to our church. If that chain didn't have anything else to go along with it, some sign that he's just a man and not something worse, they would have fled."
"But Ted, what if that man is something worse," she asked in a quivering tone.
"Our faith will keep us safe, Barbara," he said, looking ahead and rolling the truck back onto the road behind Adam. "It always does."
**
The fact that there were already counter-protesters and a news van in front of the hotel where they would be staying told Ted Jenkins that their mission was already starting off a success. Beverly would be to thank for that, their darling second-oldest child. He felt a surge of pride in her for getting out the word of their coming on the internet.
The RV pulled into the hotel parking lot and steamed to the far end, away from their detractors and the media. Ted pulled the truck in on the left side of it and climbed out, coming around to help Barbara, who'd complained an hour earlier of a light pain in her chest.
Everybody was out and waiting for their patriarch to go check them in at the office, located in the small building back by the parking lot entrance. He looked to Cody and Kelly, standing together by the door of the RV. "Fetch a few of the signs, get 'em held up," he barked, heading off for the office.
He had gotten Barbara calmed down, explained that his sin was minor and that he would seek forgiveness for it from God. In truth, he was just as terrified as the others, but he had to be strong for them, strong for his faith. Besides, the loss of a single camera was not a big deal; he and Barbara always packed three or four when they were on the road.
In all of their years together, the cameras had been the only thing they considered a dark secret that must be kept from everyone. Tonight, as they had done for several years, they would use his laptop to log into a website where they would broadcast themselves having sex. The internet, while strange to Ted, offered them easy access to their fetish of being watched.
In the old days, they used to have to make tapes and enjoy the thought that some random person would eventually watch them. They would leave the tapes in innocuous, out-of-the-way places, where only the curious would ever find them. The thrill of knowing someone would be seeing them eventually had been enough, then.
Now, they could have an audience any time they wanted. They kept their faces concealed always- wouldn't do to have someone recognize them. A simple ski mask for each of them accomplished their aim.
Barbara had asked him once, long ago, if what they were doing was wrong. "It's never wrong for a man and his wife to fornicate," he'd replied, "so long as her monthly curse is not upon her. That's what my father always taught me and my brothers."
Yet they knew to take precautions, to never let slip who they were. If they were ever exposed, True Power Baptist Church would become a joke.
He wondered, briefly, if perhaps they should stop doing their exhibitions. They'd tried once- the result had been a less passionate performance from them both. But they were getting older, and it might perhaps be best if they acted their age in all facets of their lives, including the bedroom. Such antics were for younger people, he reasoned.
Ted's thoughts came whipping back to the moment as a svelt latino woman with a microphone, followed by a husky gentleman with a shoulder-mounted camera, came half-jogging toward him. "Mr. Jenkins," she called out from ten yards away, "Mimi Ropalo, Channel 5 News! Can we have a minute of your time?"
Ted brought out his wolf's smile. "A few minutes is all I can spare, young lady. Me and mine have just arrived and must yet check in yet."
"This won't take long," she said, making a twirling motion to her cameraman. She faced the lens, microphone in hand, and adjusted her jacket and the pale yellow blouse beneath to allow for maximum cleavage exposure. Anything for ratings, Ted thought. "Mimi Ropalo here with Channel 5 News, hi there everyone! I'm here today with Theodore Jenkins, minister of the True Power Baptist Church. Mr. Jenkins, your church was recently condemned in the New York Times and more recently and closer to home, in the StarTribune, as a hate group. How do you feel about that?"
Ted took a deep breath, eyes locked down on the woman's high heeled shoes to give himself a focus point while he formed a response in his mind.
"Well, Ms. Ropalo, I have very little use for the Godless liberals who run either of those rags masquerading as newspapers," he said, looking her in the eyes. He could see her cringing away a little, felt an animal satisfaction from her fearful reaction. "God Himself tells us to hate the queers, that they are abominations. Leviticus 18:22, Ms. Ropalo."
"I see. So I assume you're here in anticipation of protesting the funeral of officer Forsythe, a homosexual police officer who was wounded almost two months ago and will be taken off of life support tomorrow. Is that correct?"
"It is," he replied with a nod.
"There are members of the local Catholic community at the hospital right now holding their own protest against taking Forsythe off of life support, saying it isn't the place of doctors to say when a life should be over, but that such authority belongs only to God. How would you respond to that?"
