quivering mess but nothing would stop her straining at that damn rope. Not even when she scraped off skin and drew blood.
F inally, the rope had loosened enough and she was able to tug her hands free.
She sat up, a fu nny sounding, strangled sob of relief escaping her lips.
She was free. Sort of. She cradled her bleeding wrists in her lap, wondering what the hell she should do next.
CHAPTER FIVE.
Bish had finished dismembering Jessie and Craig wasn’t faring too well. He shared his table top space with the love of his life, who was now in six pieces. Her arms and legs were slung over him, and her torso and head lay by the side of him.
Craig slipped in and out of consciousness, the pain in his arm stump causing him to run a fever and black out sporadically.
When he came too for the countless time, he found he was no longer looking up at the shed roof, but at a twinkling night sky. The moon was full, he duly noted, and his teeth rattled as Jessie’s body parts bounced up and down on top of him.
His slow working mind realised that his table had wheels and he was being trundled by Bish down the same alleyway he had walked through with Tim on their way to the mythical car.
They reached the end of the alleyway and came out next to ‘The Dirty Swallow.’
Bish stopped the table. Or trolley.
“I heard you and your fancy lady out here t alking when yous first arrived. She was sayin’ it were a funny name for a pub, and I was up there listening,” the old man said, pointing up at a window above the sign. “I’ll tell yers why it’s called The Dirty Swallow. Ain’t got nothing to do with dirty birds. It’s ‘cause our family likes to eat a special kind of meat, if you know what I mean.”
Craig just wished he would pass out again but the fresh, cool air was keeping him awake.
Bish laughed.
“A lot of folks might consider what we put in our mouths dirty. We like human flesh you see. Obviously, it’s better cooked, but I quite got a taste for it raw in recent years.” With that the old man picked up one of Jessie’s arms and slurped the bloody stump. “Ain’t put my teeth in today, so I can’t take a bite.”
Craig’s eyes flickered back in his head and in that moment he prayed to a god he didn’t believe in to just die. The old man’s grotesque sucking noises filled his brain with madness.
“Shit, no time for this now, we gotta get you inside and prepare dinner.”
Craig expected to be wheeled into the pub. He wasn’t. Instead he was trundled down the road. They turned left at the end and went back up the little road with the boarded up cottage the four of them had come down when they’d first arrived.
“ We’re going to my place for dinner. And you ain’t never been to a dinner party like this one before.”
Why was no one coming out to he lp him?
“Help!” he cried, amazed at the strength of his own voice, it had been so long since he had spoken. “Somebody help me!”
“Save your breath, son. Not that it matters. Ain’t no one that lives in this ‘ere village ‘cept me and the family. And the kids, of course, but they don’t get out much. Never during the day because of their skin complaints and only supervised at night.”
Craig had no idea what the old fucker was going on about. Neither did he care.
“Please,” he whimpered to no one in particular.
The table wobbled from side to side as he was wheeled up the na rrow path to the front door of the boarded up cottage.
Bish opened the door and wheeled Craig in feet first.
Now he found himself in a narrow hallway that the table only just fit down. A staircase was dead ahead and a few closed doors led off the corridor. Bish pushed him through one.
Craig lifted his head.
The sight which greeted him defied comprehension.
“Tim?” he called out to the familiar, naked figure lying on his back in the middle of the long dining table.
Tim didn’t stir.
“W hat the fuck is this?”
“Excuse me a
F inally, the rope had loosened enough and she was able to tug her hands free.
She sat up, a fu nny sounding, strangled sob of relief escaping her lips.
She was free. Sort of. She cradled her bleeding wrists in her lap, wondering what the hell she should do next.
CHAPTER FIVE.
Bish had finished dismembering Jessie and Craig wasn’t faring too well. He shared his table top space with the love of his life, who was now in six pieces. Her arms and legs were slung over him, and her torso and head lay by the side of him.
Craig slipped in and out of consciousness, the pain in his arm stump causing him to run a fever and black out sporadically.
When he came too for the countless time, he found he was no longer looking up at the shed roof, but at a twinkling night sky. The moon was full, he duly noted, and his teeth rattled as Jessie’s body parts bounced up and down on top of him.
His slow working mind realised that his table had wheels and he was being trundled by Bish down the same alleyway he had walked through with Tim on their way to the mythical car.
They reached the end of the alleyway and came out next to ‘The Dirty Swallow.’
Bish stopped the table. Or trolley.
“I heard you and your fancy lady out here t alking when yous first arrived. She was sayin’ it were a funny name for a pub, and I was up there listening,” the old man said, pointing up at a window above the sign. “I’ll tell yers why it’s called The Dirty Swallow. Ain’t got nothing to do with dirty birds. It’s ‘cause our family likes to eat a special kind of meat, if you know what I mean.”
Craig just wished he would pass out again but the fresh, cool air was keeping him awake.
Bish laughed.
“A lot of folks might consider what we put in our mouths dirty. We like human flesh you see. Obviously, it’s better cooked, but I quite got a taste for it raw in recent years.” With that the old man picked up one of Jessie’s arms and slurped the bloody stump. “Ain’t put my teeth in today, so I can’t take a bite.”
Craig’s eyes flickered back in his head and in that moment he prayed to a god he didn’t believe in to just die. The old man’s grotesque sucking noises filled his brain with madness.
“Shit, no time for this now, we gotta get you inside and prepare dinner.”
Craig expected to be wheeled into the pub. He wasn’t. Instead he was trundled down the road. They turned left at the end and went back up the little road with the boarded up cottage the four of them had come down when they’d first arrived.
“ We’re going to my place for dinner. And you ain’t never been to a dinner party like this one before.”
Why was no one coming out to he lp him?
“Help!” he cried, amazed at the strength of his own voice, it had been so long since he had spoken. “Somebody help me!”
“Save your breath, son. Not that it matters. Ain’t no one that lives in this ‘ere village ‘cept me and the family. And the kids, of course, but they don’t get out much. Never during the day because of their skin complaints and only supervised at night.”
Craig had no idea what the old fucker was going on about. Neither did he care.
“Please,” he whimpered to no one in particular.
The table wobbled from side to side as he was wheeled up the na rrow path to the front door of the boarded up cottage.
Bish opened the door and wheeled Craig in feet first.
Now he found himself in a narrow hallway that the table only just fit down. A staircase was dead ahead and a few closed doors led off the corridor. Bish pushed him through one.
Craig lifted his head.
The sight which greeted him defied comprehension.
“Tim?” he called out to the familiar, naked figure lying on his back in the middle of the long dining table.
Tim didn’t stir.
“W hat the fuck is this?”
“Excuse me a
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