“Tell me about the first time you tasted human flesh, John,” says a handsome silver-haired man wearing gold-rimmed glasses. Dr Fiddler is written on his ID badge. Dr Fiddler sits at a table in a prison interview room across from an emaciated man. The emaciated man, John, has his wrists and ankles chained to his chair, which is bolted to the floor.
“The first time?” John licks his thin and cracked lips. “You never forget your first time. I never will…the taste of him,” John sighs and shivers. “He was so young and fresh and sweet.”
“Are you referring to Tom Taylor, your son?” Dr Fiddler asks calmly.
John, a living skeleton of a man, smiles, the skin of his face pulling gruesomely tight. The outline of his teeth are visible behind his lips. “Yeah. I never had custody of him, but Judy said he was my kid. I was too busy off making money out west but I came back. I guess I wasn’t that great of a dad.”
Dr Fiddler lifts up a manila file and flips it open. “When you were working at the oil sands in Alberta?”
John taps his foot. His stick legs jitter in his orange coveralls. “Yup. You already know that.” John pauses. He looks like a corpse except for his bright blue eyes. His fluorescent orbs seem too alive, too large in shrunken sockets. “You want to know if I came back to taste my sweet boy, to consume him?”
Dr Fiddler takes a deep breath in. This is the fourth time he has interviewed John but he needs more information on the Canadian killings. John is to be extradited to Texas in twelve hours, for the three teenagers he killed and ate while on vacation there. John’s execution is in three days. Dr Fiddler is writing a new bestseller about cannibals and the digital recorder on the table is almost out of battery power.
“Yes, why did you ah, consume him and not your ex-wife or her new husband. How did you find out where they lived?” Dr Fiddler asks, eye on the digital recorder.
“Because it was what it wanted, that’s why. Plus, Kathy was such a disgusting bitch and her husband was too stringy looking. We like it fresh and sweet,” John bares his teeth in an animal glare of pure hate.
The digital recorder screen goes blank.
Dr Fiddler searches through his expensive briefcase for a AA battery. The guard beside the door bends down to tie his shoe.
“If you really want to know the secret, I could tell you,” John whispers.
“Hold on, I just—“ Dr Fiddler starts.
“A secret,” John whispers, right beside Dr Fiddler’s ear. John has slipped his cuffs.
Dr Fiddler turns and screams. John lunges and sinks his teeth into Dr Fiddler’s neck. A hectic power races across the living skeleton’s arms as he holds Dr Fiddler down. The guard runs towards them shouting into his radio for backup. John backs away laughing with Dr Fiddler’s flesh in his bloody maw. Dr Fiddler falls and bleeds his life onto the dirty tile floor.
***
“I think this will be a great new start for you, Dr Fiddler,” says a woman with a huge smile and a stack of paperwork with a small key ring perched on top.
“Thank you,” Dr Fiddler says and smiles and adjusts the collar of his black turtleneck.
“I am a huge fan of yours and can I ask?” The realtor smiles and blushes. “Will you be doing any writing up here?” The realtor gestures to the beautiful mountain scenery beyond the back door. Lush green forests capped with snowy tops line the entire horizon.
Dr Fiddler grimaces but hides it in a smile. “I don’t know. I guess there isn’t a better place to gather my thoughts.”
The realtor smiles and nods. She glances down at Dr Fiddler’s neck, then she looks away quickly, flushed. “Well, here is everything and welcome to Alberta, Dr Fiddler.” The realtor looks back, unable to help herself. “I am also sorry about your parents. It was such a horrible thing. Please accept my condolences and I hope you can find peace here,” she says.