Jenkins laughed heartily, clutching at his gut. "I would trust no words from the mouths of the devil worshipping pedophiles who call themselves men of God," he chortled. "They are the keepers and shepherds of the worst kind of fags, the ones who defile the innocence of young boys! Catholics are bound for the lake of fire, miss, just as are the Jews who slayed Jesus our Lord and Savior by choosing to free the thief, Barabus!"
The cameraman made a twirling finger gesture to indicate that Ropalo should wrap it up. "We've still got about a minute and a half we can use and have it spliced in for the five o'clock run," he said.
"Okay," Ropalo replied, taking one step away from Jenkins. "Don't roll yet, Jerry." She gave Ted Jenkins a piercing glare, lips pursed out. "Do you actually believe any of the hateful shit you spew?" Ted, a veteran of dealing with the kind of hostility he was receiving right then, just nodded. She motioned for Jerry to start recording again. "Mr. Jenkins, one final question. Why do you believe so many people have spoken out against your church and its teachings, and reviled you in the media?"
"Because, Ms. Ropalo, people don't like it when they are told the truth of the Almighty. In a world teeming with sinners and heathens, it is the righteous who will be marked as the enemy, as we are. Now, that's all you need to know from me," he said, walking away into the hotel office.
His family, when he looked back to them, was cheering for him with two exceptions, Cody and Judy. Their blank silence troubled him more than anything recently had.
**
"I assure you it will be worth your while," the bald man with the black eyes said to Kevin. He held a roll of one-hundred dollar bills out to the homeless man with one hand, a suitcase in the other. "And don't worry about your lines. When the time comes, you will speak them flawlessly."
Kevin hadn't had more than fifty bucks to his name at any point for the last three years. Despite his deep fear of the stranger, looming over him with his leather armor and rattling chains, Kevin could not refuse the offer before him. With that money, he could live like a king for weeks, maybe months if he was just slightly more conservative with it.
"I have nothing else going on, I suppose," Kevin said with a sigh. "I'll do it."
"Excellent," said the bald, wizard-looking man. He handed Kevin the suitcase. "Get changed, then I'll give you the money," he instructed. The vagabond ducked behind a dumpster further down the alley, grunting as he got changed into the dark blue suit inside the suitcase. He pushed his feet into the wingtip shoes finally, and came back to the wizard. The stranger rubbed his bearded chin with his hand, arms folded, giving Kevin a visual inspection. "Hmm. We'll have to do something about your hair."
The stranger turned Kevin around by the shoulders and, somehow, pushed him down into a chair. "Where the heck didja' find this," he blurted out.
"Shut up and sit still," the stranger growled, moving his hands off of Kevin's shoulders. Moments later, the weird wizard began barbering his hair. Sharp shears cut quickly through thick, street-sullied locks. It only took four or five minutes all in all, including a close shave with a strap razor, and when it was over, the wizard handed Kevin a mirror over his shoulder.
"Wow, man, you're good," said Kevin, looking himself over. "I look like I used to, back in the day. All right," he said, rising from the chair. He turned around, but nobody stood nearby, no sign of the wizard-looking man's presence. There was, however, a briefcase on the alley floor, the roll of bills resting on top.
Kevin pocketed the money and grabbed the briefcase handle. As soon as he did, he felt his mind slip away, and Kevin was soon moving down the alley on his own. Before heading onto the streets, he donned the long, tattered dark coat that the stranger had hung over the rim of the dumpster.
He set out on his appointed task, whistling a little ditty he knew from his youth.
**
Kelly and Butch lay half-dozing on the bed at the back of the RV, both exhausted from the trip and their coupling. It wasn't as frequent as when they'd first married, but Kelly felt her husband had entered into some new phase of his life where he had more stamina and inclination to be a little rougher during sex. To her surprise, she found she liked it.
She lay tired but restless at the same time. Pulling on her clothes, Kelly settled in her mind to find her sister Beverly for a few hands of gin-rummy. It would kill some time until the kids came back from the nearby park with Adam and Gina, and hopefully give her the second wind she needed for an evening spent in the RV's living room/lounge area with the kids.
She no sooner stepped out of the RV than she spotted a man in a sharp blue business suit approaching. A stern frown upon his face, briefcase in hand, she recognized the type- a lawyer or public official, sent to deal with the True Power Baptist Church.
She was about to turn and make her way for her mother and father's hotel room door when the man called out. "Excuse me, Mrs. Garner, isn't it?" She froze, teeth clamped together. Damn it, whoever he is, he knows more than daddy. "I'd like to have a word with you."
She pivoted on the balls of her feet and cleared her throat. "I believe you actually want my father, let me go get him," she said amiably.
"No, Mrs. Garner, I'm here to speak with you. Your name is on the paperwork filed with the court for your protest, which in this city, county and state, makes you the liable and actionable party." The man knelt down and popped open the briefcase, withdrawing a manilla folder. He handed it up to her in one fluid motion.
"What is this," she asked, opening the folder and reading the top sheet.
"It's an injunction barring any minors under the age of twelve from being at the protest you're planning," said the lawyer. Kelly noticed peripherally that the man was dressed very well, except for his trench coat, which was ragged all along the bottom. "As you can see, all of the proper papers and notices have been filed. The original argument for this action is on the last page."
Kelly rifled through the papers to the last one, a copy of a letter written to the Amelia County District Attorney's office. It read-
'District Attorney Wizzel,
I write to you today in anticipation of the arrival of the congregation of True Power Baptist Church, out of Wisconsin. As they are classified as a hate group by watchdog organizations around the country and the international community abroad, it is my hope that you understand the constant potential for hostile or violent altercations to be caused by their very presence.
It is because of this that I ask that the minor children under the age of twelve travelling with the congregation be barred from being present at any and all future protest activities conducted in Amelia County by the group aforementioned. Twelve is the classical 'age of reason', at which point the minors may assess the risks of being at such an event logically, and chose for themselves whether or not they accept those risks. There is already enough strife in this county without adding the possibility that the children travelling with the True Power Baptist Church may come to harm as a result of the protest activities of their elders.
Thank you for your time and consideration on this matter.
-Janice Bleufleur
Kelly shook her head slowly and looked up at the lawyer. "Do you mind waiting here while I take this to my father to review?"
"I've got nothing else planned for the day," he replied. Kelly headed off around the RV towards her father's hotel room. Meanwhile, Kevin crept over to the partially open door of the RV, taking off the coat the bald man had given him. He wasn't doing any of this on his own- it was all some kind of programmed response.
He stuffed the coat through the door, and watched in abject terror as shadows spread out from inside of it, taking the vague shape of a man. It stalked out of sight, and Kevin, his task complete, took off running from the hotel parking lot.
The Jenkins' troubles had begun in earnest.
**
Butch lay dozing yet not deeply asleep. Kelly getting up out of the bed had roused him from slumber, but not enough to come fully awake. If he had been completely conscious, he might have taken note of the inky black stain in a trench coat standing at the foot of the bed, smouldering coals for eyes glaring at him. If he had been less drowsy, he might have resisted when the shadow-thing floated up over the bed, its body spreading outward to the walls.
Butch did come awake for one horrified moment as the shadow-thing fell upon him, enveloping his body like a black blanket.
**
"Yeees," Kelly's father said as he cracked the door open wide enough for Kelly to spot her mother on the bed, crossword puzzle book in her lap.
"Daddy, there's some lawyer here, he gave me these," she squeaked, handing her father the folder. "Says we can't bring any of the kids under twelve."
"What?" Ted's face screwed itself up into a look of angry incredulity as he snatched the folder from her and stormed back to the bed, sitting down. He poured over the first page as Barbara excused herself to the powder room. "Unbelievable," Ted muttered to no one in particular. He turned to the second page, his face growing redder as his temper rose. Yet, as he got to the third page, there seemed to be something that perked him up. "Ah-ha! Dumplin', listen to me," he said, coming over to Kelly with the papers, pointing at one part of the third page. "I want you to fetch Beverly as quick as you can and have her call this Bleufleur woman. Our Beverly can be very persuasive, yes she can, and miss Janice Bleufleur had to list her phone number and address on the form she filled out for the court! Tell her she needs to get this woman to retract her request as soon as possible," Ted said with that wolf's grin of his. "They pull the plug on the fag and send him off to hell tonight, so we're running out of time!"
"Yes, daddy," Kelly said, now giddy with excitement. All was not yet lost, thank God for her father's quick wits. She set off to find Beverly, secure in the knowledge that the children were with Adam and Gina, and not once thinking to check on her husband.
**
All Butch felt at the moment his mind clawed back towards consciousness was cold, all over his body. Without opening his eyes, he might have imagined himself lying naked in the middle of an ice field at the North Pole. In particular, his wrists and ankles felt frozen through.
"Wake up, Mr. Garner," said a deep, thunderous baritone from somewhere nearby. Butch groaned, lifting his head from his chest and looking around with bleary eyes. At first, he could make out nothing more than some blurry blobs of color, but as he pulled himself to his feet, the details sharpened.
Butch stood in the center of a boxy chamber lines in ice and frost, the walls all blue and white. Manacles clamped his wrists and ankles, and he could see that he was wearing only his dingy gray boxer shorts. The chains on each restraint went to the four corner points of the flat ice wall behind him, disappearing into the wall.
Before him stood the bald weirdo Kelly had told him about, though she had left out one detail about him which creeped Butch out to no end- his eyes were solid black. Standing next to the weirdo was a steel rolling cart, atop which sat a large black box with tiny holes studded throughout. Something moved inside the box, making clawing, mewling sounds like an angry tom cat.
"Hail, Mr. Garner, and well met," said the weirdo, giving him a sweeping bow. "I am the stranger named Marek, known to my kith and kin as Marek of the Chains. Do you know what this is," he asked with a lascivious smile, waving his hands at the black box in an impression of Vanna White showing off a prize on Wheel of Fortune. "Let me tell you what it is, Mr. Garner. It is that which will spell your certain demise, if you aren't careful. Are you listening to me, Mr. Garner?"
Butch, nervous sweat running down his forehead, nodded. "Y-yeah, I am," he stammered.
"You have a chance to win free of this place, to win free of the chittering demon I've put inside of the box. But to do so, you must free yourself of your binding chains. It will be hard to break them, though," said Marek thoughtfully, rubbing his chin. "After all, they are made of your lies."
"What?" Butch's vision quivered, the stranger blurring into a twitching stain of blue before suddenly appearing nose-to-nose with him.
"Your lies," Marek roared, grasping the chain leading from Butch's left wrist back to the wall. "You are bound in chains, each one forged in the fire of your deceptions! And if you wish to survive this ordeal, you will listen! Do you understand?!"
"I do, I'm listening," Butch sobbed, now blubbering from his terror. "Please, give me a coat or something, I'm freezing!"
"No," Marek said flatly. "Now, I am going to ask you some questions, and you will answer truthfully. Are you ready?" Another nod. "Very well. Have you cheated on your wife?"
"Naw, naw I haven't," Butch said weakly. The stranger threw wide his cloak, revealing the leather armor beneath, crisscrossed with half a dozen lengths of gleaming silver chain.
"Already you lie," the stranger named Marek intoned, grasping one of the chains over his chest and tugging on it. The manacle on Butch's left wrist yanked on his arm as the attached chain pulled back and up into its corner near the ceiling behind him. Something crunched in his shoulder, eliciting a howl of agony from the cable installer. He drooped toward his knees, but the pressure of the manacle on his left arm kept him suspended.
"Okay," he sobbed, "okay, yes, I've cheated on her, okay? But I begged the Lord's forgiveness!"
"Each time? For I know t'was more than once, Mr. Garner. Does your repenting make it okay to go out and do it all over again? Your hypocrisy is typical of your kind, human. Your first chain has been drawn. Shall we proceed?"
The stranger tapped on the black box, and the mewling thing inside whipped a wickedly hooked set of claws out through a hole in the side. Butch's heart, already drumming too fast, stepped up the pace a little more.
"Speak true, Mr. Garner, and you may yet have a chance. Speak true, and you will be closer to getting what you need to escape your bonds. Now," the stranger named Marek said, holding one long finger skyward to emphasize that his next question was part of this bizarre test he was administering. "Mr. Garner, why did you marry your wife, Kelly?"
The question was asked in a soft tone of voice, without any underlying hostility. Butch bit his lower lip, then said, "Because I love her." Marek seemed to mull this answer over, then twitched open his cloak and yanked another chain. The manacle on Butch's left leg yanked back painfully, dropping him toward the floor with a holler as his ankle snapped from the violent pull.
"You mean well, Mr. Garner, but still you lie to me. I know that you married her because you got her pregnant with your son, Bobby. You do love her, yes, but it isn't the kind of love a good husband has for his wife."
Dangling at an angle over the floor, right arm hanging so that the back of his hand lay on the frosty surface, Butch managed to lift his head and spit. "Fuck you," he croaked, blood welling up around his bare, naked foot where the manacle had ripped flesh. "Fuck you you fucking freak."
"Now, now, Mr. Garner, there's no need for vulgarity. Your next question, Mr. Garner. Do you believe in God?" Butch looked up with an effort, meeting the stranger's pure black eyes.
"Yes," he choked out. "If there are monsters like you in the world, then there has to be a God." The stranger named Marek tilted his head to one side, pursed his lips in a pout. He approached Butch and crouched in front of him, inches away.
"Curious. You're telling the truth. Very well," he said, turning and striding back to the cart and box. He waved one set of widely spread fingers, and the manacle on Butch's right arm popped open, the attached chain pulling away into the wall. "You see? The truth, they say, shall set you free."
"If I get out of these I'm going to kill you," Butch snarled.
"Ah, temper temper," the stranger cooed, waggling a bony finger. "Not very Christian of you, my boy. What ever happened to 'turn the other cheek'?" The stranger knocked on the black box again, and this time the snarling sound that came from the caged thing within reminded Butch of wolves he'd seen on the Animal Planet channel. "One more question, Mr. Garner. You have cheated on your wife. You have lied a lot in your years. But what is the greatest sin you have ever committed against your God? The absolute worst?"
Butch was silent a minute, the gears turning in his head. He thought about the scripture, about the teachings of the Bible. Finally, he looked up and met the stranger named Marek's black eyes.
"Murder," he said softly. "'For to be wrathful and think of killing another is the same as doing so, as wicked as stabbing him in the heart'. That's how I learned it when I was a kid." The stranger gave him three long, slow claps and waved a hand, springing open the manacle on his right leg. The chain retracted into the wall, and Butch immediately hopped and shimmied back and to the left, so that his agonized left arm and leg were no longer overextended.
"Congratulations, Mr. Garner," the stranger boomed, spreading his hands wide. "As promised, you have earned that which you will need to escape this place." The stranger approached, pulling an eight-inch long serrated combat knife from his right boot. He stopped a few feet out of Butch's reach and tossed the weapon down at his feet.
"What the fuck is this," Butch screamed, snatching the knife up. "Get me out of these," he shouted, hauling on his left manacle as hard as he could, rattling the chain.
"I only ever promised you a way out," said the stranger, walking away. "I never said it would be painless or easy."
"I ain't cuttin' through my foot and my arm," Butch cried out. "I ain't gonna! I'd sooner freeze to death in here!"
"Oh, Mr. Garner, cutting through your arm and leg are secondary concerns," said the stranger, grasping the front of the black box. Butch held the knife in a white-knuckle grip now. "The first one would be our little friend here. I wonder how you'll fare against him with only one arm and leg free to defend yourself."
The box was opened, and Butch Garner began to howl as his doom skittered down off of the cart to the floor. Comprised of three long, segmented, brown-shelled sections, it looked like a gigantic cockroach with nine tiger legs flailing over its back, claws lashing at the air. Eyes blinked up and down its flanks as it clacked along the ice toward him, a gaping mouth full of shark's teeth gnashing wetly.
Butch swung the knife down toward it when it closed, but its foremost segment wrenched aside from the stab, its head whipping around, teeth piercing down into his wrist. Blood sprayed, meat ripped, and bones snapped, the creature wrenching back and forth like a dog with a chew toy. The knife clattered uselessly to the floor, the sound drowned out by Butch's screams.
The creature yanked once more, tearing the pulped hand free, swallowing its prize. Butch held the stump up to his watering eyes, his screams reduced to gibbering moans as the beast's claws raked up into his belly, disemboweling him in less than five seconds.
As the creature arched up to begin feeding on his innards, Butch's last sight was of the stranger named Marek walking through the ice-layered wall, disappearing as if he'd never been there.